The Theology of The Gospel of Mark (New Testament Theology)

The Theology of the Gospel of Mark
This book presents the reader with a comprehensive view

of the theology underlying the ®rst narrative account of
the life of Jesus. In chapter one Dr Telford introduces the
background of the text and its general message, attempt-
ing brie¯y to place the Gospel (and therefore its theology)
in its historical setting. In the second chapter, he describes
and analyses the Gospel's theology, again from an histor-
ical perspective and with particular regard to its original
context. In the third chapter, Telford goes on to examine
the Gospel in relation to other relevant writings of the
New Testament. Brie¯y reviewing this larger corpus and
highlighting parallels and contrasts, where appropriate, he
seeks to locate the Gospel's theology in its wider canonical
context. The fourth and ®nal chapter ranges even further
a®eld, commenting on the Gospel's history of interpret-
ation and on its signi®cance in the contemporary context.
w. r. telford is lecturer in Christian Origins and the

New Testament in the Department of Religious Studies at
the University of Newcastle in the United Kingdom. He
has written two books: The Barren Temple and the Withered
Tree: a Redaction-Critical Analysis of the Cursing of the Fig-tree
Pericope in Mark's Gospel and its Relation to the Cleansing of the
Temple Tradition (1980), and Mark (1995). Editor of The
Interpretation of Mark (1985, 2nd edn 1995), he has also
contributed to a variety of edited works and journals,
including Theology, the Scottish Journal of Theology, the
Epworth Review, the Journal of Biblical Literature and the
Journal of Theological Studies.
NEW TESTAMENT THEOLOGY
General Editor: James D. G. Dunn,
Lightfoot Professor of Divinity, University of Durham
This series sets out to provide a programmatic survey of the individual

writings of the New Testament. It aims to remedy the de®ciency of
available published material which concentrates on the New Testa-
ment writers' theological concerns. New Testament specialists here
write at greater length than is usually possible in the introduction to
commentaries or as part of other New Testament theologies, and
explore the theological themes and issues of their chosen books
without being tied to a commentary format, or to a thematic structure
provided from elsewhere. When complete, the series will cover all the
New Testament writings, and will thus provide an attractive, and
timely, range of texts around which courses can be developed.
Titles published in the series

The Theology of the Book of Revelation by Richard Bauckham
The Theology of the Letters of James, Peter, and Jude by Andrew Chester and
Ralph P. Martin
The Theology of the Shorter Pauline Letters by Karl P. Donfried and
I. Howard Marshall
The Theology of Paul's Letter to the Galatians by James D. G. Dunn
The Theology of the Gospel of Luke by Joel B. Green
The Theology of the Acts of the Apostles by Jacob Jervell
The Theology of the Johannine Epistles by Judith Lieu
The Theology of the Letter to the Hebrews by Barnabas Lindars
The Theology of the Gospel of Matthew by Ulrich Luz
The Theology of the Second Letter to the Corinthians by Jerome
Murphy-O'Connor
The Theology of the Gospel of John by Dwight Moody Smith
The Theology of the Later Pauline Letters by Andrew T. Lincoln and
A. J. M. Wedderburn
The Theology of the Pastoral Letters by Frances Margaret Young
The Theology of the First Letter to the Corinthians by Victor Paul Furnish
THE THEOLOGY OF
THE
GOSPEL OF MARK
W. R. TELFORD
PUBLISHED BY CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS (VIRTUAL PUBLISHING)
FOR AND ON BEHALF OF THE PRESS SYNDICATE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF
CAMBRIDGE
The Pitt Building, Trumpington Street, Cambridge CB2 IRP
40 West 20th Street, New York, NY 10011-4211, USA
477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia
http://www.cambridge.org
© Cambridge University Press 1999

This edition © Cambridge University Press (Virtual Publishing) 2002
First published in printed format 1999
A catalogue record for the original printed book is available

from the British Library and from the Library of Congress
Original ISBN 0 521 43366 5 hardback
Original ISBN 0 521 43977 9 paperback
ISBN 0 511 00936 4 virtual (eBook Edition)

For Andrena
Contents
Editor's preface page xi

Preface xiii
List of abbreviations xv
The historical setting of the Gospel of Mark 1

Introduction 1
Authorship, date and provenance 9
The Markan community 15
The tradition before Mark 18
The message of Mark 21
2 The theology of Mark 30

The person of Jesus 30
The message of Jesus 54
The mission of Jesus 88
Support and opposition: heroes and villains in the Markan drama 116
The purpose of Mark's Gospel 137
3 Mark and the New Testament 164

Mark and Paul 164
Mark and Q 170
Mark and the Gospels 173
Mark and Acts 182
Mark and the Letters of Peter 188
Mark and Hebrews 198
Mark and Revelation 205
4 Mark in the church and in the world 214

Mark in history 214
The contemporary signi®cance of Mark 217
ix
x List of contents
Select bibliography 242
Index of references 249
Index of names 268
Index of subjects 273
Editor's preface
Although the New Testament is usually taught within Depart-

ments or Schools or Faculties of Theology/Divinity/Religion,
theological study of the individual New Testament writings is
often minimal or at best patchy. The reasons for this are not
hard to discern.
For one thing, the traditional style of studying a New Testa-
ment document is by means of straight exegesis, often verse by
verse. Theological concerns jostle with interesting historical,
textual, grammatical and literary issues, often at the cost of the
theological. Such exegesis is usually very time-consuming, so
that only one or two key writings can be treated in any depth
within a crowded three-year syllabus.
For another, there is a marked lack of suitable textbooks
round which courses could be developed. Commentaries are
likely to lose theological comment within a mass of other detail
in the same way as exegetical lectures. The section on the
theology of a document in the Introduction to a commentary is
often very brief and may do little more than pick out elements
within the writing under a sequence of headings drawn from
systematic theology. Excursuses usually deal with only one or
two selected topics. Likewise larger works on New Testament
Theology usually treat Paul's letters as a whole and, having
devoted the great bulk of their space to Jesus, Paul and John,
can spare only a few pages for others.
In consequence, there is little incentive on the part of teacher
or student to engage with a particular New Testament docu-
ment, and students have to be content with a general overview,
at best complemented by in-depth study of (parts of ) two or
xi
xii Editor's preface
three New Testament writings. A serious corrollary to this is the
degree to which students are thereby incapacitated in the task
of integrating their New Testament study with the rest of their
Theology or Religion courses, since often they are capable only
of drawing on the general overview or on a sequence of
particular verses treated atomistically. The growing importance
of a literary-critical approach to individual documents simply
highlights the present de®ciencies even more. Having been
given little experience in handling individual New Testament
writings as such at a theological level, most students are very ill-
prepared to develop a properly integrated literary and theo-
logical response to particular texts. Ordinands too need more
help than they currently receive from textbooks, so that their
preaching from particular passages may be better informed
theologically.
There is need therefore for a series to bridge the gap between
too brief an introduction and too full a commentary where
theological discussion is lost among too many other concerns. It
is our aim to provide such a series. That is, a series where New
Testament specialists are able to write at a greater length on the
theology of individual writings than is usually possible in the
introductions to commentaries or as part of New Testament
Theologies, and to explore the theological themes and issues of
these writings without being tied to a commentary format or to
a thematic structure provided from elsewhere. The volumes
seek both to describe each document's theology, and to engage
theologically with it, noting also its canonical context and any
speci®c in¯uence it may have had on the history of Christian
faith and life. They are directed at those who already have one
or two years of full-time New Testament and theological study
behind them.
University of Durham james d. g. dunn

Preface
My interest in the Gospel of Mark began when in 1972 I

embarked on doctoral work at Cambridge (England) under the
expert supervision of Dr Ernst Bammel, whose recent death has
brought great sadness to all those who knew him and bene®ted
from his immense erudition and scholarship. My fascination
with the Gospel has further developed during my time of
teaching and research in the Department of Religious Studies
at the University of Newcastle. My thanks, in the ®rst instance,
therefore, go to those students of mine whose diligence and
enthusiasm has always made the business of teaching such a
pleasant and stimulating one for me. This book was written
over a period of two years, and for the most part in a number
of concentrated sessions spent in Cambridge and in Ha-
warden. I should also like to thank, therefore, the Staff of the
Cambridge University Library (that venerable institution
within whose redoubtable walls I have spent so many produc-
tive hours!), the Bursar and Staff of Westcott House, Cam-
bridge, and the Trustees, Warden, and Staff of St Deiniol's
Library, Hawarden (this unique institution which offers such a
welcome and such a service to all those engaged in the pursuit
of what Gladstone himself described as `divine learning'). All
of these have given me in my limited periods of research the
facilities and the incentive to ®nish the book. Particular thanks
go to the Trustees of St Deiniol's for awarding me a Murray
McGregor Fellowship, and to Dr Peter Jagger, and his worthy
successor as Warden, Revd Peter Francis, for their friendship
and encouragement. For making it possible for me to have a
period of study leave, my appreciation goes to my colleagues at
xiii
xiv Preface
Newcastle, the Dean of the Faculty of Arts and the University
Research Committee, and for general encouragement as well as
helpful advice, thanks are due to my colleagues in Studiorum
Novi Testamenti Societas (SNTS) and at the British New
Testament Conference. A particular word of thanks should be
given to Professor Jimmy Dunn, the Editor of this series, for his
in®nite patience. This quality was also exhibited in no small
measure by my loving wife, Andrena, whose enduring forbear-
ance and cheerfulness have been a constant source of strength.
Abbreviations
BETL Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum

Lovaniensium
BJRL Bulletin of the John Rylands Library
BTB Biblical Theology Bulletin
BZNW Beihefte zur Zeitschrift fuÈr die neutestamentliche
Wissenschaft und die Kunde der aÈlteren Kirche
CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly
DBI The Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation, eds. R. J.
Collins, J. L. Houlden (London: SCM Press;
Philadelphia, PA: Trinity Press International, 1990)
ETL Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses
EvTh Evangelische Theologie
ExpT Expository Times
IDB The Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible, ed. G. A.
Buttrick (New York and Nashville, TN: Abingdon
Press, 1962)
IDB(S) The Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible, Supplementary
Volume, ed. K. Crim (Nashville, TN: Abingdon
Press, 1976)
Int Interpretation
JAAR Journal of the American Academy of Religion
JBL Journal of Biblical Literature
JR Journal of Religion
JTSouthAfr Journal of Theology for South Africa
JSNT Journal for the Study of the New Testament
JSNTSS Journal for the Study of the New Testament
Supplement Series
JTS Journal of Theological Studies
xv
xvi List of abbreviations
NovT Novum Testamentum
NTA New Testament Abstracts
NTS New Testament Studies
PerspRelSt Perspectives in Religious Studies
SBL Society of Biblical Literature
SBLDS Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series
SJT Scottish Journal of Theology
SNTSMS Society of New Testament Studies Monograph
Series
TZ Theologische Zeitschrift
WUNT Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen
Testament
ZNW Zeitschrift fuÈr die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft
ZThK Zeitschrift fuÈr Theologie und Kirche
chapter 1
The historical setting of the Gospel of Mark
introduction
The words `The Theology of the Gospel of Mark', in the title of
this book are deceptively simple. The three major expressions
of which the title is composed, however, are far from straight-
forward. They beg a number of important questions. Firstly,
what do we mean by the word `Theology' in connection with
the Gospel of Mark? In focusing upon Mark as `theology' rather
than as `history' or as `literature', what aspects of the Gospel
have we in mind? Secondly, what is intended by the use of the
term `Gospel' as applied to this ®rst century text? What does
the word mean, and how appropriate a description is it from a
historical, literary or theological point of view? Thirdly, who is
meant or what indeed is conveyed by the traditional attribution
`Mark'? Was the Gospel written by the John Mark of the New
Testament, as tradition claims, or is this a ®ction? Where the
theology of the Gospel is concerned, does it matter?
An act of literary communication involves, in essence, an
author, a text and a reader, and the process of interpreting that
text must take into account all three. What then do we mean in
overall terms by `The Theology of the Gospel of Mark'? Do we
mean the theology of the author ± in other words, the religious
ideas, the philosophical perspective, the theological convictions,
in short, the ideology which motivated the evangelist to write,
which was a product of his own age, culture and tradition, and
which in¯uenced the treatment of his sources? Do we mean the
theology of the text itself, considered as a whole ± in other
words, the religious message which it conveys, irrespective of its
1
2 The theology of the Gospel of Mark
historical context, of the sources it draws upon or of the
intention of its original author? Is `The Theology of the Gospel
of Mark' a theology constructed by the reader (or the ìnterpret-
ative community') from the text ± in other words, a product of
èngagement' between the reader and the text, a religious
dialogue or `revelation' engendered by the interaction of the
text with the reader's experience past or present?
Given the Gospel's use of sources, we might even ask,
furthermore, whether the Gospel of Mark has a uni®ed theo-
logy at all! One relatively conservative critic issues the following
warning:
If Mark has preserved material which does not fully correspond to the
view which he himself holds then are we at liberty to speak of a
theology of the Gospel of Mark? Must we not rather speak of Mark's
theology? If a valid distinction can be drawn between these two then
it may be that we should not look for a coherent and consistent
theology in the Gospel but be prepared to ®nd unevenness since he
laid his theology over an existing theology, or theologies, in the
tradition he received.1
If, on the other hand, there is a consistent theology in the
Gospel ± and a considerable body of recent Markan scholar-
ship, one notes, is now highlighting the literary and theological
features which integrate the Markan text2 ± the question
remains as to how we might gain access to `The Theology of the
Gospel of Mark'? If the theology resides in the mind of the
evangelist, then is it to be recovered, as many insist, by using
the historical-critical tools of source, form and redaction criti-
1
E. Best, `Mark's Preservation of the Tradition' in W. R. Telford (ed.), The Interpretation
of Mark (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1995), pp. 163± 4.
2
E.g. T. J. Geddert, Watchwords. Mark 13 in Markan Eschatology ( JSNTSS 26; Shef®eld:
JSOT Press, 1989); J. D. Kingsbury, The Christology of Mark's Gospel (Philadelphia, PA:
Fortress Press, 1983); J. D. Kingsbury, Con¯ict in Mark. Jesus, Authorities, Disciples
(Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1989); B. L. Mack, A Myth of Innocence. Mark and
Christian Origins (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1988); C. D. Marshall, Faith as a
Theme in Mark's Narrative (SNTSMS, 64; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1989); D. Rhoads and D. Michie, Mark as Story. An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel
(Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1982); J. Sergeant, Lion let Loose. The Structure and
Meaning of St Mark's Gospel (Exeter: Paternoster, 1988); M. R. Thompson, The Role of
Disbelief in Mark. A New Approach to the Second Gospel (New York and Mahwah, NJ:
Paulist Press, 1989); M. A. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel: Mark's World in Literary-Historical
Perspective (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1989).
The historical setting 3
cism, that is, by separating tradition and redaction and so
determining Mark's contribution to the developing Jesus tradi-
tion?3 If the theology is rooted in the text as a whole, then is it
best approached, as others argue, by holistic methods such as
narrative criticism (and its sister discipline narrative theology)?4
If the theology, on the other hand, is a construct arising out of
the reader's engagement with the text, then should not other
literary approaches such as reader-response criticism be em-
ployed to illuminate this process?5
So much for some of the questions raised by our title. It is
time now to offer some answers, or at least to indicate what I
myself understand by `The Theology of the Gospel of Mark',
what aspects of the subject I plan to cover in this book, and
what approach I shall be taking to it. The term `theology'
comes from two Greek words, theos meaning `God' and logos
meaning `word', or, by extension, `rational discourse'. In its
narrow sense, `theology' means `rational discourse about God'.
In its broader sense, it refers to a complex of related subjects in
Christian doctrine, subsuming such topics as Christology (from
Christos meaning `Christ' or `Messiah'; and hence doctrine or
understanding concerning the person or nature of Christ),
soteriology (from soÅteÅria meaning `salvation'; and hence doctrine
or understanding concerning the work of Christ), pneuma-
tology (from pneuma meaning `spirit'; and hence doctrine or
understanding concerning the Holy Spirit), cosmology (from
kosmos meaning `world' or ùniverse'; and hence doctrine or
3
For these methods, see C. E. Carlston, `Form Criticism, NT' in IDB(S), pp. 345 ±8;
R. T. Fortna, `Redaction Criticism, NT' in IDB(S), pp. 733 ±5; K. Grobel, `Form
Criticism' in IDB, pp. 320 ± 1; J. Muddiman, `Form Criticism' in DBI, pp. 240 ±3;
E. P. Sanders and M. Davies, Studying the Synoptic Gospels (London: SCM Press;
Philadelphia, PA: Trinity Press International, 1989), pp. 51± 223; S. S. Smalley,
`Redaction Criticism' in I. H. Marshall (ed.), New Testament Interpretation (Exeter:
Paternoster, 1977), pp. 181 ±95; W. R. Telford, Mark (New Testament Guides; Shef®eld:
Shef®eld Academic Press, 1995), pp. 37± 85; S. H. Travis, `Form Criticism' in Marshall
(ed.), Interpretation, pp. 153 ±64; C. M. Tuckett, Reading the New Testament (London:
SPCK, 1987), pp. 78± 135; C. M. Tuckett, `Redaction Criticism' in DBI, pp. 580 ±2; C.
M. Tuckett, `Source Criticism (NT)', in DBI, pp. 646± 8; D. Wenham, `Source
Criticism' in Marshall (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 139 ±52.
4
See D. F. Ford, `Narrative Theology' in DBI, pp. 489 ±91; R. C. Tannehill, `Narrative
Criticism' in DBI, pp. 488 ±9; Telford, Mark, pp. 90 ± 2.
5
See M. Davies, `Reader-Response Criticism' in DBI, pp. 578 ±80; Telford, Mark,
pp. 92± 3.
understanding concerning the world), eschatology (from eschatos
meaning `last' or `®nal'; and hence doctrine or understanding
concerning the end of the world or ®nal matters), anthropology
(from anthroÅpos meaning `man'; and hence doctrine or under-
standing concerning the nature of man), ecclesiology (from
ekkleÅsia meaning àssembly' or `church'; and hence doctrine or
understanding concerning the church or believing community)
and ethics (from ethos meaning `custom' or ùsage'; and hence
doctrine or understanding concerning the moral behaviour
governing the relationship between the Christian believer, the
believing community and the world).
Although these categories belong to the vocabulary of Chris-
tian doctrine in its later and more developed state, and are
hence familiar to those steeped in systematic theology, they are
nevertheless convenient to some extent for the analysis of ®rst-
century Christian texts like the Gospel of Mark provided they
are used with caution. The Gospel of Mark re¯ects Christian
tradition at an early stage of development and does not present
us with anything approaching a systematic theology. The
`Theology' of the Gospel of Mark (as I intend to use the term)
refers in a broad sense to the religious understanding, ideas and
beliefs entertained by this ancient writer concerning the nature
of God, the person and work of Jesus, the role of the Spirit, the
nature of man and the world, the end of that world and so on. A
major emphasis in this book therefore will be on theology as
`religious ideology', that is, on what was believed by the evange-
list, as re¯ected in his narrative, and, in particular, to what
extent these beliefs were a product of, a development from or
even a challenge to the religious culture and tradition to which
he was indebted.
Our second term `Gospel' also requires some comment. The
word (Old English, godspel ) is a literal translation of the Greek
term euangelion, which in ordinary usage meant `good news',
such as that announced when a battle was won or a Roman
ruler was enthroned.6 The expression is a favourite one of the
evangelist, and is used by him to describe Jesus' teaching
6
R. P. Martin, Mark ± Evangelist and Theologian (Exeter: Paternoster, 1979), p. 22.
(1.14±15; 8.35; 10.29; 13.10; 14.9) without, however, specifying its
precise content. The text actually begins with the word (1.1
`The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ') but it is not clear
whether it is used in Mark with its usual connotation of `good
news' or as a technical term for the religious or doctrinal
content of the message preached by (or perhaps about) Jesus
(see Rom. 1.1±4).7 It has been suggested, although this is less
likely, that in 1.1 it may even refer to the literary genre in which
that oral proclamation is contained. What is clear, however, is
that the term `Gospel' was being used in a generic sense by
Christians in the second century, the earliest datable example of
its functioning as a literary type occurring in the writings of
Justin Martyr.8 In a similar way perhaps to the process by which
the term àpocalypse', which occurs in Revelation 1.1, came to
be transferred to other texts bearing the characteristic features
of the Revelation of John, the term `Gospel' was derived from
the use of the term euangelion in the text of Mark and subse-
quently employed as a generic description for texts in which
that `good news' was to be found.
Its appropriateness as a description of the text, at least from a
theological point of view, is apparent. If the `Gospel' genre was
a unique one in the ancient world, and Mark, as has been
suggested, was the originator of it, the term adequately de-
scribes its special features, namely, that it is `kerygmatic in
nature and evangelical in design.'9 On the other hand, from a
literary point of view, it is inappropriate, derivative and even
misleading as a generic description of the text. No genre can be
said to be without roots in antecedent literary types and treating
Mark as unique draws attention away from a number of
potential models in the ancient world by which Mark could
have been in¯uenced in the overall conception of his work.
Much recent research has been conducted on this subject, and
discussion can be found elsewhere10 but it is worth here
7
R. A. Guelich, ` ``The Beginning of the Gospel''. Mark 1:1± 15', Biblical Research, 27
(1982), pp. 5 ±15; K. Kertelge, `The Epiphany of Jesus in the Gospel (Mark)' in
Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 106 ±7; Martin, Mark, pp. 24 ± 8.
8
Apology, 66 (c. 150 CE) and Martin, Mark, p. 19.
9
Martin, Mark, p. 21.
10
D. E. Aune, The New Testament and its Literary Environment (Philadelphia, PA: Westmin-
commenting on the implications of the question of genre for
theology.
Establishing the genre of a literary work provides us with our
®rst clue as to its origin, meaning and purpose, and without
such indications, the theology cannot be fully appreciated. Two
con¯icting models for the emergence of the Gospel are cur-
rently espoused. The ®rst has been described as the model of
àggregate growth'. Based on the results of form criticism, this
sees the Gospel text as an èvolutionary'11 document, the end
result of a somewhat impersonal, collective, immanent process
by which the diverse oral traditions of the early Christian
community came eventually to be written down. This approach
often anchors the text in a cultic rather than literary tradition
and as a result tends to diminish not only the literary but also
the theological creativity of the one(s) responsible for its ®nal
form. Based on the results of redaction criticism and the newer
literary methods, the second model sees the Gospel text as a
`revolutionary' document, the result of authorial creativity
adopting or adapting existing genres (Graeco-Roman biogra-
phy, Hellenistic romance, Greek tragedy, or, within the Jewish
®eld, apocalyptic or wisdom literature have been some of the
parallels cited). By anchoring the text to a self-conscious literary
tradition and enterprise, this approach tends by contrast to
elevate the literary and theological creativity of the author.
But who was the `Mark' who was ultimately responsible for
`The Theology of the Gospel of Mark'? This third question will
be addressed in my next section but here let me anticipate the
discussion by stating that I, in common with many Markan
scholars nowadays, regard the available evidence as insuf®cient
ster Press, 1987); R. A. Guelich, `The Gospel Genre' in P. Stuhlmacher (ed.), Das
Evangelium und die Evangelien. VortraÈge vom TuÈbinger Symposium 1982 (TuÈbingen: Mohr±
Siebeck, 1983), pp. 173± 208; W. H. Mare, `Genre Criticism and the Gospels' in
J. H. Skilton (ed.), The Gospels Today. A Guide to some Recent Developments
(Philadelphia, PA: Skilton House, 1990), pp. 82 ±101; Sanders and Davies, Gospels,
pp. 25 ± 47; M. J. Suggs, `Gospel, genre' in IDB(S), pp. 370 ±2; C. H. Talbert, What is a
Gospel? The Genre of the Canonical Gospels (London: SPCK; Philadelphia, PA: Fortress
Press, 1978); W. R. Telford, `The Interpretation of Mark: a History of Developments
and Issues' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 15 ± 17; Telford, Mark, pp. 94 ±100.
11
L. W. Hurtado, `The Gospel of Mark: Evolutionary or Revolutionary Document?',
JSNT, 40 (1990), pp. 15 ± 32.
to establish the actual identity of its author, and hence to support
its traditional attribution to the John Mark of the New Testa-
ment.12 That is not to say that we cannot compile some kind of
pro®le of the author ± indeed in seeking to illuminate his
theology I shall be attempting in this respect to do so ± but the
internal evidence of the text hardly permits the drawing of an
identikit picture which would link the author with any named
members of the early church. Few hard facts indeed are known
about such ®gures, legend, historical naivety or the romantic
imagination often supplying what we think we know about
them. For convenience, however, and following convention, I
shall continue to refer to the text's anonymous author as `Mark'
but with a disclaimer, as in the modern novel or ®lm, that the
character `Mark' in this book is a literary ®ction, and is not
intended to signify an identi®cation with any actual person in
the New Testament! In light of this, I might further comment
on why I have chosen to refer to the author throughout as `he'.
This is not merely a matter of consistency and convenience.
The gender of the author, I recognize, is to some extent an open
question. While it remains a possibility that the author of this
work was female, the balance of probability nevertheless argues
in favour of a male author given the preponderance of literary
activity by male writers in the ancient world and the early
church. In the ®nal chapter we shall in fact be considering the
way women are presented in the Gospel, a treatment which will
have implications for the gender of the author.
Having raised some issues and offered some de®nitions, let
me now summarize the overall plan of the book and highlight
some of the distinctive features of the approach that I shall be
taking to `The Theology of the Gospel of Mark'. In this ®rst
chapter, I shall say something about the background of the text
and its general message, attempting brie¯y to place the Gospel
(and therefore its theology) in its historical setting. In a second
12
The most recent comprehensive treatment of the traditions surrounding Mark is that
by C. C. Black, Mark. Images of an Apostolic Interpreter (Studies on Personalities of the
New Testament; Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1994). Black
concludes that `we lack enough hard, pertinent evidence to con®rm the historicity of
the connection between the apostle Peter and the Second Evangelist or his Gospel'
(p. 205).
major chapter, I shall describe and analyse the Gospel's theo-
logy, again from a historical perspective and with particular
regard to its original context. Special emphasis will be given to
three important and interrelated aspects of Mark's theology,
namely his Christology, soteriology and eschatology. In chapter
3 we shall examine the Gospel in relation to other relevant
writings of the New Testament. Brie¯y reviewing this larger
corpus and highlighting parallels and contrasts, where appro-
priate, I shall seek to locate the Gospel's theology in its wider
canonical context. The fourth and ®nal chapter will range even
further a®eld, commenting on the Gospel's history of interpret-
ation and on its signi®cance in the contemporary context.
Three emphases in particular will characterize the approach
that will be taken. The ®rst, as this outline demonstrates, is the
importance of context in understanding the theology of the
Gospel of Mark. For some literary approaches, texts may be
interpreted purely with regard to their own internal relations or
`narrative world' and without reference to speculative extrinsic
factors.13 I shall assume, however, that without an appreciation
of the ancient context in which the Gospel was conceived (the
historical setting out of which it emerged, the literary and
cultural environment in which it was written, the theological
situation to which it was addressed), the theology of Mark
cannot be adequately understood. It is for this reason, therefore,
that I have also taken particular care to preface my discussion
of individual features of Mark's thought or treatment of the
tradition (whether it be the parables, the miracles or the
Kingdom of God), with general background explaining how
these were understood in the various traditions to which he was
heir (for example, the Old Testament, apocalyptic Judaism, the
wider Hellenistic world, or the immediate pre-Markan tradi-
tion). In focusing upon the ancient context, however, I shall also
be mindful of the contemporary context within which this study
of Mark's theology is also conducted, whether it be the uni-
versity, where the Gospel functions as a resource for historical
reconstruction, sociological investigation or literary analysis, or
13
For example, Kingsbury, Christology.
the church where it functions as scripture (both religiously and
ethically), or society in general where it functions, for good or
ill, as an in¯uence, cultural, ethical, political or otherwise.
My second emphasis will be on the importance of method. The
principal method employed will be the historical-critical one
(especially redaction criticism) but I shall also draw upon the
insights of the newer literary approaches where appropriate.
Where a holistic perspective on the text is relevant I shall adopt
it. Account will be taken of the role of the reader in the
construction of the theology of Mark, whether the ancient
reader to whom the text was intended to speak, or the modern
reader who comes to it with very different eyes. I shall also be
conscious in particular of my own reading of the text, a critical
academic one which attempts to construct, using categories that
in part would have been alien to the evangelist, a much more
systematic or self-conscious account of his theology than he
himself would perhaps have recognized!
A third emphasis will be on the importance of Mark as a
theologian. For me, as already indicated, `The Theology of the
Gospel of Mark' is largely the theology of its author, the evange-
list, although he himself has taken over traditions with their
own theological stamp. It is also the theology of the text for
whose ®nal form he was responsible. Where Mark's theology
differs from or is in tension with that of his sources I shall
endeavour to illuminate its distinctiveness. Where no tension
appears to exist, I shall assume that he took over the tradition
because he agreed with the theology it re¯ected. My focus,
therefore, will be on the contribution of the evangelist to the
theology of the developing Jesus movement and in this I would
join forces with those who see in Mark a theologian of some
considerable creativity.14
authorship, date and provenance

In speaking of Mark as a theologian, we immediately run up
against a traditional view of the Gospel which attributes it, as
14
See Telford, `History of Developments' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 24 ±5.
already mentioned, to the John Mark of the New Testament
and regards it as a simple and largely unvarnished historical
account of the reminiscences of the apostle Peter. This account,
moreover, is frequently viewed as crude from a literary point of
view and unsophisticated from a theological one. Since this
again raises the question of authorship in relation to theology,
let me deal with it brie¯y. A fuller discussion can be found
elsewhere15 but let me here summarize some of the main points
of the argument.
The traditional view of authorship can be traced to the early
second century and is based on the testimony of Papias, bishop
of Hierapolis, who, according to Eusebius (Ecclesiastical History
III.39.14±16), attributed it to an unknown contemporary, `the
Elder'. In favour of its authenticity is the strength and virtual
unanimity of the church tradition, at least between the second
and the ®fth century; the ùnderstated' nature of the testimony,
namely its ascription to a non-apostle; the widely held view that
this Gospel was also used as a source by the authors of at least
two of the three later canonical Gospels (Matthew and Luke), a
state of affairs which may also attest to the strength of the
tradition lying behind it; the prominence given to Peter in the
Gospel (the so-called `Petrine passages' are 1.16±39; 2.1±14;
3.13±19; 4.35±5.43; 6.7±13, 30±56; 8.15±9.48; 10.32±52;
11.1±33; 13.3±4, 32±7; 14.17±50, 53±4, 66±72) and even, it has
been claimed, the appearance of John Mark himself as the
enigmatic (but anonymous) young man in Gethsemane who
¯ees away naked leaving his garment behind (14.51±2)!
Against this position, however, there are weighty objections.
That early church tradition was virtually unanimous in sup-
porting the claim is not surprising since the later church fathers
were almost certainly dependent upon Papias, and hence offer
no independent attestation. Papias' evidence itself is unreliable
and often ambiguous. The identi®cation of `Mark' with the
John Mark of the New Testament is not actually made by
Papias himself (although he may have intended this ®gure) and
is not explicitly made indeed until Jerome. If the `John Mark' of
15
See Telford, Mark, pp. 15 ±20.
the New Testament is meant, then we have to reckon with the
fact that the New Testament traditions about him (if indeed
they are all referring to the one person)16 connect him with
Paul, and not with Peter (see Acts 12.12, 25; 13.5, 13; 15.37, 39;
Col. 4.10; 2 Tim. 4.11; Phlm. 24).17 The one exception is 1 Peter
5.13 where a connection between `Mark' and the apostle Peter
is posited (`my son Mark'). Since this epistle is widely regarded
as pseudonymous, the most that can be said is that it too
witnesses to a late ®rst-century or early second-century tradi-
tion that associated the apostle with a `Mark' (even perhaps the
John Mark), although no connection is made, of course,
between this `Mark' and the writer of the Gospel. We might
even speculate that this was the source of the Papias tradition.
Ascribing the Gospel to Peter's `son Mark', even although he
was not an apostle, may have given the Gospel all the legitimacy
it needed in the eyes of those who had by this time come to
value it. As for Matthew and Luke's use of Mark, this cannot be
used in support of the Papias tradition since neither of these
writers identify it as a source, and, far from capitalizing on its
alleged Petrine authority, feel free to alter it as they wish.
Where the internal evidence is concerned, the clues given as
to the Gospel's real author provide little correlation with the
New Testament traditions about John Mark. The author of our
text shows unfamiliarity with the geography of Palestine (e.g.
5.1; 6.45; 7.31; 8.22; 10.1; 11.1), Jewish customs (7.2±4; 10.2; 14.1;
14.64) and even the Jewish leadership groups (e.g. 3.6; 6.17; 8.15;
12.13).18 The Gospel was written in Greek with Gentiles in
mind (compare e.g. the Aramaic translations in 3.17; 5.41; 7.11;
7.34; 14.36; 15.22, 34) and offers harsh criticism of Jews and
Judaism, a subject I shall take up later. Peter is not signi®cantly
more prominent in Mark than he is in the other Gospels (for
which Petrine authority is not claimed), and an un¯attering
16
According to Black, three different ®gures emerge when one examines the New
Testament evidence, the Lukan `Mark' (aligned with a more parochial Jewish
Christianity), the Pauline `Mark' (Paul's servant and co-worker) and the Petrine
Mark (Peter's faithful `son'). Ìndeed, it seems that there is not one but at least two,
and perhaps three, ®gures of Mark explicit in the Christian canon' (p. 66).
17
See P. Parker, `The Authorship of the Second Gospel', PerspRelSt, 5 (1978), pp. 4 ± 9.
18
For discussion, see the standard commentaries where these passages are concerned.
picture is frequently painted of him (e.g. 8.33; 9.5±6; 14.30±1,
66ff.). It is pure romantic ®ction, moreover, to suppose that in
14.51±2 we have the hallmarks of eye-witness testimony and
that there John Mark is signing his name to his work. While the
vivid details within the Gospel indicate the author's closeness to
the oral tradition, the nature and variety of the material to be
found in Mark, as form critics have pointed out, testi®es to the
fact that the Gospel is a product of a long process of `community
tradition' and not of direct eye-witness testimony. 19 In sum, it is
only the external evidence of the Papias tradition which sup-
ports the traditional view of authorship and this evidence is
problematic. The internal evidence of the text, which is ulti-
mately decisive, tilts strongly against it. Indeed without Papias'
testimony the Gospel itself would hardly have suggested it.20
When we consider, however, that it was the religious value of
the Gospel which led the early church to assert its link with
Peter and not vice versa, then the matter of its actual authorship
is not ultimately decisive for the question of its theology. What
does matter is that this anonymous writer, whoever he was,
created, to our knowledge, the ®rst extensive and coherent
narrative account of the teaching and activity of Jesus, an early
literary representation which was at the same time a religious
interpretation of traditions about the founder of Christianity
which were circulating in the ®rst-century Mediterranean
world.
But how early was it written and where in the Mediterranean
world was it composed? A general consensus would now accept
a date not much earlier than 65 CE and not much later than 75,
that is, some time before or after the fall of Jerusalem which
occurred in 70.21 A substantially earlier date is usually dismissed
19
See D. E. Nineham, Èye-Witness Testimony and the Gospel Tradition', JTS, 9
(1958), pp. 13± 25, 243± 52; 11 (1960), pp. 253 ±64.
20
K. Niederwimmer, `Johannes Markus und die Frage nach dem Verfasser des zweiten
Evangeliums', ZNW, 58 (1967), pp. 172± 88.
21
For some recent discussion, see, for example, F. F. Bruce, `The Date and Character of
Mark' in E. Bammel and C. F. D. Moule (eds.), Jesus and the Politics of His Day
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), pp. 69 ±89; E. E. Ellis, `The Date
and Provenance of Mark's Gospel' in F. van Segbroeck et al. (eds.), The Four Gospels
1992 (Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters, 1992), pp. 801± 15; M. Hengel, `The
Gospel of Mark. Time of Origin and Situation' in M. Hengel (ed.), Studies in the Gospel
since it takes insuf®cient account of the development of the
tradition before Mark as well as the internal evidence (especially
of chapter 13) which suggests that events in the sixties formed
the backdrop for the ®nal form of the text. Where opinions
differ would be in the ®xing of a more precise date within this
general period. Some would argue for the mid-sixties, that is, in
the aftermath of the Neronian persecution,22 and this would
explain the evangelist's interest in the subject of suffering,
persecution and martyrdom (e.g. 1.14; 4.17; 6.17±29; 8.31±9.1;
9.11±13, 30±2; 10.29±30, 32±4, 38±9, 45; 13.9, 11±13; 14.41).
Others would opt for the second half of the sixties during the
period of unrest and apocalyptic fervour occasioned by both the
Romano-Jewish War and the civil war throughout the Empire
(e.g. 13.6±8, 17±23, 24±31).23 Others still, taking the prediction
of the destruction of the Temple as a vaticinium ex eventu (13.1±2),
or prophecy after the event, would hold that it was written
shortly after the fall of Jerusalem when eschatological expecta-
tion had perhaps begun to be tempered by the delay in Jesus'
second return or parousia (e.g. 13.10, 32±7).24 This would be my
own view. Where the Gospel's theology is concerned, the more
precise datings are not hugely signi®cant, except insofar as the
earlier of these three datings might lead us perhaps to accord
more signi®cance to the theme of `suffering discipleship' in
Mark's theology, and the latter datings to the importance of
eschatology.
Where provenance is concerned, four hypotheses dominate
the ®eld, namely Rome, Galilee, Antioch and small-town, rural
of Mark (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1985), pp. 1± 30; D. Senior, ` ``With Swords
and Clubs'' . . . the Setting of Mark's Community and His Critique of Abusive
Power', BTB, 17 (1987), pp. 10 ±20.
22
See Tacitus, Annals, 15.44 and C. K. Barrett, The New Testament Background. Selected
Documents (London: SPCK, 1987), pp. 15 ±16 as well as V. Taylor, The Gospel According
to St Mark (London: Macmillan; New York: St Martin's Press, 1966), pp. 31 ±2 ;
W. L. Lane, The Gospel According to Mark. The English Text with Introduction, Exposition and
Notes (The New International Commentary on the New Testament, 2; Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974), pp. 17 ±21.
23
W. Marxsen, Introduction to the New Testament. An Approach to its Problems (Oxford:
Blackwell, 1968), p. 143.
24
S. G. F. Brandon, `The Date of the Markan Gospel', NTS, 7 (1960 ± 1), pp. 126± 41;
J. Marcus, `The Jewish War and the Sitz im Leben of Mark', JBL, 111 (1992), pp.
441± 62.
Syria. The ®rst of these, Rome, is the traditional place of origin
for Mark's Gospel. It is supported by external evidence (chie¯y
the Anti-Marcionite Prologue, Irenaeus and Clement of Alex-
andria) but this again may simply be a deduction from 1 Peter
5.13 where Mark, Peter and Rome (or `Babylon') are connected.
Certain internal clues have been adduced in its favour such as
the frequent Latinisms (e.g. 5.9 legion; 6.27 speculator or military
executioner; 12.42 quadrans, a Roman coin), the indications of
Gentile addressees or the evidence which links the Gospel with
the Neronian persecution in 64, or the anti-Jewish sentiments
prevailing shortly after 70 in consequence of the Romano-
Jewish War. None of these is obviously decisive. The fact that
Mark came to be used by Matthew and Luke within a relatively
short time after its composition suggests to some that it ema-
nated from an important church-centre like Rome but this
consideration has to be balanced with the evidence of its
relative neglect in subsequent church history.
In favour of the alternative, Galilee, is the author's clear
dependence on Palestinian traditions, his special interest in
Galilee (e.g. 1.14, 16, 28, 39; 3.7; 7.31; 14.28; 16.7) and his use of
Galilean and Judaean place-names throughout without expla-
nation. Such a location would also be consistent with the
evidence linking the Gospel with the events of the war and the
eschatological excitement it precipitated in Palestine. A major
city like Antioch in Syria, however, would be equally ®tting,
with its mixture of Roman and Jewish culture, its links with the
primitive Jesus movement (see Acts 11.19±30), and even, if one
were to accept the traditional view of the Gospel's authorship,
with Peter (see Gal. 2.11), with Mark's uncle Barnabas (see Acts
11.22±6) and also with Cyrene (see Acts 1.20) from where the
(unexplained) Simon of Mark's text is said to have come (Mk
15.21)! On the other hand, if the Gospel's cultural and linguistic
links are with eastern Mediterranean village life, as is claimed,
and given that it portrays Jesus' ministry and that of his
disciples as an itinerant and rural one, a major urban centre
like Antioch may not be appropriate (Mark displays, it is said,
an aversion to the city). Rural and small-town southern Syria
has therefore been suggested as a more suitable place of
origin.25 While Rome is the most popular of all these alterna-
tives, the question of provenance is clearly still an open one.
the markan community

In the introduction I emphasized the importance of the histori-
cal context for the interpretation of the theology of Mark. The
above discussion illustrates, however, some of the dif®culties
which confront us when we try to reconstruct the historical
setting by working back from the textual evidence. These
dif®culties are also apparent when we seek to answer the
question of Mark's addressees. So far we have encountered
evidence to support the view that Greek-speaking Gentiles were
in view, but can we be more speci®c? Three overlapping terms
are frequently employed in this debate, `readership', àudience'
and `community', and certain distinct issues lurk behind them.
Was the Gospel of Mark addressed to a `readership'? Obviously
it was (e.g. 13.14 `let the reader understand') but a `readership' is
not the same thing as a `community'. A `readership' may be
general, diverse in interests or background, and widely diffused.
A `community', on the other hand, implies a particular social
con®guration, with its own special organization, needs, activi-
ties, beliefs and traditions. Were Mark's addressees a widely
disseminated `readership', or members of a localized, self-
conscious `community', a group, sect or cult with its own
religious identity? Some scholars, taking a literary-historical
approach26 and having a concern to place Mark in its ®rst-
century literary context by investigating, for example, its genre,
would obviously prefer to speak in terms of `readership' rather
than `community', while those in¯uenced by form criticism
tend to reverse the emphasis, as already mentioned.
In speaking further of Mark's àudience' should we interpret
the word in its literal sense? Was the text intended to be read
silently by the individual, read aloud by a group in a public
25
H. C. Kee, Community of the New Age. Studies in Mark's Gospel (Philadelphia, PA:
Westminster Press, 1977), pp. 100 ± 5.
26
See, for example, Tolbert, Sowing.
setting,27 or even performed on a stage? A growing body of
recent opinion would argue that we ought to think in terms of
àuditors' rather than `readers'.28 Because of its compositional
techniques, structure and style, the Gospel should be considered
as òral traditional literature', an oral/aural narrative which
was designed for performance before and in interaction with a
live audience, and the evangelist perhaps as an itinerant story-
teller or oral performer. Some indeed would assert (for
example, Boomershine or Dewey) that methodologies based on
silent reading of texts have a potential for distorting the original
intention of the text and that the dynamics of orality should be
taken more seriously in its interpretation.
Such questions are avoided by those who take a strictly
literary approach like narrative criticism. Here the boundaries
of the text and its own narrative world are not transgressed and
discussion of the ìmplied author' speaking through the `nar-
rator' to the ìmplied reader' leaves the `real author' and the
`historical reader' out of account and a matter merely for
speculation. What are the signs that behind the Gospel of
Mark, however, lay not simply a `readership', real or implied,
but a `community'? An historical-critical approach based on
form criticism would point to a number of features in the
Markan text which would suggest an af®rmative answer; for
27
E. Best, `The Gospel of Mark: Who was the Reader?', Irish Biblical Studies, 11 (1989),
pp. 124 ±32. In commenting on Mk 13.14 (`let the reader understand'), Best claims
that the `reader' in question would be an active participant in communal worship
(when the Gospel was read aloud) and that the phrase, a gloss, was a private note to
this public reader to call attention to the solecism `standing where he [sic] should
not'.
28
M. A. Beavis, Mark's Audience. The Literary and Social History of Mark 4.11 ±12 ( JSNTSS,
33; Shef®eld: JSOT Press, 1989); T. E. Boomershine, `Peter's Denial as Polemic or
Confession: the Implications of Media Criticism for Biblical Hermeneutics', Semeia,
39 (1987), pp. 47 ±68; P. J. J. Botha, `The Historical Setting of Mark's Gospel:
Problems and Possibilities', JSNT, 51 (1993), pp. 27 ± 55; C. Bryan, A Preface to Mark.
Notes on the Gospel in Its Literary and Cultural Settings (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1993); J. Dewey, Òral Methods of Structuring Narrative in Mark', Int, 43 (1989), pp.
32± 44; J. Dewey, `Mark as Interwoven Tapestry. Forecasts and Echoes for a Listening
Audience', CBQ , 53 (1991), pp. 221± 36; J. Dewey, `Mark as Aural Narrative:
Structures as Clues to Understanding', Sewanee Theological Review [Sewanee, TN], 36
(1992), pp. 45 ±56. I recently heard the distinguished actor Alec McCowen give his
one-man rendition of the Gospel of Mark in Newcastle Cathedral (Sunday, 17 March
1996) and anyone who has listened to this forceful recital (given in the King James
Authorised Version) will appreciate how suitable this Gospel is for oral performance.
example, the nature of the material used (its parenetic, cateche-
tical and polemical characteristics), the content of the issues
addressed (e.g. political questions concerning leadership and
discipleship; legal and cultic issues concerning the sabbath,
purity, fasting, table fellowship; social issues concerning mar-
riage and divorce, poverty and riches; doctrinal issues con-
cerning the authority and status of Jesus, the Kingdom of God,
the coming age, resurrection etc.), the mood engendered or
atmosphere created (the apocalyptic overtones and the eschato-
logical urgency, the references to suffering and the hints of
persecution, real or anticipated). All these suggest a `commun-
ity' (rather than simply a `readership'), which faces a common
threat, is in tension with its Jewish heritage, is oppressed,
possibly persecuted,29 is in need of moral guidance, sees Jesus as
a paradigm for its faith and expects a speedy resolution of its
problems.
Features such as these are not suf®cient, of course, to provide
a de®nitive clue to the identity of the Markan community. This,
like the Gospel's provenance, still remains an open question.30
Such factors could apply to urban Gentile Christians in Rome
suffering persecution (see V. Taylor, S. G. F. Brandon), Jewish
Christians in Galilee awaiting the parousia (W. Marxsen) or to a
rural and ethnically inclusive community in southern Syria with
an apocalyptic orientation (H. C. Kee).31 They remind us,
however, that Mark's theology had its roots in a community
experience and that it cannot easily be detached from the
social, political and cultural exigencies which affected it.
29
See B. M. F. van Iersel, `The Gospel According to St Mark ± Written for a Persecuted
Community?', Nederlands Theologisch Tijdschrift, 34 (1980), pp. 15 ± 36.
30
See J. R. Donahue, `The Quest for the Community of Mark's Gospel' in van
Segbroeck et al. (eds.), Four Gospels, pp. 817 ± 38.
31
For some recent work which builds on the sociological insights of Kee, see J. S. Suh,
Discipleship and Community. Mark's Gospel in Sociological Perspective (Nexus Monograph
Series 1; Claremont, CA: Center for Asian-American Ministries, School of Theology
at Claremont, 1991). See also R. L. Rohrbaugh, `The Social Location of the Marcan
Audience', BTB, 23 (1993), pp. 114 ±27 as well as Int, 47 (1993), pp. 380 ± 95;
H. Waetjen, A Re-ordering of Power. A Sociopolitical Reading of Mark's Gospel (Minneapolis,
MN: Fortress Press, 1989).
the tradition before mark

If behind Mark there lay a `community' or `communities', there
also lay, it should be emphasized, a `tradition' or `traditions'.
Whatever literary or theological creativity was demonstrated by
the Markan author, he did not invent the basic material in his
Gospel. That material had a pre-history. Sayings and stories
about Jesus had been circulating for a generation in various
Jewish- or Gentile-Christian communities before they came to
literary expression and theological (re)interpretation at the
hands of our anonymous writer. These mainly oral traditions
took the form, for the most part, of discrete, independent, self-
contained units, except possibly for the more extensive passion
narrative. The particular `forms' taken by this oral material
were not accidental but a product of the function (Sitz im Leben)
of the material in its community setting (for example, preaching,
teaching, instruction to catechumens, worship, exhortation,
discipline, apologetic, polemic). Having played a signi®cant role
in these various cultic activities, they carried as a result their
own theological stamp or colouring. This by now familiar view
of the origin of the Gospel material owes much to classical form
criticism32 and it is one which, despite a number of modi®ca-
tions, is still in¯uential in academic circles. It is the basic model
with which I myself shall work, although it will be quali®ed by
the results of redaction criticism and tempered by the insights of
the newer literary criticism.
But how can we be sure that Mark did not invent the basic
material in his Gospel but used sources? This subject I have
treated at greater length elsewhere33 but in general a number of
factors would indicate this, namely, considerable disjunction in
the narrative especially when we read it in the original lan-
guage, obvious insertions (e.g. 7.3±4), puzzling parentheses (e.g.
11.13c), some lack of logical coherence, especially in passages
where what appears to be offered is an amalgam of originally
separate sayings (e.g. 4.1±34; 8.34±9.1; 9.33±50, especially
32
See R. Bultmann, The History of the Synoptic Tradition (Oxford: Blackwell, 1968).
33
See Telford, `History of Developments' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 17 ±24;
Telford, Mark, pp. 46 ±56.
49±50; 11.22±5; 13.3±37), overlaps with Q (e.g. Mk 8.35 and Mt.
10.39 = Lk. 17.33) or with John (e.g. Mk 11.15±18 and Jn
2.13±22), frequent repetition including doublets (e.g. the two
feeding accounts of 6.30±44 and 8.1±10) or triplets (e.g. the
three passion predictions of 8.31, 9.31, 10.33±4), suggestive
patterning (e.g. the repetition of the sea miracle, three healing
miracles and one feeding miracle pattern which some scholars
have observed in 4.35±5.43/6.30±44 and 6.45±53/7.24±
8.26),34 and numerous inconsistencies and discrepancies
(compare 9.1 with 13.32). Some of these features could, of
course, be put down to the conscious (and even awkward)
literary activity of the evangelist himself (certain instances of
repetition, for example, may re¯ect authorial emphasis rather
than the incorporation of sources) but the overall impression is
that the evangelist has drawn on extraneous and at times
con¯icting material.
If Mark did use source material, then we might further ask
whether this material came to him in extensive written form, in
a number of smaller collections (either oral or written) or in
single oral units? Prior to the advent and in¯uence of form
criticism, an older view maintained that the Gospel was either
an abridgement of an earlier more extensive written source, a
primitive Gospel, or, conversely, that it was an expansion of an
earlier less extensive written source, a proto-Mark or Urmarkus.
This theory is no longer popular, the diversity of the Gospel's
contents suggesting that Mark is the compilation of a multi-
plicity of sources rather than an edited version of a single one.
Did the evangelist take over, then, a larger number of less
extensive written sources? Given the degree of homogeneity in
the Markan style and hence the dif®culty in establishing the
parameters of such alleged sources, this hypothesis too has
become less compelling, with the eclipse of classical source
criticism by form criticism favouring Markan dependence on an
oral rather than a literary tradition. Consequently, recent
Markan scholarship has tended to talk in vaguer and more
general terms of the `sources', `traditions', `collections' or even
34
See P. J. Achtemeier, `Towards the Isolation of pre-Markan Miracle Catenae', JBL,
89 (1970), pp. 245 ±91.
`cycles' underlying sections of the Gospel without claiming that
it can isolate these in any more precise way.
Discussion has centred in particular around the question of
pre-Markan collections or traditions underlying the prologue
(1.1±15; Jesus and John the Baptist), `the [so-called] day in
Capernaum' (1.21±39), the controversy passages (2.1±3.6;
7.1±23; 11±12), the parable discourse (4.1±34), the miracle
pericopae (1.21±2.12; 4.35±5.43; 6.31±52; 7.24±8.10), the
sayings complexes (3.22±30; 8.34±9.1; 9.33±50; 10; 11.22±5),
the apocalyptic discourse (13) and the passion narrative (14±15).
For some, Mark's debt to such collections is extensive (e.g.
R. Pesch), for others moderate (e.g. J. Gnilka), for others
limited (e.g. H.-W. Kuhn, D. LuÈhrmann).35 My own estimation
of the consensus36 is that there is general agreement in favour
of Mark's use of a collection of controversies (in 2.1±3.6 but not
in 7.1±23 or 11±12), parables (in 4), sayings (in 10) and a passion
narrative. Opinions are more divided in the case of the miracles
(especially 4.35ff.) and the apocalypse (13) and in general a
negative judgment would be delivered against a coherent
underlying source in 1.1±15 and 1.29±39. In sum, there are
many who would echo the judgment of W. G. KuÈmmel that
(with the quali®ed exception of the passion narrative) `we
cannot go beyond declaring that Mk is probably based on no
extensive written sources, but that more likely the evangelist
has woven together small collections of individual traditions
and detailed bits of tradition into a more or less coherent
presentation'.37
But of what did these `detailed bits of tradition' consist? Here
35
J. Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus (Evangelisch-Katholischer Kommentar zum
Neuen Testament, II 1/2; Zurich, Einsiedeln and Cologne: Benziger, 1978; Neu-
kirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1979); H.-W. Kuhn, AÈltere Sammlungen im Markus-
evangelium (Studien zum Alten und Neuen Testaments, 8; GoÈttingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht, 1971); D. LuÈhrmann, Das Markusevangelium (Handbuch zum Neuen Testa-
ment, 3; TuÈbingen: Mohr±Siebeck, 1987); R. Pesch, Das Markusevangelium (Herders
Theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament, II, 1/2; Freiburg, Basle and
Vienna: Herder, 1976; 1977).
36
W. R. Telford, `The Pre-Markan Tradition in Recent Research (1980 ± 1990)' in van
Segbroeck et al. (eds.), Four Gospels, pp. 693 ±723.
37
W. G. KuÈmmel, Introduction to the New Testament (London: SCM Press, 1975), p. 85.
classical form criticism (particularly as represented by Bult-
mann) has offered us a substantial and, despite developments in
the discipline and criticisms of it,38 still in¯uential categoriza-
tion. In Mark, from the (so-called) `sayings tradition', we can
discern apophthegms: sayings introduced with a brief narrative
framework (e.g. 2.18±19a; 3.31±5; 12.14±17); gnomic or wisdom
sayings: proverbs or aphorisms which embody conventional
secular wisdom or general religious truth (e.g. 2.21±2; 4.21±2;
8.35±7; 10.31), prophetic and apocalyptic sayings: predictions, ad-
monitions, warnings of impending crisis, summonses to repen-
tance, promises of future reward, etc. (e.g. 8.38; 9.1; 12.38±40;
13 passim), legal sayings: sayings expressing Jesus' attitude to the
Jewish Law, and community rules: sayings setting forth the regula-
tions of the community in respect of its internal organization
and discipline as well as its mission (e.g. 2.27; 7.15; 9.42;
10.11±12; 10.42±4; 11.25; 12.29±30), Christological sayings or Ì-
sayings': sayings which express the purpose of Jesus' coming, his
special relationship with God, his passion and resurrection (e.g.
2.17b; 2.19b, 20; 2.28; 10.45) and parables (e.g. 4.1±34; 13.28±9,
34±7). From the (so-called) `narrative tradition', we have miracle
stories, with their emphasis on divine power (e.g. 1.29±31; 7.31±7;
8.22±6; 9.14±27), historical stories and legends, with their personal
(biographical) or cultic orientation and their folkloric conven-
tions (e.g. 11.1±10; 14.12±16) and myths, where the òtherworldly'
breaks in on the human scene (1.9±11; 1.12±13; 9.2±8). Re-
¯ected in all these forms was the theology of the community or
communities which created and transmitted them, and it was
these forms, together with the longer passion narrative (an
account itself coloured by a religious view of Jesus) which Mark
took over and shaped into his own distinctive theological
presentation of Jesus.
the message of mark

In making this last statement, I am parting company to an
appreciable degree from the form critic's evaluation of the
38
See Telford, Mark, pp. 66 ±9.
evangelist's literary and theological achievement. In common
with a now strongly established view, I would hold that the
evangelist was not a mere compiler, collector or editor of
traditions but one who was to a large degree responsible for the
®nal form of the Gospel. This revised estimate is principally a
product both of the redaction-critical approach which has
dominated Gospel study since the 1960s and the newer literary
approaches which have been applied to Mark increasingly since
the late 1970s.
Redaction criticism (and its sister discipline composition
criticism) has uncovered the extent to which the evangelist
selected, arranged, linked, altered, modi®ed, reshaped, ex-
panded and in some cases even created the material of which
his Gospel is composed. Where the traditions needed to be
woven together into a connected presentation, for example, it
was he who provided the seams which link the individual
sayings or stories together or the summary passages linking
sections of the narrative (e.g. 1.21±2; 1.39; 2.13; 3.7±12; 4.1;
6.6b; 6.30±4, 53±6). Where individual traditions lacked indica-
tions of time or place, it was he who frequently supplied them
with a chronological, topographical or geographical setting
(e.g. 1.9; 2.1, 13; 3.13; 4.1; 6.1; 7.24, 31). Where such traditions
required comment or explanation, he introduced parenthetical
statements (e.g. 2.15b; 3.21b, 30; 5.41b; 7.3±4, 19c; 13.14b;
15.16b, 34). Redaction criticism has also highlighted the fact
that in his extensive editorial work, the evangelist was moti-
vated more by literary and theological concerns than by purely
historical ones.
The newer literary approaches, with their holistic emphasis,
have in turn asserted that a narrow `source-editing' model for
the compositional process (the investigation of summary pass-
ages, seams, insertions etc.) provides us with an inadequate
basis for gaining a complete understanding of the evangelist's
literary or theological enterprise. Increasing attention has been
paid to recurrent themes, motifs or interests within the Gospel
and a growing recognition accorded to those features (both
literary and theological) which give the Markan text its unity
and progression. This coherence can be seen, it is maintained,
in the Gospel's style,39 its literary techniques and rhetorical
devices (for example, in its consistent demonstration of linear
and concentric, or `sandwich' patterning)40 and its narrative
development (plot, characters and settings).41 Many would now
®nd themselves in agreement with R. C. Tannehill's judgment
that `Mk is a single uni®ed story because of its progressive
narrative lines.'42 In short, the textually disintegrative factors
(the disjunctions, discrepancies, ambiguities, inconsistencies,
etc.) which have led form critics to investigate the pre-history of
the text and its external or socio-historical context, are now
being counterbalanced in scholarly discussion by an increasing
emphasis on the textually integrative ones, that is, those which
direct us to the unity of the text and its internal relations.
All this has important implications for the question of Mark
as `theologian' and for the extent of his literary and theological
creativity. The matter is still being ®ercely debated. 43 A number
of scholars, following Bultmann, would be unwilling to concede
39
See, for example, F. Neirynck, Duality in Mark. Contributions to the Study of the Markan
Redaction (BETL, 31; Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters, 1988). `There is a sort
of homogeneity in Mark, from the wording of sentences to the composition of the
gospel. After the study of these data one has a strong impression of the unity of the
gospel of Mark. It can be formulated as a methodological principle that the
categories we distinguished hold together and that no pericope in Mark can be
treated in isolation' (p. 37).
40
E.g. Triadism (the grouping of units in sequences of three) or montage (the juxta-
position of units to suggest meaning by association). One common form of
concentric patterning is chiasmus where materials are placed in a sandwich pattern
(e.g. A±B±B'±A') in such a way that inner and outer elements correspond to each
other and the central unit, where it occurs, is highlighted (e.g. A±B±C±B '±A'). Others
are inclusio, a framing device where, for emphasis, an opening or leading idea or
phrase is repeated at the conclusion of a unit (or series of units), and intercalation,
which involves the dovetailing or interlacing of one unit with another in an A±B±A
pattern. See J. Dewey, Markan Public Debate. Literary Technique, Concentric Structure, and
Theology in Mark 2:1 ± 3:6 (SBLDS, 48; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1980); J. Dewey,
`The Literary Structure of the Controversy Stories in Mark 2:1 ±3:6' in Telford (ed.),
Interpretation, pp. 141± 51; Telford, Mark, 102 ±4; B. M. F. van Iersel, Reading Mark
(Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1989).
41
Àt the levels of narrator, plot, characterisation, theology and literary style one can
discover a unity and integrity in the gospel that makes it both appropriate and
necessary to study the work as a genuine narrative, as a single, coherent, intelligible
story' (Marshall, Faith, p. 26). See also Rhoads and Michie, Mark; D. Rhoads,
`Narrative Criticism and the Gospel of Mark', JAAR, 50 (1982), pp. 411± 34.
42
R. C. Tannehill, `The Gospel of Mark as Narrative Christology', Semeia, 16 (1979),
p. 77.
43
See Telford, `History of Developments' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 24 ±5.
that Mark was master of his material and would prefer to see
the tradition exerting a stronger in¯uence on the theology of
the Gospel than the conservative redactor who gave it written
expression. The issue has not been resolved but, as I said in the
introduction, I would join forces with those who see in Mark a
theologian of some considerable creativity.
The extent of his literary and theological engagement with
his material can be seen in a number of ways. It can be
observed, for example, in his consistent use of an òmniscient,
intrusive, third-person narrator'44 (behind whom, in my view,
stands ultimately not only the implied author but also the real
one). Present in every scene, this narrator is not bound by time
and space. He is able to know and thence to inform the implied
reader what his characters think and feel, so establishing them
in the reader's mind as `reliable' or ùnreliable' characters.
Evincing a de®nite and consistent `point of view', he guides the
reader throughout the text and suborns him or her into
accepting his own ideological stance. This will be important
when we examine the evangelist's Christology.
Described by one early form critic (M. Dibelius) as `the book
of secret epiphanies', the Gospel of Mark is replete with
elements which tease the mind and invite the reader to theo-
logical contemplation (e.g. 8.14±21). One device used by the
narrator is irony, a narrative strategy directed to the reader and
occurring, according to a recent literary study, `when the
elements of the story-line provoke the reader to see beneath the
surface of the text to deeper signi®cances'. 45 By withholding
information from characters in the world of the narrative but
disclosing it to the reader, irony gains the con®dence of the
reader and enlists him or her in the process of interpretation.
This is particularly so in the case of `the [so-called] messianic
secret', which we shall shortly be examining, but irony is a
pervasive feature of the Markan Gospel, as the work of
44
See N. R. Petersen, ` ``Point of View'' in Mark's Narrative', Semeia, 12 (1978), pp.
97 ±121.
45
J. Camery-Hoggatt, Irony in Mark's Gospel (SNTSMS, 72; Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1992), p. 1.
Camery-Hoggatt and others have shown.46 When the Jewish
authorities are mocking Jesus as a false prophet inside the trial
chamber, for example, his prophetic powers are being simul-
taneously vindicated for the reader by Peter's denial in the
courtyard outside (14.30 and 14.65, 66±72).
This last example illustrates one of the literary devices used
by the Markan redactor, and already commented on, namely
that of intercalation, the dovetailing or interlacing of one
pericope with another in an A±B±A pattern (14.53, 54, 55±65,
66±72). In each case, the evangelist begins to tell a story,
interrupts it by inserting another, and then returns to the
original in order to complete it (3.21, 22±30, 31±5; 4.1±9, 10±12,
13±20; 5.21±4, 25±34, 35±43; 6.7±13, 14±29, 30; 11.12±14,
15±19, 20±5; 14.1±2, 3±9, 10±11; 14.17±21, 22±6, 27±31;
15.40±1, 42±6, 15.47±16.8). These intercalations not only func-
tion in a literary way (to create suspense or tension in the
narrative) but they also invite the reader to draw a theological
lesson from the linked passages by treating them in a mutually
interpretative way. Jesus' action in cursing the ®g-tree (11.12±14,
22±5), for example, is intended to be viewed in connection with
his action in the Temple (11.15±19), both traditions taken in
conjunction with each other hinting at a deeper religious
symbolism.47 This observation is reinforced in a recent study
which concludes that the Markan sandwiches èmphasize the
major motifs of the Gospel, especially the meaning of faith,
discipleship, bearing witness, and the dangers of apostasy . . . the
middle story nearly always provides the key to the theological
purpose of the sandwich'.48
If the Markan redactor can be shown to make a subtle use of
interlinked traditions in this way, juxtaposing internal elements
46
See R. M. Fowler, Let the Reader Understand. Reader-Response Criticism and the Gospel of
Mark (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1991), passim ; R. M. Fowler, `The Rhetoric
of Direction and Indirection in the Gospel of Mark' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp.
221± 4; Rhoads and Michie, Mark, pp. 59 ±67; G. Van Oyen, Ìntercalation and Irony
in the Gospel of Mark' in van Segbroeck et al. (eds.), Four Gospels, pp. 949 ±74.
47
See W. R. Telford, The Barren Temple and the Withered Tree. A Redaction-Critical Analysis of
the Cursing of the Fig-tree Pericope in Mark's Gospel and its Relation to the Cleansing of the
Temple Tradition ( JSNTSS, 1; Shef®eld: JSOT Press, 1980), esp. pp. 48 ±9.
48
J. R. Edwards, `Markan Sandwiches. The Signi®cance of Interpolations in Markan
Narratives', NovT, 31 (1989), pp. 193± 216.
of the text for theological effect, he also demonstrates a similar
subtlety in the sphere of intertextuality. A coherent thread
running through the Gospel is its references to the Old Testa-
ment, a rich tapestry of quotations and allusions being pre-
sented to the reader with an implicit invitation to interpret the
story of Jesus theologically in the light of these. Clearly the
evangelist owed much to the tradition in this regard since the
Old Testament was a formative in¯uence on the developing
Jesus tradition prior to Mark, whether serving to promote a
`messianic' Christology in general, or contributing to the
formulation of the passion narrative in particular. Mark's hand
was also at work, however, in this process, the Jewish scriptures
being used by him to develop or counteract the Christology
implicit in the tradition or traditions before him.49
As a ®nal example, I might point to the theological reso-
nances sounded by Mark's topographical and geographical
settings. The ®rst part of the Gospel is set in Galilee and its
surrounding area, the second part in Jerusalem, with Jesus'
journey from Galilee to Jerusalem forming the bridge or centre-
piece. Within this overall framework, the Markan characters
are encountered in a variety of places: in the wilderness (e.g. 1.4,
12, 35; 6.31; 8.4); at the sea (1.16; 2.13; 3.7; 4.1; 5.21; 7.31); in the
house (2.1, 15; 3.20; 7.17, 24; 9.33; 10.10); in the synagogue (1.21;
3.1); getting in/out of a boat (3.9; 4.1, 36; 5.2, 21; 6.32, 45, 54;
8.10, 14); in the hills/on a mountain (3.13; 6.46; 9.2; 13.3); on the
way/road (8.27; 9.33, 34; 10.17, 32, 46, 52); in the temple (11.11, 15,
27) or in the tomb (5.2; 16.5). Some of these locations have been
taken over from the tradition, others are attributable to the
evangelist himself, but whatever their precise origin, it is clear
that most of them possess rich religious overtones which would
not have escaped the ancient reader, whether Jew (e.g. `the
wilderness', `the mountain', `the synagogue', `the temple') or
Gentile Christian (e.g. `the house', the early Christian meeting-
49
For the relation between Mark's Christology and the Old Testament, see Kee,
Community, esp. pp. 116± 44; J. Marcus, The Way of the Lord. Christological Exegesis of the
Old Testament in the Gospel of Mark (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press,
1992); R. Schneck, Isaiah in the Gospel of Mark, I±VIII (BIBAL Dissertation Series 1;
Vallejo, CA: BIBAL, 1994).
place, or `the way', a metaphor for discipleship and the early
Christian movement's self-designation, according to Acts 9.2;
19.9, 23; 22.4; 24.14). The narrative opposition between Galilee
and Jerusalem (Galilee is where Jesus is welcomed, Jerusalem
where he is rejected) or between the land and the sea (especially
Jesus' frequent lake crossings) can also be read with regard to
their theological and even mythological associations as well as
to their historical ones.50
Where does this leave us then with respect to the question of
Mark's theological creativity? We have certainly come a long
way from the notion that `the author of Mk was a clumsy writer
unworthy of mention in any history of literature'51 or that he
was theologically unsophisticated. On the other hand, given his
dependence on tradition, it is possible to exaggerate his literary
ability and theological profundity, as well as to overemphasize
the gulf separating his story world and the real world, his text
and its historical context, as the following judgement does:
The gospel of Mark is a story world artistically constructed by an
immensely creative and powerful storyteller. It is an integrated
narrative in which all of its content is coherently related to itself and
constitutes an independent, self-contained, and systematic universe
with its own inherent structures of time and space . . . consequently it
can be comprehended only in terms of itself and not by any historical
investigation of its content in relation to the quest for the historical
Jesus.52
Mark's story world is less coherent than literary critics claim, as
we noted when considering some of the evidence of disjunc-
tions, discrepancies and inconsistencies in the text. His story
world often interpenetrates with the world of his own commun-
ity, his real life concerns impinging on the narrative world he
has created.53 It is possible that he was conservative at some
50
See, for example, D. Blatherwick, `The Markan Silhouette', NTS, 17 (1970 ±1),
pp. 184 ± 92; E. S. Malbon, Narrative Space and Mythic Meaning in Mark (New Voices in
Biblical Studies; San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1986); E. S. Malbon, `Galilee and
Jerusalem: History and Literature in Marcan Interpretation' in Telford (ed.),
Interpretation, pp. 253 ±68; van Iersel, Mark.
51
E. TrocmeÂ, The Formation of the Gospel According to Mark (London: SPCK, 1975), p. 72.
52
Waetjen, Re-ordering, p. 1.
53
See H. RaÈisaÈnen, The `Messianic Secret' in Mark (Studies of the New Testament and its
World; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1990), p. 21.
points in dealing with his tradition, and creative, even radical,
at others. Consequently, I shall attempt to give due weight to
both the textually integrative and the textually disintegrative
factors, the former justifying the synchronic approach (that is,
one directed to the Gospel's ®nal form, interrelationships and
effects), the latter the diachronic one (that is, one attuned to the
pre-history of its component parts).
What then was the message of Mark and can we determine
his leading ideas, a task Bultmann considered misguided?54 My
answer to these questions will emerge as we proceed, but here
let me summarize what scholars would now identify as the
major themes, motifs or concerns which motivated the evange-
list in the creation of his Gospel.
(a) the secrecy motif and the writer's interest in the true but
hidden identity of Jesus.
(b) an interest in the passion of Jesus (his suffering, death and
resurrection) and its signi®cance for Christology.
(c) an interest in the nature and coming of the Kingdom of God
and in the question of Jesus' return as Son of Man.
(d) an interest in Galilee.
(e) his use of the term `gospel' (euangelion).
(f ) an interest in Gentiles and the Gentile mission.
(g) an interest in persecution, suffering and martyrdom and the true
nature of discipleship.
(h) his harsh treatment of the Jewish leadership groups, Jesus' family
and especially his original disciples.
Any valid theory of the Gospel's overall theological purpose
must take into account all of these distinctive features and assess
them accordingly, and this I shall attempt to do. The question
of the Gospel's provenance as well as the nature of the Markan
community was still, as we saw, an open one. This is also the
case for the Gospel's overall purpose. The three most popular
theories suggest that Mark's purpose was parenetic (E. Best),
kerygmatic (E. Schweizer) or Christological (N. Perrin). Accord-
ing to Best, `Mark's purpose was pastoral. He wrote primarily
54
Bultmann, History, p. 349.
to build up his readers in faith.'55 With a suffering church in
mind, he intended his theology of the cross to equip them to
face persecution as well as resist the temptation of their culture.
In the opinion of Schweizer, the evangelist's desire to communi-
cate the kerygma or message of the cross was uppermost, the
Gospel being about `the amazing, incomprehensible condescen-
sion and love of God which in Jesus seeks the world. But the
world is so blinded that it cannot recognize him although he
does everything to help it ®nd him'.56 For Perrin, à major
aspect of the Marcan purpose is Christological; he is concerned
with correcting a false Christology prevalent in his church and
to teach both a true Christology and its consequences for
Christian discipleship'.57 Since it is the third of these three
views which comes closest to my own estimate of the Markan
purpose, I shall therefore begin this study of the theology of the
Gospel of Mark with his treatment of the person of Jesus.
55
E. Best, Mark. The Gospel as Story (Studies of the New Testament and its World;
Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1983), p. 51.
56
E. Schweizer, `Mark's Theological Achievement' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, p. 80.
57
N. Perrin, `The Christology of Mark: a Study in Methodology' in Telford (ed.),
Interpretation, p. 129.
chapter 2
The theology of Mark
the person of jesus
`Who then is this?': the nature and signi®cance of Markan Christology

In reading the Gospel of Mark from beginning to end, one is
immediately struck by the number of narrative images by which
its central ®gure is characterized.1 He appears as an authorita-
tive teacher (1.21±2), a charismatic prophet (8.27±8) and a
popular healer and exorcist (1.32±4). He is described as the
`Nazarene' (10.47) and addressed as `Teacher' (4.38), `Rabbi'
(9.5), or `Lord' (7.28). He is acclaimed as the `Holy One of God'
(1.24), greeted as the `Son of David' (10.47) and confessed as
`Christ' (8.29) or `Son of God' (15.39). He speaks of himself,
however, as the `Son of Man' and de®nes his role as that of a
servant (10.45). Given this multifaceted representation, how
then do we determine Mark's Christology, his understanding of
the person of Jesus?
The traditional route has been by way of an analysis of these
titles or epithets as well as of the attributes predicated of him.
Markan Christology, however, is not simply the sum-total of
these, laid side by side, as it were. The picture is more complex
than that, and for at least two reasons. In the ®rst place, the
evangelist is not simply presenting his own view of Jesus but also
taking over, as we have seen, from the early Christian move-
ment before him, both Jewish and Gentile, a variety of tradi-
tions which understood Jesus in different ways. Each of these
1
See E. K. Broadhead, Prophet, Son, Messiah. Narrative Form and Function in Mark 14 ±16
( JSNTSS, 97; Shef®eld: JSOT Press, 1994).
30
The theology of Mark 31
traditions bears its own Christological stamp. Some appear to
hit historical bedrock ( Jesus as teacher, prophet or healer),2 or
go back to the primitive Jewish-Christian tradition ( Jesus as
Messiah, apocalyptic Son of Man, royal Son of David or
suffering Servant).3 Others may re¯ect perhaps an estimate of
Jesus more widely current within Hellenistic Jewish or Gentile
Christianity ( Jesus as Lord, Son of God, `divine man'4). The
traditions incorporated, therefore, come from different strata of
the developing tradition about him and some, as a result, are
not only dissimilar but contradictory. In the second place, the
evangelist may have taken over traditional material with a
certain Christological slant for a variety of reasons. He may
have done so because he approved of the estimate of Jesus
presented by it. He may have done so, conversely, because he
disapproved of it and wished to qualify, extend or even contra-
dict what it conveyed about the signi®cance of Jesus. A third
possibility is that he was neutral about it and incorporated a
particular tradition for other than its Christological content or
function.
2
See W. R. Telford, `Major Trends and Interpretive Issues in the Study of Jesus' in
B. Chilton and C. A. Evans (eds.), Studying the Historical Jesus (Leiden, New York and
Cologne: E. J. Brill, 1994), esp. p. 55.
3
The term NazareÅnos used of Jesus (1.24; 10.47; 14.67; 16.6) preserves this primitive
character, and was probably taken over undeveloped by Mark from the tradition. For
a recent discussion, however, of its wider narrative role, see E. K. Broadhead, `Jesus
the Nazarene: Narrative Strategy and Christological Imagery in the Gospel of Mark',
JSNT, 52 (1993), pp. 3 ± 18.
4
Although the `divine man' or theios aneÅr has been under attack as a uni®ed type or
clearly de®nable concept in the ancient world, it does retain its usefulness in
describing what is an essentially Hellenistic (rather than Jewish) conception of divinity
in which the ®gure portrayed is a being hovering between the human and the divine,
and who shares a relationship with God which is essentially ontological or metaphy-
sical rather than ethical. For a selection of the discussion, see H. D. Betz, `Jesus as
Divine Man' in F. T. Trotter (ed.), Jesus and the Historian. Written in Honor of E. C. Colwell
(Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1968), pp. 114 ±33; L. Bieler, UEIOS ANHR.
Das Bild des `goÈttlichen Menschen' in SpaÈtantike und FruÈhchristentum (Darmstadt: Wis-
senschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1935/1936); B. Blackburn, Theios AneÅr and the Markan
Miracle Traditions. A Critique of the Theios AneÅr Concept as an Interpretative Background of the
Miracle Traditions used by Mark (WUNT, 2/60; TuÈbingen: Mohr±Siebeck, 1991);
C. Holladay, `Theios AneÅr' in Hellenistic-Judaism: A Critique of this Category in New Testament
Christology (SBLDS, 40; Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1977); J. D. Kingsbury, `The
``Divine Man'' as the Key to Mark's Christology ± the End of an Era?', Int, 35 (1981),
pp. 243± 57; D. L. Tiede, The Charismatic Figure as Miracle-Worker (SBLDS, 1; Missoula,
MT: Scholars Press, 1972).
As a result, careful discrimination needs to be exercised in
any analysis of titles used or attributes predicated of Jesus in
Mark. Some of the titles were important for him, others less so.
Some appear frequently, others less so. Some re¯ect his own
view of Jesus' signi®cance, others that of the pre-Markan
tradition. Some may present, in his view, an inadequate or even
false image of Jesus. Some are shared by some other early
Christian writers (e.g. Paul), or by the later evangelists. Some
Christological traditions present in other earlier or later writers
are absent (for example, belief in Jesus' pre-existence as a divine
being, or the tradition of his virgin birth).
Given this complexity, it is not surprising that scholars have
questioned whether there is a Markan Christology at all, the
evangelist having merely synthesized the various images, it is
argued, rather than imposing his own Christological viewpoint
upon them.5 More recently, and in line with the newer literary
approaches, there has been a tendency to interpret the
Christology of the narrative in its own terms without recourse
to hypothetical reconstructions of pre-Markan tradition. 6
However, redaction criticism, 7 informed by literary insights,
can take us some way towards an answer to the question posed
at the beginning of this chapter, but we need to proceed
cautiously.
In general, we should note the nature and frequency of the
titles and attributes, observing their pattern and arrangement.
In particular, we should ask ourselves at what points in the
narrative the major titles appear (at the beginning of the Gospel
or the end? in a signi®cant or climactic scene ± a confession
scene? a worship passage? a controversy episode?) and on
whose lips (an opponent? a disciple? Jesus himself ? a super-
natural being ± a demon, or angel? a neutral observer?). Which
titles or attributes appear more often in obviously redactional
5
See, for example, E. TrocmeÂ, Ìs there a Markan Christology?' in B. Lindars and
S. S. Smalley (eds.), Christ and Spirit in the New Testament. In Honour of Charles Francis
Digby Moule (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973), pp. 3± 13.
6
See, for example, J. D. Kingsbury, The Christology of Mark's Gospel (Philadelphia, PA:
Fortress Press, 1983).
7
See R. H. Stein, `The Proper Methodology for Ascertaining a Markan Redaction
History', NovT, 13 (1971), pp. 181± 98.
passages (e.g. seams or summary passages) and which are added
to manifestly pre-Markan material? Does the evangelist pre-
serve or alter the meaning of a title taken over from the
tradition, and if the latter, how so? Does he use one title, for
example, to interpret or qualify another? Does he juxtapose
several titles? These are the some of the methods employed by
Matthew and Luke in redacting Mark. Comparison, indeed,
with Matthew and Luke is instructive for, as ®rst century
readers of Mark, they are sensitive to his treatment of the
tradition and in particular to his Christological presentation.
With these questions and considerations in mind, let us now
brie¯y discuss the major titles to be found in the Markan text,
saying something about their frequency, meaning, background
and signi®cance.8 The title `Teacher' (didaskalos) appears as a
noun some twelve times in the Gospel (4.38; 5.35; 9.17, 38; 10.17,
20, 35; 12.14, 19, 32; 13.1; 14.14), its corresponding verb (didaskein)
®fteen times, that is `more often than in any other New
Testament book'.9 Ànd he began to teach' is a recurrent
Markan expression (e.g. 4.1; 6.2, 34; 8.31; see also 10.1). In
depicting Jesus as acting in this characteristic way, it would be
fair to say that the tradition of `Jesus the Teacher' was important
for Mark in a way that it was not, for example, for Paul. The
evangelist seems to approve of the title since it appears on one
8
For a fuller discussion of the following titles, see the standard treatments to be found
in O. Cullmann, The Christology of the New Testament (The New Testament Library;
Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1959); J. D. G. Dunn, Unity and Diversity in the New
Testament. An Inquiry into the Character of Earliest Christianity (London: SCM Press, 1977),
pp. 33 ±59; R. H. Fuller, The Mission and Achievement of Jesus (Studies in Biblical
Theology 12; London: SCM Press, 1954), pp. 79 ±117; R. H. Fuller, The Foundations of
New Testament Christology (London: Lutterworth Press; New York: Scribner, 1965);
F. Hahn, The Titles of Jesus in Christology. Their History in Early Christianity (London:
Lutterworth Press; New York: World Publishing Company, 1969); H. C. Kee, Commun-
ity of the New Age. Studies in Mark's Gospel (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1977),
pp. 116± 44; W. G. KuÈmmel, The Theology of the New Testament According to its Major
Witnesses Jesus ± Paul ± John (Nashville, TN and New York: Abingdon Press, 1973);
C. F. D. Moule, The Origin of Christology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1977); V. Taylor, The Gospel According to St Mark (London: Macmillan; New York: St
Martin's Press, 1966), pp. 117± 22; G. Vermes, Jesus the Jew. A Historian's Reading of the
Gospels (London: SCM Press, 1983).
9
C. F. Evans, The Beginning of the Gospel. Four Lectures on St Mark's Gospel (London: SPCK,
1968), p. 47, gratia R. P. Martin, Mark ± Evangelist and Theologian (Exeter: Paternoster,
1979), p. 111. Cf. also 1.21 ±2, 27; 2.13; 4.1 ±2; 6.2, 34; 8.31; 9.31; 10.1; 11.17, 18; 12.14,
35, 38; 14.49.
occasion as Jesus' self-designation (14.14 `The Teacher says . . .').
On the other hand, it is also his opponents' term of address in
chapter 12. In the majority of cases it appears on the lips of his
disciples, although Matthew, it should be noted, alters the title
to the more reverential `Lord' in 4.38 (Mt. 8.25). In four cases,
the Jewish equivalent, `Rabbi' or `Rabbouni' is used, once on
the lips of a blind Jew, Bartimaeus, before he is cured (10.51),
once on the lips of Judas in the act of betrayal (14.45) and twice
on the lips of his disciples in contexts where they fail to
recognize the true signi®cance of Jesus or his actions (9.5; 11.21).
It has also been frequently observed that although Jesus is
presented as a teacher in this Gospel, Mark does not communi-
cate as much as the other evangelists do of the actual content of
Jesus' teaching.10 A strong emphasis is given to the passion
narrative, with material re¯ecting Jesus' con¯ict with the Jewish
authorities over the Law (2.1±3.6; 7.1±23; 11.27±12.44) pro-
viding an explanation for the events leading up to it. The
evangelist can be seen employing elements of the sayings
tradition, therefore, for his own purposes and in particular to
illustrate and develop some of his main themes, namely the
secret of the Kingdom of God (4.1±34), the nature and cost of
discipleship (8.34±9.1; 9.33±10.31) and the coming of the Son of
Man (13). It is uncertain whether he knew the `sayings source'
Q underlying the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, although that
source demonstrates the importance of `Jesus the Teacher' for a
very early Jewish-Christian community. While there is some
anachronism in his portrayal of Jesus as a teacher of the
Christian `word' (2.2; 4.14ff., 33) or `gospel' (1.1, 15; 8.35; 10.29;
13.10; 14.9), there is no doubting the historicity of the tradition
itself. I would conclude therefore that the evangelist has taken
over a tradition which was important for him but, at the same
time, may intend to intimate to his readers that seeing or
10
See M. E. Boring, `The Paucity of Sayings in Mark. A Hypothesis' in P. J. Achtemeier
(ed.), Society of Biblical Literature 1977 Seminar Papers (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press,
1977), pp. 371±7; M. Smith, `Forms, Motives and Omissions in Mark's Account of the
Teaching of Jesus' in J. Reumann (ed.), Understanding the Sacred Text. Essays in Honor of
Morton S. Enslin on the Hebrew Bible and Christian Origins (Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press,
1972), pp. 153 ± 64.
addressing Jesus merely as `Rabbi' or `Teacher' represents a less
than adequate understanding of his Christological signi®cance.
A similar conclusion can be reached with regard to the title
`Prophet' (6.3±4,14±16; 8.27±8; [13.22]). In 6.4, in the context
of his rejection at Nazareth, the title is given as a self-desig-
nation of Jesus. The setting of this passage, a biographical
apophthegm according to Bultmann, was probably composed
by Mark but the punch line saying (À prophet is not without
honour . . .') is in essence pre-Markan.11 In two other passages
(6.14±16; 8.27±8), possibly a doublet, we are told that the
popular Jewish estimate of Jesus was that he was a prophet. The
evangelist elsewhere makes little of this title (compare, however,
11.32 and 13.22) although it is clear that it not only belonged to
his tradition but is a key element in characterizing the historical
Jesus' social type.12 In the second of these passages, the impor-
tant confession scene at Caesarea Philippi, the evangelist can be
seen signi®cantly qualifying the image of Jesus as prophet. Here
Jesus himself poses the Christological question (`Who do men
say that I am?'). The reader is then told that while `prophet'
was the estimate of the Jewish populace, the verdict of Peter, a
major disciple and prominent leader of the early Jewish-Chris-
tian community, was `You are the Christ' (8.29).
This brings us to what many regard as the key declaration in
Mark, the Christological af®rmation not only of the Jewish-
Christian tradition before him but of the evangelist himself.
Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, the Ànointed One' (Christos).
Before we jump to this conclusion, however, we should remind
ourselves of the meaning and background of this term for
Jews.13 While there was no uniform Messianic expectation in
Jewish circles of the period, two prominent strands of the
Messianic hope do stand out. In the ®rst place, the term
11
R. Bultmann, The History of the Synoptic Tradition (Oxford: Blackwell, 1968), pp. 31 ±2,
75, 102. A version of the saying appears without its narrative framework in the
Oxyrhynchus Papyrus I.5. Cf. also Jn 4.44.
12
See D. Hill, New Testament Prophecy (Marshall's Theological Library; London: Mar-
shall, Morgan & Scott, 1979), pp. 48± 69 for the marshalling of the evidence. Ìt is
true that from the historian's point of view the working concept which guided Jesus
in the task of his ministry was that of ``prophet'' ' (p. 68).
13
See E. Rivkin, `Messiah, Jewish' in IDB(S), pp. 588± 91.
`Messiah' was used of an earthly, political ®gure, a warrior-king
who by his military exploits and passion for justice would lead
his people into victory over their Gentile overlords, establish
God's Kingdom and restore the land of Israel to his chosen
people, the Jews. According to popular belief he would be
descended from King David, and, in some sources, is even
accorded the title `Son of David'.14 A second (though less
common, less coherent and therefore more disputed) strand of
the Messianic hope was the belief entertained in apocalyptic
Judaism in an exalted, transcendent, heavenly ®gure (styled
variously as òne like a son of man', `that Son of Man' or `the
Man') who would appear at the end-time to judge the world,
punish the wicked and vindicate the righteous.15
Three key questions may therefore now be addressed. How
important is the term `Christ' in actuality for Mark, what
particular understandings lay behind his use of the term, and
was he inviting his readers to see in Peter's confession of Jesus as
the `Christ' a Christology that they should themselves embrace?
We should begin by noting that the term `Christ' is not in itself
very prominent in the Gospel. There are only seven instances of
its use (1.1; 8.29; 9.41; 12.35±7; 13.21, 22; 14.61; 15.32) and one of
these (9.41) may be spurious. It is never applied by the Markan
Jesus to himself. Where it is used, it is frequently quali®ed by
other titles used in conjunction with it, principally `Son of God'
(or its equivalent) or `Son of Man' (e.g. 8.29±31; 14.61±2).
The title `Son of David' appears in three passages in the
Gospel, twice directly (10.47±8; 12.35±7) and in a third by
implication (11.10). On the ®rst of these occasions it makes an
unannounced appearance, again on the lips of the blind Jew,
Bartimaeus, who, the reader is told, is subsequently cured of his
(Christological?) blindness and follows Jesus òn the way' (of
discipleship?). In the second related passage, the Jewish popu-
lace, in a Messianic context, ostensibly greet Jesus as such
(11.10). In the third passage (12.35±7), however, the Markan
14
Psalms of Solomon 17.23 ± 51 (C. K. Barrett, The New Testament Background. Selected
Documents (London: SPCK, 1987), pp. 337 ±9). See also Vermes, Jesus, pp. 130 ± 4.
15
These expressions occur in Daniel, 1 Enoch and 4 Ezra, texts which we shall consider
in more detail later in this chapter.
Jesus, in a characteristic piece of rabbinical exegesis, disputes
the view that the `Christ' can be the `Son of David'. According
to scripture (Ps. 110.1), David himself calls him `Lord', so how
can he be regarded as David's son? Opinions differ with regard
to the interpretation of this passage but the essential point being
conveyed by the evangelist to the reader, in my view, is that the
designation `Christ' is not to be understood in its Jewish,
nationalistic, political and triumphalist `Son of David' sense,
but in the sense in which it later came to be understood by
Hellenistic Christianity, that is, as a divine being who is to be
identi®ed with the community's exalted `Lord'.16 What I would
detect in Mark therefore is a move away from a `Son of David'
Christology, one embodied, I suspect, in the characters of the
Markan text (Peter, the disciples, blind Bartimaeus and the
Jewish crowd who are later to crucify him). At the narrative
level, this Christology may be implied in Peter's rejection of a
non-triumphalist Messiahship (8.31±2) ± one notes the Markan
Jesus' stern reaction to this (8.33 `Get behind me, Satan') ± as
well as in the desire of his disciples to occupy a privileged
position at Jesus' right and left hand ìn his glory' (10.35±45). At
the historical level, although here one can only speculate, Mark
may be in tension with a Jewish-Christian estimate of Jesus
which laid considerable emphasis on Jesus as the `Son of
David'.17 Paul seems to know of the tradition but, with his
16
The title `Lord' (Kyrios) has a wide semantic range, from an expression of respect
when applied to a human being (a teacher or healer, for example) to a term of
reverence when applied to God. Within Hellenistic Christianity the title is found
applied to Jesus in his exalted status as `Lord' of the church, the declaration `Jesus is
Lord' being the principal credal confession of Paul and his churches (Rom. 10.9;
1 Cor. 12.3; 2 Cor. 4.5). It is found on the lips of Jesus' disciples in the Gospels but is
normally understood to apply to Jesus in the former sense, that is, as a term of
respect rather than of post-Easter religious devotion (however Jn 20.28). In Mark,
the title occurs sixteen times, eight times in relation to God. In ®ve instances, it
appears to refer to Jesus himself, occurring three times on his lips (2.28, 5.19, 11.3),
once on the lips of a Gentile woman (7.28) and once where the evangelist is referring
indirectly to Jesus (1.3; cf. 12.35 ± 7). Some of these instances are disputed by scholars,
or not interpreted as conveying an exalted or confessional estimate of Jesus. I myself
am not so sure, preferring to see in these (mostly redactional) passages the believing
confession of the evangelist or his post-Easter community breaking through. See
W. R. Telford, The Barren Temple and the Withered Tree ( JSNTSS, I; Shef®eld: JSOT
Press, 1980), pp. 254 ± 5.
17
See J. B. Tyson, `The Blindness of the Disciples in Mark', JBL, 80 (1961), pp. 261±8.
Gentile orientation, plays it down (Rom. 1.3), while Matthew,
with his loyalty to the Jewish-Christian tradition, can be seen to
play it up.18
If the evangelist has rejected a Jewish-Christian `Son of
David' Christology, then it might also be suggested that he gave
a quali®ed acceptance to a `Son of Man' Christology, perhaps
because of its esoteric and transcendental overtones. The term
is a frequent one in the Gospel (2.10, 28; [3.28]; 8.31, 38; 9.9, 12,
31; 10.33, 45; 13.26; 14.21, 41, 62) where it appears exclusively on
the lips of Jesus as a self-designation. Scholars are uncertain as
well as divided about its ultimate meaning, background and
signi®cance. We shall be examining the title in greater detail
when we come to discuss Mark's soteriology but at this point we
should note that one prominent element in the Markan use of
the expression is its association with the theme of suffering.
While the Markan Jesus, as `Son of Man', will come at the end-
time `with great power and glory' (13.26), his divine destiny, it is
emphasized, is to suffer and die (8.31). Here it is tempting to
believe that the evangelist has taken over yet another strand of
the Jewish-Christian tradition, one that identi®ed Jesus with this
apocalyptic Son of Man. In adopting these `Son of Man'
sayings, he has preserved the connotation of a triumphant,
eschatological ®gure (identi®ed with Jesus), but has quali®ed the
Messianic overtones by stressing the divine necessity of the Son of
Man's redemptive suffering and death.
It is the title `Son of God', however, which most scholars
agree is the most important title for Jesus in Markan estimation.
It occurs eight times in the Gospel (1.1, 11; 3.11; 5.7; 9.7; 13.32;
14.61; 15.39), in each case in key contexts or episodes. It is used
to identify Jesus by the evangelist himself in 1.1 (although a
number of major textual witnesses, it should be said, omit it). It
appears on the lips of God himself in af®rmation of Jesus both
at his baptism (1.11) and at his trans®guration (9.7). It is Jesus'
self-designation in 13.32. In an ìnside view', the reader is also
informed that this is the verdict of the supernatural world on
18
See 1.1ff.; 1.20; 9.27; 12.23; 15.22; 20.30, 31; 21.5; 21.14 ±17 and Markan par.
Jesus following exorcisms (3.11; cf. 1.2419) as well as that of a
Roman centurion at his cruci®xion (15.39). All these may be
said to provide `reliable commentary' for the reader on the true
nature of Jesus as the evangelist perceives him.
But what did the title mean for Mark and his readers? Is it
used by him to identify Jesus in Jewish terms as the Messianic
king20 or God's `suffering righteous servant',21 or is it employed
in a more Hellenistic sense to denote Jesus as an epiphany of
God, a miracle-worker, a `divine man' (theios aneÅr) or super-
natural being?22 A number of scholars hold that the terms `Son
of God' and `Christ' are synonymous, and this has contributed
to the view that not only his sources but Mark himself har-
boured an essentially Messianic understanding of Jesus. This
view, however, is to be challenged. While the Messiah may be
described as having a ®lial relationship to God in an ethical or
even adoptionist sense (e.g. 2 Sam. 7.14; Ps. 2.7), there is little
evidence that `Son of God' was a title for the Messiah in ®rst-
century Judaism, or that both terms were interchangeable.23
On the contrary, Mark presents Jesus as having attributes which
19
Here the title `Holy One of God' is used, a rare term appearing elsewhere in the
Gospels (apart from its Synoptic parallel in Lk 4.34) only in Jn 6.69.
20
So Kee, Community or Kingsbury, Christology.
21
See Fuller, Mission, pp. 86 ±95; L. S. Hay, `The Son-of-God Christology in Mark',
The Journal of Bible and Religion, 32 (1964), pp. 106 ±14; M. Hooker, Jesus and the Servant.
The In¯uence of the Servant Concept of Deutero-Isaiah in the New Testament (London: SPCK,
1959); D. LuÈhrmann, Das Markusevangelium (Handbuch zum Neuen Testament, 3;
TuÈbingen: Mohr±Siebeck, 1987), pp. 38± 40; T. W. Manson, The Servant-Messiah. A
Study of the Public Ministry of Jesus (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953);
C. Maurer, `Knecht Gottes und Sohn Gottes im Passionsbericht des Markusevange-
liums', ZThK, 50 (1953), pp. 1± 38.
22
See R. Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament (London: SCM Press, 1952/1955), Vol.
I, pp. 128± 33; J. Schreiber, `Die Christologie des Markusevangeliums. Beob-
achtungen zur Theologie und Komposition des zweiten Evangeliums', ZThK, 58
(1961), pp. 154 ±83; S. Schulz, `Markus und das Alte Testament', ZThK, 58 (1961), pp.
184 ±97.
23
See J. Jeremias, The Parables of Jesus (London: SCM Press, 1972), p. 73; Vermes, Jesus,
p. 199; see also p. 9. In light of 4Q246, the `Son of God' text found at Qumran, some
scholars have urged less caution with respect to such an identi®cation; see e.g.
J. C. O'Neill, `What is Joseph and Aseneth About?', Henoch, 16 (1994), p. 195. For a
sample of the discussion, see J. A. Fitzmyer, `4Q246: The ``Son of God'' Document
from Qumran', Biblica, 74 (1993), pp. 153± 74 and J. J. Collins, À Pre-Christian ``Son
of God'' among the Dead Sea Scrolls', Biblical Review, 9 (1993), pp. 34 ± 8, 57. See also
J. J. Collins, The Scepter and the Star. The Messiahs of the Dead Sea Scrolls and other Ancient
Literature (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1995), ch. 7.
conform much more to those of a `divine man' (theios aneÅr) in the
Hellenistic world than that of the Davidic Messiah.24
He is endowed with power (dynamis) and authority (exousia),
both key terms for the evangelist (e.g. 1.22, 27; 2.10; 5.30; 6.2, 14;
11.28, 29, 33; 13.26).25 This power extends in particular over
nature, giving him the ability to calm storms, for example, or
walk on water (4.35±41; 6.45±52). He works miracles (1.21±34;
3.10±12; 4.35±5.43; 6.2, 14; 6.35±56; 7.24±8.26, 9.14±27;
11.12±14) and possesses supernatural knowledge (e.g. 2.8; 5.32;
11.2±6; 13.1±2; 14.13±16). He is metamorphosed before his
disciples in divine splendour (9.2±9). In this last passage, the
trans®guration scene, we ®nd the climax to the confession at
Caesarea Philippi and the answer indeed to the question
whether Mark's readers were being invited to see in Peter's
confession of Jesus as the `Christ' a Christology that they should
themselves embrace. Here on a high mountain (the place of
revelation) Jesus is declared to be God's `Son' (9.7) and not
merely the `prophet' of Jewish estimation (8.28) or the `Christ'
of Jewish-Christian confession (8.29). Here again let me quote
Bultmann:
One must recognize that the title, which originally denoted the
messianic king, now takes on a new meaning which is self-evident to
Gentile hearers. Now it comes to mean the divinity of Christ, his divine
nature, by virtue of which he is differentiated from the human sphere;
it makes the claim that Christ is of divine origin and is ®lled with
divine `power'.26
This is not to say, of course, that Mark is operating with a later
Nicene or Chalcedonian understanding of Jesus' divinity.27
24
`The synoptic gospels . . . picture Jesus as the Son of God who reveals his divine
power and authority through his miracles . . . This is the vein in which the Gospel of
Mark tells its story' (Bultmann, Theology, Vol. I, pp. 130 ± 1).
25
J. R. Edwards, `The Authority of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark', Journal of the Evangelical
Theological Society, 37 (1994), pp. 217 ± 33.
26
Bultmann, Theology, pp. 128 ±9.
27
See M. E. Boring, `The Christology of Mark: Hermeneutical Issues for Systematic
Theology', Semeia, 30 (1984), pp. 125 ±53; J. D. G. Dunn, Christology in the Making. A
New Testament Inquiry into the Origins of the Doctrine of Incarnation (London: SCM Press,
1989), esp. pp. 60 ±4; J.-J. Marin, The Christology of Mark. Does Mark's Christology Support
the Chalcedonian Formula `Truly Man and Truly God?' (European University Studies,
Series 23: Theology 417; Berne, Frankfurt, New York and Paris: Lang, 1991).
Notions of the Son of God's pre-existence, mediatorial role in
creation, descent from heaven, incarnation or sinlessness are as
yet undeveloped.28 What he does represent, however, is an
advance on earlier Christology. He wished his readers to see
more primitive (and, in my opinion, more historical) under-
standings of Jesus' person and mission (teacher, prophet, healer)
`superseded' by more exalted ones (`Lord', `Christ', `Son of
Man', `Son of God'). The evangelist demonstrates some reluc-
tance, however, over the images of Jesus as royal Son of David
or apocalyptic Son of Man, rejecting, I believe, the ®rst, and
qualifying the second. For Mark, the traditional estimates of
Jesus' signi®cance are inadequate unless they reckon both with
his status as the supernatural but concealed `Son of God' and
with the divine necessity of his redemptive suffering and death.
In short, to see Jesus in terms of a Jewish Messianic triumph-
alism is a false Christology. To see how Mark combats such a
view, we must next turn to the literary means by which his `Son
of God' Christology is brought home to his readers, in other
words, to the secrecy motif which is a characteristic feature of
his Gospel.
Ànd he charged them to tell no one': the secrecy motif in the Second Gospel
Anyone who reads the Gospel of Mark is immediately struck by
the air of mystery which surrounds the Markan Jesus' person
and activity. There are three aspects of the evangelist's presen-
tation of Jesus in particular where a habitual secretiveness is
predicated of him. In the ®rst place, there are the puzzling
commands to silence. Jesus is shown, for example, silencing
supernatural beings, the demons, after exorcisms, because they
are said to recognize who he is (1.25, 34; 3.11±12). He is depicted
as silencing human beings, those he has cured, after healings,
and commanding them (or witnesses) not to tell anyone about
their restoration (1.44; 5.43; 7.36; 8.26). He is portrayed as
silencing his own disciples, the inner circle, after revelation,
28
See, however, J. Schreiber, Die Markuspassion. Eine Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung
(BZNW, 68; Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1993), pp. 210 ±59 for evidence
of `pre-existence' in connection with the Markan Jesus.
strictly ordering them not to spread it about that he was the
Messiah (8.30), or commanding them to tell no one about the
vision that they had seen until after the resurrection (9.9).
The last of these commands to silence touches upon a second
aspect of the evangelist's presentation of Jesus, that is, the secret
instruction given to his disciples. The Markan Jesus appears
repeatedly in private sessions with his disciples in which they
are invited to understand the true nature, meaning and signi®-
cance of his teaching, person and work (e.g. 4.11±12, 33±4;
7.17±23; 8.31±3; 9.2±8, 28±9; 9.30±2; 10.10±12, 32±4; 13.
3±37). Just as frequently, however, they are shown either failing
to understand him (as in the ®rst part of the Gospel; 4.41; 6.52;
8.14±21) or positively misunderstanding him (as, to an increas-
ing degree, in the second part of the Gospel; 8.32±3; 9.5±6,
9±13, 32, 34, 38; 10.13±14, 32, 35±45). This failure to compre-
hend Jesus' true signi®cance, according to Mark, also extends to
Jesus' original family and friends, as well as to the Jewish
authorities (3.20±35; 6.1±6).
A third aspect of the secretiveness attributed to Jesus con-
cerns his teaching itself. Strangely, the evangelist informs his
readers that the purpose of Jesus' parables was not to enlighten
his Jewish audience, but to mystify them, not to reveal the truth
to them but to conceal it from them: `To you has been given the
secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside everything
is in parables; so that they may indeed see but not perceive, and
may indeed hear but not understand; lest they should turn
again, and be forgiven' (4.11±12).
These three aspects of the Markan Jesus' conduct are also
complemented by other behavioural features. He is presented
frequently withdrawing himself from public view, and some-
times even attempting deliberately to conceal himself from the
crowds (e.g. 1.35±7, 45; 3.7; 4.35; 6.31, 45±7; 7.24; 9.30). This
reticence of his extends also to the Jewish authorities. To these
opponents he pointedly refuses to present his `Christological
credentials', on one occasion to the Pharisees by denying them
a sign (8.11±13), on another to the chief priests, the scribes and
the elders by failing to disclose the source of his authority
(11.27±33).
These observations were ®rst brought to the attention of
scholars by W. Wrede in his epoch-making book, Das Messiasge-
heimnis in den Evangelien [The Messianic Secret in the Gospels] (1901).29
When most, if not all, of these features are taken together, he
argued, they comprise a secrecy motif which runs consistently
throughout the Gospel. Their overall effect, he claimed, is to
present Jesus as the bearer of a concealed Messianic dignity or
status, as the Messiah incognito. The question which then arises
is this: `How is the evangelist's curious presentation to be
explained?'
Two main types of explanation have been advanced.30
Firstly, there have been historical explanations. In line with this
approach, the motive of concealment has been seen as a facet of
the historical Jesus' own behaviour and teaching, a character-
istic of his, in other words, which is correctly reported by
Mark.31 Secondly, there have been literary or theological ex-
planations. The basic thrust of this approach is to view the
secrecy motif as a literary or theological device (or perhaps
better, a literary device with a theological import) whereby
various traditions about the historical Jesus have been presented
to the reader within the overall perspective of the Christology
(and soteriology) adopted within the Markan community some
time after Jesus' death and the rise of the Easter-belief in his
resurrection or, to put it another way, through the lens of the
early church's dogma or the evangelist's ideology.32
Each of these explanations seeks, therefore, to ®nd a solution
29
English translation, J. C. Greig, The Messianic Secret (The Library of Theological
Translations; Cambridge and London: James Clarke & Co., 1971).
30
For a more comprehensive overview, see J. L. Blevins, The Messianic Secret in Markan
Research 1901 ±1976 (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1981); C. M.
Tuckett, Ìntroduction: The Problem of the Messianic Secret' in C. M. Tuckett (ed.),
The Messianic Secret (London: SPCK; Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1983), pp.
1± 28; C. M. Tuckett, `Messianic Secret' in DBI, pp. 445 ± 6; H. RaÈisaÈnen, The
`Messianic Secret' in Mark (Studies of the New Testament and its World; Edinburgh:
T. & T. Clark, 1990); D. E. Aune, `The Problem of the Messianic Secret', NovT, 11
(1969), pp. 1± 31.
31
Among the adherents of this view, to varying degrees, may be counted A. Schweitzer,
W. Sanday, A. S. Peake, F. C. Burkitt, T. W. Manson, W. Barclay, W. D. Davies,
V. Taylor, E. SjoÈberg, R. P. Martin, J. G. D. Dunn and D. E. Aune.
32
Among the adherents of this view, to varying degrees, may be counted W. Wrede,
R. H. Lightfoot, D. E. Nineham, T. A. Burkill, N. Perrin, R. H. Fuller, T. J. Weeden,
J. Schreiber and J. B. Tyson.
at the various levels of the tradition. Historical explanations
trace the secrecy motif back to the primary level of the tradi-
tion, that is, to Jesus himself, attributing the motive of conceal-
ment directly to him. Literary or theological explanations trace
the motive of concealment back to the secondary or tertiary
levels of the tradition, attributing it, in smaller measure, to the
tradition of the early church in the post-resurrection period or,
in greater measure, to the evangelist himself, as a product of his
redaction. In either case, it is a theological device serving to
further the claims of a particular post-resurrection Christology.
Where historical explanations are concerned, one popular
and prevailing view has it that Jesus was reluctant to make a
Messianic claim in public in order to avoid precipitating a
political and, with it, a violent revolution. 33 A modi®cation of
this theme, which has Jesus eschewing such prudential motives,
claims, in the words of D. E. Aune, that `Jesus did not openly
claim to be the Messiah during his ministry because his own
conception of the Messianic of®ce was quite different from that
of his contemporaries. Jesus spiritualized the Jewish messianic
expectations, which were primarily politically oriented.
Through the use of the relatively neutral title ``Son of Man'',
Jesus reinterpreted the messianic role and ®lled it with new
meaning.'34 The true Messianic role, in other words, was one
that demanded suffering and death in a spirit of self-sacri®cing
love. A further variation on these historical explanations, one
which has the advantage of rooting Jesus' alleged motivations in
the religio-cultural ideas prevalent in his day, is that he was
acting in keeping with a current Jewish apocalyptic conception
that if the Messiah appeared on earth before the eschaton, then he
must necessarily appear as one hidden until the coming of the
new age.35
The problem with explanations such as these is that they are
conjectures supplying motivations for the Markan Jesus which
are simply not given by the evangelist. While plausible in
themselves, such suggestions do not account for all of the
evidence offered by the text and indeed often run counter to it.
33 34
See Aune, `Messianic', p. 9. Ibid.
35
E. SjoÈberg, cited ibid., pp. 10 ±13.
If the Jesus of history was actually opposed to a political
conception of Messiahship, then why is he not shown openly
denouncing such conceptions? Why is his teaching on Messiah-
ship not more pronounced? In the words of D. E. Nineham,
had Jesus `feared that the character of his Messiahship might be
misunderstood, could he not have forestalled such misunder-
standings by patient and unambiguous teaching on the
subject?'36 No such clear teaching is given by Mark, perhaps
because in the tradition no such speci®c teaching emanating
from Jesus had been handed down.
On the other hand, the Gospel itself attests the existence of
certain traditions which did in fact represent Jesus as appearing
openly to accept and even actively encourage popular Mes-
sianic claims for himself. Three such examples are the Trium-
phal Entry into Jerusalem (11.1±10), the Cleansing of the
Temple (11.15±19) and the Trial before the High Priest
(14.53±65). In the ®rst of these, Jesus' disciples are represented
as according him a Messianic ovation. If Jesus had actually
given his disciples teaching on the true nature of his Messiah-
ship, why are they presented by Mark as repeatedly misunder-
standing him (e.g. 10.35±45)? If the disciples, moreover, had
actually been told of his imminent death and resurrection in
advance (8.31; 9.31; 10.33±4), why were they taken by surprise,
despite these repeated warnings? Viewed historically, their
conduct is incomprehensible, if not reprehensible.
Likewise, viewed historically, the injunctions to secrecy are
quite implausible. How could secrecy be plausibly enjoined if
demons are shown as shouting out who Jesus is? How could the
cures performed be reasonably expected to have been kept a
secret (particularly the raising of Jairus' daughter! 5.43)? Indeed,
the evangelist informs us that the injunction to secrecy was
often broken despite stern warnings against disclosure (1.45;
7.36)? Why too are there apparent discrepancies in Jesus'
behaviour? In some cases of exorcism or healing, no injunction
to secrecy is given (e.g. 2.1±12; 3.1±6; 5.6±8). On one occasion
the opposite is the case and disclosure is commanded (5.19±20).
36
D. E. Nineham, The Gospel of St Mark (Pelican Commentary; London and New York:
A. & C. Black, 1968), p. 32.
How is this selective policy to be explained historically? 37
Where Messianic self-disclosure is concerned, it is noteworthy
that no secrecy appears to surround the Markan Jesus' open
and public use of the term `Son of Man' in 2.10 and 2.28 (see
also 8.38) nor in his confession before the High Priest in
14.61±62.
Those who argue for the historicity of the Markan presen-
tation must also reckon with the Johannine presentation which
contradicts it. In the Fourth Gospel, reticence has been thrown
to the wind and the Johannine Jesus is quite content to expatiate
on his status as God's divine emissary in long Christological
discourses, both public and private (e.g. Jn 5.17±47; 6.22±71;
7.14±52; 8.12±59). Either John's account is historical (where
Jesus' Messianic consciousness and self-disclosure is concerned),
in which case Mark's is not, or Mark's account is historical in
which case John's is not. Most scholars would prefer to hold
that neither is historical in this regard, each account re¯ecting
rather the theology of the respective writers and the religious
communities or traditions to which they belong.
The secrecy motif, then, despite its continuing problems, is
better understood at the literary or theological level than at the
historical one, and this is borne out by the fact that in the
majority of cases where it appears (and especially in the injunc-
tions which are explicitly Christological), it is found in redac-
tional passages (1.34; 3.11±12; 8.30; 9.9; 14.62).
Although W. Wrede was writing before the advent of redac-
tion criticism, he criticized historical explanations for many of
the reasons given above. The Markan presentation, he argued,
if historical, is shot through with contradictions. For Wrede,
Mark (and to some extent the pre-Markan tradition) has
imposed a Messianic signi®cance (`the secret') upon traditions
about the historical Jesus which were originally non-Messianic
in nature. `[T]he Gospel of Mark', he therefore judged,
`belongs to the history of dogma'.38 On the basis of the
Markan evidence, Wrede claimed that no one had held that
Jesus was the Messiah (far less Jesus himself ) until after the
37
See also 10.48 where the command to silence issues from the crowd.
38
Wrede, Secret, p. 131.
resurrection. After this event or moment of revelation (what-
ever it was or however interpreted), the early church was
convinced that he was the Messiah and that he was coming
shortly. Hence a process began in which traditions about Jesus
in his lifetime which were not originally Messianic were
invested with Messianic signi®cance. This process culminated
in Mark's Gospel.
To explain why Jesus had not claimed to be Messiah during
his life and had not been recognized as such, the early church
and Mark in particular offered the following response: Jesus did
know himself to be the Messiah but had attempted to keep it a
secret. The supernatural world, however, had recognized him.
(Who could dispute this?!) Jesus had also revealed it to his
disciples in secret, although his miracles were also indirect
evidence. Jesus had warned them nevertheless that his true
status (and mission) could only be divulged after his death and
resurrection (hence 9.9).
Wrede's explanation for the Markan secrecy motif has not
survived in the radical form in which he ®rst presented it.
From the very start, it drew critical ®re, especially from
historically oriented scholars in Britain. W. Sanday described
Wrede's book as `not only very wrong, but distinctly wrong-
headed'.39 T. W. Manson claimed `the further we travel along
the Wredestrasse, the clearer it becomes that it is the road to
nowhere'.40 V. Taylor regarded it as `radical and polemical to a
degree'.41 R. H. Lightfoot was one of the few British scholars
who gave it a sympathetic hearing, holding that `we may believe
not only that Wrede's very honest work was necessary, but that
its results have been for the most part to the good . . . It is
unlikely that anyone, after a study of Wrede's volume, will be
39
The Life of Christ in Recent Research (Oxford, 1907), p. 70, gratia R. H. Lightfoot, History
and Interpretation in the Gospels (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1934), p. 17.
40
T. W. Manson, `The life of Jesus: some tendencies in present-day research' in
D. Daube and W. D. Davies (eds.), The Background of the New Testament and its
Eschatology. In Honour of Charles Harold Dodd (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1956), p. 216; gratia N. Perrin, `The Wredestrasse becomes the Hauptstrasse: Re¯ections
on the Reprinting of the Dodd Festschrift', JR, 46 (1966), p. 296.
41
V. Taylor, Ìmportant and In¯uential Books (W. Wrede's, Messianic Secret)', ExpT, 65
(1953± 4), p. 246.
inclined to regard St. Mark's gospel as a simple book; rather it is
a book of simplicity and mystery combined.'42
Apart from attacking the unity of the secrecy motif and
insisting, as many scholars still do,43 that a number of the
passages brought by Wrede under the umbrella of the `Mes-
sianic secret' could be otherwise explained (for example, as
conventional features of miracle stories), a number of valid
objections were raised challenging Wrede's view that Jesus was
not seen as Messiah in his lifetime. Four objections, in par-
ticular, were voiced.44
(1) The confession of Peter (8.27±9), the entry into Jerusalem
(11.1±10), Jesus' confession before the High Priest (14.61±2)
and his cruci®xion as King of the Jews (15.1±33, esp. 15.26)
run counter to the secret (as previously noted), show signs of
being pre-Markan tradition and in themselves, it is claimed,
are historically plausible.
(2) Jesus' cruci®xion is unintelligible if it were not (in the
primary tradition) that of a Messianic pretender.
(3) Jesus could never have been confessed as Messiah after the
resurrection if he had not been recognized as such before-
hand. Belief in his resurrection would not necessarily have
created a corresponding belief in his Messiahship. It would
merely have offered a vindication of such a claim.
(4) The early church would hardly have invented this article of
faith given that it had to suffer opprobrium as a result of
proclaiming a cruci®ed Messiah.
For this reason some scholars continued (and still continue) to
hold that the secrecy motif goes back to Jesus and that it was a
facet of his Messianic self-consciousness. One such powerful
advocate of this position, himself a critic of Wrede, was
42
Lightfoot, History, p. 21.
43
One popular approach is to distinguish between the injunctions which are explicitly
Christological (Das Messiasgeheimnis or Messianic secret) and those which are related
to the miracles (Das Wundergeheimnis or miracle secret). See U. Luz, `The Secrecy
Motif and the Marcan Christology' in Tuckett (ed.), Secret, pp. 75 ± 96. For a contrary
view which argues convincingly for the unity and coherence of Mark's secrecy motif,
see F. Watson, `The Social Function of Mark's Secrecy Motif ', JSNT, 24 (1985), pp.
49 ± 69.
44
See, for example, V. Taylor, `The Messianic Secret in Mark', ExpT, 49 (1947 ±8), pp.
146 ±51.
A. Schweitzer who held that Jesus had seen himself as Messiah,
and was so regarded in the primitive tradition before Mark.45
While giving voice to what are valid objections, historical
explanations have themselves, however, proved unconvincing,
demonstrating a number of weaknesses, as discussed above.
Not only do they make unwarranted assumptions about the
nature of the Markan text (in particular that it offers a clear
window into history) but they also fail to answer many of the
points raised by Wrede. Markan scholarship has tended to
move, therefore, in more recent times in a literary and theo-
logical direction, following Wrede's insights but modifying his
somewhat over-simple reconstruction. A prominent view now
is that Mark has not invested originally non-Messianic tradi-
tions about Jesus with a Messianic signi®cance. Some of the
traditions he took over, as has been already demonstrated, were
already invested with such a signi®cance. Mark is not intro-
ducing a particular Christology into his sources. Rather he is
qualifying or correcting the Christology he found in them
already!46
One such in¯uential theory has been proposed by T. J.
Weeden.47 Weeden has argued that Mark was seeking to
combat a Hellenistic `divine man' or theios aneÅr Christology
which emphasized Jesus' power as a wonder-worker rather than
the gospel (`the secret') of his redemptive suffering and death.
Focusing upon the injunctions to secrecy surrounding the
miracles, Weeden has suggested that Mark had inherited a
miracle tradition in which Jesus was depicted as a wonder-
working `Son of God'. Such a view of Jesus, he claims, underlies
the miracle stories the evangelist has taken over, accounts which
essentially show him as a Hellenistic `divine man' or theios aneÅr.
This understanding of Jesus is one that the evangelist presents
45
A. Schweitzer, The Quest of the Historical Jesus. A Critical Study of its Progress from Reimarus
to Wrede (New York: Macmillan, 1959), pp. 328 ±48.
46
Ìt was not the non-messianic character of the units in the tradition which causes the
evangelist trouble, but rather their messianic character', H. Conzelmann, `Present
and Future in the Synoptic Tradition', Journal for Theology and the Church, 5 (1968), pp.
42 ±3, gratia Martin, Mark, p. 94.
47
T. J. Weeden, `The Heresy that Necessitated Mark's Gospel' in W. R. Telford (ed.),
The Interpretation of Mark (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1995), pp. 89 ±104.
the disciples, in his view, as sharing. Mark is concerned,
however, to supplement or correct this Christological under-
standing by interpreting Jesus also as the Son of Man who must
necessarily suffer. Inspired by a Pauline emphasis on the cross,
he juxtaposes a theologia gloriae (as represented by this triumph-
alist `divine man' Christology) with a theologia crucis. Where
Mark's sources are concerned, this is achieved by the combi-
nation in the Gospel of a largely Hellenistic miracle tradition (in
the ®rst half ) with a passion narrative preceded by passion
predictions (in the second). From a literary and theological
perspective, this Christological message is achieved overall by
the secrecy motif. Through this device, the Markan reader is
being informed that the true signi®cance of Jesus cannot be
appreciated only in his teaching and miracle-working activity. It
can be apprehended only after his death and resurrection (9.9)
in which the nature of his Messiahship can and will be seen in
its true light.
This is an appealing explanation (particularly in its sugges-
tion of a Pauline in¯uence in Markan Christology) but, in my
view, it is mistaken. It requires us, ®rst of all, to evaluate Mark's
use of the miracle tradition in a negative light, that is, as a
tradition running counter to the evangelist's Christological
tendencies or impulses and this is an interpretation which is to
be resisted. Mark used the miracle tradition in a positive way, as I
shall later argue, to enhance a `Son of God' or epiphany
Christology, and not to combat it. Secondly, the Christology for
which the disciples are taken to be the textual representatives is
a Hellenistic `divine man' Christology. This would be a some-
what strange Christology for the evangelist to ascribe to Jesus'
original Jewish followers, and an even stranger one for the
evangelist to be resisting given the Hellenistic proclivities which
we have reason to believe he himself entertained.
If we are to take a `clash of Christologies' approach to the
interpretation of Mark, as I myself in some measure am inclined
to do, then there is stronger evidence within the Gospel to
support the view that the disciples function as representatives of
a triumphalist Jewish-Christian `Son of David' or apocalyptic
`Son of Man' Christology. In this respect, the hypothesis of
J. B. Tyson is a much more plausible one.48 Tyson has argued
that Mark sought to challenge a Jewish-Christian tradition
going back to the Jerusalem church which saw Jesus only as the
victorious royal Messiah, the Son of David, in favour of his real
status or signi®cance (the `secret' for Mark and Gentile Chris-
tianity) as the divine but unrecognized Son of God whose
suffering and death on the cross were redemptive. Such a
tradition might have seen Jesus as the future Messiah, the
triumphant Son of David who had cleansed the Temple and,
after his death and resurrection, would return shortly to restore
the kingdom. In that kingdom, by virtue of being his followers,
his disciples would occupy a privileged position (cf. Mt. 19.28 =
Lk. 22.29±30).
If Tyson is correct, how then might Mark be seen to challenge
such a Christology? In the ®rst place, as I have noted elsewhere,
he appears to play down the triumphal entry tradition.49 A
comparison with the more pronounced `Son of David' elements
in the Matthean account clearly demonstrates this. The title
itself, as we have seen, only appears three times in the Gospel,
twice directly (10.47±8; 12.35±7) and in a third by implication
(11.10). In the ®rst of these passages, it is on the lips of a blind
Jew who is henceforth cured of his blindness (10.46±52). In the
second, the evangelist has Jesus dispute the idea that the Christ
can be the Son of David (12.35±7). In the third, it is by
implication the terms in which Jesus is greeted by his own
disciples as well as the Jewish crowd (11.8±10). Mark might be
seen, therefore, to be placing this Christology and the attitudes
appropriate to it on the lips of the disciples and then showing
that they (along with the Jewish crowd of 11.10) are blind to
Jesus' true signi®cance and need to be re-educated.
This re-education is particularly emphasized in the central
section of the Gospel (8.22±10.52), with its theme of true
discipleship and its use of the suffering Son of Man sayings. The
series of passages in this section are arranged in a formal
pattern (prediction±misunderstanding±corrective teaching) to
48
J. B. Tyson, `The Blindness of the Disciples in Mark' in Tuckett (ed.), Secret, pp.
35 ±43.
49
See Telford, Barren Temple, p. 253 and n. 17.
which N. Perrin has drawn attention.50 The Markan Jesus
predicts that his mission as Son of Man is one that involves
suffering, death and resurrection and, by implication, not one
of military glory or political conquest (8.31; 9.31; 10.33±4). His
disciples misunderstand and show that their conception is other-
wise (8.32±3; 9.32±4; 10.35±7). He then teaches them the true
nature of discipleship and of his mission, culminating in the
saying about the Son of Man's giving of his life as a ransom for
many (8.34±9.1; 9.35±50; 10.39±45).
To sum up, then, while negatively Mark may be seen as tilting
against a Messianic `Son of David' Christology, positively he may
be seen as promoting a `Son of God' Christology. The title `Son
of God' is capable of being interpreted in either a Jewish sense
or a Hellenistic sense, my own view being that the evangelist
understood it in the latter sense. `Son of God' is not therefore a
synonym for `Messiah' in Mark, and hence there is in Mark
strictly speaking not a `Messianic' secret but a `Son of God'
secret, and when this is acknowledged, many of the con¯icting
elements in the Markan presentation begin to come together.
Essentially, the evangelist is inviting his readers to see Jesus as
the Son of God. For, to repeat, let us see what he has done.
Accepting the longer reading, the Gospel begins with the
solemn af®rmation `The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ,
the Son of God' (1.1; italics throughout mine). In a piece of
`reliable commentary', the narrator then places this Christology
on the lips of God himself in two key scenes, the ®rst at the
beginning of the Gospel in the baptism scene (1.11; `Thou art
my beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased'), the second after
the crucial `confession' scene when the disciples are given a
second opportunity to witness Jesus' true identity (9.7; `This is
my beloved Son; listen to him'). The narrator intimates that
Jesus' true status as the divine Son of God was recognized by
the supernatural world, the demons (3.11; Ànd whenever the
unclean spirits beheld him, they fell down before him and cried
out, ``You are the Son of God'' '; 5.7). It was also recognized by
50
See, for example, D. C. Duling and N. Perrin, The New Testament. Proclamation and
Parenesis. Myth and History (New York: Harcourt Brace College, 1994), pp. 309 ± 10.
one of the human characters in the story, signi®cantly a Gentile,
a Roman centurion, and at another climactic moment in the
Markan drama, namely at the moment of his death (15.39;
`Truly this man was the Son of God'). This is also a revelatory
moment for Christian theology, and the centurion may be seen
perhaps as representing the confession of Gentile Christianity
to Jesus.
On the other hand, this `secret' into which the Christian
reader has been initiated, is not divulged to the other human
characters in the story. Most signi®cantly, it is not ultimately
recognized or confessed by Jesus' original followers. The evan-
gelist, as we have seen, repeatedly points out to his readers that
the Christology of Jesus' original Jewish disciples, the twelve,
was in error. They failed to understand, indeed they misunder-
stood, the true signi®cance of his person, message and mission,
and their conduct in the story re¯ects this. At no point, even at
the end of the Gospel, as we shall see, are they shown ®nally to
come to this understanding or confession.
The conclusion that I have been increasingly drawn to,
therefore, the more I have studied this Gospel, is that the
author of Mark's Gospel writes as a representative of a Pauline-
in¯uenced Gentile Christianity which viewed Jesus (and, by
means of the secrecy motif, invites the reader to view him) as
the divine `Son of God' who came to suffer and die on the cross.
This Christology is in tension both with Jewish estimates of
Jesus (teacher, prophet and healer) as well as Jewish-Christian
ones. The latter emphasized (in keeping with Jewish mono-
theism) not his divinity (nor his cross?) but rather his triumphant
status as the Jewish Messiah, either as the earthly Son of David
or as one who, having been exalted to heaven, would return
victoriously as God's eschatological agent, the apocalyptic Son
of Man. Because of its political and nationalistic overtones,
Mark has rejected the ®rst but given a quali®ed acceptance to
the second, perhaps, I suggest, because of its transcendent
overtones.
Let me sum up. Thus far we have considered the person of
Jesus in Mark, or the Markan Christology. We began here since
Christology plays such a major role in the Gospel. We have seen
that Mark has taken over traditional material already stamped
with a particular estimate of Jesus' signi®cance. Three traditions
in particular can be isolated, Jesus as teacher, Jesus as prophet
and Jesus as miracle-worker. These three traditions are likely
not only to be pre-Markan (since they are multiply attested,
occurring, for example, in Q) but also, according to many
scholars today, historical. Two further speci®cally Jewish-Chris-
tian traditions have been commented upon, namely Jesus as
royal Messiah or Son of David, and Jesus as apocalyptic Son of
Man. Mark, I have argued, was not only the transmitter but
also the interpreter of these traditions. The signi®cance of his
Gospel (in literary and theological terms) is that it has welded a
number of these prevailing traditions about Jesus into a more or
less uni®ed presentation. By both employing and correcting the
emphases of these separate traditions, by a discriminating use of
Christological titles, and, above all, by means of the secrecy
motif, Mark has presented these traditions in such a way as to
leave his readers in no doubt as to the signi®cance that ought to
be attached to the historical ®gure of Jesus, namely, that he is
the supernatural `Son of God'.
the message of jesus
`That hearing, they may hear and not understand': the nature and function of
the parables in Mark
We turn now to the message of Jesus in Mark, and in particular
to the traditions of Jesus as teacher and prophet. The tradition
of Jesus as miracle-worker will occupy our attention in a later
section. I shall be concerned to identify how Mark deals with
these traditions, especially in light of what I have said about his
èpiphany Christology' and the secrecy motif. One aspect of
this motif, as we saw, concerned Jesus' teaching, the purpose of
which, according to the evangelist (4.11±12), was not to en-
lighten his Jewish audience, but to mystify them, not to reveal
the truth to them but to conceal it from them. I shall focus on
the nature and function of the parables, therefore, and on the
`parables secret' and the so-called `hardening' motif. How did
Mark understand the parables of Jesus which constituted the
major form of his teaching, and how did he understand the
Kingdom of God which constituted the central theme of his
prophetic activity?
Let me set the context for the discussion by brie¯y summar-
izing what has been said about the parables of the Synoptic
tradition in the recent history of scholarship. At its simplest, the
parable is à brief narrative which forcefully illustrates a single
idea'.51 The de®nition of the parable has often been considered
in conjunction with three other related literary forms, namely
the simile, the metaphor and the allegory.52 The simile is a
form of speech in which one thing is said to be like another by
virtue of one common property (`so be wise as serpents and
innocent as doves' Mt. 10. 16). A metaphor is a stronger form of
simile in which the comparison formula is dropped and one
thing is said to be another by virtue of one common property
(`Go and tell that fox . . .' Lk. 13.32) The parable is an extended
simile or metaphor. As such, it presents itself, in its most
familiar form, as a story with a single point of comparison, a
story from everyday life on which a judgment is invited. A
parable is a form of communication, therefore, which is meant
to strike for a verdict, to evoke a response. As used by the
rabbis of Jesus' day, parables were often weapons of contro-
versy, frequently improvised in the cut and thrust of debate.
Designed essentially to clarify one main idea, or to emphasize
one main point, the parable is therefore not to be confused
with the allegory. An allegory is a story in which the various
details have in themselves a veiled meaning, a classic exemplar
of the genre being John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. Designed
essentially to be read and re¯ected upon, the allegory is often
arti®cial as a result. It lacks the vividness and realism of the
parable, whose individual details, drawn naturally from
everyday life, serve, like feathers on an arrow, to bring the
essential point home to the hearer.
Form-critical analysis of the parables in the Synoptic tradition
51
L. Mowry, `Parable' in IDB, p. 649.
52
See C. H. Dodd, The Parables of the Kingdom (Fount Paperbacks; Glasgow: Collins,
1978), pp. 16 ±18.
has distinguished three main types.53 In the ®rst place, there is
the parabolic or ®gurative saying (in German the Bildwort or
ìmage word') which conjures up in the mind of the hearer a
brief but powerful image (for example, À city set on a hill
cannot be hid' Mt. 5.14). Secondly, there is the simple parable
or similitude (Gleichnis or `comparison') which presents a more
extended image, often with a comparison formula (for example,
`But to what shall I compare this generation? It is like children
sitting in the market places and calling to their playmates, ``We
piped to you and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not
mourn'' ' Mt. 11.16±17 = Lk. 7.31±2). Thirdly, there is the
narrative parable (Parabel or parable proper) which offers to the
hearer a full story (for example, the Prodigal Son Lk. 15.11±32).
Although a line cannot be drawn precisely between these three
classes, C. H. Dodd offered the following as a rough guide: Ìf
we say that the ®rst class has no more than one verb, the second
more than one verb, in the present tense, and the third a series
of verbs in an historic tense, we have a rough grammatical
test.'54
The contention that parables need to be distinguished from
allegories is one of the truisms of modern parable research. It
owes itself to the work of A. JuÈlicher who issued a powerful
challenge to the hitherto popular treatment of the parables as
allegories.55 While there is some overlap between the parable
and the allegory and the one does not entirely rule out the
other, even in the teaching of Jesus, the basic distinction
between the two established by JuÈlicher is one which has been
sustained by almost all subsequent parable research. The alle-
gorical features in the parables as we now have them, he
argued, are the product of the early church's subsequent
theological re¯ection, of Christian hindsight, in other words, on
events now seen as part of salvation history. JuÈlicher held that
when this allegorical overlay was removed, the historical Jesus
then stood out, not as a divine ®gure, but as a great moral
teacher whose parables were designed to illustrate essential and
53 54
Ibid. Ibid., p. 18.
55
A. JuÈlicher, Die Gleichnisreden Jesu (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft,
1899).
timeless moral and spiritual truths about human life, society
and relationships.
It was this latter view which was in turn challenged by
C. H. Dodd in his The Parables of the Kingdom, ®rst published in
1935. This epoch-making book offered a new perspective on the
setting and message of the parables in the teaching of Jesus.
Rather than a moral teacher, Dodd maintained, Jesus was an
eschatological preacher, whose parables were designed to illus-
trate the eschatological nature of the Kingdom of God. This
Kingdom Jesus had proclaimed not only as à transcendent
order beyond space and time',56 but also as one which had already
come in his person and ministry. Thus was born the `realized
eschatology' with which the name of Dodd is associated.
A further contribution to the subject was made by J. Jeremias,
the German scholar who has done more than any than other to
reconstruct the form and setting of the parables in the ministry
and teaching of Jesus.57 Jeremias corrected Dodd's exaggerated
emphasis on `realized eschatology' by demonstrating that Jesus'
view of the Kingdom in the parables, in its futuristic aspects,
had much in common with current apocalyptic expectation
(which saw the Kingdom of God as a supernatural event soon
to come) and was not, therefore, as radical a departure from
apocalyptic Judaism as Dodd had maintained. For Jeremias,
Jesus too was an eschatological preacher but one whose par-
ables expressed the conviction that the promised eschatological
Kingdom of God (although future) was now in process of realisation
(ìnaugurated eschatology'), and hence called for a decision
about his person and mission.
Further research on the parables has been characterized by
the application to them of a more general literary criticism.
Attention has been drawn to their literary aspects, to how they
function as metaphor or as rhetoric. Some approaches have
been occupied with the nature of language itself, as with `the
new hermeneutic'.58 For E. Fuchs, the parables of Jesus were
not only didactic or polemical in intent but `language-events'
56 57
Dodd, Parables. p. 45. Jeremias, Parables.
58
Among those associated with this modern approach to the parables are E. Fuchs,
E. Linnemann, E. JuÈngel, A. Wilder, R. W. Funk, D. O. Via, Jr. and J. D. Crossan. For a
(Sprachereignisse), vividly conjuring up for his hearers the very
reality with which they were concerned, namely the Kingdom
of God.59 For American scholarship on the parables, likewise,
there has been an emphasis on the power of the parable as
religious metaphor to mediate an experience of the trans-
cendent.60
If, as Jeremias maintained, the parables belong to the
bedrock of the tradition about Jesus, 61 then it is equally true to
say that the process of recovering even what we can now
discern as the eschatological orientation of his teaching has
been a critically demanding one (and even today needs defence
against those who are arguing for a non-eschatological Jesus).
In investigating the parables, scholars have had to take account
of their fate in the course of transmission and to consider the
successive interpretative stages through which they have passed.
To establish their setting and message in the teaching of Jesus
(the ®rst stage), it has been found necessary to determine their
setting and message in the early church (the second stage) as
well as their meaning and purpose for the evangelists (the third
stage).
According to N. Perrin, `[T]he process of interpretation of
the parables in the early Christian communities could well be
described as the process of their domestication'.62 The eschato-
logical emphasis uppermost in the primary tradition was gradu-
ally toned down, modi®ed or reinterpreted in light of the failure
of imminent apocalyptic expectations, especially the delay of
the parousia. This second stage development is apparent, for
helpful overview, see N. Perrin, Jesus and the Language of the Kingdom. Symbol and Metaphor
in New Testament Interpretation (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1976), pp. 89 ±193.
59
`Fuchs sees the parables as verbalizing Jesus' own understanding of existence in such
a way that the parable mediates the possibility of sharing Jesus' understanding of
existence, both to the immediate hearer and also to the subsequent interpreter'
(Perrin, Language, p. 111).
60
`Modern research on the parables of Jesus, however, particularly the more recent
work carried on in America [Wilder, Via, Funk, Crossan], has shown that the
parables of Jesus were much more than illustrations explaining a dif®cult point, or
than telling weapons in a controversy; they were bearers of the reality with which
they were concerned . . . It is the claim of this research that the parables of Jesus
mediated to the hearer an experience of the Kingdom of God' (Perrin, Language, pp.
55 ± 6).
61 62
Jeremias, Parables, p. 11. Perrin, Language, p. 199.
example, in the so-called `crisis' or `parousia' parables, where a
shift in emphasis from warning regarding the coming catastrophe
to correct conduct in view of the delay can be observed (e.g. Mt.
24.43±4; Lk. 12.39±40).63
This process was particularly accentuated in the Hellenistic
or Gentile-Christian phase of the spread of Christianity where
apocalyptic thought and expectation were met with either
incomprehension or suspicion. The parables were retold for the
edi®cation of the various Christian communities in which they
were handed down and came naturally to re¯ect the current
conditions and contemporary concerns of these communities in
their different situations. As Jeremias pointed out, parables
which can be traced back to the primary tradition often re¯ect
Palestinian conditions or features whereas those which have
been transmitted in a wider Hellenistic setting are frequently
coloured by details (such as Hellenistic architecture, Roman
judicial procedure, non-Palestinian agriculture) which are
foreign to their original setting.64 The parables likewise came to
re¯ect subsequent events in Christian history and experience
(for example, its missionary experience) and the attitudes
adopted towards them (compare the differing attitudes to the
Gentile mission re¯ected in the Matthean and Lukan versions
of the parable of the Wedding Feast, Mt. 22.1±14 = Lk.
14.16±24).65
A third major stage in the development of the parables came
with their incorporation into our written Gospels. By the time
they came to be written down a process of allegorization had
already been at work upon them.66 Theological re¯ection, as
we have noted, had already been conducted upon them by the
early church in light of its own subsequent experience. They
were treated as allegories re¯ecting major events in Christian
salvation history.67 At the same time, many were by this time
found to be obscure and dif®cult to interpret, their original
63
For a discussion of these and other such parables, see Dodd, Parables, pp. 115 ±30, esp.
124 ±8; Jeremias, Parables, pp. 48± 63.
64 65
Jeremias, Parables, pp. 26± 7. Ibid., pp. 63± 6.
66
Ibid., pp. 66 ±89.
67
A classic and often repeated later example is Augustine's interpretation of the
parable of the Good Samaritan. See Dodd, Parables, pp. 13 ±14.
context often lost, their original message unrecognized. They
could be said to have resembled sermon illustrations for which
there were no matching sermons. This was the situation which
confronted the evangelists, particularly Mark. As a result, they
too can be seen to have made their own distinctive contribution
to the development and interpretation of the parables. Here
form- and redaction-critical analysis has enabled scholars to
determine the nature and extent of this contribution. Before
considering Mark in particular, however, it is worth summar-
izing the scholarly consensus on the responsibility of the evange-
lists in general.
Although they themselves may have composed some of them
(the parable of the tares in Mt. 13.24±30 has often been mooted
as an example), it is now widely agreed that the parables were
taken over for the most part from the tradition. Although
collections of the parables were made from an early period, in
some cases by the community, in other cases by the evangelists
themselves, the evangelists nevertheless were responsible for the
selection and arrangement of the parables in their respective
gospels (e.g. Mk 4; Mt. 13 and 25; Lk. 9±18 passim). The act of
collection and subsequent topical arrangement sometimes
imposed a uniform but secondary interpretation on the separate
parables and led to the tendency for some parables to become
`fused' (the clearest example is in Mt. 22.1±10, 11±14 where two
originally independent parables have been linked together). 68
In selecting and arranging parables in their respective
Gospels, the evangelists frequently supplied their own (and
often different) settings (contrast Lk. 19.11±27 Jericho with Mt.
25.14±30 on the Mount of Olives) and audiences (contrast Lk.
15.3±7 the Pharisees and scribes with Mt. 18.12±14 the disciples) for
the parables of Jesus. In this latter example, the parable of the
good shepherd and the lost sheep, the matter of audience is
crucial for the meaning of the parable. In its Lukan context, the
story illustrates God's love for those regarded by Jewish ortho-
doxy as outcasts (but who have a place nevertheless in God's
Kingdom), while in Matthew, set within the context of Jesus'
68
Jeremias, Parables, pp. 94 ± 6.
instructions for the future church, it urges pastoral care for
erring brothers within the community.69 The Matthean
example also illustrates how the parable was retold for the
edi®cation of the contemporary Jewish-Christian community
from which his Gospel emerges.
For edi®catory and hortatory purposes, the evangelists also
often provided the parables with an application or series of
different interpretations which are usually secondary and hence
do not represent their original meaning (e.g. Mk 4.13±20; Lk.
18.14b; Mt. 20.16).70 In these two latter examples, an isolated
and independent saying attributed to Jesus elsewhere has been
transferred to the parable as a suggested application (compare
Lk. 18.14b with 14.11 and Mt. 20.16 with Mk 10.31, Mt. 19.30
and Lk. 13.30). On occasions, several (sometimes contradictory)
applications are offered (e.g. Lk. 16.8b-13). Sometimes the same
parable has different applications in different Gospels (contrast
the differing interpretations of the Wedding Feast parable given
in Mt. 22.14 and Lk. 14.12±14); sometimes an application
lacking in one Gospel is supplied by another (compare Mt.
12.44c with the parallel Lk. 11.24±6). Many of these secondary
interpretations take the form of moralizing generalizations
applicable to the conditions of the later church living in and
adapting to the world but not necessarily re¯ecting or preserv-
ing Jesus' original meaning (Lk. 16.9!).
Finally, the evangelists often presented the parables as alle-
gories, as the tradition before them had done. It is clear, for
example, that both Matthew and Luke had the later Gentile
mission and even the Fall of Jerusalem in mind when relating
the parable of the wedding feast (compare and contrast Lk.
14.16±24 esp. vv. 21±4 = Mt. 22.1±14 esp. vv. 6±7, 11±14).
If we now turn to Mark, we can see that he too has drawn on
this rich vein of traditional material. Reproduced in his Gospel
indeed are all three of the parable types isolated and classi®ed
by Dodd and Jeremias. Here we ®nd the ®gurative or parabolic
saying (Bildwort): 2.17a (the physician and the sick), 19a (the
wedding guests and the bridegroom), 21 (the new patch on the
69 70
Ibid., pp. 38 ±40. Ibid., pp. 103± 14.
old garment), 22 (the new wine and the old wineskins); 3.23±7
(the divided kingdom and the divided house; the plundering of
the strong man's house); 4.21 (the lamp and the lampstand), 24
(the measure given and received); 9.49±50 (the salt sayings);
10.25 (the camel and the eye of the needle); 13.28 (the blos-
soming of the ®g tree). Simple parables or similitudes (Gleich-
nisse) are found: 4.26±9 (the growing seed), 30±2 (the mustard
seed); 13.34±6 (the returning householder). Full blown narrative
parables (Parabeln) are also represented: 4.1±8 (the sower);
12.1±9 (the vineyard).
The Markan parables have been selected from the tradition
and arranged by the evangelist. A prominent grouping occurs
in the discourse of chapter 4 (where all three classes incidentally
are represented) but a series of linked parabolic sayings is also
given in 2.17±22 and 3.23±7. One of the two prominent
narrative parables is reserved for chapter 12 (12.1±9). Apart
from the `clustering' of the parables, one observes the con¯ation
of originally separate parables into double parables linked by
catchword connection (2.21±2; 3.24±5; 4.21±5).71 One also
notes that secondary expansion has occurred in a number of
cases (e.g. 2.17b; 2.19b±20). The allegorization to which the
parable tradition was subject is also clearly in evidence. The
most famous example, of course, is the interpretation of the
parable of the sower (4.13±20) upon which much ink has been
expended. Here the explanation found on the lips of Jesus is
manifestly arti®cial, with the various details of the parable, in
particular the fate of the seed in respect of the different types of
ground (the two are confused) being made to represent different
responses to the `word' or gospel preached by the church.72
Four other examples, however, may be commented upon. In
the ®rst place, the context in which the `strong man' saying
(3.27) is placed invites the reader to see Jesus as the stronger
man who has bound Satan, in particular through the exorcisms
by means of which he is revealed to the supernatural world as
the Son of God (3.11±12). Secondly, the addition of the words
Às long as they have the bridegroom with them, they cannot
71 72
On this last passage in particular, ibid., pp. 91± 2. Ibid., pp. 77 ±9.
fast. The days will come, when the bridegroom is taken away
from them, and then they will fast in that day' (2.19b±20) to the
parable of the wedding guests (2.18±19) acts clearly to identify
the bridegroom with the Markan Jesus, an association not
regarded as original. These additions point forward to a later
church situation, to the practice of fasting in particular, and the
hindsight they display in respect of Jesus' destiny re¯ects their
secondary character.73 Similarly, in the parable of the returning
householder (13.34±6), the master of the house is a thinly
disguised substitute for the Markan Jesus whose triumphant
parousia as the Son of Man has just been predicted (13.24±7),
and whose imminent betrayal, as the suffering Son of Man, by
disciples who not only cannot keep watch (`lest he come
suddenly and ®nd you asleep'; 13.35±6 and 14.37±42) but also
betray him (àt cockcrow'; cf. 13.35 and 14.30, 72), is about to be
recounted.
A fourth example is the parable of the vineyard, which
Jeremias described as `pure allegory'. `The vineyard is clearly
Israel, the tenants are Israel's rulers and leaders, the owner of
the vineyard is God, the messengers are the prophets, the son is
Christ, the punishment of the husbandmen symbolizes the ruin
of Israel, the `òther people'' (Mt. 21.43) are the Gentile church.
The whole parable is evidently pure allegory'.74 The parable
clearly re¯ects the events of salvation history as seen by the
early church. Of the identi®cation of the `son' with Jesus,
Jeremias further adds:
But in the situation of Jesus, to which we are thus referred, the murder
of the son formed an appropriate climax for the audience. They will
have understood that Jesus saw himself as being the son, the last
messenger, though it could not be taken for granted that the son had
messianic signi®cance, since no evidence is forthcoming for the
application of the title `Son of God' to the Messiah in pre-Christian
Palestinian Judaism . . . From which it follows that the christological
point of the parable would have been hidden from the audience.75
73
N. Perrin, Rediscovering the Teaching of Jesus (The New Testament Library; London:
SCM Press; New York and Evanston, IL: Harper & Row, 1967), p. 79.
74 75
Jeremias, Parables, p. 70. Ibid., pp. 72 ±3.
Also associated with the parable is Ps. 118.22±3 (`The very stone
which the builders rejected has become the head of the
corner'), a proof-text used by the early church (e.g. Acts 4.11;
1 Pet. 2.7) in which Jesus' rejection by the Jews but subsequent
vindication by resurrection was pre®gured, according to them.
Two further comments can be made. In the ®rst place, the
presence in the story of the `beloved son' (12.6) would have
recalled for the Markan reader the two previous passages in the
Gospel in which the `Son of God' secret had been disclosed,
namely the baptism (1.11) and the trans®guration (9.7).
Secondly, the fact that the secret of Jesus' identity is conveyed
through the medium of a parable would have brought to mind
another of the secrecy passages, namely the `parables secret' of
4.11±12 (`To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of
God, but for those outside everything is in parables so that they
may indeed see but not perceive, and may indeed hear but not
understand; lest they should turn again, and be forgiven').
Curiously, although the reader is not told that the Jewish
authorities have recognized in the parable a claim on the part
of the Markan Jesus to be the Son of God, some limited
perception is nevertheless predicated of them (`for they per-
ceived that they had told the parable against them' 12.12).
For Mark, then, the signi®cance of the parables is not
eschatological but Christological. The parables are not the means
by which Jesus openly teaches, proclaims or points to the
coming Kingdom of God. They are the means whereby he
secretly intimates his true status and mission to those `who have
ears to hear' (4.9, 23). This comes out in the verses quoted
above, the passage which can be seen as re¯ecting more than
any other the Markan understanding of the parables, namely
4.10±12.
Here, as we have seen, the reader is told that the parables
were vehicles not for instruction but for mysti®cation. They
were meant, therefore, to harden Jewish hearts. Attempts have
been made to trace this motive back in some form to Jesus
himself. Behind the word parabole in the Greek, it is argued, lies
the Hebrew word mashal which, among other things in the Old
Testament, can mean a `riddle' or a `dark saying', one which
puzzles or makes one think.76 In the tradition of apocalyptic
Judaism, by which Jesus himself was also in¯uenced, the
`parable' or `similitude' was a common form for the revealing of
secrets (especially of future events) whose interpretation was
open only to the select few and granted to them by revelation.77
The `parables' in Jewish apocalyptic, however, are often alle-
gories and Jesus' parables do not conform in type to them. 78
Even allowing for esoteric and enigmatic elements in the
teaching of Jesus, such an obfuscatory motive, if regarded as
historical, contradicts most of what modern scholarship has
ascertained of the function of Jesus' parables within his own life
situation.
Mk 4.11±12 must surely be seen, therefore, as òriginating in
connection with the theological problem created by Jewish
rejection of the Christian message and elaborated in different
ways in Mark's source and in our three Synoptic gospels'.79 In
essence, C. E. Carlston is right although, given their links with
the rest of the Gospel, I would prefer to regard these verses as
Markan redaction rather than an alien insertion.80 Three
things ought to be kept in mind, however, when assessing these
76
For a discussion of maÅÏsaÅl (parable) and the importance of the OT parables for
understanding those of Jesus, see J. Drury, The Parables in the Gospels (London: SPCK,
1985) and more recently, `Parable', DBI, pp. 509 ± 11.
77
See P. Patten, `The Form and Function of Parable in Select Apocalyptic Literature
and their Signi®cance for Parables in the Gospel of Mark', NTS, 29 (1983), pp.
246 ±58; C. L. Mearns, `Parables, Secrecy and Eschatology in Mark's Gospel', SJT,
44 (1991), pp. 423 ±42.
78
`[I]t would seem to follow that the whole parabolic material was originally as free
from allegorizing interpretations as were the special Lucan material and the Gospel
of Thomas . . . But it is only necessary to compare the undoubtedly pre-Christian
animal allegories of Ethiopic Enoch, 85 ±90 . . . with the vivid parables of Jesus, to
realize how far removed he was from this kind of allegorizing' ( Jeremias, Parables, pp.
88 ±90); see also Mowry, `Parable' in IDB, p. 651.
79
C. E. Carlston, `Parable', IDB(S), p. 641.
80
Cf. W. Marxsen, `Redaktionsgeschichtliche ErklaÈrung der sogenannten Parabelthe-
orie des Markus', ZThK, 52 (1955), pp. 255 ±71; M. A. Beavis, Mark's Audience. The
Literary and Social History of Mark 4.11 ±12 ( JSNTSS, 33; Shef®eld: JSOT Press, 1989).
J. Drury, too, is of the view that `[t]he presence of the `hardening theory' (overt in
verses 11 and 12, but evident in both parable and interpretation) with its corollary of
dividing men into two camps, those who see and those who do not, is so major a
theme of Marcan theology that it seems more economical to attribute the passage to
him than to the twilit region of the early Church' (Parables, p. 371).
words in the Gospel. Firstly, as previously stated, when the
parables came to be written down, many were already
obscure, puzzling, enigmatic to Christian communities such
as Mark's as well as to the evangelist. Secondly, the theology
of the community as well as of the evangelist had advanced
(particularly in respect of Christology and soteriology) and
was based (perhaps as a result of the in¯uence of Paul) not
simply on Jesus' teaching but on claims regarding his status
and mission which arose out of his death and alleged
resurrection. Thirdly, these early communities had lived
through and after a period in which Israel had decisively
rejected not only these claims but also Jesus' original teach-
ing. This meant that God's purpose had been thwarted. It
meant too that Jesus' original teaching had either been false
or ineffective. Paul himself can be seen grappling with this
very problem of Israel's rejection of the gospel in chapters
9±11 of Romans.
It is out of these three factors (the enigmatic nature of the
parables; Mark's own Christology; Jewish rejection of the
gospel) that the Markan theory of the parables emerges. For
Mark and his community, the very function of the parables has
been reinterpreted. The parable is now seen, not as a vehicle
for instruction or warning concerning the coming Kingdom of
God, but as a vehicle for mysti®cation. The parables reveal
Jesus' message and status only to the initiated, in this case the
Markan readership (whom I take to be largely Gentile-Chris-
tian). In ful®lment of the words of Isaiah (6.9±10), the parables
were meant to harden Jewish hearts, meant to make them mis-
understand, meant to conceal Jesus' message and status from
them. Because that had been their historical outcome, this
(according to theological reasoning) must have been their
intended effect, for history is governed by God's purposes which
cannot be thwarted. A predestinarian note is struck, therefore,
in these verses, and the `hardening' theory which is espoused
(see also Jn 12.40; Acts 28.26ff.; Rom. 11.8; 2 Cor. 3.14; 4.3±4)
may not only have functioned theologically for the community
but also sociologically, bolstering the Markan community's
sense of eliteness as well as its social cohesion in face of Jewish
hostility.81 To them had been given the secret of the Kingdom of
God, but to outsiders everything was in parables. What, however,
did Mark mean by `the secret of the Kingdom of God'? It is to this
question that we now turn, but before we do, let me sum up.
Thus far we have examined the parables of Jesus as they
come to us in the Gospel of Mark. After preliminary matters of
de®nition and classi®cation, we examined their historical
setting in the life of Jesus where their meaning was eschato-
logical and their function was to teach, indeed warn, his fellow
Jews about the imminent coming of the Kingdom of God. We
then moved on to their theological setting in the early church,
observing their fate in the course of transmission and in
particular the secondary interpretations and allegorization
which often served to distort or alter their original meaning. We
next discussed their literary setting in the Synoptic Gospels,
noting features of the editorial process conducted upon them
and commenting on their meaning and function for the evange-
lists. This introductory overview provided a context for Mark's
treatment of the parables in particular. We reviewed the nature
and function of the material in Mark, noting the different types
of parable incorporated by the evangelist before going on to
discuss the nature and signi®cance of his redactional work upon
them. The conclusion was that the parables were seen by the
evangelist as cryptic utterances which were intended to conceal
Jesus' message from his hearers and reveal it only to the
initiated (in this case Mark's Christian readers). By virtue of
secondary additions and allegorical features attributable both
to pre-Markan tradition and to Mark (we cannot always differ-
entiate between the two), parables were now seen as referring
not to the Kingdom of God as much as to the concealed nature
of the one who came proclaiming it, the divine Son of God.
`The time is ful®lled': the Kingdom of God in Mark

To investigate the meaning of the Kingdom of God for Mark,
we must as before place the discussion in a wider context by ®rst
81
F. Watson, `The Social Function of Mark's Secrecy Motif ', JSNT, 24 (1985), pp.
49 ±69.
reviewing how the term has generally been understood. 82 For
the scholarly exegetes of the nineteenth century (A. Ritschl,
F. Schleiermacher, etc.), `Jesus', as I once elsewhere remarked,
`was a moral hero, an ethical giant cast in an essentially nine-
teenth century heroic mould, the proclaimer of the Kingdom of
God as a lofty, universal, spiritual `ìdea'' and, above all ± a
gentleman!'83 The Kingdom of God was seen as `the moral task
to be carried out by the human race . . . the organization of
humanity through action inspired by love'.84 Hence it was
virtually identical with the church (èntering the Kingdom') or
the spread of Christianity in the world (the steady growth of the
Kingdom).
In support of this view, the Gospel of Mark was appealed to,
particularly the so-called `parables of growth' (Mk 4. 1±34).
God's Kingdom was God's moral rule in the heart of the
individual and a consequence of the individual's allowing God
thus to reign in his heart and over his conscience would be the
renovation of society and the growth of civilization. Nowhere
has this view of the Kingdom been better expressed than in the
splendidly emotive (and much repeated) words of the British
scholar, T. W. Manson (1893±1958):
We may sum up the whole matter by saying that, as it appears in the
life and teaching of Jesus, the sovereignty of God is essentially the
working out, to a predetermined and inevitable end, of God's holy
purpose. This purpose embraces in its scope both the natural world
and the world of self-conscious beings. Its motive is love, its means
service, and its end a state of things where the will of God is done on
earth as in heaven. The sovereignty of God over nature is demon-
strated not by the trampling march of supernatural power in some
great cataclysm, but by his constant care over all his creatures, even
the humblest. It is manifested in human life, not by legions of angels
sweeping forward to crush the forces of evil, but by the realisation in
those who accept its rule of a strange power to overcome evil with
good. This power is recognised, by all who experience it, as the
82
For a history of interpretation, see M. D. Hooker, `Kingdom of God', DBI, pp.
374 ± 77; B. Chilton, The Kingdom of God in the Teaching of Jesus (Issues in Religion and
Theology, 5; London: SPCK; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984), pp. 1± 26; Perrin, Lan-
guage; N. Perrin, The Kingdom of God in the Teaching of Jesus (The New Testament
Library; London: SCM Press; Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1963).
83 84
Telford, Barren Temple , p. 2. Perrin, Kingdom, p. 16.
strongest thing in the world, and as something which must ®nally
prevail. In other words, the throne of the universe is founded upon a
Father's love. This is probably the clue to `the mystery of the
Kingdom'.85
This essentially nineteenth-century view was challenged at
the turn of the century, however, by `the trampling march' of
J. Weiss and A. Schweitzer. The `Kingdom' concept should be
interpreted not against the background of nineteenth-century
idealistic Liberalism but against the background of ®rst-century
apocalyptic Judaism. In Jesus' mind there was an antithesis
between God and Satan, and a metaphysical struggle between
the two. The Kingdom of God would come about not by the
material action of men but by the supernatural action of God.
The Kingdom of God was not something gradually evolving by
the action of men in history but the eschatological irruption of God
(in apocalyptic fashion) into history, in the manner of a ¯ood
(e.g. Mt. 24.38±9 = Lk. 17.26±7).86 The new age so brought
about would be discontinuous with the old. Hence, J. Jeremias,
for example, argued, the so-called `parables of growth' are really
`parables of contrast'. In these parables (for example, the
mustard seed, Mk 4.30±2), the emphasis is not on the biological
process of growth (only uncertainly understood by the ancients)
but on the sharp contrast between the smallness of the seed and
the magnitude of the resultant (8±10 foot) shrub, illustrating the
sharp discontinuity between the present age and the conditions
that would prevail extraordinarily in the age to come.87 To
understand how this conception arose, let us summarize brie¯y
how the concept of the Kingdom of God originated and
developed, as we ®nd it re¯ected in the literature of the Old
Testament, apocalyptic Judaism and Rabbinic Judaism.88
While the expression `Kingdom of God' itself hardly appears
85
T. W. Manson, The Teaching of Jesus. Studies of its Form and Content (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1931), p. 170.
86
In commenting on the views of J. Weiss, Perrin writes: Ìn the teaching of Jesus,
however, the kingdom of God is conceived quite differently from this: it is the
breaking out of an overpowering divine storm which erupts into history to destroy
and to renew, and which a man can neither further nor in¯uence' (Kingdom, p. 18).
87
Jeremias, Parables, pp. 146 ±53.
88
For a more comprehensive overview, see Perrin, Language; O. E. Evans, `Kingdom of
God', IDB, pp. 17 ±26; Manson, Teaching, esp. pp. 116ff.
in the Old Testament (although see 1 Chron. 28.5), the notion of
God's `kingship' (malkuÃth), `kingly rule' or `sovereignty' over the
nation of Israel and subsequently over the nations of the world
is a dominant emphasis (e.g. Exod. 15.18; 1 Chron. 29.11±12).
Active in and from creation (e.g. Job 38±41), God's sovereignty
extended universally and eternally over the present world order
(e.g. Ps. 22.28; 103.19; 145.10±13; 146.10). For the prophets,
Yahweh was alone supreme. Protector and defender of Israel,
and a champion of righteousness and justice, he was actively at
work in history, overseeing the affairs of the world (e.g. Jer.
27.5±11), using the authorities for his own purposes (e.g. Isa.
44.24±45.25), and calling the nations (as well as Israel) to
account for their sins (e.g. Amos 1±2). History contradicted this
belief, however, as the Jews were subjected to the domination
and oppression of successive world empires. God, it appeared,
was increasingly remote if not powerless. Belief in Yahweh's
kingship came to be seen, therefore, not as a present experience
or reality but as a future hope or expectation (e.g. Isa. 24.21±3;
33.22; Zeph. 3.14±18; Zech. 14.16). This belief is re¯ected in the
later prophets who talked of the coming `day of the Lord', a day
in which God would intervene in judgment and in wrath, to
punish the nations, to restore his people's fortunes, to demon-
strate his own power and sovereignty (e.g. Isa. 2.12; 13.6, 9; Joel
1.15; 2.1; 3.14).
This view came to the fore in the intertestamental period and
is encountered particularly in the literature of apocalyptic
Judaism. Here the world was seen pre-eminently as the sphere
of Satan's rule, not God's, and allied with him were the legions
of demons and evil spirits who were responsible for the evil,
corruption, sickness and death to which humankind was prone.
Allied with Satan, too, were the Greek and Roman Empires to
which the Jews became subject, and by whom they felt cultu-
rally, politically and religiously oppressed. God, it was believed,
would shortly intervene to create a new world order and this
new world order was termed, among other things, the
`Kingdom of God'. The term is used frequently in the literature
of this period (200 BCE ±100 CE) and almost invariably the
thought is eschatological.
In some cases, as in the Assumption of Moses (a text probably
written during the lifetime of Jesus), the emphasis is on God's
intervention alone (with a subordinate role given to an angel),
salvation is a collective experience and the emphasis is national-
istic:
And then his kingdom shall appear throughout all his creation,
And then Satan shall be no more,
And sorrow shall depart with him.
Then the hands of the angel shall be ®lled
Who has been appointed chief,
And he shall forthwith avenge them of their enemies
For the Heavenly One will arise from his royal throne,
And he will go forth from his holy habitation
With indignation and wrath on account of his sons.
...
For the Most High will arise, the Eternal God alone,
And he will appear to punish the Gentiles,
And he will destroy all their idols. 89
In other cases, as in the Psalms of Solomon (dated shortly after
Pompey's capture of Jerusalem, c. 63 BCE), a prominent role is
given to an earthly ®gure, a royal Messiah, the Son of David.
Here again salvation is collective, the emphasis nationalistic,
but the means of intervention is expressly political and military:
Behold, O Lord, and raise up unto them their king, the son of David,
At the time in the which thou seest, O God, that he may reign over
Israel thy servant.
And gird him with strength, that he may shatter unrighteous rulers,
And that he may purge Jerusalem from nations that trample her down
to destruction.
Wisely, righteously he shall thrust out sinners from the inheritance
He shall destroy the pride of the sinner as a potter's vessel.
With a rod of iron he shall break in pieces all their substance,
He shall destroy the godless nations with the word of his mouth;
At his rebuke nations shall ¯ee before him.
And he shall reprove sinners for the thoughts of their heart.
And he shall gather together a holy people, whom he shall lead in
righteousness,
89
Ass. Mos. 10; see Barrett, Background, pp. 331 ±2.
And he shall judge the tribes of the people that has been sancti®ed by
the Lord his God.
And he shall not suffer unrighteousness to lodge any more in their
midst,
Nor shall there dwell with them any man that knoweth wickedness,
For he shall know them, that they are all sons of their God.
And he shall divide them according to their tribes upon the land,
And neither sojourner nor alien shall sojourn with them any more.90
In yet another passage, this time from Daniel (c. 167 BCE),
salvation is invested in a ®gure described, in contrast to the
beast-empires appearing in the seer's vision, as òne like a son of
man'. Here salvation is again collective, but the emphasis is
universal and the means of intervention supernatural:
And four great beasts come up from the sea, diverse from one
another. The ®rst was like a lion, and had eagle's wings . . . And
behold another beast, a second, like to a bear . . . After this I beheld,
and lo another, like a leopard, which had upon the back of it four
wings of a fowl; the beast had also four heads; and dominion was
given to it. After this I saw in the night visions, and behold a fourth
beast, terrible and powerful, and strong exceedingly; and it had great
iron teeth . . . I beheld till thrones were placed, and one that was
ancient of days did sit: his raiment was white as snow, and the hair of
his head like pure wool; his throne was ®ery ¯ames, and the wheels
thereof burning ®re . . . the judgement was set, and the books were
opened . . . I beheld even till the beast was slain, and his body
destroyed, and he was given to be burned with ®re. And as for the rest
of the beasts their dominion was taken away: yet their lives were
prolonged for a season and a time. I saw in the night visions, and,
behold, there came with the clouds of heaven one like unto a son of
man, and he came even to the ancient of days, and they brought him
near before him. And there was given him dominion, and glory, and a
kingdom, that all the peoples, nations, and languages should serve
him: his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass
away, and his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed.91
In 1 Enoch, speci®cally within the section known as the
Similitudes of Enoch (the dating is controversial but, according
to C. K. Barrett ìt is almost certainly earlier than the earliest
90
Ps. Sol. 17.23ff.; see Barrett, Background, pp. 337 ±8.
91
Dan. 7. 1 ±14; see Barrett, Background, pp. 340 ±1.
books of the New Testament'92), this òne like a son of man' has
become a supernatural, transcendent ®gure acting on God's
behalf and commanding universal worship:
And in that place I saw the fountain of righteousness
Which was inexhaustible:
And around it were many fountains of wisdom:
And all the thirsty drank of them,
And were ®lled with wisdom,
And their dwellings were with the righteous and holy and elect.
And at that hour that Son of man was named
In the presence of the Lord of Spirits
And his name before the Head of Days.
Yea, before the sun and the signs were created,
Before the stars of the heaven were made,
His name was named before the Lord of Spirits.
He shall be a staff to the righteous whereon to stay themselves and not
fall,
And he shall be the light of the Gentiles,
And the hope of those who are troubled of heart.
All who dwell on earth shall fall down and worship him
And will praise and bless and celebrate with song the Lord of Spirits.
...
And there was great joy amongst them,
And they blessed and glori®ed and extolled
Because the name of that Son of man had been revealed unto them.
And he sat on the throne of his glory,
And the sum of judgement was given unto the Son of man,
And he caused the sinners to pass away and be destroyed from off the
face of the earth,
And those who have led the world astray.
With chains shall they be bound,
And in their assemblage-place of destruction shall they be impri-
soned,
And all their works vanish from the face of the earth.
92
Barrett, Background (1956), p. 252. Re¯ecting perhaps an increasingly less con®dent
consensus among scholars, Barrett's judgment in his revised edition (1987, p. 341) was
more cautious (`The date of the Similitudes is disputed, but may be contemporary
with the New Testament'). C. Rowland suggests a date of 50 CE for the Similitudes,
while acknowledging the dif®culties involved in dating these and other apocalypses.
See The Open Heaven. A Study of Apocalyptic in Judaism and Early Christianity (London:
SPCK, 1982), p. 266.
And from henceforth there shall be nothing corruptible;
For that Son of man has appeared,
And has seated himself on the throne of his glory,
And all evil shall pass away before his face,
And the word of that Son of man shall go forth
And be strong before the Lord of Spirits
...
And he came to me and greeted me with his voice, and said unto me:
This is the Son of man who is born unto righteousness,
And righteousness abides over him,
And the righteousness of the Head of Days forsakes him not.
And he said unto me:
He proclaims unto thee peace in the name of the world to come
...
And so there shall be length of days with that Son of man,
And the righteous shall have peace and an upright way
In the name of the Lord of Spirits for ever and ever.93
In another variation on the Danielic tradition, 4 Ezra (or
2 Esdras, a text dated to the ®rst century CE) presents an
eschatological ®gure, the (primal) `Man' or pre-existent
Messiah who establishes God's dominion by slaying his enemies
with the breath of his lips:
And it came to pass after seven days that I dreamed a dream by night:
[and I beheld] and lo! there arose a violent wind from the sea and
stirred all its waves. And I beheld and lo! [The wind caused to come
up out of the heart of the seas as it were the form of a man. And I
beheld and lo!] this Man ¯ew with the clouds of heaven. And
wherever he turned his countenance to look everything seen by him
trembled; and whithersoever the voice went out of his mouth, all that
heard his voice melted away as the wax melts when it feels the ®re . . .
And after this I beheld, and lo! all who were gathered together against
him were seized with great fear; yet they dared to ®ght. And lo! when
he saw the assault of the multitude as they came he neither lifted his
hand, nor held spear nor any warlike weapon; but I saw only how he
sent out of his mouth as it were a ®ery stream, and out of his lips a
¯aming breath, and out of his tongue he shot forth a stream of sparks.
And these were all mingled together ± the ®ery stream, the ¯aming
breath, and the . . . storm, and fell upon the assault of the multitude
which was prepared to ®ght, and burned them all up, so that suddenly
93
1 Enoch 48; 69.26± 9; 71.14 ± 17; see Barrett, Background, pp. 341± 3.
nothing more was to be seen of the innumerable multitude save only
dust of ashes and smell of smoke.94
Despite differing expectations with regard to God's eschato-
logical agents (angels/archangels, a Messiah or Messiahs, the
Son of David, òne like a son of man', `that Son of man', the
`Man' etc.), what unites these passages is the fact that God's
kingship is seen as a future hope rather than a present worldly
reality, and the establishment of it either an earthly and political
event, or a cosmic, supernatural and apocalyptic one.
One further dimension to the interpretation of the Kingdom
of God is that supplied by the rabbis. While rabbinic thought
held to this collective eschatological hope, it was also believed
that God's kingship became a present reality or experience
when the individual Jew took upon himself the yoke of the
Torah and submitted himself to its prescriptions. Moral obedi-
ence to the Law, committing oneself to the scrupulous obser-
vance of the Torah, was described indeed as `taking upon
oneself the (yoke of the) kingdom (malkuÃth) of God'. This aspect
of Jewish thought, the notion of the Kingdom achieving its
reality, being `present' or becoming effective through moral
endeavour on the part of the individual has been said to provide
an analogy not only for the `moral' or ìnterior' view of the
Kingdom later to be developed in the nineteenth century but
also for the thought of Jesus.95
Three aspects of the Kingdom of God in Jewish and Chris-
tian literature can therefore be identi®ed, the Kingdom às an
eternal fact, as a manifestation in the present life of men, and as
a consummation still to come'.96 It is the last of these concep-
tions, the eschatological one, however, which has come to
dominate the discussion during this century. Where Jesus'
teaching about the Kingdom is concerned, furthermore, it
would appear that his view has more in common with that
94
4 Ezra 13.1± 13; see Barrett, Background, p. 325.
95
This was the view of T. W. Manson in particular (in Teaching) but critics have objected
not only to his tendency to ignore the apocalyptic dimension in Jesus' teaching but
also to his reliance on rabbinic material of a later date.
96
Manson, Teaching, p. 136; see also Evans, `Kingdom' in IDB, p. 17.
found in the literature of apocalyptic Judaism than it does with
the rabbinical literature which post-dates it.
At this point, however, a swarm of dif®culties awaits the
exegete, for the complexity of our sources and the question of
our methodology for interpreting them raises itself afresh. Jesus'
teaching about the Kingdom is embedded in a plurality of
traditions. It is found in Mark and in the tradition upon which
he drew. It is found in Q. Kingdom sayings are found, in turn,
in Matthew and in Luke where they have either been taken over
from Mark, or from Q , or constitute special Matthean or
Lukan material. Which, then, of the many Kingdom sayings in
the Synoptic tradition (in Mark, there are 13, in Q 13, in special
Matthean material 25, in special Lukan material 6), re¯ect
Jesus' own conception and which that of the early church or
evangelists?
When this Gospel material is examined critically, two broadly
differing conceptions of the Kingdom of God emerge. In the
®rst place, a number of these sayings clearly point to the
Kingdom as an imminent future apocalyptic expectation in
Jesus' message (e.g. Mk 1.14±15 par.; 9.1 par.; 14.25 par.; Mt.
6.10 par.; 8.11±12 par.; 10.7ff. (cf. v. 23) par.; 19.28 par.; Lk.
12.35±56 par.; 13.22±30 par.).97 In a series of separate but
related sayings, Jesus connects this proclamation with the
coming of the Son of Man (e.g. Mk 13.24±7 par.; Mt. 10.23; Lk.
17.22±37 par.). On the other hand, there are other sayings in
which the Kingdom seems to be regarded as a present reality or
experience in the world (e.g. Mk 4.1±33 (`the parables of
growth'); Mt. 11.2±6 = Lk. 7.18±23; Mt. 12.28 = Lk. 11.20; Mt.
13.16±17 = Lk. 10.23±4; Lk. 4.16±21; 10.18; 17.20±1).98 The last
passage is especially signi®cant, given its `realized' emphasis
and its apparent repudiation of (apocalyptic) signs: `Being asked
by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, he
answered them, ``The kingdom of God is not coming with signs
to be observed; nor will they say, `Lo, here it is!' or `There'
for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you'' '
97
The evidence is summarized in Perrin, Kingdom, pp. 83 ±4.
98
The evidence is summarized in Perrin, Kingdom, pp. 74 ±8.
(Lk. 17.20±1). Was Jesus' conception of the Kingdom not only
an eschatological one but also an apocalyptic one then? 99 Did
Jesus, on the other hand, see the Kingdom as coming in other
essentially non-apocalyptic (`spiritual', èxistential') terms?
Clearly therefore problems confront us when we seek to differ-
entiate Jesus' view from the various interpretations or reinter-
pretations of it by the early church and the evangelists, and
especially when we consider the effect of the delay of the
parousia and the failure of apocalyptic expectations upon these
early Christians.
To account for these apparent discrepancies, three main
theories have been advanced.100 The ®rst sees Jesus as an
eschatological prophet who (like his contemporaries) expected and
proclaimed the Kingdom as an imminent, eschatological event.
Jesus' own view, moreover, as well as that of his immediate
followers, was thoroughly apocalyptic in outlook. Those sayings
of his embodying this apocalyptic outlook, the ìmminent' or
`future' sayings, are therefore authentic, while the `present' or
`realized' ones which claim that the Kingdom of God has already
come (in interior, moral, spiritual or existential terms) in Jesus'
person and mission are the product of the early church's
`theological accommodation' to the failure of apocalyptic ex-
pectations (especially the parousia). Jesus' own eschatological
orientation, in other words, has been gradually eclipsed in
the tradition by the Christological interpretation attached
99
B. D. Chilton comments on the difference between the two terms as follows: Àn
`àpocalyptic'' writing typically conveys a ``revelation'' (apocalypsis) concerning the
`ènd'' (eschaton), sometimes by providing a calendar of occurrences leading up to
and even including God's ®nal acts. Apocalyptic is therefore eschatological, but
eschatology need not be as detailed in respect of the ®nal events as apocalyptic is'
(Kingdom, p. 7).
100
See, for example, E. S. Fiorenza, Èschatology of the NT', IDB(S), pp. 276 ±7 who
differentiates four. Some approaches have attempted to avoid the problem of these
discrepancies, as N. Perrin does, for example, by claiming that ` ``Kingdom of God''
is not an idea or a conception, it is a symbol ' (Language, p. 33) and hence open to a
variety of apparently con¯icting associations. By adopting what is essentially a
modern and sophisticated literary approach, Perrin's ìnterpretation is thus open to
the accusation that he has read back twentieth-century attitudes into the words of
Jesus' (Hooker, `Kingdom' in DBI, p. 377); see also J. Riches and A. Millar,
`Conceptual Change in the Synoptic Tradition' in A. E. Harvey (ed.), Alternative
Approaches to New Testament Study (London: SPCK, 1985), pp. 37 ±60.
subsequently to his words. This position has been called `con-
sistent' or `thoroughgoing eschatology' and is associated with
the names of J. Weiss and A. Schweitzer.
A second theory claims that the `present' or `realized' sayings
are authentic while the `future' or àpocalyptic' sayings are
secondary. Jesus himself made a radical departure from the
apocalyptic outlook of his contemporaries in that he saw the
Kingdom not in out-and-out apocalyptic terms but rather as à
transcendent order beyond space and time' already present in
his person and ministry. The sayings which talk of the King-
dom's future coming in apocalyptic terms (along with the
parousia expectation itself ) are therefore the product of a
subsequent `re-Judaization' of Christianity, or even, as some
have stated it, a contamination of an authentically Christian
stream by Jewish apocalypticism. In this respect, the Fourth
Gospel, and to an extent Paul, would preserve the essence of
Jesus' own proclamation while the apocalyptic Christianity
discernible in parts of the New Testament (e.g. Q , Mark
(especially ch. 13), 1 & 2 Thessalonians and especially Revela-
tion) would depart from it. This view has been called `realized
eschatology', as we have seen, and is associated with a mainly
British school of scholarship represented by C. H. Dodd,
T. W. Manson, C. F. D. Moule and J. A. T. Robinson.
A third mediating position holds that Jesus was an eschato-
logical prophet who proclaimed that the Kingdom of God had
been inaugurated in his person and ministry, but who looked for
its dramatic consummation in the future. For this view, a number
of both `present' and `future' sayings originate with Jesus and
they must therefore be kept in tension with one another (the
àlready' with the `not yet'). This solution has been called for
this reason ìnaugurated eschatology', `proleptic eschatology' or
an èschatology in process of realizing itself ', and is associated
with scholars such as W. G. KuÈmmel, R. H. Fuller and
J. Jeremias.
While the third of these positions can be said to represent the
current consensus (at least where European scholarship is
concerned), and is probably the most cautious or balanced
evaluation of the evidence, my own inclinations favour the ®rst.
A certain `hermeneutic of suspicion' can be directed to the
second and to an extent the third. One notes in these positions,
for example, a certain distrust of apocalyptic and a desire on
the part of scholars to dissociate Jesus from a perspective
considered simplistic, fanatical or irrelevant. The vagueness of
expressions such as the Kingdom's coming ìn his own person
and ministry' may disguise an exegete's own Christological
assumptions, and the desire to harmonize Jesus' teaching, for
the sake of theological continuity, with that of Paul and John,
his or her apologetic ones. Apart from the fact that apocalyptic
conceptions can be traced back to the very early tradition, 101 it
seems more plausible to me that a `realized' eschatological
perspective with its emphasis on Christology rather than escha-
tology would have received a greater impetus from the delay of
the parousia and the failure of apocalyptic expectations than
that Jewish apocalypticism later `contaminated' a Christian
stream which in its origin and at its source was after all a Jewish
sect!
This position we can see borne out by subsequent develop-
ments in the New Testament where, in Bultmann's famous
dictum, `The Proclaimer becomes the Proclaimed'. Where
Jesus asked his disciples to pray for the Kingdom to come (Mt.
6.10 = Lk. 11.2), the primitive community in turn prayed for
Jesus to come (1 Cor. 16.22; Rev. 22.20). Christ himself is the
focus for Paul, and not the Kingdom to which he pointed. For
John, the Kingdom of God is mentioned but twice (3.3, 5) and
its equivalent èternal life' is seen as a present gift in union with
Christ. For the rest of the New Testament, the references are
relatively few. Jesus is central and not the Kingdom and that
Kingdom, moreover, is seen as bound up with his person and
mission, his death and resurrection.
How does Mark understand the Kingdom of God in the
teaching of Jesus and where does he stand in the stream of such
developments? Let me comment ®rst of all on the nature of the
101
This is acknowledged by a fourth position described by Fiorenza as àpocalyptic
eschatology'. Here apocalyptic is viewed as `the mother of all Christian theology'
(E. KaÈsemann) but at the same time attributed not to Jesus but to `the post-Easter
enthusiasm of the primitive church'. See Fiorenza, Èschatology' in IDB(S), p. 276.
Kingdom sayings in the Gospel. The evangelist reproduces
some thirteen of these sayings in all (1.15; 4.11; 4.26, 30; 9.1;
9.47; 10.14±15 (twice), 23±5 (twice); 12.34; 14.25; 15.43). In six of
these instances, a future and even an apocalyptic element can
be said to be uppermost. In 9.1, after a warning concerning the
apocalyptic coming of the Son of Man (8.38), the Markan Jesus'
audience is informed that `there are some standing here who
will not taste death before they see the Kingdom of God come
with power'. As is well known, C. H. Dodd has attempted to
claim this verse for `realized eschatology' by translating the
verse as follows: `There are some of those standing here who
will not taste death until they have seen that the Kingdom of God
has come with power.' `The perfect participle', Dodd argues,
ìndicates an action already complete from the standpoint of the
subject of the main verb . . . The bystanders are not promised
that they shall see the Kingdom of God coming, but that they
shall come to see that the Kingdom of God has already come, at
some point before they became aware of it.'102 Although this
interpretation `has not established itself, nor . . . been driven
from the ®eld',103 it suffers from the weakness that the verb `to
see' (horan) ìs never used of intellectual perception'104 and it
requires us, among other things, to interpret the Kingdom
`come with power' in `realized' terms as either the resurrection,
Pentecost or the era of the Christian church.
In Mark 9.47 and in 10.23±5, the Markan Jesus talks of the
Kingdom as something to be entered, and as something for
which no sacri®ce is too costly to be prepared for it. Here it is
used in conjunction with the term `life' (Mk 9.43, 45) or èternal
life' (Mk 10.17, 30), meaning `the life of the Age to Come' or the
Messianic age.105 This future orientation is clearly seen in the
last of these verses where the Markan Jesus promises a reward
to his followers (ìn the age to come eternal life') for the
sacri®ces made ìn this time'. In Mark 14.25 the future emphasis
is also clear. In expectation of the imminent consummation of
the Kingdom, Jesus promises not to drink wine again until he
102 103
Dodd, Parables, p. 43n. Perrin, Kingdom, p. 66.
104 105
Fuller, Mission, p. 27. Dodd, Parables, p. 35.
shares a Messianic meal with his disciples.106 The ®nal passage
(Mk 15.43) too re¯ects a future orientation in that it describes
Joseph of Arimathea as someone living in expectation of the
ful®lment of Israel's eschatological hopes.
At the same time as future, imminent and even apocalyptic
notions can be discerned in some of these sayings, present or
realized elements are also apparent. In Mark 10.14±15, the
Markan Jesus rebukes his disciples for turning away the children
`for to such belongs the kingdom of God' and informs them
`whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall
not enter into it'. What receiving the Kingdom `like a child'
precisely means is disputed (`with the attitude of a child',
namely in humility or innocence, or às children receive things',
namely às a gift', the child being a symbol for dependence or
powerlessness? see also Mt. 11.25 = Lk. 10.21) but in this passage
has been found the closest parallel with the rabbinical concep-
tion (`taking upon oneself the yoke of the kingdom') in that it
predicates a correct attitude or moral stance as determinative
for one's reception of the Kingdom. Jesus' words to the scribe in
12.34 in response to the ethical insight he demonstrates (`You
are not far from the kingdom of God') may convey a similar
notion.
The four remaining passages have given rise to considerable
debate in terms of their future or realized thrust. In Mark
1.14±15, the evangelist has Jesus announce: `The time is ful®lled,
and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the
gospel.' Here, as with Matthew 12.28 = Luke 11.20, Dodd
translates: `The Kingdom of God has come.'107 Contesting the
linguistic evidence, other commentators have preferred to
understand the words as indicating the imminence rather than
the actual presence of the Kingdom of God.108 The parables of
106
Here it is not `the transcendent order beyond space and time' which is in view but
the traditional `messianic banquet' (cf. Isa. 25.6; Zeph. 1.7; 1 Enoch 62. 13 ± 14); see
W. G. KuÈmmel, Promise and Ful®lment. The Eschatological Message of Jesus (Studies in
Biblical Theology, 23; London: SCM Press, 1957), pp. 31 ±2; Evans, `Kingdom' in
IDB, p. 21; Perrin, Kingdom, pp. 72± 3.
107
`Both imply the `àrrival'' of the Kingdom' (Dodd, Parables, p. 37).
108
The normal usage of eggizoÅ in the NT is `to draw near' and not `to arrive'. While the
word can mean `to arrive' in the LXX, as the translation of naÅga{ (Hebrew) or met.aÃ}
(Aramaic), this usage is exceptional and there too it normally means `to arrive'. If
the Kingdom (Mk 4.26ff.; 4.30ff.) likewise have drawn differing
interpretations, those following Jeremias seeing them as future-
oriented in respect of their climax (the eschatological harvest),
those following Dodd seeing them as oriented to the present in
respect of the secrecy and hiddenness of the Kingdom they
envisage, an emphasis also strongly represented in Mark 4.11.
How then, to return to our question, did Mark understand
the Kingdom of God? One view is to take the `realized'
elements as re¯ecting Jesus' distinctive thought and the apoca-
lyptic ones as secondary, perhaps even Markan. While acknowl-
edging that Jesus spoke of the Kingdom as future, V. Taylor, for
example, was of the opinion that `Mark's view of the Kingdom
was eschatological' and that `the main emphasis lies upon the
Kingdom as future and, indeed, imminent'. The evangelist, he
asserts, `does not record, and perhaps has not assimilated, the
more distinctive elements in the teaching of Jesus, implicit in
Markan sayings but more clearly evident in Q (Luke xi. 20, xvii.
20f., Matt. xxi. 31) and in such parables as the Leaven (Luke
xiii. 20f.), Treasure Hid in a Field (Matt. xiii. 44), and the Pearl
Merchant (Matt. xiii. 45f.)'. These more distinctive elements,
Taylor holds, include the notion that the Kingdom is `present in
himself and in his ministry'. Ìn a true sense, therefore, He
taught a ``realized eschatology'', and is Himself ay!tobasi-
leiÂa.'109
For my own part, I think this view is misguided. Apart from
the historicizing tendencies to which Taylor was prone and the
Christological presuppositions to which he adhered, the posi-
tion advanced by him fails adequately to distinguish between
Mark's sources and his redaction, although, given that redac-
tion criticism was in its infancy when he was writing, this is
understandable.110 The evangelist has certainly not introduced
the evangelist had wished to express himself unambiguously, he could have used
ephthasen as in Mt. 12.28 = Lk. 11.20. See Evans, `Kingdom' in IDB, p. 20; KuÈmmel,
Promise, pp. 24 ±5.
109
Taylor, Mark, p. 114.
110
For a redaction-critical analysis of the Markan Kingdom sayings, see A. M.
Ambrozic, The Hidden Kingdom. A Redaction-critical Study of the References to the Kingdom of
God in Mark's Gospel (Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series, 2; Washington,
DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1972).
a secondary apocalyptic element into the tradition he received.
That apocalyptic element, particularly an imminent future
Kingdom conception, was already embedded in the parables
and sayings of Jesus he inherited, as we have seen.
In the tradition before him, the so-called parables of growth
(Mk 4.8, 26, 30) were really parables of contrast, as Jeremias has
demonstrated, re¯ecting the dramatic difference between this
age and the conditions prevailing in the age to come, a
discontinuity re¯ected also in the parabolic sayings of Mark 2.21
and 22. In the parable of Mark 13.28±9, the dramatic fertility of
the ®g tree at the onset of summer was taken, I believe, by Jesus,
as an analogy for the future (imminent) approach of the end-
time.111 Jesus' proclamation of the coming Kingdom of God in
Mark 1.15 may be said to be typical of the eschatological
prophets of that period and has an af®nity with the Q saying of
Matthew 12.28 = Luke 11.20. The evangelist's claim that in the
exorcisms of Jesus the kingdom of Satan is being usurped and
(by implication) that of God being established has its counter-
part in the same Q saying. In the triumphal entry of Mark
11.1±10, Mark is operating with a received tradition of Jesus as
the royal Messiah, the Son of David, about to establish the
Kingdom (Mk 11.10) as I have argued. The Son of Man saying
of Mark 8.38 and the closely associated Kingdom saying of
Mark 9.1, with their future-oriented apocalyptic outlook, like-
wise have their counterparts elsewhere in the tradition and
hence can be argued to have independent attestation (e.g. Mt.
10.32±3 = Lk. 12.8±9 and Mt. 10.23 as well perhaps as Mk.
13.30). While the apocalyptic discourse itself (13.1±37) was
undoubtedly redacted by the evangelist, it was nevertheless
composed from traditional material, some of which we may
suppose went back to Jesus himself. The concept of the
Messianic banquet, likewise, which was re¯ected as we saw in
Mark 14.25, was used in apocalyptic, has its parallel in Matthew
8.11±12 = Luke 13.28±9 and was employed by Jesus.112
If the evangelist has not introduced a futurist eschatology
111
For a fuller treatment of this passage in Markan redaction, see Telford, Barren
Temple, pp. 213± 18.
112
Perrin, Kingdom, p. 183.
into his sources, neither can it be said that he accentuated that
element. The opposite, I believe, was the case. Mark, in the
service of his Christology and soteriology, may have accentu-
ated what `present' or `realized' elements there were in the
tradition while at the same time altering, modifying or toning
down the thorough-going nature of the apocalyptic expecta-
tions he found there. Five examples can be given.
We note ®rst of all, that to Jesus' imminent eschatological
proclamation (`The time is ful®lled, and the kingdom is at
hand'), Mark has added the words `Repent and believe in the
gospel' (1.14±15). Jesus is presented as preaching the `gospel', but
it was the early church which preached the `gospel' or the
`word', and that `word' or `gospel' spoke in its content and
`mystery' (e.g. Col. 1.25±6; Eph. 3.8±10) of the signi®cance of
Jesus' death and resurrection (Acts 8.4; Rom. 1.1±4, 16; 1 Cor. 1.
17; Gal. 1.6±9; 6.6; Col. 4.3; 2 Tim. 1.11; 4.2; Jas 1.21; 1 Pet. 2.8;
1 Jn 2.7). Since this could not have been the original content of
Jesus' message, the expression is anachronistic on his lips and
this is con®rmed by the fact that other references to the word
`gospel' (Mk 8.35; 10.29; 13.10; 14.9) appear to be redactional. 113
In using this theologically `loaded' word (which I believe con-
®rms the evangelist's links with Pauline Christianity), Mark has
therefore tempered Jesus' original eschatological proclamation
of the coming Kingdom with associations which for his readers
would have been Christological as well as soteriological.
A second point to note is that the evangelist has carried the
secrecy motif into Jesus' preaching on the Kingdom. The
Kingdom of God is now a secret or `mystery' (Mk 4.11±12) as is
Jesus' true identity as the Son of God. The so-called parables of
growth in chapter 4, the original import of which may have
been strongly eschatological, have been given this secret or
mysterious element largely by virtue of the material with which
they have been juxtaposed (Mk 4.21±5, esp. 22) and by means of
his redaction upon them (see especially Mk 4.11±12, 33±4).
A third observation concerns the context in which one of the
most future-oriented of the Kingdom sayings (Mk 9.1) has been
113
W. Marxsen, Mark the Evangelist. Studies on the Redaction History of the Gospel (Nashville,
TN and New York: Abingdon Press; London: SPCK, 1969), pp. 117 ±50.
placed. This saying originally predicted the coming of the
Kingdom in Jesus' own generation (Mk 13.30) and possibly also
referred to the triumphant coming of the Son of Man. In its
Markan context, however (note the precise Ànd after six days'
Mk 9.2), it invites the reader to see the prediction ful®lled in the
trans®guration, or better èpiphany', scene which immediately
follows. There, as in Jesus' baptism (Mk 1.11), the secret of Jesus'
true status is again disclosed: `This is my beloved Son; listen to
him' (Mk 9.7).
The view that the apocalyptic element in the Gospel is pre-
Markan and that the evangelist has modi®ed it in view of the
delay in the parousia is one, moreover, that can be sustained
from an examination of the eschatological discourse itself.114
According to a number of the Kingdom of God/Son of Man
sayings, Jesus' apocalyptic expectation was immediate (e.g. Mt.
10.5±8, 23; Mk 9.1; 14.25). By placing Jesus' prediction con-
cerning the end-time or eschaton in connection with the events
surrounding the destruction of Jerusalem some forty years after
the death of Jesus (when, I believe, the Gospel itself was
written), Mark has already extended the apocalyptic expecta-
tion or scheme. It is agreed that 13.1±4 are redactional verses.
In 13.10, the reader is further informed that the interim period
before the coming of the Son of Man will take into account the
Gentile mission (a universal mission not foreseen by the earlier
tradition; see Mt. 10.5±8, 23). In 13.30, the apocalyptic deÂnoue-
ment will occur within a `generation' yet 13.32 makes its timing
even more inde®nite, and 13.33ff., as we have seen, urges only
watchfulness (a degree of watchfulness, incidentally, which
appears somewhat out of proportion given the circumstances of
the householder's absence!). According to Mark's sources, Jesus,
in common with apocalyptic, predicted the signs which would
herald the Kingdom of God or its agent, the Son of Man.
Curiously, however, the evangelist has Jesus earlier refuse such
signs (8.11±13), a feature which may also be compared with the
114
See E. Schweizer, Èschatology in Mark's Gospel' in E. E. Ellis and M. Wilcox
(eds.), Neotestamentica et Semitica (Fs. M. Black) (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1969), pp.
114 ± 18.
anti-apocalyptic thrust of Luke 17.20±1. One conclusion which
might be reached, therefore, is that Mark has inserted the
eschatological discourse into his Gospel in order to modify or
tone down the tradition's apocalyptic overtones (perhaps in
view of the fervour occasioned by the Romano-Jewish war), or
even to disassociate these events from the end-time itself, urging
ethical `watchfulness' as the only appropriate response to a
delayed parousia expectation.
My ®nal example concerns the àbstinence vow' declared by
Jesus in Mark 14.25.115 It is to be noted that Mark has placed
this logion in the context of what would have been for his
community and the reader a celebration of Jesus' salvi®c death.
In Jesus' own teaching the underlying image, as we have
observed, was that of the `Messianic banquet', his own meals
with his disciples, it has often been suggested, acting as a joyful
foretaste of the Messianic age. After his death, the primitive
community continued to celebrate these shared meals in
excited anticipation of his imminent return. Where an earlier
more apocalyptic conception saw salvation for the community
in terms of participation in the age to come, a more Hellenistic
one saw Jesus' death as securing salvation for the individual.
Hence in Pauline communities, for example, these shared meals
came to be a solemn celebration of his death. Although the
saying of 14.25 retains its eschatological emphasis, by placing it
in this latter context (14.22±4), Mark may be said to have
lessened the impact of its original apocalyptic meaning.
In conclusion, then, I would maintain that Mark himself
provides evidence of having interpreted the parables and
sayings of Jesus in a `realized' eschatological way. The Gospel of
Mark in its eschatology, therefore, represents an early stage in
the transformation of the apocalyptic hope of both Jesus and
primitive Jewish Christianity. Jesus `the Proclaimer' of the
coming eschatological Kingdom of God is in process of being
seen as `the Proclaimed' in whose person and ministry the
Kingdom was (in another sense) already present. This is `the
115
J. Jeremias, The Eucharistic Words of Jesus (Oxford: Blackwell, 1955), pp. 165 ± 72.
secret (or `mystery') of the Kingdom of God' (Mk 4.11). Escha-
tology, in other words, is on the way to being eclipsed by
Christology and soteriology.
In this section, we have examined the Markan understand-
ing of Jesus' teaching concerning the Kingdom of God. To
put this in perspective, we considered ®rst of all how the
Kingdom was understood in the nineteenth century and we
saw how the prevalent view of the Kingdom as an interior,
essentially spiritual reality was challenged by J. Weiss and
A. Schweitzer in favour of an eschatological one. We then
went on to look at the meaning of the expression in the Old
Testament, in the literature of apocalyptic Judaism and in
Rabbinic Judaism. I underlined the fact that the understand-
ing of the Kingdom that was determinative for Jesus' own
thinking was the eschatological, and indeed, apocalyptic one,
and that this conception of the Kingdom is embedded in
sayings of the threefold Synoptic tradition that can be traced
back to the primary tradition. We also took note of the theory
that Jesus had radically departed from an apocalyptic concep-
tion of the coming Kingdom, that he had taught a `realized
eschatology' and that he believed apocalyptic expectations
were now being ful®lled in a different way in his own person
and work.
While acknowledging that a `realized' element is detectable
in the tradition before Mark, I was of the opinion that a
`realized' eschatology should be seen for the most part as a
secondary theological development, a highly original, indeed
creative response to the failure of primitive apocalyptic expecta-
tions. In light of the delay in the parousia or expected end-time,
the early church turned its attention less and less to the message
of the coming Kingdom which Jesus had proclaimed and more
and more to the person of the one who had proclaimed it. The
Kingdom was now seen (particularly in Hellenistic Jewish and
Gentile communities) as bound up with his person, death and
resurrection. Salvation came increasingly to be seen therefore
as a present experience realized in union with him and not, as
in the Jewish-Christian tradition, as participation in the bliss of
the age to come.
It was this movement from eschatology to Christology
which I argued could be detected in Mark's treatment of the
apocalyptic sayings and parables of Jesus. For him the
Kingdom is a secret or mystery intimately connected with
Jesus' identity as the concealed Son of God. Mark, it has been
noted, has employed a secrecy motif in the service of this
epiphany Christology. He has used this motif as a Christolo-
gical device to interpret, qualify and extend earlier Palestinian
traditions of Jesus as teacher, prophet and healer. We have
noted in particular how he used it in respect of Jesus' teaching,
namely in his `parables' or `Kingdom of God' secret (Mk
4.11±12), and reference has also been made to its use in
respect of his wonder-working activity, namely the `miracles'
secret (Mk 1.25, 34, 44; 3.11±12; 5.43; 7.36; 8.26). In turning
now to the mission of Jesus in Mark, we shall ®rst of all take
up the third of these traditions inherited by Mark, that of
Jesus as healer and exorcist, and examine the Markan treat-
ment of the miracles.
the mission of jesus
Ìf you only have faith': the nature and function of the miracles in Mark
As before, in order to place the evangelist's treatment in
context, let me begin by saying something about the nature of
miracles and miracle-workers in the ancient world. The ®rst
point to note is the climate of credulousness that there was
among the ancients in respect of miracles, prodigies, omens,
portents, or what, in biblical terms, were termed `signs and
wonders'. Even as educated and sophisticated a man as the
Jewish historian Josephus, while railing against the misguided
trust which had been placed by his fellow Jews in eschatological
prophets, was nevertheless at pains to point out the omens
which God had himself supplied regarding the imminent de-
struction of Jerusalem: `Thus it was that the wretched people
were deluded at that time by charlatans and pretended messen-
gers of the deity; while they neither heeded nor believed in the
manifest portents that foretold the coming desolation, but, as if
thunderstruck and bereft of eyes and mind, disregarded the
plain warnings of God.'116
These portents, Josephus goes on to mention, were the
appearance of both a star and a comet, a bright light round the
altar and the sanctuary, a cow giving birth to a lamb in the
temple, the miraculous opening of the eastern gate of the inner
court, chariots in the air and armed battalions in the clouds,
and woes against Jerusalem uttered by an eschatological
prophet named Jesus, the son of Ananias! When Mark tells us
that Jesus too had announced the signs which would herald the
fall of Jerusalem (13.1±31), or that the curtain of the temple was
torn in two when Jesus died (15.38), or Matthew, in addition,
that there was an earthquake at that time which woke the dead
(Mt. 27.51±3), then we are encountering a similar religious
mentality, the desire for God's apocalyptic intervention and for
nature to be responsive to the historic events of human experi-
ence.
The world of the evangelists was a world in which magic,
thaumaturgy, divination, augury, astrology, and a variety of
other superstitions commanded widespread belief. Miracle was
no problem, in a sense, for the ancients since they had no
developed concept of the laws of nature. Nature was not a
closed system, operating in response to laws that could not be
violated. Nature, history, human experience were the arena for
the action of supernatural forces, gods, angels, divine men,
spirits and demons.
Belief in spirits or demons was particularly strong in the New
Testament period and thereafter, as both the Gospels and Acts
(e.g. Mk 5.1±20; Lk. 11.24±6 = Mt. 12.43±5; Acts 19.11±20) and
the Greek Magical Papyri attest.117 Demons were of many
kinds and, as J. M. Hull points out, they were often thought of
as possessing bodies, of having physical needs or requiring a
home.118 Exorcism was a prominent feature of Hellenistic
116
See Josephus, Bellum Judaicum vi.288 and The Jewish War (Loeb Classical Library;
London: Heinemann, 1927; New York: G. P. Putnam, 1928), transl. H. St. J.
Thackeray, pp. 459 ± 61.
117
See Barrett, Background, pp. 31± 8.
118
J. M. Hull, `Demons in the NT', IDB(S), p. 225.
magic. Originating in ancient Mesopotamia, it was rare in the
pre-Christian period but common in the ®rst few Christian
centuries.119
This was a period too which saw a number of miracle-
workers, both human and divine, with a variety of claims being
made for them. The god, Asclepios, for example, was devoted
to healing. His temples were the hospitals of the ancient world
and a host of cures were attributed to him.120 Jesus was not
unusual, then, in having a miracle tradition attached to him.
Indeed there are formal similarities between the stories re-
ported of him and those told of other supernaturally endowed
men in the late Hellenistic period as well as of certain rabbis.121
Miracles and miracle-workers were, for the ancient world, to
put it crudely, two a penny. What makes the various accounts
distinctive is the range of theological signi®cance attached to
the miracles, and the various religious estimates given to the
miracle-workers in respect of them.
In the Old Testament, for example, the key ®gures with
whom a miracle tradition is associated are Moses, Elijah and
Elisha (e.g. Exod. 4±14; 1 Kgs 17ff.; 2 Kgs 1ff.). It is of note,
however, that these three ®gures are not presented in OT
tradition as divine men, although there is evidence that they
were beginning to be thought of in such terms among Hellen-
istic Jews of Jesus' day. In the OT, the miracles that they
perform con®rm their authority as chosen instruments of God,
and validate their role as God's messengers. The miracles, in
other words, point to the power of God whose agents they are,
rather than to their own supernatural status. 122
A new element makes its appearance, according to H. C.
Kee, in the literature of apocalyptic Judaism, where miracle-
working occupies a central place.123 Here miracles are inter-
119
J. M. Hull, Èxorcism in the NT', IDB(S), pp. 312± 4.
120
S. V. McCasland, `Miracle', IDB, p. 400; D. R. Cartlidge and D. L. Dungan,
Documents for the Study of the Gospels (Cleveland, OH, New York and London: Collins,
1980), pp. 151 ±3.
121
H. C. Kee, Àretalogy', IDB(S), p. 52.
122
Of the miracle cycle in Exod. 4 ±14, H. C. Kee writes: Ìt is not the divinity of Moses
that is manifested in these miracles, but the power and purpose of the God who is
using him as his chosen instrument' (Kee, Community, p. 25).
123
`But during the Hellenistic period in Jewish literature, a new motif begins to
preted eschatologically, that is, as signs of God's intervention to
vindicate his people and establish his rule or kingdom (e.g. Dan.
6.27; 7; 9.15ff.). Two types of miracle would indicate when
God's supernatural kingdom was about to appear. On the one
hand, there would be signs in the heavens or cosmic distur-
bances.124 On the other, there would be signs on earth, and one
of these signs would be an increase in the number of healings,
and especially exorcisms. To appreciate this connection, we
must bear in mind the widespread belief in the ancient world
that cases of epilepsy, manic depression, schizophrenia, hysteria
etc. were the product of demon-possession. For the apocalyptist,
demon-possession was evidence of Satan's domination or rule
over the present age, and the exorcist was engaged, therefore, in
warfare against Satan (Mk 3.22±7; Lk. 10.17±19).
In the texts of this period, a number of eschatological
deliverers, therefore, are expected, and prominent among them
is the eschatological prophet and miracle-worker.125 Such
®gures did appear, many of them charlatans and deceivers,
magicians who exploited these popular expectations and beliefs
for gain or status.126 Others, however, were sincere, believing
that their paranormal (or magical) gifts and the effect they had
on a credulous populace were genuine signs of the inbreaking of
the Messianic age.127
manifest itself, a motif which had its beginnings in the later prophetic tradition and
which was to exercise a potent effect on sectarian Judaism and on early Christianity
as well. This motif consists of the af®rmation that just as miracles in the past
accompanied and made possible the great events by which God delivered his
historic people, Israel, from their enemies, so he will act in the very near future on the
analogy of the Exodus signs and wonders to free his new covenant people in the
eschatological epoch which lies ahead. In short, miracle-working becomes a central
ingredient in Jewish eschatological literature' (Kee, Community, p. 27).
124
See, for example, Joel 2.30 ± 1; Sibylline Oracles iii. 767 ± 808 (Barrett, Background, pp.
333± 4).
125
Kee, Community, pp. 27 ±9.
126
A sceptical account of these is given by Celsus; see Origen, Against Celsus, 7.9 and
M. Smith, Àretalogies, Divine Men, the Gospels and Jesus', JBL, 90 (1971), p. 180.
127
Josephus describes these ®gures thus: `Besides these [the Sicarii or Jewish àssassins']
there arose another body of villains, with purer hands but more impious intentions,
who no less than the assassins ruined the peace of the city. Deceivers and impostors,
under the pretence of divine inspiration fostering revolutionary changes, they
persuaded the multitude to act like madmen, and led them out into the desert under
the belief that God would there give them tokens of deliverance' (B. J. II.258± 9;
Loeb, pp. 423± 5). Among these was an Egyptian prophet who, intending to take
Exorcism was practised by the rabbis and miracle stories
similar in form to the Gospel accounts appear in the rabbinical
literature.128 Honi the Circle-Drawer (or Onias the Righteous),
a ®rst century BCE ®gure, is reported, like Elijah, to have
produced rain in response to prayer.129 Hanina ben Dosa, a
®rst-century Galilean contemporary of Jesus, is reputed to have
healed the son of Rabbi Gamaliel at a distance (cf. Mt. 8.5±13 =
Lk. 7.1±10) as well as survived being bitten by a poisonous snake
(cf. Mk 16.18; Lk. 10.19; Acts 28.3±5).130 In these rabbinic
miracle stories, however, the emphasis is not on eschatology but
rather on the ef®cacy of prayer, the miracle being seen either as
a response to the rabbi's piety, or, as in the Old Testament,
legitimating his authority, particularly his interpretation of the
Law.
The ®rst of these points is illustrated by Hanina's words after
the healing in question: Ì am no prophet, nor am I a prophet's
son, but this is how I am favoured. If my prayer is ¯uent in my
mouth, I know that he (the sick man) is favoured; if not, I know
that it (the disease) is fatal.'131 The second is illustrated in the
famous story of Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, a ®rst-century
rabbi, who appealed (in vain) to a host of miracles enacted on
his behalf (the uprooting of a carob tree, the reversal of a
stream, the inclination of the school walls and even a voice from
heaven!) in order to establish his own legal judgment over that
of his unimpressed colleagues.132
Jerusalem, led his followers from the desert to the Mount of Olives (B. J. II.261 ±3;
Loeb, pp. 424 ±5; see Acts 21.38) and Theudas who persuaded his followers to follow
him to the river Jordan in the belief that it would part for them ( Josephus,
Antiquitates Judaicae XX.97 ± 8 and Jewish Antiquities (Loeb Classical Library; London:
Heinemann, 1963; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1965), transl.
L. H. Feldman, pp. 440 ±3; see Acts 5.36). See also his description of the prophets
other than Jesus, son of Ananias, who were active during the Romano-Jewish War
of 66± 70 CE (B. J. VI.285 ±7; Loeb, pp. 458 ±9). Some of the miracles attributed to
Jesus himself (e.g. the feedings in the wilderness, Mk 6.34 ±44 and 8.1 ±10 par. (see
especially Jn 6.14) and his command over the sea, Mk 4.35 ± 41 par.) may hence have
originated in connection with this eschatological prophet tradition.
128
P. Fiebig, Rabbinische Wundergeschichten des neutestamentlichen Zeitalters (Kleine Texte fuÈr
Vorlesungen und U È bungen, 78; Bonn: A. Marcus & E. Weber, 1911).
129
Vermes, Jesus, pp. 69 ±72.
130
Vermes, Jesus, pp. 72 ±8; Cartlidge and Dungan, Documents, pp. 158 ±9.
131
Vermes, Jesus, p. 75.
132
Vermes, Jesus, pp. 81± 2; Cartlidge and Dungan, Documents, pp. 160 ± 2.
The Gospel miracle stories also have parallels with those of
the wider Hellenistic world. Miracles were attributed to the
Cynic-Stoic wandering teacher-preachers of Asia Minor and
Syria (®rst and second centuries CE), men whom Lucian of
Samosata depicted as tricksters, sorcerers and charlatans.133
Tales abound of Hellenistic miracle-workers who practised the
magical art and produced, it was said, marvellous cures of
healing and exorcism. The techniques and magical manipula-
tions which they employed are described in our sources (for
example, the use of spittle, the application of touch to the part
of the body affected, the incantation of a magic formula, usually
in an unknown tongue etc.).134
Miracles were also attributed to famous wise men or philoso-
phers (for example, Pythagoras), the most famous of these being
Apollonius of Tyana who lived in the ®rst century. Philostratus
(born c. 170 CE) wrote a biography about him based (the claim
was made) on an earlier work by Apollonius' disciple Damis.
This work describes the portents surrounding his birth, the
belief that he was conceived by a god, his precocious childhood,
his preternatural gifts (including clairvoyance, oratory, etc.), his
travels, his miracles (including exorcisms and raising from the
dead), his confrontation with the Emperor Domitian, his death
and return from the dead to his disciples. The portrait was
in¯uenced both by the Hellenistic magical tradition (Apollonius
is presented as a magician) but also as a divine man (theios aneÅr),
a supernatural ®gure, an èpiphany' or manifestation of God.
This latter feature characterizes many of the miracle stories in
the Hellenistic tradition. They are not eschatological but
epiphanic, that is, they point not to the coming end of the world,
as in the Jewish apocalyptic tradition, but to the supernatural
status of the miracle-worker.135
In short, miracles and miracle-workers were common in the
133
See, for example, Smith, Àretalogies', p. 181.
134
See the magical papyri, Barrett, Background, pp. 31 ±8; J. M. Hull, Hellenistic Magic
and the Synoptic Tradition (Studia biblica et theologica, 28; London: SCM Press, 1974).
135
See Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, I.19; IV.44; VII.38; VIII.7, cited in M. Hadas
and M. Smith, Heroes and Gods. Spiritual Biographies in Antiquity (Religious Perspectives,
13; London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1965), pp. 204, 220, 247, 250 ± 3; Porphyry,
Life of Pythagoras, 27 ±9, cited in Hadas and Smith, Heroes, pp. 116 ±17.
ancient Hellenistic and Jewish world. The signi®cance of
alleged miracles, however, was variously interpreted. In a
Jewish environment, and in line with the Old Testament, they
have a legitimating function. They are seen to validate the
authority of a prophet as God's agent, for example, but they do
not indicate that the miracle-worker is in any way divine.
Within the apocalyptic tradition, they are eschatological, serving
as pointers to the coming Kingdom of God. In the rabbinic
tradition, they provide moral or pietistic demonstrations of the
ef®cacy of prayer, or else function also in a legitimating way,
either to demonstrate the authority of the rabbi or to con®rm
his interpretation of the Law. Finally, in the wider Hellenistic
world, they can be magical, demonstrating the miracle-worker's
skill as a magician or revealing him as a sorcerer, or epiphanic,
revealing the miracle-worker as a `divine man', the èpiphany'
or manifestation of a god.136
This overview of the various estimates which were given to
miracles and miracle-workers in the ancient world prompts the
following question: How were Jesus' miracles understood at the
various levels of the developing tradition about him, namely in
the primary tradition (i.e. in his lifetime and in the Palestinian
Jewish phase of primitive Christianity), within the Hellenistic
Jewish and Gentile communities which in turn transmitted
them, and ®nally by Mark himself ?
Let us remind ourselves ®rst of all what source criticism has
had to say about the origin of the Markan miracle stories.
Attempts have been made to demonstrate that extensive cycles
of pre-Markan miracle material were available to the evangelist
and subsequently used as sources by him. One such view
(P. J. Achtemeier) has it that Mark has incorporated (within
4.35±6.44 and 6.45±8.26) a double cycle of pre-Markan catenae
which present Jesus as a Hellenistic divine man. Each parallel
catena, or `chain', comprises a sea miracle (4.35±41 = 6.45±51),
136
A sharp contrast between characteristically Jewish and Hellenistic reactions is
provided, on the one hand, by the narrative in Lk. 7.11 ±17, where Jesus' miracle is
greeted by the response, À great prophet has arisen among us!' and `God has visited
his people' (v. 16), and, on the other hand, in Acts 14. 8± 15, where that of Paul is
met by the Lycaonian acclamation, `The gods have come down to us in the likeness
of men!' (see also Acts 28.6).
three healing miracles (5.1±43 = 8.22±6; 7.24±37) and a feeding
miracle (6.34±44 = 8.1±10). These catenae originally formed
part of a liturgy celebrating an epiphanic Eucharist whose
background is to be sought in Hellenistic-Jewish Moses tradi-
tions.137 Another suggestion which has been made (H. C. Kee)
is that Mark has incorporated (within 1.23±2.12) a cycle of four
miracle stories which are uni®ed in their language, style and
cultural setting (Palestinian/Semitic). What is distinctive about
these miracles, among other things, is that they present Jesus as
the eschatological agent of God.138 A further hypothesis (L. E. Keck)
is that Mark has incorporated (within 3.7±12; 4.35±5.43;
6.31±52, 53±6) a single cycle of traditional material which por-
trays Jesus in the colours of the Hellenistic divine man in contra-
distinction to the remaining Markan miracle material `which is
closely related to the Palestinian scene and message of Jesus in
its native setting' and which portrays him as God's eschatological
agent in defeating Satan, `the Strong One' (3.23±7).139
The dualism and other patterning of the miracle material
highlighted by these scholars is suggestive but the nature and
extent of Markan redactional work makes such theories dif®cult
to substantiate. While Achtemeier's source-critical hypothesis is
the most plausible (although not his suggested Sitz im Leben for
the material), the observed patterning is better seen, in my view,
as a product of Mark's redactional activity rather than that of
his sources. In common with many scholars today, therefore, I
would hold Mark has taken over isolated miracle stories, for the
most part, from the tradition (e.g. 11.12±14, 20±5) or possibly
small previously linked units (e.g. 5.21±43?) and is himself
largely responsible for their arrangement in the gospel. What is
of note, however, is the twofold (and contradictory) presentation
of Jesus re¯ected in these sources and drawn to our attention by
137
See P. J. Achtemeier, `Towards the Isolation of pre-Markan Miracle Catenae', JBL,
89 (1970), pp. 245 ±91 and `The Origin and Function of the pre-Markan Miracle
Catenae', JBL, 91 (1972), pp. 198 ±221. One should also perhaps note an alternative
theory of N. Perrin that Mark has incorporated a double cycle of material with a
different con®guration (comprising the pattern, feeding±crossing of the lake±
dispute with Pharisees±discourse on bread, which repeats itself in 6.30 ± 7.23 and
8.1 ±21; cf. also Jn 6); see Duling and Perrin, New Testament, pp. 302 ± 3.
138
Kee, Community, pp. 34 ± 6.
139
L. E. Keck, `Mark 37 ± 12 and Mark's Christology', JBL, 84 (1965), pp. 341 ±58.
these scholars, namely Jesus as the eschatological agent of God and
Jesus as the Hellenistic divine man.
Before we investigate the interrelationship of these two
Christological presentations, it is well to summarize what light
has in turn been thrown on the Markan miracle accounts by
form criticism. Mark gives us eighteen miracle stories, eight of
healing (1.29±31; 1.40±5; 2.1±12; 3.1±6; 5.25±34; 7.31±7;
8.22±6; 10.46±52), four of exorcism (1.23±8; 5.1±20; 7.24±30;
9.14±29), one raising from the dead (5.22±4, 35±43), and ®ve
so-called nature miracles (4.35±41; 6.30±44, 45±52; 8.1±10;
11.12±14, 20ff.), as well as four generalized summaries of Jesus'
miracle-working activity (1.32±4, 39; 3.7±12; 6.53±6) together
with certain other allusions to healing or exorcism (3.15, 22; 6.5,
7, 13; 9.38±9).
Constituting the core of the Synoptic miracle material, these
stories have a formal structure common to both Jewish and
Hellenistic miracle stories. Bultmann has drawn attention, for
example, to their basic threefold structure and conventional
features, with the condition of the patient being recounted (and
often heightened by emphasis on the gravity of the illness, its
duration, the futile efforts made in the past to effect a cure, the
scorn of the crowd at the appearance of the miracle-worker,
etc.), the healing described (with magical incantation, the use of
touch or other manipulations, the absence of witnesses at the
moment of healing, etc.), and the cure demonstrated (with an
action on the part of the patient ± or the demon in an exorcism
± a reaction from the crowd, or some other visible effects of the
cure). In Mark, this basic pattern can be seen in 1.30±1, and a
number of the conventional details in 5.1±43 or 7.31±7.140
In common with Bultmann, a number of form critics have
asserted that the provenance of individual miracle stories is
often capable of being established. While Bultmann claimed
that most originated in a Hellenistic milieu, and were designed
to prove Jesus' superiority over rival miracle-workers, divine-
men and gods, other scholars (as we noted with H. C. Kee) have
140
R. Bultmann and K. Kundsin, Form Criticism. Two Essays on New Testament Research
(New York: Harper, 1962), pp. 36 ±9. By way of comparison, see Mk 5.1 ±20 and the
exorcism performed by Apollonius of Tyana (Barrett, Background, pp. 83 ±4).
posited a Palestinian origin for some of the material (1.23±6,
29±31, 40±5; 2.1±12).141 Given the extent of Hellenization
within Palestine itself, however, such certainty is no longer
possible, but comments on the respective cultural and religious
in¯uences upon the tradition itself can be ventured.142
It is clear, for example, that some of the Markan stories
re¯ect the in¯uence of the Hellenistic magic tradition, as
J. M. Hull has convincingly demonstrated, especially in the case
of 7.32±7 (the healing in privacy, the placing of the ®ngers in the
ears, the use of spittle, the intense emotion, the magic formula
Èphphatha' in what for the reader would have been a foreign
language, etc.) and 8.22±6.143 While there are too many
dif®culties in describing the genre of the Gospel of Mark as an
àretalogy', the similarities between these stories and texts such
as Philostratus' Life of Apollonius of Tyana, or Porphyry's Life of
Pythagoras also suggest at the very least the in¯uence of a
Hellenistic `divine man' or àretalogical' tradition upon the
evangelist (or his tradition), especially in respect of the miracle
stories of 4.35±8.26. Here is a being who can calm storms
(4.35±41) or walk on water (6.45±52), as Pythagoras is described
as doing,144 or awaken numinous awe in his fearful, bewildered
disciples (`Who then is this, that even winds and waves obey
him?', 4.41), as does Apollonius of Tyana.145 As with Apollonius
too, he can raise a young person from the dead (5.22±4,
35±43).146 The haemorrhaging woman need only touch him to
be made well (5.28), and his supernatural knowledge makes him
141
See also J. Jeremias, New Testament Theology. Part One: The Proclamation of Jesus (The
New Testament Library; London: SCM Press, 1971), pp. 89 ± 91 for arguments for a
Hellenistic Sitz im Leben for 7.32 ±7 and 8.22± 6 and a Palestinian one for 10.46 ±52.
142
`Thus, for example, it is impossible to say that what is Palestinian is ancient and
what is Hellenistic is more recent, once one realizes how far Hellenism had
penetrated Palestine, particularly in frontier regions with a mixed population, like
the district surrounding Lake Tiberias' (E. TrocmeÂ, Jesus as Seen by His Contemporaries
(London: SCM Press; Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1973), p. 103).
143
Hull, Magic, pp. 73± 86 and Èxorcism' in IDB(S), p. 313.
144
Porphyry, Life of Pythagoras, 27 ± 9 (Hadas and Smith, Heroes, pp. 116± 17 and Cartlidge
and Dungan, Documents, p. 155).
145
Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, IV.44 (Hadas and Smith, Heroes, p. 220 and
Cartlidge and Dungan, Documents, p. 231).
146
Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, IV.45 (Hadas and Smith, Heroes, pp. 220 ± 1 and
Cartlidge and Dungan, Documents, p. 231).
aware that power (dynamis) has gone out of him (5.29). Like
Apollonius, he is also metamorphosed before his disciples and
revealed as a supernatural being, the Son of God (9.2±8).147
Such parallels have led some scholars to see these stories as
originating, or being shaped, in the later Hellenistic phase of
the tradition.148
Others would object and claim, on the contrary, that they
show closer parallels with the Old Testament Moses and
Elijah/Elisha miracle traditions, and hence a Palestinian origin
may be posited for them. `Command over the sea' miracles are
attributed to Moses (Exod. 14) and Elijah (2 Kgs 2.6±8) and
`supernatural feeding' miracles predicated likewise of Moses
(Exod. 16) and Elisha (2 Kgs 4.42±4). Of note, too, is the fact
that it is these two ®gures (Moses and Elijah), both expected to
appear again at the end-time, who appear with Jesus in 9.2±8.
Jesus, therefore, is being presented in a Jewish vein as God's
eschatological agent. The in¯uence of the apocalyptic tradition
is clearly also re¯ected in the exorcisms where Jesus' exorcistic
activity is viewed in terms of eschatological warfare, the routing
of `the strong man' by one who is bringing his kingdom to an
end (3.22±7).149
Here, as we have previously observed, we have reached
bedrock in the Jesus tradition. When due allowance is made for
embellishments, borrowings and even invention on the part of
the early church in respect of the miracle tradition, a historical
nucleus remains. These exorcism narratives and the Jewish
features they display indicate that we are in touch with the
primary tradition (see also the Q passage, Mt. 12.28 = Lk.
11.20). Hence a considerable body of present-day scholarship
would now hold that there are suf®cient grounds, as I have said,
for believing that Jesus was a very powerful, skilled and
successful exorcist, and that his exorcisms were originally seen
in an eschatological light, that is, as blows struck against the
147
Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, VII.38; VIII.7 (Hadas and Smith, Heroes, pp.
247, 251 and Cartlidge and Dungan, Documents, pp. 235 ± 8).
148
Betz, `Jesus' in Trotter (ed.), Jesus, pp. 114 ±33; Smith, Àretalogies', pp. 174 ±99.
149
O. Betz, `The Concept of the so-called `divine Man' in Mark's Christology' in D. E.
Aune (ed.), Studies in New Testament and Early Christian Literature (Fs. A. P. Wikgren)
(Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1972), pp. 229 ±40; Kee, Community, pp. 23 ± 30, 32± 8.
kingdom of Satan and as pointers to the rapidly approaching
Kingdom of God (Mk 1.24).
But, to return to our question, how then did Mark interpret
these miracles of Jesus? Did he share this eschatological concep-
tion of the miracles, viewing them likewise as the signs of an
apocalyptic prophet proclaiming the coming Kingdom of God?
Did he see them, conversely, in epiphanic terms, as secret revela-
tions of Jesus' true identity as a supernatural being? To answer
this question, we need to observe what redaction criticism
reveals about his editorial activity. Seven observations can be
made.
In the ®rst place, the evangelist appears to have grouped the
miracle stories and arranged them in speci®c sections of the
narrative (1.23±2.12; 4.35±5.43; 6.30±56; 7.24±8.26), reporting
only a few isolated stories (3.1±6; 9.14±29; 10.46±52; 11.12±14,
20ff.) and placing all of them in the ®rst half of the Gospel
(1.1±8.26), except for these last three. Secondly, in two, perhaps
three (2.1±12; 3.1±6; 7.24±30?) of the stories, the emphasis is
more on Jesus' words than his actions, or, in form-critical terms,
they have been conformed more to the category of the
apophthegm or pronouncement story (here a controversy dia-
logue) than of the miracle story. It is of note, moreover, that in
the ®rst of these examples, the evangelist has introduced a
major plot theme, namely Jesus' con¯ict with the Jewish autho-
rities, and heightened by his redaction the Christological thrust of
the story by emphasizing Jesus' authority as the Son of Man to
forgive sins (2.5b-10a). In the second of these examples (3.1±6),
he has developed the con¯ict theme, ending the story by
informing the reader of the plot by the authorities to kill Jesus
(3.6). The third story (7.24±30) is introduced by the familiar
Markan secrecy motif (7.24), and develops another of the
evangelist's interests, namely Jesus' dealings with Gentiles.
This brings me to my third observation which is that certain
of the miracles within the second of Mark's double cycle
(4.35±6.44/6.45±8.26), namely, this exorcism (7.24±30), the
following healing miracle (7.31±7) and the second feeding story
(8.1±10), appear to have been deliberately placed by the evange-
list on Gentile soil (7.24, 31), so demonstrating to his readers
(but perhaps taking liberties with the tradition as a result) that
Jesus' miracles in respect of the Jews were matched by those on
behalf of the Gentiles.
A fourth point to note is that Mark has used a number of the
miracle stories for symbolic purposes. It is surely no accident
that he has selected miracles which lend themselves easily to
spiritual or theological interpretation (the cure of the blind,
deaf or dumb or the raising of the dead; and not, I might add,
the treatment of constipation or piles!). The two stories of Jesus'
giving sight to the blind (8.22±6; 10.46±52) are placed sugges-
tively at transitional points in the Markan narrative, the ®rst
immediately before the reader is informed of Jesus' attempt to
get the disciples to see who he really is, the second immediately
after the central section in which Jesus provides teaching on the
true nature of his mission and the discipleship arising from it.150
It has long been held that the feeding miracles too, as well as
touching on the delicate question of Jew±Gentile relations, have
eucharistic overtones, and even if we were to deny them this
symbolic dimension, the invitation to see some deeper signi®-
cance in them is one that is clearly offered to the reader (6.52;
8.14±21). In the secondary context into which the evangelist has
introduced it (the cleansing of the temple), the cursing of the ®g
tree (11.12±14, 20ff.) likewise performs a symbolic function. The
fate of the barren temple is pre®gured in that of the withered
tree.151
Fifthly, as in this last passage (11.22±5), the importance of
faith and prayer (as opposed to unbelief ) in connection with the
miracles can be seen to be a Markan emphasis.152 Here, in this
seemingly pietistic interpretation, we appear to have links with
a rabbinic view of the miracles (see also 1.27 where Jesus'
miracles are connected in a legitimating way with his teaching).
150
Duling and Perrin, New Testament, pp. 304 ± 5.
151
See Telford, Barren Temple.
152
E. Schweizer, `The Portrayal of the Life of Faith in the Gospel of Mark', Int, 32
(1978), pp. 387 ± 99; M. A. Beavis, `Mark's Teaching on Faith', BTB, 16 (1986), pp.
139 ± 42; S. E. Dowd, Prayer, Power and the Problem of Suffering: Mark 11:22 ±25 in the
Context of Markan Theology (SBLDS, 105; Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1988);
C. D. Marshall, Faith as a Theme in Mark's Narrative (SNTSMS, 64; Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1989); M. R. Thompson, The Role of Disbelief in Mark. A
New Approach to the Second Gospel (New York and Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1989).
The motif also occurs in 4.40, 6.6 and supremely in 9.14±27
(especially 21±4) where the father of the epileptic boy is a
prototype of the believing Christian. Faith for Mark, however,
as I have elsewhere argued, is connected with understanding,
and understanding with the true signi®cance of Jesus' person
and mission.153 Hence a sixth distinctive feature of Mark's
treatment of the miracles is that which we have already
encountered, namely the secrecy with which the evangelist
surrounds his miracle-working activity (e.g. 1.25, 34, 44; 3.11±12;
5.43; 7.36; 8.26).
My ®nal observation is related to this, for, if we can detect an
eschatological signi®cance in the Markan miracles (3.22±7), then
it is equally clear that a number of them have been used for
epiphanic purposes. In addition to the trans®guration story
already discussed, two of the miracle stories in particular bring
this out (4.35±41; 6.45±52). Even were one to discount the
àretalogical' in¯uence in these two sea miracles, and opt for a
Jewish background, the èpiphanic' element is nevertheless still
very striking, especially when we consider that in the Old
Testament it is God himself who is described as stilling the
storm (Ps. 65.7; 107.28±9) and walking on the sea (Ps. 77.19; see
also Job 9.8; 38.16)!154
Having commented on the nature of Mark's redaction, we
must now consider its signi®cance. While Mark appears to treat
the miracles in a variety of ways, two main perspectives seem to
be dominant, the eschatological and the Christological. Three
main positions can be, and have, therefore, been adopted. The
®rst would hold that the evangelist saw Jesus (as the earlier
153
Telford, Barren Temple, p. 82.
154
See R. H. Fuller, Interpreting the Miracles (London: SCM Press, 1963), pp. 53 ± 4, 58± 9.
Of 4.35 ± 41, Fuller writes: `So, despite the strong af®nities between this story and
the pagan miracles, it is not just the portrait of a wonder-worker; it is the story of a
divine revelation. The power of Yahweh is present in Jesus, as it was in the original
act of creation. The chaos of the world is being restored to its pristine order' (54). Of
6.45 ± 52, he writes: `The transformed version has the features of divine revelation,
for the words ``He meant to pass by them'', indicate the mysterious behaviour of a
divine Being (Exod. 34.6; I Kings 19.11). Note also the terror of the disciples, who
thought it was an apparition; the reassurance, ``Take heart . . . have no fear''; and
®nally the word of self-manifestation, `Ì AM'' (RSV: `ìt is I''). Here is revelation of
the Old Testament God in the person of Jesus' (58 ±9).
Jewish-Christian tradition did) as God's eschatological agent,
`the Strong One', the Son of God (= Messiah) whose miracle-
working signalled the rout of Satan and the coming of the
Kingdom of God (especially 1.12±13; 1.24; 3.11; 3.22±7). A
second would hold that the evangelist saw Jesus (in line with the
developing Gentile tradition) as the Son of God, as Gentiles not
Jews understood that term, that is, as a divine man whose
miracles reveal his supernatural status (especially 4.35±41;
6.45±52; 9.1±8).155
My own opinion would incline to the second, since it is not
the eschatological elements in the miracle material which need
explanation (they derive clearly from the Jewish-Christian tradi-
tion which Mark has inherited and with which I believe he
stands in creative tension) but the epiphanic ones. In light of the
secrecy motif pervading the Gospel, moreover, with its corre-
lated themes of divine revelation (epiphany) and spiritual blind-
ness, it would seem plausible that the evangelist is aware that
the position he is adopting, and the perspective on Jesus he is
seeking to promote, marks a Christological advance on the
tradition that he has taken over. The miracles serve, in other
words, his epiphany Christology, and it is for this reason, I
believe, that the Markan Jesus is made to reject the signs
(8.11±13) which as an eschatological prophet he would have
been expected to give.156
One further view, however, has been espoused, and this is the
view that Mark has taken over miracle stories with a divine man
Christology, not because he shares this understanding but
precisely because he wished to qualify it by setting it alongside a
suffering Son of Man Christology. It is for this reason, it has
been suggested, that he places the miracles, for the most part, in
the ®rst half of the Gospel (1.1±8.26), and is preoccupied in the
second half with teaching on discipleship, the passion predic-
tions and the passion narrative. For the reader, the effect of this
155
For a recent and negative appraisal of this position, see Blackburn, Theios AneÅr. Cf
also Tiede, Charismatic Figure; Kingsbury, `Divine Man', pp. 243± 57.
156
Cf. `The movement from eschatology to Christology, which can be seen in the case
of signs is typical of the transition in early Christianity from an eager expectation of
the return of Jesus in apocalyptic glory to a perception of God's glory in or behind
his earthly ministry' (D. M. Smith, `Sign in the NT', IDB(S), p. 825).
juxtaposition is to say: Jesus' true signi®cance is not to be seen
as merely that of a miracle-worker (or teacher or prophet) but
can only fully be appreciated in light of his cruci®xion and
resurrection. His true identity, in other words, is not to be
interpreted in his miracle-working alone but must be perceived
sub specie crucis et resurrectionis.157
`The Son of Man must suffer': eschatology and soteriology

Before going on to explore Mark's eschatology and soteriology,
it might be worth summing up the points we have covered in
our discussion of the mission of Jesus in Mark. We have
examined ®rst of all the nature and function of the miracles in
the Second Gospel. In order to give this study a wider context,
we began by looking at the understanding of miracles and
miracle-workers in the ancient world (in the Old Testament, in
apocalyptic Judaism, in Rabbinic Judaism and within the wider
Hellenistic world). We saw that in a predominantly Jewish
environment, miracles were seen as legitimating the authority
of the miracle-worker as God's agent but were not seen in
general as pointing to his divine or supernatural status. In the
Old Testament, the miracles attributed to Moses, Elijah and
Elisha proved that they were acting on God's behalf. In apoca-
lyptic Judaism, miracles were seen as signs that God's Kingdom
was about to break in and the miracle-worker seen as God's
eschatological agent. In Rabbinic Judaism, the miracles vali-
dated a rabbi's authority, especially his interpretation of the
Law, and demonstrated the ef®cacy of prayer and piety. In the
wider Hellenistic world, miracles were often seen as the product
of magic and sorcery or as evidence that the miracle-worker
was a god or a manifestation or epiphany of a god, a Son of
God, or a divine man.
We then turned to the question of how Mark understood the
miracle stories he took over from the tradition, and how the
tradition itself understood them. Two theories were mentioned.
The ®rst was that Mark saw the miracles in a Jewish light as the
157
T. J. Weeden, Mark ± Traditions in Con¯ict (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1971) and
`Heresy' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 89 ±104.
action of God's eschatological redeemer, the Messiah, and that
the Markan Gospel should be viewed within the framework of
Jewish apocalyptic thought. The second was that Mark saw the
miracles in a more Hellenistic light as the action of a divine
man, a theios aneÅr, the supernatural Son of God. My own view is
that both understandings are found in the traditional material
taken over by Mark (and the second particularly in Mk
4.35±8.26) but that the Markan emphasis lies more with the
second of these interpretations (the miracle as manifestation of
the Son of God as divine man) than with the ®rst (the miracle as
manifestation of the Messiah). This Messianic interpretation
Mark is seeking, if anything, either to modify or even combat.
Miracles are placed for the most part in the ®rst half of the
Gospel and lead to the central passage, viewed by most scholars
as the watershed of the Gospel, the confession at Caesarea
Philippi (Mk 8.27±9.1). In this climactic passage, as we have
already seen, Jesus is made to enquire of the disciples what
estimate the Jewish people are placing on him in view of the
miracles and teaching which the evangelist has recounted. The
popular Jewish estimation, on the basis of these, Mark tells us, is
that he is seen as an eschatological prophet, either John the
Baptist redivivus, Elijah or another of the prophets expected at
the end-time. When asked their estimate of Jesus, the disciples,
with Peter as their spokesman, say that they believe him to be
the Ànointed One', the Jewish Messiah, the royal, earthly and
political ®gure expected in some circles to usher in the
Kingdom of God, the Christ (Mk 8.30), or the apocalyptic
®gure of heavenly origin expected in certain others. In the
carefully constructed section of the Gospel that follows
(8.31±10.45), Mark, however, goes on to indicate that this
understanding is faulty or inadequate.
Here we may recall N. Perrin's observation158 that this
central section of the Gospel is constructed around three
158
Perrin has discussed this passage in a number of publications; see e.g. `The
Christology of Mark: a Study in Methodology' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp.
125 ±40 (with Duling); New Testament, pp. 309 ±12; `Son of Man' in IDB(S), pp.
833± 6; `The Literary Gattung ``Gospel'' ± Some Observations', ExpT, 82 (1970 ± 1),
pp. 4 ± 7; `The Creative Use of the Son of Man Traditions by Mark', Union Seminary
Quarterly Review, 23 (1967 ±8), pp. 357 ±65.
passion predictions which Mark has composed in which Jesus
refers to himself not as the earthly, political Messiah or Christ
but as the Son of Man. The Markan Jesus, however, emphasizes
that his immediate destiny is not to be that of the triumphant
Messianic warrior-king nor even of a `Son of Man' who, as a
glorious, exalted, victorious ®gure will ultimately come to
execute judgment, but rather to be that of a `Son of Man' who
is to be rejected by the Jews, to suffer, to die and rise again (Mk
8.31; 9.31; 10.33±4). Each prediction, Perrin noted, is preceded
by a geographical reference which is redactional (Mk 8.27; 9.30;
10.32). Each is followed by a scene depicting a complete
misunderstanding on the part of the disciples with respect to
what Jesus is telling them about his true destiny and role (Mk
8.32±3; 9.32, 33±4; 10.35±41). Each misunderstanding scene is
followed by a further scene in which Jesus is shown teaching
what the true nature of Christian discipleship is in light of a
correct understanding of Jesus' person and work (Mk 8.34±9.1;
9.35±7; 10.42±5). The central section then ends with another
climactic `Son of Man' saying (Mk 10.45). What is the signi®-
cance of Mark's careful redactional work? To understand this,
we need to look at the meaning, history and background of the
term `Son of Man' in the Jewish literature of the Hellenistic
period.159
In the Old Testament, the term `son of man' is used as a
substitute for, or in parallel with the term `man', and hence to
signify `humankind' (`What is man that thou are mindful of
him, or the son of man that thou dost care for him? Ps. 8.4; see
also Ps. 80.17; Num. 23.19; Isa. 56.2). In a number of cases, it is
an expression denoting the humble creatureliness and mortality
of man vis-aÁ-vis his transcendent Creator or God (Ps. 146.3; Job
25.1±6; Isa. 51.12), and thence by extension it serves as a title by
which God addresses the prophet or seer (Ezek. 2.1; Dan. 8.17).
As we observed when examining the background to the
159
For some important or helpful discussions see S. E. Johnson, `Son of Man' in IDB,
pp. 413± 20; B. Lindars, `Son of Man' in DBI, pp. 639 ±42; Perrin, Kingdom, pp.
90 ±111; Perrin, `Son of Man' in IDB(S), pp. 833± 6; H. E. ToÈdt, The Son of Man in the
Synoptic Tradition (The New Testament Library; Philadelphia, PA: Westminster
Press; London: SCM Press, 1965); Vermes, Jesus, pp. 160 ± 91.
Kingdom of God in Mark, the belief that God would act on
behalf of his chosen people to defeat the present kingdom or
empires of the world and re-establish his reign or kingdom on
earth was a prominent one in apocalyptic Judaism (Dan. 7.1ff.).
In some cases, we noted, God himself was seen as the sole agent
in establishing his Kingdom (Ass. Mos. 10). In other cases, a
variety of redeemer ®gures or eschatological agents were seen
as acting as his intermediaries. These might be earthly ®gures
such as the earthly, ànointed' king (Ps. 2), or a descendant of
David, the `root from the stem of Jesse' (Isa. 11.1±5), or the `Son
of David' (Ps. Sol. 17). These might also be heavenly ®gures,
such as the archangel Michael (Dan. 12.1ff.) or earthly ®gures
who had been `translated' to heaven, like Enoch (Gen. 5.24) or
Elijah (2 Kgs 2.11; Mal. 4.5; Mk 9.11±13) or Moses, and who
were believed to return and play a role at the end-time.
There are three main sources in apocalyptic Judaism in
which the expression `son of man' appears (the passages were
cited above). The ®rst is, of course, Daniel 7 itself, where, as we
have seen, the seer has a vision involving four great beasts: one
like a lion (Dan. 7.4) representing the Babylonian Empire, one
like a bear (7.5) representing the Medes, one like a leopard (7.6)
representing the Persians, and another great beast with ten
horns (7.7) which appears to represent the Greeks. The little
horn, with a mouth speaking great things (7.8) represents, it is
thought, Antiochus Epiphanes. In the vision, Daniel sees the
throne of the Ancient of Days (7.9), the beasts are destroyed
(7.11±12) and òne like a son of man', representing `the saints of
the Most High' (7.18, 22, 27) is presented to the Ancient of Days
and given dominion for ever (7.13±14). The passage expresses
belief in the vindication of Israel under the oppression of the
Seleucid dynasty in the ®rst half of the second century BCE, the
òne like a son of man' being either an angelic being, the nation
itself, the future Messiah, or more likely a corporate and
symbolic ®gure standing for the martyrs of the nation who had
died in the Maccabean wars.
A further stage in the development of the concept is seen in
the Enoch literature whose overall compilation may have begun
sometime in the third century BCE but may not have been
complete until the ®rst century CE.160 Here, we recall, a belief is
entertained in a heavenly apocalyptic redeemer who has been
hidden by God in heaven from the beginning but who will be
revealed to the elect at the end-time. He is described as `the
Righteous and Elect One' and `the [Lord's] Anointed' (Ps. 2.2)
and given attributes mentioned in Isaiah 11.1±5. In the pre-
viously cited part of 1 Enoch (chapters 37±71) known as the
`Similitudes of Enoch' (which most scholars think are pre-
Christian or if post-Christian ± on account of their absence
from Qumran ± show no sign of Christian in¯uence161), he is
described as `that Son of Man'. The corporate, symbolic ®gure
of Daniel 7.13, in other words, has now become a transcendent,
exalted, supernatural ®gure. All judgment is given over to him
and he will sit on the throne of his glory judging the nations,
punishing the wicked and vindicating the righteous. There is no
hint that his role will involve any personal suffering, however,
and the enigmatic ®gure is identi®ed by the ®nal redactor of
Enoch as Enoch himself (Gen. 5.24).
The third passage comes in 4 Ezra (or II Esdras) 13, a late
®rst-century CE text also previously quoted. Here belief is
likewise entertained in a `man-like' apocalyptic redeemer who
will be God's eschatological agent at the end of time. In a
dream, the seer, we recollect, sees a ®gure in the form of a man
emerge from the sea and ¯y with the clouds of heaven. The
®gure strikes terror in his enemies, slaying them with the breath
of his mouth. Daniel 7.13 and Isaiah 11.4 are again the inspira-
tion for the picture painted of this apocalyptic ®gure, the
passage re¯ecting a combination of the two separate traditions
of the òne like a son of man' and the Davidic Messiah. Once
more, however, there is no hint that his apocalyptic role is to be
accomplished by means of personal suffering.
Even if we cannot conclude from these three passages alone
that there was a normal or even widespread belief or expecta-
tion in pre-Christian Judaism of a Messianic agent titled the
`(Son of ) Man',162 it is surely reasonable to assume that in some
160
See Rowland, Open Heaven, p. 266.
161
See, for example, Rowland, Open Heaven, p. 265.
162
For the view that ìt is not possible to speak with any con®dence of a pre-Christian
apocalyptic circles at least speculation on the enigmatic ®gure of
Daniel 7 had given rise to such a concept. While the `Similitudes
of Enoch' may, and 4 Ezra certainly does overlap with the early
Christian period, the lack of any otherwise speci®cally Christian
features in these texts suggests that they may reasonably be
taken to represent a Jewish Messianic concept substantially
unin¯uenced by nascent Christianity. In sum, then, the expres-
sion `son of man' can be found as an ordinary Jewish expression
for a `man', `humankind' or a `human being' viewed in all his
frailty, creatureliness and mortality. At the other end of the
spectrum, in the apocalyptic literature, the expression, follow-
ing Daniel 7 (òne like a son of man') is used in connection with,
or even as a designation for, an exalted, transcendent, super-
natural apocalyptic redeemer who will appear at the end-time
to judge the world, punish the wicked and vindicate the right-
eous. Apart from Daniel itself, however, there is no suggestion
that this ®gure is to ful®l his Messianic role by suffering, far less
by dying and rising again.
When we turn to the New Testament literature we ®nd the
self-same enigmatic term used some eighty-two times in the
Gospels, sixty-nine of these in the Synoptics, though curiously,
apart from Acts 7.56 and Revelation 1.13; 14.14 nowhere else.
Outside the New Testament, it appears on one occasion only,
on the lips of James, Jesus' brother and leader of the Jerusalem
church at his martyrdom.163 Paul does not use the expression
although he does refer to Jesus as the second Adam, and views
him within the categories of the `heavenly Man' idea (Rom. 5.
14±19; 1 Cor. 15.21±3, 45±50; Phil. 2.5±11).164 In the Gospel
Son of Man concept', see Dunn, Christology, p. 95, as well as Lindars, `Son of Man' in
DBI, pp. 639 ± 42. For an equally cautious evaluation of the evidence, see Rowland,
Open Heaven, pp. 178± 88. While doubting the existence of any coherent , clear-cut or
readily understood Jewish Son of Man concept, Rowland nevertheless concludes
that `there is reason to suppose that there were beliefs in a heavenly man ®gure in
Judaism and also an emerging belief that the messianic agent was pre-existent'
(p. 188).
163
See Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History II.23.13, Loeb, p. 173.
164
Philo, it should also be noted, speaks of a heavenly man, the archetype of humanity,
who was created in addition to Adam at the beginning of the world and who is also
the Logos, the ®rst-born Son of God and prototype of Israel. See, for example, Fuller,
Foundations, pp. 76± 8.
tradition (with the exception of Jn 12.34 where it nevertheless
picks up a remark of Jesus), it appears exclusively on the lips of
Jesus, in many cases as a self-designation.
How then is `Son of Man' in the Gospels to be understood. Is
it to be seen in the apocalyptic sense as a title for the expected
apocalyptic redeemer of the Enoch literature, or is its usage
much more mundane? Let us consider the Synoptic tradition,
apart from Mark, before we go on to look at the term in the
Second Gospel. Apart from the Markan Gospel, the earliest
attestation of the use of the expression comes in the Q source
underlying Matthew and Luke. Here the `Son of Man' sayings,
of which there are some ten examples, divide into two groups.
The ®rst group features the use of the expression as a self-
designation for Jesus (= Ì') with no apparent apocalyptic
connotations (e.g. Lk. 6.22? cf. Mt. 5.11; Lk. 7.34 = Mt. 11.19;
Lk. 9.58 = Mt. 8.20; Lk. 12.10 = Mt. 12.32). The second group,
however, presents us with the `Son of Man' as a transcendental,
exalted apocalyptic ®gure, not necessarily always to be identi-
®ed with Jesus, whose coming in judgment at the end-time will
be sudden, dramatic and unexpected (cf. Lk. 11.30 = Mt. 12.40?;
Lk. 12.8? cf. Mt. 10.32±3; Lk. 12.40 = Mt. 24.44; Lk. 17.24 = Mt.
24.27; Lk. 17.26 = Mt. 24.37, 39; Mt. 19.28? cf. Lk. 22.29±30).165
Matthew takes over a number of the `Son of Man' sayings in
Mark and Q , but he also has eight additional instances of the
usage which are peculiar to himself, which seem for the most
part to be redactional (though some may be from Q), and which
see the `Son of Man', in most cases, in the apocalyptic sense as
the coming heavenly judge (Mt. 10.23; 13.37, 41; 16.13, 28;
24.30; 25.31; 26.2). In some passages, he clearly identi®es this
®gure with Jesus (Mt. 16.13, 28; 19.28; 26.2). Luke has seven
additional usages peculiar to himself (again several may possibly
be from Q), some bearing the apocalyptic sense (Lk. 17.22, 30;
18.8; 21.36), others with no such obvious reference (Lk. 19.10;
22.48; 24.7). Where Matthew, with his links with Jewish Chris-
tianity, emphasizes the coming of the apocalyptic Son of Man,
165
Lk. 12.10 = Mt. 12.32 is perhaps a special case. Here an original generic `son of man
= mankind' (Mk 3.28) may have been misinterpreted in a titular sense. See also Mk
2.10, 28 and Jeremias, Theology, p. 261.
Luke, in debt to Gentile Christianity, tends, if anything, to de-
emphasize it.166 John too presents his readers with Son of Man
sayings, rendering the expression some thirteen times in all ( Jn
1.51; 3.13, 14; 5.27; 6.27, 53, 62; 8.28; 9.35; 12.23, 34 (twice);
13.31), and these also re¯ect the usage found in the Synoptic
Gospels. One important additional feature, however, is that the
Son of Man is not only identi®ed with Jesus but is presented as a
pre-existent descending/ascending transcendent being, whose
glori®cation is accomplished not at his parousia but on the
cross. To sum up, then, both usages, the ordinary, linguistic,
non-titular or generic usage of `son of man' which occurs in the
Old Testament (in the Psalms, for example) and the titular,
apocalyptic usage met with in the Enoch literature are to be
found in the Gospels. All ®ve strata (namely Mark, Q , special
Matthew, special Luke and John) place the expression exclu-
sively on Jesus' lips, where he uses it in the third-person form,
thereby ostensibly distinguishing himself (where it is not a
circumlocution) from this ®gure.
To account for this puzzling phenomenon, various theories
have been suggested. One theory would claim that the non-
titular, linguistic or generic usage goes back to the primary
tradition and the apocalyptic usage is secondary arising out of a
misinterpretation of the use of the expression by Jesus. By a
process of mistranslation coupled with misunderstanding the
expression `son of man' used by Jesus as a circumlocutory self-
designation (= Ì') came to be viewed as a title for the apoca-
lyptic redeemer `the Son of Man'.167 A second hypothesis is
that the apocalyptic background to the term is primary, Jesus
having shared the same kind of apocalyptic expectation as was
entertained in Enoch circles. As part of his Kingdom procla-
mation, he may have announced the coming of an apocalyptic
redeemer, the `Son of Man', at the end-time. Alternatively, he
may have referred to himself as this apocalyptic `Son of Man'.
Whatever the case, the primitive church, after his resurrection,
certainly did identify him as this enigmatic ®gure.168 This view,
166
See Perrin, `Son of Man' in IDB(S), p. 836.
167
See Vermes, Jesus, pp. 160 ±91.
168
See Bultmann, Theology, Vol. I, pp. 28 ±32; ToÈdt, Son of Man.
which I myself would share, accepts then that, alongside a more
popular `Son of David' expectation, the concept of a pre-
existent divine agent of judgment and salvation did exist in pre-
Christian Judaism, albeit in more esoteric circles, and was the
source for the `Son of Man' as used by Jesus and/or the
primitive church in eschatological proclamation.169 A third
position is that Jesus used the term `Son of Man' for himself but
departed from the apocalyptic thought of Enoch by giving the
term his own enigmatic content.170 Such content, for example,
may have revolved around the themes of suffering, rejection
and vindication and been derived from the nature of the
corporate òne like a son of man' ®gure of Daniel 7 combined
with the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53.
Such variation in scholarly hypotheses points to the ambi-
guity surrounding the Gospel evidence. However, before we
seek to unravel the nature and signi®cance of the Son of Man
sayings in Mark, it is worth reminding ourselves of the results of
traditio-critical analysis in this complicated area.171 Where
classi®cation is concerned, the sayings have traditionally been
divided into three categories by virtue of their distinctive (and
only occasionally overlapping) themes. One group, the so-called
present sayings, are united by the fact that Jesus makes reference
to himself as Son of Man in connection with his present, earthly
activity. In the second group, the passion or suffering sayings,
Jesus, qua Son of Man, speaks of his approaching suffering,
death and resurrection. The third group, the future or apocalyptic
169
In support of this judgment, see, for example, F. H. Borsch, The Christian and Gnostic
Son of Man (Studies in Biblical Theology, II/14; London: SCM Press, 1970), p. 116; Fuller,
Foundations, pp. 37 ±42; Hahn, Titles, p. 20; Kee, Community, p. 135; KuÈmmel, Theology,
p. 78; G. E. Ladd, A Theology of the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
1974), p. 149; ToÈdt, Son of Man, p. 222. For a contrary view, see, for example,
M. Casey, Son of Man. The Interpretation and In¯uence of Daniel 7 (London: SPCK, 1979),
ch. 5; Dunn, Christology, pp. 95 ±6; B. Lindars, Jesus Son of Man. A Fresh Examination of
the Son of Man Sayings in the Gospels in the Light of Recent Research (London: SPCK;
Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1983), p. 8; Vermes, Jesus, p. 168.
170
See, for example, M. D. Hooker, The Son of Man in Mark. A Study of the Background of the
Term `Son of Man' and its Use in St Mark's Gospel (London: SPCK; Montreal: McGill
University Press, 1967); Manson, Teaching, p. 227; Moule, Christology, pp. 11± 22;
E. Schweizer, The Good News according to Mark (London: SPCK, 1971), pp. 166± 71.
171
See, for example, Bultmann, Theology, Vol. 1, pp. 28 ±30; Fuller, Mission, pp. 95 ±108;
Fuller, Foundations, pp. 119 ± 25; Jeremias, Theology, pp. 258 ±64.
sayings depict Jesus (or a separate ®gure) as one to come in
judgment and glory at the end-time.
When we turn to Mark, we note that all three categories of
Son of Man saying are represented among the fourteen in-
stances of its use. Re¯ected in the Gospel is the conception of
the Son of Man as an exalted, apocalyptic ®gure who (accord-
ing to expectation) will return from heaven in glory to judge or
save the world (Mk 8.38; 13.26; 14.62). A further and promi-
nent series of sayings emphasizes, however, that this self-same
Son of Man (in the person of Jesus) was nevertheless destined
(contrary to expectation) to suffer, die and rise again (Mk 8.31;
9.9, 12, 31; 10.33±4; 10.45; 14.21 (twice), 41). A third group (Mk
2.10, 28), if they are not to be interpreted merely in a generic
sense (compare Mk 2.10 with Mt. 9.8 or Mk 3.28 and parallels),
also informs the reader that the Son of Man (again in the
person of Jesus) is already exercising his authority as such on
earth.
Comparison with our other early source of Jesus tradition,
namely Q , is instructive at this point. Q presents us with
material in which both `future' and `present' sayings are repre-
sented. Since Q therefore has reference to the Son of Man as a
transcendental, exalted apocalyptic ®gure to come in the future
(as well as one who in the person of Jesus was already acting as
such on earth), then we must assume that, unless Mark has
borrowed from Q or vice versa, both are dependent upon a
more primitive tradition in this respect. In other words, Jesus'
prediction of the coming of this ®gure (and perhaps too of his
present authority) and/or the early church's identi®cation of
this ®gure with Jesus predates Mark, and the `future' sayings
incorporated by him (as well as Mark's `present' ones?) must
therefore go back at least to the Jewish-Christian tradition
before him.
On the other hand, Q shows no evidence whatsoever of any
sayings in the `suffering' category. While it may be claimed that
the notion of rejection is associated with the Son of Man (Lk.
9.58 = Mt. 8.20) or even death (Mt. 12.40; cf. Lk. 11.30),
nowhere in the Q tradition is it ever said, or even hinted, that
the Son of Man was destined to suffer, die and rise again. This
emphasis is a distinctively Markan one. Apart from its absence
in Q , it occurs elsewhere in the Synoptic Gospels only where
Matthew and Luke are borrowing from Mark, or (as in Mt.
26.2; Lk. 22.22; 24.7) editing him. The emphasis, moreover,
occurs solely in connection with the Markan passion predic-
tions, the passion narrative or the material otherwise antici-
pating it. Nowhere do the Markan `future' sayings speak of
`suffering', and nowhere do the `suffering' sayings speak of the
Son of Man's parousia or future glori®cation. Q , it is to be
noted, signi®cantly lacks any passion narrative, and in con-
sequence any re¯ection on the signi®cance of Jesus' death and
resurrection for the community.
Here then, with N. Perrin, I detect a major contribution on
the part of Mark to the developing Son of Man tradition. While
rejecting a Jewish-Christian identi®cation of Jesus as the
Davidic Messiah, Mark appears to have accepted with quali®ca-
tions a traditional Jewish-Christian identi®cation of Jesus as the
victorious apocalyptic Son of Man about to return (shortly) to
bring judgment and salvation. In the circles which produced
the Enoch literature or 4 Ezra, the Son of Man or the `Man'
was a triumphal ®gure with whom the notion of salvi®c
suffering appears not to have been associated. Ideas related to
the Suffering Servant of Isaiah, for example, seem not to have
been drawn into connection with this ®gure to produce a
Messiah whose role would thus be effected through suffering
and death. In early Christian circles, on the other hand, the fact
of Jesus' suffering and death at the hands of his enemies was a
fact of history, and had therefore to be taken account of in some
way in its developing eschatology and soteriology. A cruci®ed
Messiah was a novelty (à stumbling block to Jews and folly to
Gentiles', Rom. 1.23) but as long as the resurrection could be
seen as God's vindication of his Messiah, his subsequent and
imminent parousia would speedily resolve all problems.
The delay of the parousia, however, must have posed a
special problem for the primitive community. What could be
said for a cruci®ed eschatological prophet raised to the status of
Messiah through resurrection (Rom. 1.4; Acts 2.32±6) if he
failed to return as promised to inaugurate the new age? Paul
himself, in his own way, had grappled with this problem, and
his theology of the cross was the result. Jesus was to be
considered the divine `Son of God' and his death itself had
brought salvation to the world. The cross, in other words, was
pre-ordained, the heavenly one sent for the salvation of the
world being fore-ordained to suffer, and through his death
achieve that salvation. By virtue of its absence from Q , salvi®c
suffering of this kind does not appear to have been a signi®cant
element in the theology of the Q community. What we discern
in Mark, by contrast, is the claim that Jesus as Son of Man had
not only already begun to exercise his eschatological role on
earth, by virtue of the authority demonstrated in his teaching
and activity (2.10, 28) but had done so supremely by means of
his pre-ordained suffering, death and resurrection (Mk 8.31;
10.45). It is no accident then that Mark 10.45 (`For the Son of
Man also came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life
as a ransom for many') comes at the climax of the central
section of the Gospel (Mk 8.27±10.45), and immediately prior to
the start of the passion narrative. While Mark does not cite
Isaiah 53, his passion narrative itself, as I have stated elsewhere,
is suffused with motifs relating to it (compare Isa. 53.7 òpened
not his mouth' and Mk 14.61 and 15.5; Isa. 53.12 `numbered
with the transgressors' and Mk 14.48 and 15.27; Isa. 53.9 `made
his grave . . . with a rich man' and Mk 15.43±6).172 The fact of
Jesus' death has acted back on the Messianic theology of the
primitive tradition, and as a result the apocalyptic Son of Man
has been transformed into the suffering Son of Man.173
The Gospel of Mark represents then a stage in the process by
which the apocalyptic Son of Man who saves (or judges)
172
See W. R. Telford, Mark (New Testament Guides; Shef®eld: Shef®eld Academic
Press, 1995), p. 107.
173
Whether the suffering Son of Man is wholly an invention of Mark , or owes a debt
to a theological impulse at work already in the pre-Markan tradition is dif®cult to
say. While N. Perrin is of the opinion that `the evangelist develops into major
christological emphases what were previously only tentative uses of the Son-of-man
concept' (`Son of Man' in IDB(S), p. 836), he asserts that the Markan passion
predictions are entirely Markan creations. Other scholars hold the view that the
need to af®rm the necessity of the passion was a tendency operative in the
(Palestinian) tradition before him. See, for example, Fuller, Mission, p. 106; ToÈdt, Son
of Man, p. 276.
humankind at his parousia becomes the suffering Son of Man
who saves humankind by his redemptive death on the cross.
Whether this demonstrates the in¯uence of Paul or Paulinism
on Mark is a question we shall consider in chapter 3. Neverthe-
less, the key to the Markan Gospel is once again to see it as a
Christological or soteriological narrative in which its central
character is playing out a divine destiny revealed only to those
with eyes to see. Through his use of this enigmatic `Son of Man'
Christology, with its associations both transcendent and eso-
teric, Mark has essentially extended the secrecy motif to the
tradition of the death and resurrection of Jesus (Mk 9.9) just as
he had to the parables, the Kingdom of God and the miracles.
Though expressed in story form, his Gospel is a highly theo-
logical document which puts a distinctively religious perspective
on Jesus' life and death, and seeks to persuade the reader to see
him in the right light. It does so, as I have argued, by taking
over traditions already stamped with certain theological under-
standings, and it seeks in turn to develop, or combat, these
earlier, sometimes different understandings. One of the ways it
does so is to place these `correct' or ìncorrect' understandings
on the lips of the different characters who feature in the
narrative, and it is to two such important groups of characters
in the Markan drama, namely, the Jewish leaders and the
disciples, to whom we shall now turn.
Before we do so, let me sum up. Thus far, we have discussed
the second evangelist's conception of the person, message and
mission of Jesus. We have looked at the variety of traditional
material Mark has taken over (for example, parables, `Kingdom
of God' and `Son of Man' sayings, miracles stories) and at the
process by which he has selected, arranged, altered or modi®ed
this traditional material in order to produce our ®rst connected
Gospel. By now, it should be becoming clear that the major
thrust of Mark's redactional procedure is to further the evange-
list's Christological and soteriological aims. By presenting the
traditions at his disposal in the way that he has, he wishes to
present Jesus to his readers as the bearer of the concealed
dignity or status of God's only Son. This `Son' is a supernatural
®gure whose predestined role, while still that of the apocalyptic
Son of Man of the Jewish-Christian tradition, nevertheless
differed from that expected of this exalted redeemer ®gure in
that it involved, prior to his ultimate vindication, his preor-
dained suffering and death on the cross. How was this `Son of
God' incognito, this apocalyptic `Son of Man' of Jewish-Chris-
tian faith, this `divine man' of Gentile-Christian estimation,
received by his own people, the Jews? How in particular does
Mark treat the Jewish leaders and the disciples and how does
such a treatment further serve the evangelist's overall purpose?
support and opposition: heroes and villains in the

markan drama
`The leaven of the Pharisees': Mark's treatment of the Jewish leaders

As before, I shall place our examination in context by ®rst
offering some background on the Jewish leadership groups as
they are presented to us in the Gospels. What, brie¯y, do they
tell us of the Jewish leadership groups active in the time of
Jesus? The Gospels speak of the Jewish authorities in respect of
six main groups: the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Herodians,
the chief priests, the scribes and the elders. The Pharisees are
the most prominent group in the Gospels, but are also known to
us from elsewhere in the New Testament, as well as from
Josephus and rabbinic sources. As a group, it appears that they
were in the ascendancy after the Fall of Jerusalem in 70 CE, and
in the nineties practically a para-legal government. They
became the main opponents of early Christianity, with power to
ban Jewish Christians from the synagogue. Before 70 CE,
however, it seems that they were less in¯uential. Some scholars
point to the paucity of evidence outside of the Gospels which
might suggest that the Pharisees had in fact any substantial
presence in Galilee during Jesus' lifetime.174 In this period they
were eclipsed in power and in¯uence by the Sadducees. The
most prominent sectarian group before 70, the Sadducees were
practically non-existent thereafter. Reference to them in the
174
See M. Smith, Jesus the Magician (New York and London: Harper & Row, 1978), pp.
153 ±7.
Gospels is meagre, with no mention being made of them at all
in John's Gospel.
The third group, the Herodians, are obscure to us. No such
party is known to have existed in Jesus' lifetime. Some scholars
hold them to be of®cials of the tetrarch, others to be notables
won over to the Herodian dynasty.175 Mark speaks of an
alliance between them and the Pharisees (Mk 3.6) but this
unlikely conjunction has been viewed with suspicion. The only
historical alliance between Pharisees and Herodians we know of
occurred in 66±7 CE when moderate Pharisees, in seeking to
prevent the holocaust they knew would be the result of war with
Rome, joined with the circle around Herod Agrippa II in
denouncing to the Romans those groups with apocalyptic
and Messianic views or expectations. A similar alliance may
have been forged earlier in the period when Herod Agrippa I
(41±4 CE) was given the governance of Judaea by Claudius and
sought similarly to weave a moderate road between the interests
of Rome in this area, and the desire on the part of the Jews for
religious autonomy.176 It is Agrippa I who is held responsible by
the writer of Acts (12.1ff.) for the persecution of the primitive
Jewish-Christian community.
The three other groups mentioned in the Gospels, chief
priests, elders and scribes, are also somewhat obscure to us, and
there is considerable scholarly debate as to who exactly they
were. Where the scribes are concerned, for example, different
opinions prevail. Some hold that the scribes were a sub-group
of the Pharisees, an intellectual eÂlite, others that they were a
clerical class common to both Pharisees and Sadducees, others
still that they were a separate group altogether whose in¯uence
declined after 70. These various views are based primarily on
the ambiguous interpretation of only a few New Testament
verses, namely Mark 2.16 (where, in a disputed reading, the
175
H. H. Rowley, `The Herodians in the Gospels', JTS, 41 (1940), pp. 14 ± 27; gratia
E. TrocmeÂ, The Formation of the Gospel According to Mark (London: SPCK, 1975), p. 91,
n. 1.
176
P. Winter, On the Trial of Jesus (Studia Judaica, Forschungen zur Wissenschaft des
Judentums, 1; Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1961), p. 128.
evangelist speaks of `the scribes of the Pharisees'); 7.1, 3, 5 and
Acts 23.9 (`the scribes of the Pharisees').
It is often assumed that although these groups are obscure to
us (apart from the Pharisees), they would have been familiar to
the evangelists. This view, however, was challenged in a book by
M. J. Cook entitled Mark's Treatment of the Jewish Leaders
(1978).177 Since the Gospels were written after 70 CE, and each
of these leadership groups, apart from the Pharisees, ceased to
be active after then, Cook argues for the probability that the
evangelists themselves were not entirely sure who these groups
were and had therefore to rely on their sources for information.
In the case of Matthew and Luke, their main source was Mark.
It is Cook's claim that Matthew and Luke's redaction of Mark
reveals that they knew no more about who the Herodians,
Sadducees, chief priests, scribes and elders were than their
source Mark did, and as a result add little or nothing to our
knowledge of them. Where Mark refers to the Herodians, for
example, Matthew and Luke drop the reference or substitute
another of the groups (e.g. the Sadducees) for them (Mk 3.6 and
parallels; 8.15 (variant reading) and parallels). Insensitive to the
tensions that existed prior to 70 CE between the Pharisees and
the Sadducees, Matthew adds the `Sadducees' to his source at
Mk 8.11, where Mark mentioned only Pharisees, thus showing
both groups incongruously in league against Jesus. In other
places too he brackets Pharisees and Sadducees together where
his sources give him no cause to do so (e.g. Mt. 3.7; 16.6, 11, 12).
The most persistent redactional procedure on the part of
Matthew and Luke, however, is to add or substitute `Pharisees'
as the opponents of Jesus where the second evangelist has no
mention of them or has a different group, usually `scribes' (Mk
2.6; 3.22; 12.35, 38 and parallels). Matthew also has the Phar-
isees involved in the proceedings surrounding Jesus' burial (Mt.
27.62, the setting of a guard on the tomb) for which there is
again no warrant in his Markan source. As this last example
indicates, all these references to Pharisees view them in a hostile
light. A similar procedure can be seen with regard to their
177
M. J. Cook, Mark's Treatment of the Jewish Leaders (Novum Testamentum Supplement
Series, 51; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1978).
editing of Q. In all but two of the Q references where Pharisees
are mentioned, the parallel lacks it, and the version mentioning
the Pharisees appears to be secondary.178
Matthew and Luke relied, therefore, on their sources for
information regarding pre-70 CE groups other than the Phar-
isees, and, where the earlier tradition had either unnamed
opponents or mentioned other groups (see especially Lk. 11.16
(Q , `the crowds') = Mk 8.11 (`the Pharisees') = Mt. 16.1 (`the
Pharisees and Sadducees') = Mt. 12.38 (`the scribes and Phar-
isees')) tended to exaggerate the role of the Pharisees as Jesus'
opponents. What then of Mark? Did he likewise depend upon
sources, oral or written, for his knowledge of the Jewish leader-
ship groups operative in Jesus' day? Did he know much himself
about such groups? Did he, too, tend to exaggerate the role of
the Pharisees as Jesus' opponents? His knowledge has certainly
been challenged. In Mark 7.3±4, for example, Mark informs his
readers in an editorial aside, that `the Pharisees, and all the
Jews, do not eat unless they wash their hands, and when they
come from the market place, they do not eat unless they purify
themselves; and there are many other traditions which they
observe, the washing of cups and pots and vessels of bronze'. It
is doubtful, however, if the practice of ritual lustration applied
to any other than priests before 70 CE, yet here it is said to be a
practice not only of Pharisees but of àll the Jews'. Similarly, in
Mark 10.2ff. the evangelist has Pharisees ask Jesus whether it is
lawful for a man to divorce his wife. Given that the Mosaic law
clearly sanctions divorce (Deut. 24.1±4), some scholars doubt
whether any Pharisee would ever have posed such a question,
or at least in this form.179
On the basis of such traditio-critical observations, therefore,
there is now a widespread view that controversies in the
Gospels deemed to represent historical confrontations between
178
Smith, Magician, 153 ±7.
179
Winter, Trial, p. 112. See also Smith, Magician, p. 155, who thinks it possible that the
reference to `Pharisees' in Mark here may be a gloss from Matthew's text. For a
recent view claiming that Mark's knowledge of the Law was not particularly
accurate, see also H. Sariola, Markus und das Gesetz. Eine redaktionskritische Untersuchung
(Annales Academiae Scientarum Fennicae Dissertationes Humanarum Litterarum,
56; Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1990).
Jesus and named groups of adversaries during his lifetime
re¯ect more the con¯icts that existed between the communities
out of which the Gospels sprang and their respective opponents.
After 70 CE these opponents were pre-eminently the Pharisees
and it was with this now dominant Jewish leadership group that
the Matthean, Lukan and Johannine communities of the eigh-
ties and nineties were engaged in bitter dispute. Progressively
therefore in the Gospel tradition, con¯icts with the Pharisees on
the part of later Christian communities have been antedated to
Jesus' lifetime, or in the words of P. Winter ènemies of ``the
Church'' are depicted as enemies of Jesus'.180
With these caveats in mind, and with the evangelist's theo-
logical motivations as our primary goal, let us now return to the
question of Mark's knowledge and treatment of these Jewish
leadership groups. In the Gospel of Mark, all six of the above
named leadership groups are mentioned: Pharisees, Sadducees,
Herodians, chief priests, scribes and elders. It is instructive to
observe how often these groups are mentioned, when and
where they appear, the tenor of comments about them, and
how they are said to relate to each other.181
The Pharisees are the most frequently mentioned group, with
eleven references in all (Mk 2.16, 18, 24; 3.6; 7.1, 3, 5; 8.11, 15;
10.2; 12.13). While appearing mostly in the ®rst half of the
Gospel, they are shown encountering Jesus in various places (in
Galilee, Judaea and Jerusalem). All the references, one notes,
are hostile. On two (or three) occasions (7.1, 5; cf. also 2.16),182
they are linked with the scribes in challenging Jesus on the
purity laws, and on two (or three) occasions with the Herodians
(3.6; 12.13; see also 8.15)183 as co-conspirators in a plot to kill
Jesus. Curiously they do not appear in the narrative after 12.13
as a named group, and are not involved in the arrest, trial and
execution of Jesus. The Sadducees are mentioned only once in
Mark's Gospel, appear only in Jerusalem, and act purely on
their own (12.18). Although it remains possible that the reader is
180
Winter, Trial, p. 120.
181
For a comprehensive analysis, see Cook, Jewish Leaders.
182
Three times if we count the variant reading `the scribes and the Pharisees' in 2.16.
183
Three times if we count the variant reading `the leaven of the Herodians' in 8.15.
meant to include them under the reference to the Sanhedrin in
14.55 and 15.1, they too are not mentioned as a named group in
the plot to kill Jesus nor involved in the proceedings over his
arrest, trial and execution.
Our third group, the Herodians, take the stage on two,
possibly three occasions only (3.6; 12.13; see also 8.15 (variant
reading)). Appearing exclusively with the Pharisees, both in
Galilee (3.6) and in Jerusalem (12.13), they are linked, as we
have noted, with the former in a plot to kill Jesus. It is the chief
priests, on the other hand, whom the narrative actually depicts
as responsible for the proceedings to arrest, try and execute
Jesus. There are thirteen references in all to this group (Mk
8.31; 10.33; 11.18, 27; 14.1, 10, 43, 53, 55; 15.1, 3, 11, 31) and all
the references to them are hostile. Appearing in the second half
of the Gospel only, and never outside of Jerusalem, they are
sometimes mentioned on their own. More often, however, they
act in concert with either the scribes, or the elders and scribes,
but with no other named group.184
The scribes are the most frequently mentioned opponents of
Jesus in Mark. There are some twenty-one references in all to
them (Mk 1.22; 2.6, 16; 3.22; 7.1, 5; 8.31; 9.11, 14; 10.33; 11.18, 27;
12.28, 32, 35, 38; 14.1, 43, 53; 15.1, 31), the majority occurring in
the second half of the Gospel. They are shown encountering
Jesus not only in Jerusalem, however, but outside it as well (3.22;
7.1; 9.14). While normally linked with the chief priests and
elders, and, on occasion, with the Pharisees (7.1, 5; see also
2.16), they also operate on their own. Presented as hostile for
the most part (with the one exception of 12.28ff.), it is they, and
not the Pharisees, the Sadducees or the Herodians who are in
actuality responsible, together with the chief priests and elders,
for Jesus' arrest, trial and execution. Our ®nal group, the elders,
appear some ®ve or six times in Mark (Mk (7.5); 8.31; 11.27;
14.43, 53; 15.1). Found only in the second half of the Gospel, and
exclusively in Jerusalem, they are a shadowy group, who never
184
According to TrocmeÂ, the archiereis, in Mark's eyes, are à sort of executive college
forming the core of the Sanhedrin without being identical with it (14.55), and
enforcing its decisions. It is tempting to think that he takes the title of these people
to mean ``ruling priests'' ' (Formation, pp. 100 ±1).
act on their own, but only in conjunction with the chief priests
(and scribes).
The references to, actions of, and narrative role exercised by
each of the separate leadership groups in Mark is puzzling, to
say the least. The narrative critic may be able to discern a
literary pattern in such varied comings and goings,185 but thus
far explanations of the textual phenomena have lain for the
most part within the province of the tradition critic. 186 It is to
source criticism, for example, that the tradition critic has
appealed in order to answer the question already raised,
namely that of Mark's knowledge of the leadership groups
whose activities he recounts.
One in¯uential source theory has been that of M. Albertz
who claimed that the evangelist was dependent on two prior
controversy collections, one set in Galilee and underlying the
con¯icts with Jesus' opponents reported in Mark 2.1±3.6, the
other set in Jerusalem and detectable beneath the dialogues of
Mark 11±12.187 B. S. Easton in turn recon®gured the pericopae
claimed by Albertz to belong to these two pre-Markan contro-
versy collections. By reducing their number, and combining the
remainder, he thus posited one main united pre-Markan collec-
tion of eight pericopae comprising Mark 2.13±3.6; 12.13±27,
35±40. On the basis of the leadership group designations,
185
For literary approaches to the controversy pericopae and the Jewish leaders, see
J. Dewey, Markan Public Debate. Literary Technique, Concentric Structure, and Theology in
Mark 2:1 ±3:6 (SBLDS, 48; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1980); J. Dewey, `The Literary
Structure of the Controversy Stories in Mark 2:1 ±3:6' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation,
pp. 141 ±51; J. D. Kingsbury, Con¯ict in Mark. Jesus, Authorities, Disciples (Philadelphia,
PA: Fortress Press, 1989); J. D. Kingsbury, `The Religious Authorities in the Gospel
of Mark', NTS, 36 (1990), pp. 42 ±65; E. S. Malbon, `The Jewish Leaders in the
Gospel of Mark: a Literary Study of Marcan Characterization', JBL, 108 (1989), pp.
259 ± 81; Telford, Mark, pp. 110 ± 11.
186
For important or useful traditio-critical discussions, see, for example, J. D. G. Dunn,
`Mark 2.1 ±3.6: a Bridge between Jesus and Paul in the Question of the Law', NTS,
30 (1984), pp. 395 ± 415; A. J. Hultgren, Jesus and his Adversaries. The Form and Function
of the Con¯ict Stories in the Synoptic Tradition (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg, 1979); Kee,
Community, pp. 38 ±41; W. R. Telford, `The Interpretation of Mark: a History of
Developments and Issues' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 19 ± 20; Telford, Mark,
pp. 138± 9.
187
M. Albertz, Die synoptischen StreitgespraÈche (Berlin: Trowitzsch & Sohn, 1921). For a
critique of Albertz, see, for example, J.-G. Mudiso MbaÃ Mundla, Jesus und die FuÈhrer
Israels. Studien zu den sogennanten Jerusalemer StreitgespraÈchen (Neutestamentliche
Abhandlungen, Neue Folge, 17; MuÈnster: Aschendorff, 1984).
M. J. Cook, on the other hand, claims that Mark drew upon
and combined three main sources for his knowledge of the
Jewish leadership groups: an early passion source, set in Jeru-
salem, in which chief priests, scribes and elders appear as Jesus'
opponents (14±16); a source referring to scribes alone, also
setting them in Jerusalem; and a source focusing on Pharisees
and Herodians which was possibly set in a Galilean context.188
Most Markan scholars, however, are less certain that speci®c
written controversy sources can be isolated in this way, and
would prefer to detect in the Gospel a variety of controversy
pericopae, some of which may have been collected or grouped
prior to Mark but most of which were isolated stories which
Mark himself arranged in conformity with his own theological
purposes. Many, following the insights of form criticism, would
prefer then to talk of `strata' in the tradition rather than of
sources. P. Winter, for example, distinguished three strata in
Mark on the basis of the diverse and ambiguous leadership
group classes appearing in Mark. The earliest stratum of
tradition, he maintained, corresponds to those passages which
mention the chief priests, scribes (and elders) who appear in the
material of the second half of the Gospel, particularly the
passion narrative (14±15). Passages mentioning scribes only, on
the other hand, correspond to a later stratum, while those
mentioning Pharisees are later still.189
Form criticism, with its interest in the individual oral units
and their Sitz im Leben in the pre-Markan communities, has also
highlighted the richness and diversity of this controversy
material and the range of issues and concerns with which it
deals: for example, legal and ethical issues (Mk 10.1±12
(divorce); 12.28±34 (the greatest commandment)); matters of
authority (12.13±17 (relation to the state); 11.27±33 (the source of
Jesus' authority); 8.11±13 (the demand for a sign)); cultic prac-
tice (Mk 7.1±23 (de®lement); 2.23±8 (sabbath observance);
188
M. J. Cook, Mark's Treatment of the Jewish Leaders (Novum Testamentum Supplement
Series, 51; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1978). For a critique of Cook, see W. R. Telford, JTS,
31 (1980 ± 1), pp. 154 ±62.
189
2.18±20 (fasting)); doctrine (12.18±27 (resurrection)) and Chris-
tological questions (12.35±7 (Messiah, Son of David)). 190
Accepting the form-critical model, it is instructive then to
consider what redaction critics have said about Mark's editorial
procedure.191 The following are the main passages which
concern us: Mk 2.1±3.6; 3.20±35; 7.1±23; 8.11±13; 10.2±12;
11.27±12.40. While Mark's hand is not uniformly or even clearly
to be seen in evidence in all of these passages, certain observa-
tions can be made. In the ®rst place, Mark, as with Matthew
and Luke, appears to redact his sources with the later church
situation in mind (e.g. Mk 2.18±20 where the evangelist informs
his readers that while Jesus and his disciples did not fast he
nevertheless pointed forward to this later church practice, so
legitimating it; see also Mk 9.28±9 and the variant readings).
The post-dominical situation is often indicated by the fact that
it is the disciples' conduct that is challenged, not Jesus', with
Jesus being made to answer with a pronouncement which
justi®es the later conduct of the church (e.g. Mk 2.23±8; 7.1±8).
Secondly, Mark reveals a tendency to turn miracle stories in the
tradition without any original con¯ict element into controver-
sies between Jesus and certain named opponents (e.g. Mk 3.1±6
or 2.1±12 where vv. 5a±10a is commonly held to be an insertion
which converts the miracle story into a controversy dia-
logue).192 Thirdly, he inserts reference to the Pharisees where
the underlying tradition perhaps had no such reference.193
Fourthly, the evangelist can be seen making a piece of isolated
tradition refer speci®cally to Jesus' opponents by supplying it
with a particular setting in the Gospel (e.g. Mk 12.1±12 where,
by virtue of the Markan context, the wicked tenants of the
original parable are identi®ed with the chief priests, elders and
scribes).194
Such observations, of course, describe individual features of
the Markan redaction, but what about the overall purpose and
190
Kee, Community, p. 41.
191
See especially Kee, Community, pp. 38 ±41.
192
Ibid., pp. 35 ± 7, 38 ±9.
193
Most of these references, according to Smith (Magician, pp. 154 ±5), are redactional.
Only Mk 2.24; 3.6; 8.15 and 12.13 he claims came to Mark from his source(s).
194
effect of the controversy stories? To appreciate the signi®cance
of Mark's redaction, a more holistic approach to the Gospel is
called for. According to M. KaÈhler, the Markan Gospel can be
described in toto as a `passion narrative with an extended
introduction'.195 This èxtended introduction' prepares the way
for the passion narrative by seeking to explain what led up to it
(Mk 3.6). By viewing Mark's use of the controversy pericopae in
this light, we can see that the evangelist is in fact engaging in
Christian apologetic and polemic. What led to the unjust
execution of God's only Son, Mark claims, was the overall
antagonism, blindness and rejection of the Jewish people, as
represented in their various leadership groups, no matter what
their complexion, no matter what their differences. Viewed as a
whole, the Jewish leaders in Mark act indeed as a single
character, their `¯at' characterization and consistently negative
attributes built upon their opposition to Jesus. 196
Some scholars have gone even further. According to S. G. F.
Brandon, Mark's presentation amounts to a pronounced cam-
paign of denigration against the Jewish people as well as their
representatives.197 The charge of ànti-Semitism' implied by
this is one which I shall take up in chapter 4. Whatever the
nuances in individual passages, it has to be maintained that the
Markan Jesus is shown repeatedly throughout the Gospel being
misunderstood or rejected by the various Jewish groups, and he
in turn is pictured as one repudiating their authority or their
doctrine. Presented in a favourable light vis-aÁ-vis the scribes at
the beginning of his ministry (Mk 1.22), he is shown confronting
and besting in argument each of the representatives of the
nation at the end (Mk 12.1ff.). Time and again, their doctrinal
beliefs are shown to be in error. The evangelist portrays Jesus as
condoning the breaking of the sabbath (Mk 2.23ff.; 3.1±6).
195
M. KaÈhler, The So-called Historical Jesus and the Historic, Biblical Christ (Philadelphia,
PA: Fortress Press, 1964), p. 80, n. 11.
196
See Kingsbury, Con¯ict; Kingsbury, `Religious Authorities', pp. 42 ±65; Malbon,
`Jewish Leaders', pp. 259 ±81; D. Rhoads and D. Michie, Mark as Story. An Introduction
to the Narrative of a Gospel (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1982), p. 117; Telford,
Mark, pp. 110 ± 11.
197
S. G. F. Brandon, Jesus and the Zealots (Manchester: Manchester University Press,
1967), pp. 264 ±73. See also W. A. Johnson, `The Jews in Saint Mark's Gospel',
Religion and Intellectual Life, 6 (1989), pp. 182 ±92.
Jewish lustration practice is disparaged as are other Jewish
practices (Mk 7.1±23). Judaism itself is shown to belong to `the
old order' (Mk 2.21±2). The Jewish leaders are depicted as `hard
of heart' (Mk 3.5; see also 2.1ff.) or as `hypocrites' (Mk 7.6±7).
They are shown as guilty of the unforgivable sin in questioning
the source of Jesus' power (Mk 3.28±30). Tilting against their
insidious in¯uence, Jesus warns his disciples to `beware of the
leaven of the Pharisees and of Herod/the Herodians' (Mk 8.15).
For rejecting Jesus and the prophets, they are to be viewed as
wicked murderers (Mk 12.1ff.). All the various leadership groups
are shown implausibly plotting his death, the evangelist antici-
pating the culpability of the chief priests, elders and scribes in
particular in the three passion predictions (Mk 8.31; 9.31;
10.33±4). They are stealthy and devious (Mk 14.1±2), and it is
out of envy, the readers are informed (Mk 15.10), that they
proceed against Jesus. In a ®nal act of rejection, they are shown
cruelly mocking Jesus on the cross (Mk 15.31±2).
This rejection of him, moreover, is presented to the reader as
having been fore-ordained (the passion predictions), and it
extends further than the Jewish leaders themselves (Mk
4.10±12).198 Not only the authorities, and the Jewish crowd (Mk
15.12±15) but even Jesus' own family and friends are represented
as rejecting him (Mk 6.1±6 or 3.20ff. where scribes and family
are bracketed together as if in the same camp). Jesus in turn is
shown as rejecting them (see Mk 3.31±5 where blood relation-
ship is repudiated and spiritual relationship to Jesus is empha-
sised instead). The overall effect of the Markan presentation,
therefore, is to highlight what is almost a Johannine theme: `He
came to his own home, and his own people received him not'
( Jn 1.11). To see how Mark reinforces this theme we need next
198
It is worth mentioning here the view of J. M. Robinson, The Problem of History in Mark
(Studies in Biblical Theology, 21; London: SCM Press, 1957) that, according to
Mark's eschatological understanding of history, Jesus' debates with his opponents
are simply the continuation of `the cosmic struggle initiated at the baptism and
temptation and carried into the narrative of Jesus' public ministry ®rst by the
exorcisms' (p. 46). According to Robinson, there is àn intimate relationship of
meaning between the exorcisms and the debates. Just as there are traces of exorcism
language in the miracle stories, there are equally clear indications in the debates
that they too are the action of Satan' (p. 45).
to consider the picture that Mark presents of Jesus' relation with
his own disciples, and they with him.
Àre you also without understanding?': Mark's treatment of the disciples

We begin ®rst by noting the various terms employed by Mark
for the original followers of Jesus. One term is the `twelve'
(doÅdeka; cf. Mk 3.14; 4.10; 6.7; 9.35; 10.32; (10.41±5 `the ten');
11.11; 14.10, 17, 20, 43), from whom, at intervals, certain named
individuals are singled out.199 Another expression is `the' or
`his disciples' (matheÅtai; Mk 4.34; 6.35, 45; 7.17; 8.10; 8.34; 9.14,
28; 10.10, 13, 23, 46; 11.1,14; 12.43; 13.1; 14.12, 13, 16, 32; 16.7),
a group which may be synonymous with `the twelve'
(R. P. Meye),200 or indicate a wider circle than `the twelve'
(E. Best).201 Mark also makes reference to `those around him'
or to `those who followed him' (Mk 3.32, 34; 4.10; 10.32; 11.9;
15.40±1). In the last cited example, women are included.
Frequent reference is also made to the `crowd' who accompa-
nied him (ochlos; Mk 2.4, 13; 3.9, 20, 32; 4.1, 36; 5.21, 24, 27, 30,
31; 6.34, 45; 7.14, 17, 33; 8.1, 2, 6; 9.14, 15, 17; 10.1, 46; 11.18, 32;
12.12, 37, 41; 14.43; 15.8, 11, 15). Curiously the more familiar
term `the apostles' is avoided (except for 3.14 (variant reading)
and 6.30).
The use, in often alternate passages, of two distinct desig-
nations, the `twelve' (doÅdeka) and the `disciples' (matheÅtai), has
suggested to some source critics that the evangelist employed
separate sources. E. Meyer, for example, claimed that Mark had
used two such sources, one (a Petrine source) using the term
disciples (matheÅtai), the other (a non-Petrine source) referring to
the twelve (doÅdeka).202 However, of the ten references to the
199
Four are singled out (Peter, James, John, Andrew) in Mk 1.16± 20, 29 ± 31; 13.3; three
(Peter, James, John) in Mk 5.37; 9.2 ±8; 14.33; two ( James, John) in Mk 10.35ff.; one
in Mk 9.38 ( John), 14.10, 43 ( Judas) and 1.36; 8.29, 32 ±33; 10.28; 11.21; 14.29; 14.54,
66ff.; 16.7 (Peter).
200
R. P. Meye, Jesus and the Twelve. Discipleship and Revelation in Mark's Gospel (Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1968), p. 228.
201
E. Best, Following Jesus. Discipleship in the Gospel of Mark ( JSNTSS, 4; Shef®eld: JSOT
Press, 1981), p. 204.
202
E. Meyer, Ursprung und AnfaÈnge des Christentums (Stuttgart and Berlin: J. G. Cotta,
1921± 3).
`twelve', seven are in passages which appear to be Markan
constructions (Mk 3.13±19; 4.10±12; 6.6b-13; 9.33±7; 10.32±4;
10.41±5; 14.10±12),203 one is almost certainly redactional (Mk
11.11),204 and two others which appear in self-contained narra-
tives (14.17, 43) may also be redactional.205
The suspicion, then, that the majority of the references to the
`twelve' may be redactional (pace E. Best) indicates that Mark
had a special interest in the original twelve appointed as Jesus'
intimate followers. This is also shown by the increasing infre-
quency of references to the `twelve' in the developing tradi-
tion.206 While Mark has ten references to the twelve, as we have
noted, Matthew has only nine, Luke only eight, John a mere
four, the Acts of the Apostles three, and both Paul and Revela-
tion one. Reference to the `twelve' is completely lacking in the
Pastoral and Catholic Epistles. By contrast, the term àpostle' is
more frequently used outside of Mark for Jesus' appointed
followers, a circle, one notes that has widened to include Paul,
Barnabas, Andronicus and Junias (Acts 14.14; Rom. 16.7). 207
Mark too, by his use of the expression `those about him' (e.g.
Mk 4.10) or even of the term `the disciples' (matheÅtai ) can be seen
to be widening the original circle (indeed even arguing for it;
Mk 3.31±5; 9.38±9), although, in a number of cases, by his use
of the latter term, he means the `twelve' (Mk 11.11, 14; 14.12ff.,
17, 32).
What is the nature of Mark's treatment of the disciples? In
the ®rst place, they are called by Jesus and commissioned (for
the period of his ministry) to be `®shers of men', that is, to
evangelize (Mk 1.16±20), to be with him, to preach that people
should repent, and to exorcize demons (Mk 3.14±15). While
given authority to do these things (Mk 6.7±13), Mark paradoxi-
cally does not show them elsewhere (apart from Mk 6.12±13)
carrying out the things they were commissioned to do. Indeed,
according to Mark 9.18, they are deemed to be failures as
203
I.e. `[N]arratives compiled from fragmentary traditions'. See Taylor, Mark , p. 620.
204
See Telford, Barren Temple, pp. 45 ± 6.
205
See Bultmann, History, p. 345. For a contrary view, see E. Best, `The Role of the
Disciples in Mark', NTS, 23 (1976 ±7), pp. 377 ± 401; E. Best, `Mark's Use of the
Twelve', ZNW, 69 (1978), pp. 11± 35.
206 207
Taylor, Mark, p. 620. Ibid., p. 625.
exorcists, and according to Mark 9.38±9, they even seek to
prevent other exorcists not of their circle using the authority of
Jesus' name. Furthermore, they are not presented by the
evangelist as having been given the authority to exercise a
leadership role in the post-Easter community (see Mk 10.35±45
and contrast Mt. 16.16ff. and the resurrection narratives in
Matthew, Luke and John). They are depicted, on the other
hand, as seeking power and status for themselves (Mk 9.33±7;
10.35±45), and, at the same time, as barring others from coming
to Jesus or being reckoned as one of their number (Mk 9.38±9;
10.13±14). The Markan author portrays them as having occu-
pied a privileged position, however, in that they had not only
witnessed Jesus' miracles and heard his public teaching but had
been recipients of private instruction from Jesus himself (Mk
4.10ff., 34; 7.17ff.; 8.14ff.; 9.2ff., 28±9, 30ff.; 10.10±12). Neverthe-
less, although `the secret of the Kingdom of God' (namely that
Jesus, I have argued, was the `Son of God', according to Mark)
had been given to them together with `those who were about
him' (Mk 4.10±11), Mark shows them to have been remarkably
obtuse (Mk 4.13, 40±1; 6.52; 7.18; 8.14±21, 33; 9.10, 32). Before
Peter's so-called confession (Mk 8.29) they failed to recognize
that he was the Son of God despite every invitation or oppor-
tunity to do so (see especially Mk 4.41; 6.52 and 8.21 with 1.24;
3.11; 5.7). After that `confession', they positively misunderstand
the true nature of both Jesus' divine status and mission as well
as the true nature of the Christian discipleship springing from it
(see especially Mk 8.31±10.45 and the pattern of prediction,
misunderstanding and corrective teaching which characterizes
this section, according to N. Perrin).
When we look at the treatment of the disciples in the other
three Gospels, the differences are striking. Matthew, for
example, greatly expands the pre-resurrection mission of the
twelve recounted in Mark 6.7±13 (Mt. 10), although he con®nes
it to Jews. He stresses, unlike Mark, that the disciples did
understand what Jesus had said to them, and alters Mark
accordingly (Mt. 13.16±17, 51; 16.12; 17.13, 23 and parallels).
Again in contrast to Mark, the disciples recognize that Jesus was
the Son of God and confess him as such during his lifetime.
Accordingly, appropriate alterations have been made to his
source (Mt. 14.31±3; 16.16 and parallels). As a result of such a
confession, they are given authority over the church that is to
come into being after the resurrection, and Peter is the rock on
which it will be founded, according to Matthew (Mt. 16.17±19;
[18.18] and parallels). They will sit, moreover, upon twelve
thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel (Mt. 19.28 = Lk.
22.30). The disciples are also given a prominent place in the
post-resurrection church, being commissioned not only to evan-
gelize but to baptize and teach all nations to observe the law of
the `new Moses' (Mt. 28.18±20). Matthew alters Mark's harsh
treatment of the disciples in other ways too. He omits the
discussion in Mark 9.33±4 over who is to be the greatest, and
makes the mother of James and John, not these disciples
themselves, request that her sons should sit at his right and left
hand (Mt. 20.20ff. and parallels).
Luke too alters Mark in similar fashion. The third evangelist
has Jesus appoint not only twelve, but seventy others as well (Lk.
9.1±6; 10.1±24). He too preserves the Q saying that they would
sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel (Lk. 22.30 =
Mt. 19.28). He adds to the Markan source the intimation that
Peter would be restored after his denial of Jesus (Lk. 22.31±2).
He emphasizes the role of the original disciples as witnesses (Lk.
24.46±9). He also tones down Mark's harsh treatment of the
original twelve in other signi®cant ways: for example, by omit-
ting the passage where Jesus denounces Peter as `Satan' (Mk
8.33 and parallel), curtailing the Gethsemane scene (Mk
14.32±42) where they are shown three times being unable to
keep watch with Jesus and giving the reason for their falling
asleep as `for sorrow' (Lk. 22.45 and parallel), and deleting the
reference in Mark to the disciples' ignominious ¯ight (Mk 14.50
and parallel). In addition, Luke announces the fact that Jesus
had appeared to Peter after his resurrection, although only the
(unful®lled) promise of such an appearance is given in Mark
(Lk. 24.34; contrast Mk 14.28; 16.7).
In John's Gospel too, the disciples are treated less harshly
than in Mark and credited with more spiritual discernment.
Their confession of Jesus' divine status is made right at the start
of the ministry ( Jn 1.35±51; 6.68±9). After the resurrection,
Jesus reveals himself to the twelve, and they are accorded power
to remit or retain sins ( Jn 20.22±3; see also Mt. 18.18). An
appearance to Peter in particular is described, and he is given
authority to lead the future church ( Jn 21). Where Mark
presents Peter making a three-fold denial of Jesus (Mk 14.54,
66±72), the Fourth Gospel shows him offering a threefold
declaration of his love and loyalty ( Jn 21.15±17; see also Lk.
22.31±2).
In light of all this, Mark's treatment of the disciples of Jesus,
and in particular the twelve, does appear signi®cant. In ac-
counting for it, two main types of explanation have been
suggested by scholars.208 The ®rst is the pastoral or pedagogic
explanation, a solution proposed by a considerable number of
scholars (e.g. E. Best, R. C. Tannehill).209 These scholars have
held to the view expressed by W. Wrede that ìf anyone for one
moment entertained the idea that Mark was ill-disposed
towards the disciples he would soon dismiss it again'. 210 Mark's
chief concern, it is claimed, was a pastoral one. His purpose was
to offer help or encouragement to the congregation to whom he
was writing in face of the problems that confronted it: the delay
of the parousia, persecution, martyrdom and false Christolo-
gies, especially those that bypassed or lacked a theology of the
cross with its emphasis on the necessity of suffering as a prelude
to glory or vindication.
In the Markan Gospel, the disciples' function is to act as a foil
to Jesus, and in two ways. Firstly, by appearing frail, confused,
afraid and human by comparison, they make him stand out in
all his authority and dignity as the Lord of the church. Secondly,
by repeatedly misunderstanding him (a pedagogic device), they
offer Jesus (in reality the evangelist) an opportunity to offer
208
For a survey of various approaches to the disciples in Mark, see Telford, Mark, pp.
109 ±10, 141± 3; Telford, `History of Developments' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp.
35 ± 7. For a literary approach eschewing the historical context, see Rhoads and
Michie, Mark, pp. 122 ±3.
209
See, for example, E. Best, Disciples and Discipleship. Studies in the Gospel According to
Mark (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1986); R. C. Tannehill, `The Disciples in Mark: the
Function of a Narrative Role' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 169 ± 95.
210
Wrede, Secret, p. 106.
teaching on the true nature of his person and mission, as well as
on the discipleship springing from it (e.g. Mk 4.13±20; 7.17ff.;
9.28±9; 10.10±12; 13.3ff.; cf. Jn 14.5, 8, 22ff.). In addressing his
disciples in private, the Markan Jesus is in actuality addressing
the church, for whom the Gospel was written, and expanding
on the tradition in light of the community's contemporary
problems and needs. The readers, then, are invited to identify
with the disciples, in all their incomprehension, frailty and
failure, as prototypical Christians, and so, by such identi®ca-
tion, be led to both self-criticism and comfort.211
It must be admitted that a pedagogic concern is present in
Mark, and that in having Jesus address his disciple, the evange-
list is clearly looking beyond them to his readers (see especially
Mk 4.10±12; 7.17ff.; 9.28±9; 10.10±12; 13.3ff.). It is said of a
certain actor that whereas he believed his performance was
elevating the stage, it was merely depressing the audience!
Mark's treatment of Jesus vis-aÁ-vis the disciples has been viewed
in a similar light. But Mark's treatment in èlevating' Jesus, it
has to be said, is doing more than merely `depressing' the
disciples. A pastoral concern is present but a polemical motive,
I would maintain, eclipses it. His treatment of the original
twelve indeed goes far beyond the interests of pedagogy (see Jn
14 for an example of normal pedagogic use).
Just as Jesus' family and friends are bracketed together with
his enemies the scribes in Mk 3.20ff., the disciples are also
211
See E. Best, The Gospel as Story (Studies of the New Testament and its World;
Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1983) (ìn the Gospel the disciples play the role of
believers; the Christian can identify with them in their failure and in their
faithfulness', p. 83); E. S. Malbon, `Text and Contexts: Interpreting the Disciples in
Mark', Semeia, 62 (1993), pp. 81± 102; E. S. Malbon, `Disciples, Crowds, Whoever:
Markan Characters and Readers', NovT, 28 (1986), pp. 104 ±30; M. A. Powell,
`Toward a Narrative-Critical Understanding of Mark', Int, 47 (1993), pp. 341± 6
(`What is the effect of inviting empathy with characters who are portrayed so
harshly? First, such empathy may enable the narrative's readers to identify their
own inadequacies. Second, Mark's readers are expected to notice that, no matter
how faithless Jesus' disciples are to him, he always remains faithful to them', p. 344);
K.-G. Reploh, Markus ± Lehrer der Gemeinde. Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Studie zu den
JuÈngerperikopen des Markus-Evangeliums (Stuttgarter biblische Monographien, 9; Stutt-
gart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1969); R. C. Tannehill, `Disciples' in Telford (ed.),
Interpretation (`The author assumes that there are essential similarities between the
disciples and his anticipated readers, so that what he reveals about the disciples may
become a revelation about the readers and so enable them to change', pp. 190 ±1).
bracketed together with the scribes in Mark 9.14, 18±19 in such
a way that both fall under Jesus' condemnation as belonging to
`this wicked generation'. The description that Mark applies to
Jesus' enemies is applied similarly to them. Their hearts have
become `hardened' (Mk 6.52; 8.17 with 3.5; 10.5). The language
used to characterize `those outside' in Mark 4.11±12 is also
echoed in Mark 8.17±18 where it is used by Jesus in connection
with the disciples. Peter, moreover, is described as `Satan' (Mk
8.33), a passage omitted, as we have seen, by Luke, and
modi®ed by Matthew (see Mt. 16.23 and parallel). The disciples
are shown not only to be obtuse, but ridiculously so (Mk 8.4 in
light of 6.34±44 or 8.14±21; 9.10, 32). They are revealed as
fearful, afraid, even cowardly (Mk 4.40±1; 6.50±51; 9.6, 32;
10.32; 14.50). Exhorted to have faith, they are admonished for
not possessing it (Mk 4.40; 9.19; 11.22). For lack of such faith,
they are unable to work miracles (Mk 9.18, 19, 23).
A further point to note is that they (and thereby Mark's
readers) are taught by Jesus the marks of the true disciple. Such
a disciple must be last of all, and servant of all (Mk 9.35). He
must be willing to take up his cross and follow Jesus (Mk 8.34).
He must not seek to save his own life, but be willing to lose that
life for Jesus' sake (Mk 8.35). The true disciple will not deny
Jesus but confess him, and whoever is ashamed of Jesus will be
denied by the Son of Man at his parousia (Mk 8.38). The true
disciple will also keep watch lest his master return and ®nd him
asleep (Mk 13.35±7).
Measured against such criteria, the twelve reveal an abject
de®ciency. By contrast, they are shown to be eager to be ®rst,
not last, and to have power and status for themselves (Mk
9.33±7; 10.28±31, 35±45). One of their number, Judas, is shown
to betray him, and Mark repeatedly draws attention to the fact
that he was òne of the twelve' ± in chapter 14, indeed, no less
than three times (Mk 3.19; 14.10, 17ff., 43)! Jesus' innermost circle
cannot keep watch and their master returns three times to ®nd
them asleep (Mk 14.32±42). All of them are shown deserting
Jesus to save their own lives (Mk 14.27, 50 ± a passage, I repeat,
which is omitted by Luke). The most prominent of them, Peter,
denies his master not once, but again three times (Mk 14.54,
66±72). This dramatic treatment, especially in chapter 14, far
exceeds what one would expect of someone with mere peda-
gogic or pastoral concerns (the betrayal of table-fellowship, the
threefold inability to keep watch, the threefold return by Jesus,
betrayal by a kiss, and by òne of the twelve', the threefold
denial by Peter, etc.).
Furthermore, one cannot help noticing that the other minor
characters in the Markan narrative do for Jesus what his
original Jewish disciples fail to do.212 It is the `crowd' who ¯ock
to him, receive his teaching eagerly and gladly hear him (Mk
2.13; 3.9, 20, 32; 4.1; 5.21, 24; 6.34, 45; 7.14, 17; 8.1, 34; 9.14; 10.1,
46; 11.18, 32; 12.12, 37), although they also in the end (stirred up
by the chief priests) clamour for his cruci®xion (Mk 15.8±15). It
is the father of the demon-possessed boy who is shown seeking,
and thereby demonstrating faith, not the disciples (Mk 9.23±4
with 9.18±19). It is a woman outside of their circle who comes
and anoints him `beforehand for burial' (Mk 14.3±9). Mark tells
us she is reproached for this but has Jesus defend her action and
say that hereafter, wherever the gospel is preached throughout
the world (namely the Hellenistic world), it will be remembered
who it is that has anointed him (Mk 14.9). It is Simon of Cyrene,
the father of Alexander and Rufus, Mark informs his readers,
and not one of his disciples, who takes up Jesus' cross (Mk
15.21).213 It is a Gentile, a Roman centurion, not one of the
twelve, who is the ®rst human being to recognize and confess
him to be the `Son of God', and hence more than the Jewish
Messiah (Mk 15.39). It is Joseph of Arimathaea who obtains his
body, and buries him (Mk 15.42±7), again not the disciples, a
de®ciency in sharp contrast to the conduct of John the Baptist's
disciples after his death (Mk 6.29). Finally, it is the women, not
the disciples, who come to anoint him after his burial and who
receive the message that he has risen (Mk 16.1±8).
In light of these observations, E. Best's judgment that `the
total structure of the second half of the Gospel supports a
positive evaluation of the role of the disciples' would appear to
212
See Tannehill, `Disciples' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, p. 190.
213
Some have suggested that these were Gentile Christians known to Mark's commun-
ity; cf. Acts 6.9; 11.19; 13.1; Rom. 16.13.
be a misguided one.214 If Mark's disciples are merely proto-
typical Christians whose narrative presence is only meant to
advance pastoral or pedagogic aims, we must surely ask why
Matthew and Luke should have felt it necessary to alter, omit or
otherwise tone down Mark's treatment in order to achieve a
similar aim? Can it be that they recognized the derogatory
nature of Mark's treatment? It is dissatisfaction, indeed, with
the pastoral or pedagogic explanation offered by scholars such
as Best which has led a smaller number of scholars to opt for a
second and more radical form of explanation, namely a polemical
one. The unknown author of Mark's Gospel, it is proposed,
was ill-disposed towards the leaders of the original Jerusalem
church and saw them, among other things, as representatives
of a Christology and soteriology which he wished to oppose
(see, for example, S. G. F. Brandon, E. TrocmeÂ, J. B. Tyson,
T. J. Weeden).215
But what was that Christology and/or soteriology? Two
particularly in¯uential theories have already been mentioned.
The ®rst was that of T. J. Weeden who claimed, we recall, that
Mark's treatment of the disciples re¯ected an attack on a theios
aneÅr or divine-man Christology which had no place for the
cross, a perspective which (in its blindness) emphasized the role
of Jesus as a Hellenistic miracle-worker without recognizing the
divine necessity of his redemptive suffering and death. Jesus'
disciples are representatives of a divine man Christology which
saw Jesus as a theios aneÅr with paranormal and charismatic gifts
(and imitated him as such), but which placed no theological
signi®cance on his cruci®xion. It was Mark's aim to combat
such an estimate of Jesus by juxtaposing the accounts of his
miracles alongside that of his passion and death. While I myself
would concur with Weeden in recognizing a polemic against
214
Best, Disciples and Discipleship, p. 122. Best suggests, for example, that Mark's
redactional activity (by widening references to apply to all the disciples) takes the
spotlight off Peter in the tradition (pp. 162± 76). Thus the evangelist is actually
responsible for a modi®cation of the tradition's harsh treatment of the twelve, which
Matthew and Luke continue.
215
See Brandon, Zealots, pp. 125 ± 37; Tyson, `Blindness' in Tuckett (ed.), Secret, pp.
35 ± 43; Weeden, Traditions; Weeden, `Heresy' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp.
89 ± 104.
the original followers of Jesus in Mark, and further that the
Gospel re¯ects the tension between opposing Christologies in
the early church, I am of the opinion nevertheless that he has
incorrectly identi®ed the opposing Christologies. As earlier
stated, I ®nd it implausible to believe that Jesus' original Jewish
disciples should be credited with a Christology which is clearly
the product of a Hellenistic outlook. Mark has used the miracle
tradition moreover to enhance a `Son of God' or epiphany
Christology and not, I have argued, to combat it.
The second polemical theory, that of J. B. Tyson, was found,
on the other hand, to be more plausible. According to Tyson,
Mark was attacking the Christology of the primitive Jewish-
Christian community which saw Jesus as a royal Messiah, the
Son of David, who was shortly to return, and which saw
theological signi®cance in his resurrection but not in his cruci-
®xion. It was this community, the Jerusalem church, which
wielded authority (or sought to) over the nascent Gentile
churches founded before 70 CE by the Hellenistic wing of the
Urgemeinde, in the person of the Seven (Acts 6ff.)and Paul.216
This theory has much to commend it, although one has to
add that an equally primitive view of Jesus as the exalted,
apocalyptic Son of Man shortly to return in glory is in addition
being modi®ed by the evangelist in light of his theologia crucis.217
If this view is correct (and all such historical reconstructions can
only remain tentative), then it raises afresh the whole question
of the theological purpose of this Gospel, its provenance,
addressees, and setting. Before we address this issue in our
concluding section, we must take up the question whether Mark
216
It is interesting to speculate whether the Markan Jesus may be speaking in 10.42± 4
for Gentile Christians who felt the long arm of the Urgemeinde in their communities.
217
In his article (`Blindness'), Tyson refers to the view of E. Lohmeyer that Mark stood
within the tradition of Galilean Christianity which embraced a `Son of Man'
Christology in contradistinction to the `Son of David' Christology represented by
the Jerusalem church (p. 41). This is an intriguing hypothesis, and ties in to some
extent with my own view that the evangelist rejects a `Son of David' Christology
while giving quali®ed acceptance to a `Son of Man' one. I say `quali®ed', however,
because of Mark's distinctive emphasis on redemptive suffering. A Jewish-Christian
`Son of Man' Christology may have offered the evangelist a route towards a more
transcendent Jesus, but the heart of his Christology remains that of the more
Pauline (or at least Hellenistic) suffering `Son of God'.
saw the twelve as having any leadership role in the early church
after the resurrection. Best and others have said that he does, by
virtue of Mark 14.28 and 16.7, but this very much depends on
our interpretation of these verses. It is to the signi®cance of the
Markan ending, therefore, that we shall now turn.
As before, let me sum up. In this section, we have explored
Mark's treatment of two principal character-groups, the Jewish
leaders and Jesus' disciples. Surprisingly we have found that
what unites these two apparently antagonistic groups is a shared
blindness to the true status and mission of Jesus, as understood
by Mark. Warned to `beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and
the leaven of Herod/Herodians' (Mk 8.15), the disciples in the
end appear to share their selfsame hardness of heart, incompre-
hension and lack of faith. Despite some protests, 218 this `blind-
ness' motif and its development has been recognized not only as
a structural component in the composition of the Gospel,219 but
also as a fundamental element of Mark's Christological perspec-
tive,220 as well as his eschatological world-view.221 The `blind-
ness' motif as applied both to the Jewish leaders and the disciples
is yet another aspect of the secrecy motif, and Mark uses the
concept to enhance his Christology.
the purpose of mark's gospel

Ànd they said nothing to anyone': the signi®cance of the Markan ending
In this section, I want to take up the question raised earlier
whether Mark saw the twelve as having any signi®cant leadership
218
See C. Focant, `L'incompreÂhension des disciples dans le deuxieÁme eÂvangile', Revue
biblique, 82 (1975), pp. 161 ±85.
219
See E. Schweizer, `Mark's Theological Achievement' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation,
pp. 63 ±87. Schweizer charts the motif throughout Mark, and sees it as a thematic
element of his now widely accepted outline of the Gospel. Às Part 1 [Mk 1.14 ± 3.6]
ended with the blindness of the Pharisees and Part 2 [Mk 3.7 ±6.6a] with the
blindness of Jesus' fellow-citizens, so Part 3 [Mk 6.6b± 8.21] ends with the blindness
of the disciples themselves' (p. 74).
220
Tyson, `Blindness' in Tuckett (ed.), Secret, pp. 35 ± 43.
221
`By yielding to Satan's temptation the disciples join the Jewish authorities in the
cosmic struggle of Satan against Jesus which began at the temptation in the wilder-
ness, continued in the struggle with demoniacs, advances through the historical
context of these debates to right and left, and reaches its climax in the cruci®xion
and resurrection' (Robinson, Problem, p. 51).
role in the early church after the resurrection. If this were so, it
would serve to qualify the view that the Gospel is a polemical
work directed against them. Best and others have claimed that
Mark does envisage such a role, and that by virtue of the two
important verses, Mk 14.28 and 16.7 (`Go tell his disciples that
he goes before you to Galilee. There you will see him'). These
verses anticipate Jesus' post-resurrection reunion with his dis-
ciples, and therefore their subsequent rehabilitation. It is to the
signi®cance of these verses, therefore, in the context of the
Markan ending, that we shall now turn.
Let us consider ®rst of all the nature and content of the
empty tomb story. Its main features can be stated as follows.
After the burial of Jesus by Joseph of Arimathea (Mk 15.42±7),
three named women come to the tomb to anoint Jesus' body
(Mk 16.1±5). An announcement is given to them by a young
man that Jesus has risen and is not there (Mk 16.6). Jesus, they
are told, is to precede them to Galilee and there they will see
him. This is accompanied by an instruction that the promise,
which has already been given (Mk 14.28), be reported to the
disciples and Peter (Mk 16.7). The reader is informed, however,
that the message wasn't relayed by the women (Mk 16.8). The
Gospel ends abruptly therefore with the women's timid dis-
obedience.222 No post-resurrection appearances of Jesus to his
disciples are recounted.
The Markan ending has attracted considerable scholarly
attention.223 The historical plausibility of the account has been
222
Pace D. Catchpole, `The Fearful Silence of the Women at the Tomb', JTSouthAfr, 18
(1977), pp. 3± 10. The `fear', according to Catchpole, is numinous fear, the result of
an epiphany, and not cowardly fear.
223
For some fuller treatments, classic or recent, see, for example, P. L. Danove, The End
of Mark's Story. A Methodological Study (Biblical Interpretation 3; Leiden, New York
and Cologne: Brill, 1993); R. H. Fuller, The Formation of the Resurrection Narratives
(New York: Macmillan; London: SPCK, 1971), pp. 50 ± 70; R. H. Lightfoot,
Locality and Doctrine in the Gospels (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1938), pp. 1± 48;
R. H. Lightfoot, The Gospel Message of St Mark (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1950), pp.
80 ± 97; J. L. Magness, Sense and Absence. Structure and Suspension in the Ending of Mark's
Gospel (SBL Semeia Series; Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1986); W. Marxsen, The
Resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth (London: SCM Press; Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press,
1968), pp. 25 ± 78; Marxsen, Mark, pp. 54 ± 116; N. Perrin, The Resurrection Narratives. A
New Approach (London: SPCK, 1977), pp. 17 ± 40. For a review of recent approaches,
see Telford, `History of Developments' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 37 ± 9;
Telford, Mark, pp. 147 ±9.
severely questioned by scholars.224 A number of traditio-critical
studies have attempted to determine whether or to what extent
it has drawn on previous tradition, and whether or to what
degree it is redactional.225 The key question that we shall
pursue, however, is this: why is it that the earliest gospel
contains no post-resurrection appearances to the disciples? To
appreciate the full signi®cance of the Markan ending one needs
to compare and contrast this ending with the other resurrection
and post-resurrection traditions of the early church.
Where the pre-Markan tradition is concerned, the earliest
recorded claim to post-resurrection appearances on the part of
Jesus to his disciples are those reported by Paul in 1 Corinthians
15.3±8. Since Paul states that these claims were passed on to
him, we may assume that they pre-date the mid-®fties when
Paul was writing his Corinthian correspondence. Paul's state-
ment, it must be noted, does not convey any certain knowledge
of the empty tomb story as we have it in Mark, unless (and this
is unlikely) `he was buried' (etapheÅ ) has its literal meaning `he
was placed in a sepulchre/entombed' (1 Cor. 15.4). Paul's
statement, moreover, only lists these alleged post-resurrection
appearances (to Cephas, to the twelve, to more than ®ve
hundred brethren, to James, to all the apostles, and ®nally to
Paul himself ), but offers little in the way of narrative details. We
are not told when they occurred, or where they occurred
(whether Galilee, Jerusalem or elsewhere), or even what form
the appearances took. These reported appearances, further-
more, are dif®cult to correlate with the narrative accounts in
the Gospels. No women, one also observes, are mentioned in
the Pauline list. In the case of the appearance to Paul himself
(see also 1 Cor. 9.1 and Gal. 1.11±17), the writer of the Acts of
the Apostles, writing in the eighties, supplies no less than three
such narrative accounts (Acts 9, 22, 26) but each offers a slightly
224
See Fuller, Formation, pp. 51 ±2.
225
See P. Perkins, Resurrection. New Testament Witness and Contemporary Re¯ection (Garden
City, NY: Doubleday, 1984), pp. 114 ± 24, 138± 44. For an assessment, see F. Neirynck,
`Marc 16,1± 8. Tradition et reÂdaction', ETL, 56 (1980), pp. 56 ±88. For the view that
Mark created the story, see J. D. Crossan, Èmpty Tomb and Absent Lord (Mark
16:1 ±8)' in W. H. Kelber (ed.), The Passion in Mark. Studies on Mark 14 ± 16 (Philadel-
phia, PA: Fortress Press, 1976), pp. 135 ±52.
different version. In sum, then, we may say that before the
writing of Mark's Gospel, the tradition available to Paul knows
of certain claims to post-resurrection appearances on the part
of Jesus' original disciples, but does not specify their nature,
time or location. Narrative details are not supplied by Paul, and
the Markan story of the discovery of the empty tomb is
apparently unknown to him. The ®rst narrative account of the
discovery of the empty tomb, therefore, appears to be Markan,
and all subsequent narrative accounts relating to both empty
tomb and post-resurrection appearances are post-Markan.
The ®rst of these is that by Matthew, whose account of the
®nding of the empty tomb is based on that of Mark, that is, up
until Mark 16.8 (Mt. 28.1±7). The Markan account, however,
has been subject to considerable embellishment by Matthew.
The great earthquake, the descent of the angel (replacing the
young man), the terri®ed guards at the tomb, their subsequent
report to, and silencing by the authorities are all details not
supplied by his source (Mt. 28.2±4, 11±15). The guarding of the
tomb in particular is clearly a legendary addition with the
apologetic aim of countering a claim, circulating as early as the
eighties, that the disciples had stolen the body of Jesus. As in
Mark, the women are instructed to inform the disciples of Jesus'
promised appearance in Galilee, but, in sharp contrast to Mark,
the message this time is relayed (Mt. 28.8), with Jesus himself
making a brief appearance to them on the way (Mt. 28.9±10).
Having altered his source in this manner, Matthew then sup-
plies the promised Galilean appearance to the disciples (Mt.
28.16±20). On `the mountain to which Jesus (but not Mark!)
had directed them' (Mt. 28.16), they are commissioned to `make
disciples of all nations', with evangelism, as well as leadership of
the post-Easter church (Mt. 16.17±19; 18.18), their future role.
Luke's resurrection narrative is also based on the empty tomb
story of Mark, again, that is, up until Mark 16.8 (Lk. 24.1±7). In
common with Matthew, however, Luke informs his readers that
the message of the angels (now more than one!) to the disciples
was relayed by the women, but in this case disbelieved (Lk.
24.8±11). Mention is made of a post-resurrection appearance to
Peter (Lk. 24.34), but no narrative account is given. Narrative
accounts of post-resurrection appearances, however, are given,
although these, it is to be noted, are set in the vicinity of
Jerusalem, not in Galilee, as given in Matthew (and hinted at in
Mark). In consequence, the implied Markan reference to Jesus'
appearance in Galilee (Mk 16.7) is deliberately altered by Luke
(see also Mk 14.28 which is omitted). The third evangelist's
special stories feature an appearance to two disciples on the
Emmaus road (Lk. 24.13±35), and a manifestation to the eleven
in Jerusalem (Lk. 24.36±49) in which the Lukan Jesus eats
before his disciples after inviting them to touch his hands and
his feet. Such motifs have an apologetic aim, either to counter
the claim that the appearances were hallucinations, or to offset
a docetic tendency to view the risen Jesus as a spirit. As with the
Matthean account, the disciples are commissioned for their role
in the post-Easter church, and, according to Acts, receive a
forty-day period of instruction (Acts 1.1±11). This commission is
to involve the preaching of repentance, and the forgiveness of
sins, `starting from Jerusalem' (Lk. 24.47). The eleven are also to
be witnesses (Lk. 24.48), and a promise of the Spirit is given (Lk.
24.49; Acts 1.4, 5, 8; 2.1ff.). A further special feature of the
Lukan account is the climactic ascension scene. This is absent
from the Markan and Matthean accounts but present in certain
of our textual witnesses for Luke as well as in Acts (Lk. 24.51;
Acts 1.9±11). Some manuscripts of Luke also include a passage
(Lk. 24.12) in which Peter, following the disbelief with which the
women's words are greeted, runs to the tomb, nevertheless, to
investigate (Lk. 24.24).
A similar but more developed version of this story is found in
John 20 where once again the message is relayed (by Mary
Magdalene only) to both Peter and the beloved disciple (a new
character) who run to the tomb to check. An appearance to
Mary Magdalene is presented ( Jn 20.11±18; cf. Mt. 28.9±10) as
well as to the disciples in Jerusalem ( Jn 20.19±23, 24±9; cf. Lk.
24.36±49). After being commissioned ( Jn 20.21), the disciples
receive the Holy Spirit directly from Jesus (compare and con-
trast Lk. 24.49 and Acts 2.1ff.), and are given authority to
forgive or retain sins ( Jn 20.23; cf. Mt. 16.19; 18.18). In what
may be (at least in part) an appendix by a later hand, John 21
presents a further appearance to seven disciples including Peter,
this time in Galilee. Here we may be witnessing the combi-
nation of the Matthean and Lukan traditions of separate
Galilee/Jerusalem appearances. In yet another commissioning
scene, the disciples, and in particular Peter, are once again
given a role in the post-Easter church. By means of the
miraculous draught of ®shes allegory, apparently an embel-
lished variant of the earlier Ì will make you ®shers of men' story
(Mk 1.16±20; Lk. 5.1±11), the Fourth Gospel not only encapsu-
lates the disciples' future task of evangelism but also, after his
threefold declaration of love and loyalty (contrast Mk 14.54,
66±72 and his threefold denial), Peter's subsequent leadership
role.
A further development in the empty tomb story is re¯ected in
the second century apocryphal Gospel of Peter 8.28±14.60.226
Here there is a highly fanciful account of the resurrection itself
(the emergence from the tomb of two giant ®gures with a third
carrying a cross), with the people of Jerusalem coming out to
see the sepulchre, and not only the guards (together with a
centurion, Petronius) but also the elders and scribes being
present for the event. This account, too, has an apologetic aim,
and was perhaps created, among other things, to counter the
claim that post-resurrection appearances were suspect because
they happened to Jesus' disciples only. Further tradition is
re¯ected in the apocryphal Gospel of the Hebrews227 in which Jesus
®rst makes an appearance to his own brother James to whom he
passes on his mantle of authority (contrast 1 Cor. 15.7).228
Despite all the differences to be discerned in these developing
accounts, many of which can be put down to imaginative
embellishment or to apologetic or doctrinal factors, certain
common and fundamental elements stand out. A major feature
(and function) of the post-resurrection appearance traditions,
226
E. Hennecke and W. Schneemelcher (eds.), New Testament Apocrypha (London: SCM
Press, 1963), Vol. I, pp. 185 ±7.
227
The fragment is cited by Jerome, De Viris Illustribus, 2; see W. Schneemelcher, New
Testament Apocrypha (Cambridge: James Clarke; Louisville, KY: Westminster John
Knox Press, 1991), p. 178.
228
For yet further developments, see also Epistula Apostolorum and The Acts of Pilate
(Schneemelcher, Apocrypha, Vol. I, pp. 249 ± 84; pp. 505ff.)
indeed perhaps even a generative element, is to show the
original disciples as having a leadership role in the post-Easter
community in consequence of having been directly commis-
sioned by the risen Jesus. Our brief survey of the trajectory of
resurrection and post-resurrection traditions in the early church
serves moreover to highlight the distinctive features of the
Markan ending. Mark's Gospel offers us our ®rst narrative
account of the discovery of the empty tomb. In contrast with the
earlier Pauline tradition, our earliest Gospel informs us that a
message that he had risen was ®rst delivered to the women, and
that the disciples and Peter were to be told (or rather retold)
that he would appear (after his resurrection) in Galilee (and not
in Jerusalem, as in Luke). In contrast with all the other Gospel
accounts, it informs us that this message was not relayed. In
contrast to the Lukan or Johannine tradition, there was no visit
by Peter or anyone else to the empty tomb (cf. Lk. 24.12 (variant
reading); Jn 20.3±10). In contrast with all the pre-Markan and
post-Markan traditions, there is no account of any post-resur-
rection appearances to Peter, to the eleven, to James, to the
apostles, to the women, to Mary Magdalene, to the two on the
Emmaus road, either in Galilee or in Jerusalem, far less an
account of the resurrection itself at which guards and Jewish
authorities were present. In consequence, no commission is
given to the disciples to play a role in the post-Easter church.
No leadership role is granted to them, as in each of the other
Gospels. There is no receipt (or even a promise) of the Holy
Spirit, as in Luke and John (though see Mk 13.11). There is no
restoration of Peter after his denial, as in Jn 21.15±17 or Lk.
22.31±32. There is no ascension scene after a period of teaching,
as in Luke±Acts.
It is no wonder then that the Markan conclusion was from a
very early time regarded as inadequate or incomplete. As a
result, a number of endings were supplied by the early church
which were not part of the original text of Mark.229 One
ending, the `Shorter Ending', adds the following verse after
229
For text-critical comment on these endings, see, for example, C. E. B. Cran®eld,
`Mark, Gospel of ' in IDB, pp. 275 ±6; J. K. Elliott, `The Text and Language of the
Endings to Mark's Gospel', TZ, 27 (1971), pp. 255 ± 62; Fuller, Formation, pp. 155 ± 9;
Mark 16.8: `But they reported brie¯y to Peter and those with
him all that they had been told. And after this, Jesus himself
sent out by means of them, from east to west, the sacred and
imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation' (Mk 16.9).
Present in several uncials of the seventh, eighth and ninth
centuries, a few minuscules and several ancient versions, this
ending has a high incidence of non-Markan words and a
different rhetorical tone to the rest of the Markan Gospel. It is
`gnostic-sounding', according to R. H. Fuller,230 and the last
clause in particular betrays the hand of a later Greek theologian
(B. M. Metzger).231 Again it is to be observed that the text has
Jesus commission his disciples for a world-wide mission not
con®ned to Jews alone.
A second ending is the so-called `Longer Ending' (Mk
16.9±20) which is present in the King James version but lacking
in our oldest manuscripts as well as from all Greek manuscripts
known to Eusebius and Jerome. It is not attested in Greek
manuscripts of the New Testament before the ®fth century. Its
earliest attestation is by Irenaeus, and so it probably arose in the
mid-second century, or shortly before. It was clearly unknown
to Matthew or Luke who both sharply diverge, as we have seen,
after Mark. 16.8. Lacking Markan style and content (as well as a
smooth juncture between Mk 16.8 and 16.9), it presents us with
seventeen non-Markan words, or words used in a non-Markan
sense. By common consent, it is either an arti®cial, composite
summary of the resurrection traditions in the other Gospels,
designed presumably to bring Mark into line with them
(W. Marxsen), or a catechetical summary of post-resurrection
appearances drawing on some independent elements of the
tradition (B. H. Streeter, C. E. B. Cran®eld, R. H. Fuller).
While the text has Jesus upbraid the disciples for their unbelief
and hardness of heart, it has him commission the twelve,
B. M. Metzger, The Text of the New Testament. Its Transmission, Corruption, and Restoration
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964), pp. 226± 9.
230
R. H. Fuller, A Critical Introduction to the New Testament (London: Duckworth, 1966),
p. 107.
231
Metzger, Text, p. 228.
nevertheless, and give them authority to carry out a mission to
all the world, to Jews and Gentile alike.
The third ending, the so-called Èxpanded Longer Ending'
consists of an addition after Mark 16.14 (the Freer Logion).232
Occurring in the ®fth century Washington Codex only, it was
known to Jerome and was possibly inserted at the end of the
second century or beginning of the third to soften the rebuke to
the disciples.
Since all these endings are secondary, then, to return to the
main question, how do we explain the astonishing fact that our
earliest Gospel records no post-resurrection appearances to the
disciples? Three possibilities have been suggested. The ®rst is
that Mark's Gospel, as we have it, is incomplete, and was not
intended to end at 16.8. The second is that Mark's Gospel was
intended to end at 16.8, but the evangelist included no narrative
accounts of post-resurrection appearances since these were not
known to him. A third possibility is that Mark's Gospel was
intended to end at 16.8, that Mark did know of these post-
resurrection accounts, but that he deliberately chose to omit
them. If so, we must ask why?
Is Mark's Gospel incomplete? In support of this ®rst possi-
bility, three main arguments have been advanced. In the ®rst
place, it is inconceivable that Mark could have recorded no
post-resurrection appearances when claims for such (if not
narrative accounts) were in existence prior to the writing of his
Gospel (1 Cor. 15.3±8). Mk 14.28 and 16.7 appear, indeed, to
indicate knowledge of these. Secondly, the Gospel as it stands
ends with the words `for they were afraid' (ephobounto gar). A
sentence, paragraph and especially a book cannot end, it has
been said, with a conjunction (gar). The verb `to be afraid'
( phobeisthai), furthermore, cannot be used absolutely, but re-
quires a direct object (`for they feared . . .'), an in®nitive (`for
they were afraid to . . .' ), or a complementary clause (`for they
were afraid that/lest . . .'). Thirdly, would Mark have left his
readers with this picture of the original Jewish-Christian com-
munity's womenfolk, depicting those who had followed Jesus
232
Named after Charles Freer who ®rst obtained it in Cairo in 1906, and deposited it in
the Freer Gallery of Art in Washington.
(including his mother) as overcome with fear and, disobedient
to the young man's message, telling no one?
To account for the Gospel's abrupt end, various hypotheses
have been advanced. Some would hold that the Gospel was
never completed by Mark, the work being interrupted by his
incapacity, premature death, imprisonment or martyrdom.
Others claim that the last leaf of the Gospel suffered uninten-
tional loss or damage, others still that the evangelist had written
something which was later regarded as heretical and the last
leaf was deliberately removed by an editor who objected to its
contents.
The following, however, can be said by way of reply. The ®rst
of these objections surely begs the question, although the
interpretation of Mark 14.28 and 16.7 poses a special problem
to which we shall shortly return. The literary considerations,
however, can be easily dispensed with. Since these objections
were ®rst raised, the stylistic possibility of a sentence, paragraph
and even a book ending with gar has now been established
without doubt.233 Mark uses the verb phobeisthai twelve times,
and apart from 16.8, it occurs in the absolute sense some ®ve
times (Mk 5.15, 33, 36; 6.50; 10.32). There is no example of its
use in Mark with a complementary clause. The psychological
objection also begs the question. The `fear' motif is a common
one in Mark and is often tied up with the notion of unbelief (Mk
4.40±41; 6.50±52; 9.6, 32; 10.32±34). It is entirely appropriate,
therefore, that the evangelist should end with such a statement.
Where hypotheses of an incomplete ending are concerned,
arguments in respect of the evangelist's alleged incapacity,
imprisonment and death are purely speculative, but even if one
were to concede these as possibilities, one may question why
Mark's community or followers did not immediately afterwards
supply the intended conclusion. This never happened as the
versions of Mark used by Matthew and Luke indicate (they
diverge, as we have observed, after 16.8). Where loss or damage
233
Lightfoot, Locality, pp. 10 ± 18; Lightfoot, Mark, pp. 85 ± 6; P. W. van der Horst, `Can a
Book End with gaÂr? A Note on Mark xvi.8', JTS, 23 (1972), pp. 121 ±4. Cf. also
Gen. 18.15 (LXX). For Mark's fondness for explanatory gar clauses, see C. H. Bird,
`Some gaÂr Clauses in St. Mark's Gospel', JTS, 4 (1953), pp. 171 ±87.
was concerned, this too had to have happened shortly after the
Gospel was written (on a codex and not a scroll), and before
copies were made, since the copies that reached Matthew and
Luke both lacked the supposed original ending. Why did Mark
not supply a new conclusion, or if he had suffered incapacity or
death in the meantime, why did neither his community nor his
disciples supply the conclusion from memory (or tradition?).
The notion of suppression is also problematic. It involves three
areas of speculation: on the existence of an ending beyond 16.8,
on the contents of such, and on an unknown editor prior to
Matthew or Luke who disapproved of it and its contents. 234
For many of the reasons above, the majority of scholars
would now hold that 16.8 was the original ending of the
Gospel,235 and this judgment has been reinforced by recent
literary studies.236 These have argued that, in terms of `closure',
Mark 16.8 ful®ls textually generated plot patterns or expecta-
tions. Indeed the verse itself permits no continuation (Ànd they
said nothing to anyone. For they were afraid')!
If the Gospel ended at 16.8, then, to repeat our question, why
are there no post-resurrection appearances to the disciples?
Was it because the evangelist knew of no such accounts? Those
espousing this second possibility would claim that Mark knows
of the resurrection event as such but as with the primitive
community could have believed that Jesus had been immedi-
ately exalted or `translated' to heaven like Enoch or Elijah (Mk
16.6), thence to return as the triumphant Son of Man.237 There
is no evidence, apart from Mark 14.28 and 16.7, however, that
Mark knew of alleged post-resurrection appearances by the
234
W. Marxsen, Introduction to the New Testament. An Approach to its Problems (Oxford:
Blackwell, 1968), pp. 139 ± 42.
235
W. G. KuÈmmel, Introduction to the New Testament (London: SCM Press, 1975), pp.
98± 101.
236
See, for example, T. E. Boomershine and G. L. Bartholomew, `The Narrative
Technique of Mark 16:8', JBL, 100 (1981), pp. 213 ±23; T. E. Boomershine, `Mark
16:8 and the Apostolic Commission', JBL, 100 (1981), pp. 225 ± 39; F. Kermode, `The
Structures of Fiction', Modern Language Notes, 84 (1969), pp. 891± 915; A. T. Lincoln,
`The Promise and the Failure: Mark 16:7, 8' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp.
229 ±51; N. R. Petersen, `When is the End not the End? Literary Re¯ections on the
Ending of Mark's Narrative', Int, 34 (1980), pp. 151± 66; Powell, ` Mark', pp. 341± 6.
237
See N. Q. Hamilton, `Resurrection Tradition and the Composition of Mark', JBL,
84 (1965), pp. 415 ± 21.
risen Jesus to speci®c people (as listed by Paul in 1 Cor. 15.5±8)
prior to his `translation' to heaven. The two problematic verses,
Mark 14.28 and 16.7, which suggest that he does know of such
claims, can equally be interpreted as referring not to his
resurrection but to his parousia, believed shortly to occur in
Galilee (see E. Lohmeyer, W. Marxsen).238 When the young
man declares `there you will see him (Mk 16.7), the verb used
here (horan) is the same as that used of his parousia in Mark 9.1,
13.26 and 14.62. When Mark was writing, therefore, actual
narrative accounts of post-resurrection appearances by Jesus to
his disciples prior to his exaltation and parousia were perhaps
only beginning to develop and circulate. The early church was
prone to extend the tradition at the beginning and at the end of
Jesus' life. The separate birth and infancy narratives to be found
in Matthew and Luke as well as in the later Apocryphal Gospels
testify to this, and one may compare likewise the development
in the post-resurrection accounts traced earlier. Such accounts
as we have in the later Gospels, then, may be the product of
subsequent embellishment and/or invention.
These arguments are compelling, but again certain objec-
tions can be raised.239 The verb used of `seeing' Jesus (horan),
while it may be used of his parousia, is also used in the New
Testament of the post-resurrection appearances (see 1 Cor. 9.1).
The speci®c reference in Mark 16.7 to `the disciples and Peter'
does seem to suggest the post-resurrection appearances to
`Cephas and the twelve' referred to by Paul in 1 Corinthians
15.5. It would be reasonable to assume, then, that Mark is here
betraying his knowledge of the post-resurrection appearances
claimed for Peter and the twelve. The later evangelists,
Matthew and Luke, certainly interpret their source in this way,
taking Mark's words to refer to the promise of a post-resurrec-
tion appearance and not to the parousia. Luke, however, as we
have seen, alters the reference to `Galilee' and locates these
238
See E. Lohmeyer, GalilaÈa und Jerusalem (GoÈttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1936),
pp. 10 ±14; Marxsen, Mark, pp. 83± 92, 111± 16. Cf. also Fuller, Formation, pp. 62± 4;
Lightfoot, Locality, pp. 73 ± 77.
239
See, for example, R. H. Stein, À Short Note on Mark XIV.28 and XVI.7', NTS, 20
(1973 ±4), pp. 445 ± 52.
appearances exclusively in Jerusalem and its environs (Lk. 24.6
and parallel; and note `beginning from Jerusalem' and `stay in
the city' 24.47, 49). Since Mark 14.28 and 16.7 are redactional
(W. Marxsen) and since the Pauline evidence in 1 Corinthians 15
gives no grounds for assuming that the post-resurrection ap-
pearances listed there took place in Galilee, it seems, however,
that Mark is the ®rst in the developing tradition to claim that
Jesus would be seen, or would appear, in Galilee.
Why this stress on Galilee, an interest that appears elsewhere
throughout Mark? It is the view of some scholars (for example,
E. C. Hoskyns, C. F. Evans, J. Schreiber, G. Boobyer) that
references to Galilee in Mark (as with Lukan references to
Jerusalem) carry more of a theological signi®cance than a literal
one.240 For Mark, Galilee is a symbol of the Gentile world.
Galilee, it is claimed, was notorious in Mark's day for its mixed
Gentile±Jewish population. Even in the Old Testament, with
which his readers were familiar, it was on several occasions
associated with the Gentiles (Isa. 9.1) and Matthew who cites
this Isaianic passage certainly understood it in this way (Mt.
4.15). If this is correct, then the signi®cance of the inserted
verses 14.28 and 16.7 in Mark is that the evangelist is telling his
readers that Jesus promised his disciples that he would appear
among the Gentiles, and before them at that!
In Mark's Gospel, then, we have a gospel which ended at
16.8. It records no post-resurrection appearances to Peter and
to the twelve. The import of this omission ± and this, in our
view, has been insuf®ciently taken account of ± is that it fails to
present the original disciples as in receipt of a post-resurrection
commission from Jesus or of any speci®c authority, as in the
later traditions, to exercise a leadership role in the post-Easter
church. While it does anticipate their testimony, and even
Spirit-inspired support under persecution (Mk 13.9±13), it offers
the reader no restoration of Peter after his denial, promises the
240
See G. H. Boobyer, `Galilee and Galileans in St Mark's Gospel', BJRL, 35 (1952 ±3),
pp. 334 ±48; C. F. Evans, Ì will go before you into Galilee', JTS, 5 (1954), pp. 3 ±18;
E. C. Hoskyns, Àdversaria Exegetica', Theology, 7 (1923), pp. 147 ±55; Schreiber,
`Christologie', pp. 154 ± 83, esp. 171± 2; J. Schreiber, Theologie des Vertrauens. Eine
Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung des Markusevangeliums (Hamburg: Furche, 1967), pp.
170 ± 84; see also Fuller, Formation, pp. 58± 62.
original disciples no authority to forgive or retain sins, nor
grants them any promise or receipt of the Spirit in connection
with such a commission. Mark intimates, however, by the
insertion of 14.28 and 16.7, that he, like Paul, knew of alleged
post-resurrection appearances to the disciples and Peter (see
1 Cor. 15.5), although there is no certain evidence that in the
tradition before Mark these were associated with Galilee. Luke,
for his part, felt free to locate them exclusively in Jerusalem and
its environs. Since Mark betrays his knowledge of such alleged
appearances, but does not include them, then we are left with
no other option than that he deliberately chose to omit them.
In keeping with his treatment of the disciples throughout the
Gospel, Mark did so, I suggest, because these stories served to
demonstrate the authority of Jewish Christians as the true
bearers or interpreters of Jesus' message, and to legitimate their
leadership role over nascent Gentile-Christianity. He did so, I
further suggest, on account of the particular status these narra-
tives conferred on the twelve, and the support, therefore, that
such a post-resurrection commission might have given to their
developing hegemony. All the Markan reader is given are two
verses inserted into Mark's material (Mk 14.28; 16.7) in which
there is a promise that Jesus would `go before' ( proagein) the
disciples to Galilee. If we interpret the reference to Galilee
theologically rather than literally, then this is, in effect, a
Gentile mission prediction which Mark introduces into a tradi-
tion which hitherto knew of no such prediction on the part of
the historical Jesus (Mk 13.10; contrast Mt. 10.5±6, 23).
Mark's Gospel ends, therefore, quite appropriately and con-
sistently by proclaiming to the (Gentile-Christian) reader that
the risen Jesus is to be found (as the earthly Jesus was)241 in
`Galilee of the Gentiles', in the Gentile world, but that, as in all
else, his original Jewish disciples didn't get the message! The
ending is an apposite one, then, if we consider the Gospel of
Mark as a Gentile Gospel which may in fact be attacking the
primitive Jewish-Christian community for its resistance not only
to the `secret', namely Jesus' divine status as the `Son of God',
241
See especially Mk 1.14 ± 5.53 (Galilee); 6.1± 9.50 (in the Gentile regions within and
outside Galilee).
but also for its resistance to the Gentile mission, to contacts with
Gentiles, to the sharing of table fellowship etc. This resistance
was met by Hellenistic-Jewish Christians such as Paul and is
inexplicable if Jesus himself had predicted a Gentile mission.
But this raises again the historical questions concerning the aim
of Mark's theology and the purpose of his Gospel, and it is to
these that we shall turn in the ®nal section.
Parenesis or polemic?: Mark's theology in historical perspective

The subject of Mark's theology in its historical setting was
introduced in the ®rst chapter but it is appropriate to return to
it now that we have examined the internal evidence of the
work. It is time to draw everything together, then, and to assess
the question of the Gospel's overall purpose and setting. Before
I do so, let me review the major issues which have arisen in the
course of the discussion, and the conclusions that have been
reached up to this point. We began with some matters of
Ìntroduction'.
Where the date of Mark is concerned, we noted that most
scholars have accepted a time of composition within the period
65±75 CE, that is, just before or just after the Romano-Jewish
War in 66±70. Crucial for a dating speci®cally before or after
this event is the interpretation of Mark 13, and in particular the
question whether the writer composed this passage in light of
the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple. In my
opinion such a knowledge is presupposed, and I have therefore
placed the Gospel in the early seventies. It is unlikely that the
Gospel writer is to be identi®ed with the John Mark of the New
Testament. The Papias evidence which supports this attribution
is unreliable, I have maintained, and the internal evidence
weighs against it. This evidence indicates, however, that our
unknown author was in touch with the Palestinian Jesus tradi-
tion, even if he was, at the same time, unfamiliar with Pal-
estinian geography and Jewish customs. Where the Second
Gospel's provenance is concerned, Galilee, Rome or Syria
(Antioch or rural, small-town southern Syria) have all been
suggested, but, while Rome remains the strongest contender,
certainty in this area is not possible. The internal evidence of
the Gospel, however, would offer support for the view that
Mark's audience consisted of Greek-speaking Christians of
Gentile origin who were in some tension with their Jewish
heritage.
We also observed in passing the problem of history in Mark.
An extremely optimistic view of the historical reliability of the
Markan Gospel has traditionally been defended on the basis of
the hypothesis that John Mark was the author and that, as
Peter's hermeneuteÅs, he drew on the eye-witness testimony of this
prominent ®gure in the primitive Jewish-Christian community.
Apart from Papias, this theory was based almost entirely on the
prominence given to Peter and the twelve in the Gospel, but, as
we have seen, other explanations can account for this interest.
This traditional picture has also come to be seriously challenged
by the ®ndings of source, form and redaction criticism.
In the introduction, we considered what the traditio-critical
methods had contributed to our knowledge of the Gospel's
theology in its historical setting. We enquired whether Mark
had incorporated distinct and extensive written sources into his
Gospel, but here the results were negative. We did, however,
recognize that different types of material are to be found
arranged in rough groupings within the Gospel and linked
together with summary passages. These include miracle stories,
for example, in Mark 1.21±2.12; 4.35±5.43; 6.31±52 and
7.24±8.10, 22±6; controversy pericopae (mostly apophthegms)
in 2.1±3.6, 7.1±23, 11.27±12.40; parables in 4.1±34; sayings
complexes in 3.22±30; 8.34±9.1; 9.33±50; 10.2±45 and 11.22±5;
an apocalyptic discourse in 13 and a passion narrative in 14±15.
Mark was probably responsible for the overall arrangement of
this material, but there exists a distinct possibility that some of
the material in these groupings had already been linked to-
gether before the evangelist took it over.
Form and redaction criticism, tempered by the insights of
literary criticism, have been the other fundamental tools on
which reliance has been placed. Adhering in the main to the
basic axioms and results of form criticism on Mark, I have
throughout regarded the Gospel as a product not of direct eye-
witness testimony but of community traditions compiled, ar-
ranged and interpreted by a creative redactor. The Gospel is
the compilation of a number of single, isolated, easily memor-
ized traditions or pericopae (or small clusters of such pericopae)
which circulated in oral form before being written down. The
traditions with which the evangelist operated had been retained
and transmitted in response to the practical needs of the
Markan community (preaching, teaching, exhortation or paren-
esis, controversy, etc.), and by virtue of constant repetition had
taken on a stereotyped form which is clearly recognizable.
These traditions, moreover, re¯ected the faith of the commu-
nities that preserved them and were stamped with their own
particular estimate of the signi®cance of Jesus' person and
activity. The evangelist ®rst provided the framework in which
these diverse narrative and sayings traditions were brought
together into our ®rst connected Gospel, but, as redaction
criticism has shown us, he did far more than this. One of my
consistent emphases has been that the evangelist was not a
mere compiler, collector or editor of traditions but one who was
to a large degree responsible for the ®nal form of the Gospel. In
this, moreover, he has revealed himself to be a theologian of not
inconsiderable skill.
From a consideration of Mark's sources, oral or written, we
proceeded, therefore, to examine the creative editorial work
conducted by Mark on his sources ± his redaction ± and from
thence to determine his theological outlook and motivation. We
saw that redaction critics had isolated at least seven key redac-
tional features, emphases or motifs in the Gospel. It is worth
reminding ourselves what these were:
(a) the secrecy motif and the writer's interest in the true but
hidden identity of Jesus.
(b) an interest in the passion of Jesus (his suffering, death and
resurrection) and its signi®cance for Christology.
(c) an interest in the nature and coming of the Kingdom of God
and in the question of Jesus' return as Son of Man.
(d) an interest in Galilee.242
242
According to W. Marxsen, Mark, pp. 54 ± 116, all references to Galilee in the Gospel
(except Mk 6.21) are to be considered redactional. Jesus' proclamation of the gospel
(e) his use of the term `gospel' (euangelion).243
(f ) an interest in Gentiles and the Gentile mission.
(g) an interest in persecution, suffering and martyrdom and the true
nature of discipleship.
(h) his harsh treatment of the Jewish leadership groups, Jesus' family
and especially his original disciples.
Any valid theory of the Gospel's overall theological purpose
must take into account all of these distinctive features and assess
them accordingly, as I have attempted to do.
In chapter two, we began our examination of Markan
theology. Two emphases have guided the study. On the one
hand, the scope of the enquiry has been narrowed to focus
especially on Mark's Christology, soteriology and eschatology.
On the other hand, our perspective on Mark's theological
treatment of his traditions has been widened by the attempt to
place these traditions within their broader cultural and religious
context. We ®rst looked at Mark's Christology and the nature
and function of the so-called `Messianic secret' in particular. By
means of this motif Jesus is presented as acting ± in respect of
his teaching and miracles ± in the capacity of the concealed and
unrecognized `Son of God' (unrecognized, that is, except by the
supernatural world and by a Gentile centurion).
Of special importance was the question of the interpretation
of the crucial titles `Son of God' and `Son of Man' in Mark. I
argued that the term `Son of God' was not a common desig-
nation or title for the Messiah as such and hence that what we
have in Mark is not strictly a `Messianic' secret but a `Son of
God' secret.244 In Mark the term has moved in the direction of
being understood in the Hellenistic sense of a pre-existent,
supernatural or divine being present in human form, as an
of the Kingdom of God begins in Galilee (Mk 1.9, 14), a report about him ®rst
spreads throughout Galilee (Mk 1.28), his subsequent activity is centred on Galilee
and the surrounding Gentile regions (e.g. Mk 1.39 et passim), and, contrary to Luke,
Galilee is the location for his promised appearance (Mk 14.28; 16.7).
243
This again, according to Marxsen, is redactional (Mark, pp. 117± 50). The term is
used by Hellenistic Christianity, particularly by Paul, for the `proclamation of a
message of salvation'. This message has as its content the death and resurrection of
Jesus and the salvation effected thereby. If employed in some such sense by Mark,
then it is clearly anachronistic. See Telford, Mark, pp. 120 ± 1.
244
See Schulz, `Markus', pp. 184 ± 97.
epiphany of God, and not in the Jewish sense of a human ®gure
appointed by God, the obedient agent of his will. The primitive
Jewish-Christian community saw Jesus in this latter sense, I
submit, but by virtue of a belief in his resurrection and exalta-
tion to heaven viewed him thereafter as God's eschatological
agent about to return in glory and power either as the Davidic
Messiah, the Son of David or as the apocalyptic Son of Man. In
such a capacity he would bring in the Kingdom of God whose
imminent coming he had proclaimed in his lifetime as a
prophet.
Mark in part rejects, in part modi®es these earlier triumph-
alist Jewish-Christian estimates and does so in two ways. Chris-
tologically, he presents Jesus as he was seen by Gentile
Christians, namely as the divine Son of God, and not as the
Jewish Messiah, the Son of David. By means of the secrecy
motif, the Jesus of the Jewish-Christian tradition is presented to
the reader as the bearer in his earthly life of the more exalted
(but concealed) status of the (divine) Son of God. Soteriologi-
cally, he presents Jesus' suffering and death as not only predes-
tined but as fundamental to salvation (e.g. Mk 10.45). By means
of the passion predictions (Mk 8.31; 9.31; 10.33±4), the other
suffering `Son of Man' sayings (Mk 9.9, 12; 10.45; 14.21 (twice),
41) and the passion narrative, the suffering, death and resurrection of
the returning (apocalyptic) Son of Man is presented as a pre-
ordained part of the divine plan for redemption.
The case for considering these suffering `Son of Man'
sayings as redactional is, as we have seen, a strong one. In
emphasizing the pre-ordained suffering, death and resurrec-
tion of the Son of Man, they serve to bind the passion and
resurrection narrative of chapters 14±16 to the miscellaneous
traditional material presented beforehand. With these em-
phases, therefore, Mark re¯ects a shift away, I believe, from an
earlier Jewish-Christian apocalyptic tradition towards one re-
¯ecting the in¯uence of the Hellenistic kerygma of the cross,
particularly that of Paul, for whom the `Proclaimer' of the
coming Kingdom of God of the Jewish-Christian tradition has
become the one whose saving death, as well as resurrection, is
the content of the message of salvation, the `gospel' proclaimed
among the Gentiles, the `mystery' or `secret' now being made
manifest to them.
This shift in emphasis from apocalyptic eschatology to Chris-
tology and soteriology we traced also in Mark's redaction of the
parables and the Kingdom sayings of the tradition. Originally
elucidating Jesus' proclamation about the coming Kingdom of
God, the parables are seen by Mark as cryptic utterances whose
meaning is only open to those who recognize that Jesus is the
`Son of God' and who, as believers therefore, see the gospel
message pre®gured in them. The Kingdom of God which is
viewed as a future apocalyptic event in the pre-Markan tradi-
tion is now a mystery or secret revealed to the initiated and that
secret is again bound up with Jesus' identity (and presence) as
`Son of God'(on earth). The Gospel of Mark in its eschatology, I
therefore concluded, represents an early stage in the trans-
formation of the apocalyptic hope of both Jesus and primitive
Jewish Christianity. Jesus `the Proclaimer' of the coming
eschatological Kingdom of God is in process of being seen as
`the Proclaimed' in whose person and ministry the Kingdom
was (in another sense) already present. This is the `the secret (or
`mystery') of the Kingdom of God' (Mk 4.11). Eschatology, in
other words, is on the way to being eclipsed by Christology and
soteriology.
A similar movement is to be seen in Mark's treatment of the
miracle tradition. Here I distinguished between an eschato-
logical understanding of the miracles (the miracles as `signs' or
manifestations of the Messiah) and an èpiphanic' or Christolo-
gical one (the miracles as manifestations of the Son of God as
divine man), the former Jewish, the latter more Hellenistic.
While both understandings appeared to be attached to the
miracles of Jesus in the different strands of the pre-Markan
tradition, I inclined to the view that Mark saw the miracles in
an epiphanic light, that is, as the action of a divine man, a theios
aneÅr, the supernatural Son of God. They therefore enhanced his
epiphany Christology.245
Finally, we examined Mark's treatment of the Jewish leader-
245
See K. Kertelge, `The Epiphany of Jesus in the Gospel (Mark)' in Telford (ed.),
Interpretation, pp. 105 ±23.
ship groups, Jesus' family and the twelve. In each case, I
remarked on the denigration to which each of these is subject in
the Markan Gospel. Uniting these two apparently antagonistic
groups is a shared blindness to the true status and mission of
Jesus, as understood by Mark. Both groups are shown to have
rejected Jesus and his way of the cross and to have failed,
despite every invitation, to recognize him as Son of God, as
Gentile Christianity was later to confess him. In turn, Jesus is
shown rejecting them, so appearing to the Markan reader as
one who no longer has Jewish roots, as one no longer to be seen
through Jewish eyes, as one no longer to be accorded a Jewish
identity. Speaking and acting as though with a Hellenistic
Christian community in mind, the Markan Jesus begins to
emerge then as a universal saviour ®gure, one whose very
ministry, according to Mark (but not according to Jewish-
Christians), was conducted with Gentiles in mind. Appropri-
ately then, he `goes before' his original disciples to Galilee,
leaving them behind. The reader is left therefore with no
account of any reunion which offered them rehabilitation after
failure or a commission to lead the post-Easter church.
The nature of Mark's redactional activity hence answers one
of the questions which was posed at the beginning of this book,
namely whether a coherent theology can be seen to be oper-
ating on the pastiche of traditions taken over by the evangelist.
Here an af®rmative answer must be given, for a consistent
theological perspective does appear to inform the Gospel at its
redactional level. Our examination has emphasized in par-
ticular the signi®cance of the secrecy motif, and, in the course
of the discussion, we have observed links between all ®ve
aspects of this motif: the Christological secret, the `parables'
secret, the secret of the `Kingdom of God', the `miracles' secret
and the `Son of Man' secret. It is worth observing, for example,
how in Mk 3.20ff. (a Markan construction), a number of these
Markan themes all come together: the incomprehension of
Jesus' family and the Jewish leaders, the veiled signi®cance of
Jesus' miracles (in this case the exorcisms), Jesus' reply (and self-
disclosure) in parables, the kingdom imagery, the Christological
undertones ( Jesus as the `strong' or rather `stronger man'). The
evangelist's claim is that in the exorcisms of Jesus the kingdom
of Satan is being usurped and (by implication) that of God
being established through the agency of his Son (see the Q
saying Mt. 12.28 par.). Jesus, through his supremacy over Satan,
is, by implication, `the strong(er) man' of the parable but the
true secret of his identity has already been disclosed for the
Markan reader earlier in the passage (Mk 3.11±12) where the
exorcised demons recognize that he is in fact the `Son of God'.
What then was the Gospel's purpose in its historical setting?
A number of theories regarding the purpose of the Gospel and
its setting have been proposed, some of which have been
touched on here.246 These theories have often been divided by
virtue of their opposing views as to whether parenesis 247 or
polemic248 was the primary motive for the Gospel's com-
position. According to V. Taylor, for example, the evangelist
was a simple editor or compiler rather than a creative theo-
logian (far less one swinging any theological axes!). He faithfully
brought together elements of the Jesus tradition and combined
them with the longer passion narrative in order to produce
what is essentially a tract encouraging a predominantly Gentile-
Christian church at Rome in the face of persecution or mar-
tyrdom for the sake of the Gospel in Nero's reign. For E. Best
likewise, Mark `writes as a pastor for his community which he is
concerned to deepen in its understanding of the Gospel'.249 His
246
For a fuller review of these, see Telford, Mark, pp. 149 ± 52; Telford, `History of
Developments' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, p. 39.
247
See, for example, E. Best, `The Purpose of Mark', Proceedings of the Irish Biblical
Association, 6 (1982), pp. 19 ±35; Best, Gospel as Story, pp. 51 ±4, 93 ±9; C. E. B. Cran®eld,
The Gospel according to St. Mark: an Introduction and Commentary (Cambridge Greek
Testament Commentary; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959),
pp. 14 ±15; N. A. Dahl, `The Purpose of Mark's Gospel' in Tuckett (ed.), Secret,
pp. 29 ± 34; Marxsen, Mark, pp. 54 ± 116; Taylor, Mark, pp. 26± 32, 130 ±5.
248
See, for example, S. G. F. Brandon, The Fall of Jerusalem and the Christian Church
(London: SPCK, 1951), pp. 185 ±205; S. G. F. Brandon, `The Apologetical Factor in
the Markan Gospel' in Studia Evangelica II: Papers Presented to the Second International
Congress on New Testament Studies held at Christ Church, Oxford, 1961 (Berlin: Akademie
Verlag, 1964), pp. 34 ±46; Brandon, Zealots, pp. 221±82; W. H. Kelber, The Kingdom in
Mark. A New Place and a New Time (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974), pp. 129 ±47;
TrocmeÂ, Formation, pp. 87 ±137; Schreiber, `Christologie', pp. 154 ± 83; Tyson, `Blind-
ness' in Tuckett (ed.), Secret, pp. 35 ± 43; Weeden, Mark; Weeden, `Heresy' in Telford
(ed.), Interpretation, pp. 89 ±104.
249
Best, Gospel as Story, p. 95.
Gospel is a work of parenesis which sought to address the
church at large suffering persecution by presenting it with the
®gure of its suffering Messiah and using the pedagogic device of
the disciples' misunderstanding to present teaching on the true
nature of discipleship under such circumstances.
These theories account for certain of Mark's redactional
emphases such as his use of the word `gospel', his interest in
Gentiles and the Gentile mission, his preoccupation with per-
secution, martyrdom and the true nature of discipleship, and
his accent on the passion predictions, but they inadequately
explain the interest in Galilee (unless this is taken theologically to
refer to the Gentiles or the Gentile mission), the harsh treat-
ment of Jesus' family and disciples and the Christological
motivation behind the secrecy motif.
One very different parenetic theory is that of W. Marxsen
who claims that the Gospel was written to the Jewish-Christian
community in Jerusalem round about 66 CE. Living between
the cruci®xion and the parousia, the Gospel exhorted them in
the light of current political events to ¯ee to Galilee, there to
await Jesus' parousia. Linking the Gospel with the tradition of
the Jerusalem church's ¯ight to Pella, this theory explains
Mark's special (literal and not theological) interest in Galilee,
and in the twelve, but it has been criticized in other ways. Apart
from doubts that Pella can legitimately be located in Galilee,
scholars have questioned why, if the situation was so very urgent
for Mark and the Markan community, the evangelist needed to
address it by writing a book.250
Dissatisfaction with parenetic factors as the sole explanation
for the work have led some scholars, as we have seen, to
consider polemic as a motivating force. Polemical theories have
the advantage of offering more convincing explanations for the
harsh treatment of the Jesus' opponents, family and disciples as
well as for the secrecy motif and its Christological motiva-
tion.251 These theories see the author as the representative of a
250
See H. Conzelmann, An Outline of the Theology of the New Testament (The New
Testament Library; London: SCM Press; Evanston, IL: Harper & Row, 1969),
p. 144; gratia Martin, Mark, pp. 70 ± 5.
251
For an analysis and critique of such views, however, see, for example, H. Anderson,
particular early Christian tradition and one who is engaged in a
struggle against what he regards as false doctrine, especially
false Christology. One interesting suggestion is that Mark was
combating Gnosticism or more particularly docetism (see
E. Schweizer, R. P. Martin).252 The evangelist drew on a
mainly Jewish-Christian tradition which preserved Jesus' words
about the approaching end-time. He also drew on a mainly
Hellenistic-Christian tradition of his miracles in which he was
regarded as a wonder-working divine man. These traditions he
combined with a Pauline emphasis on the cross and resurrec-
tion, so preventing a gnosticizing emphasis on the ®gure of
Jesus as the divine Christ becoming detached from the ®gure of
the historical Jesus as re¯ected in the Jesus traditions he had
collected (and to which Paul himself, I may add, had little or no
access). This line of approach accounts for the combination of
the separate strands or traditions apparent in Mark but it does
not adequately explain Mark's attack on the twelve.
Another line of approach is that taken by T. J. Weeden, as we
have seen. Mark attacks the twelve because for him they are the
representatives of the Christology he is seeking to combat. That
Christology, Weeden claims, was a divine-man Christology
(recognizable in part in the miracle stories) against which Mark
pits the conception of the suffering Messiahship of Jesus. This
position, however, fails to explain adequately why Jesus' original
Jewish disciples should be held up as representatives of a
Christology with a strongly Hellenistic ¯avour. Pace Weeden,
the miracles, I have maintained, serve to enhance Mark's
Christology rather than to contradict it. Closer to the target, in
my opinion, are those views which claim that the evangelist uses
the twelve as a target for attacking the Jewish-Christian
community which they more appropriately represent (see
The Gospel of Mark (New Century Bible Commentary; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1981), pp. 40 ±58. The disadvantage of polemical theories is that they have to rely
perforce on speculative factors extrinsic to the text, or on appeal to a putative
historical event or situation as the occasion for the Gospel. As a result they often
tend to present too speci®c or too ambitious a reconstruction of the presumed
situation.
252
Schweizer, Good News, pp. 380 ±6; R. P. Martin, À Gospel in search of a Life-
Setting', ExpT, 80 (1968± 9), pp. 361 ±4; Martin, Mark, pp. 156 ±62.
J. Schreiber, S. Schulz, J. B. Tyson). In the case of Tyson, the
disciples are seen as the representatives of a nationalistic and
militant, royal Messianic Christology which unlike Paul placed
no great emphasis on the saving ef®cacy of Jesus' death.
A further classic exemplar of this position is that of S. G. F.
Brandon. In general, he claimed, this Gospel is a polemic
against the Jewish Christianity which held such power and
in¯uence in the tunnel period between 40 and 70 CE and which
did so much either to discourage the Gentile mission or to lay
down strict rules about the inclusion of Gentiles within their
community (for example, circumcision, the keeping of the law,
abstinence from food offered to idols, chastity, etc.). In par-
ticular, Mark is an apologetic for the Gentiles Christians at
Rome who were embarrassed at the Jewish origins of their faith.
Written in 71 CE following the Romano-Jewish War, it attempted
to put a different complexion on these origins. Writing of the
Caesarea Philippi episode (Mk 8.27ff.), Brandon states:
Accordingly, we ®nd the author of Mark, in effect, declaring here that
the original disciples of Jesus, who formed the nucleus of the Jeru-
salem Church, conceived of Jesus as the Jewish Messiah, but they
balked at accepting him as the divine Saviour of mankind. In other
words, this ®rst of the apologists writes from the Pauline viewpoint,
and he is concerned here to inform his readers of the limitations of
the Christology of the Jerusalem Christians.253
Of all explanations for the purpose of Mark's Gospel, this
one places the sharpest emphasis on the evangelist's harsh
treatment of the Jewish leaders, the family of Jesus and his
disciples, as the following indicates:
There can, accordingly, be traced throughout the Markan Gospel a
consistent denigration of the Jewish leaders and people, and of the
family of Jesus and his original Apostles, which adds up to a truly
damning indictment of the Jews for their treatment of Jesus. The
Jewish leaders and people are responsible for his death, his family
regard him as insane, and his Apostles fail to understand him and
®nally desert him. In turn, Jesus is shown as rejecting those of his
nation who reject him, as making the serving of God, not blood-
relationship, the basis of communion with himself, and as vehemently
253
Brandon, Zealots, p. 278.
rebuking his chief Apostle's obsession with a nationalistic conception
of his own status and mission. Consequently, in Mark, despite the
lively depiction of his essentially Jewish environment, Jesus is por-
trayed as essentially independent of his Jewish origin and relation-
ships.254
Sadly, we know very little, however, about the original
Jewish-Christian community at Jerusalem. Its in¯uence and
power, strong in the years before the Romano-Jewish war,
waned with the deaths of James, the son of Zebedee in 44 CE
(Acts 12.1±2), of James, the brother of Jesus in 62 CE ( Josephus,
Ant. xx.197±203; Eusebius, Eccl. Hist. II.23), of Peter (reputedly)
in the Neronian persecution (1 Clement 5.4), and, of course, with
the cataclysmic effects of the war itself. We have traditions that
indicate that it attempted to reassert its in¯uence after 70 CE,
and to lay claim to the legitimate tradition about Jesus. Eu-
sebius, quoting Hegesippus, refers to the family of the Lord, the
so-called desposynoi who laid claim to special authority as being
descendants of Jesus and of the house of David (Eccl. Hist. I.
7.14; III.11±12, 19±20; IV.22). We are told in particular of the
grandsons of Jude, brother of Jesus, who were alive in the reign
of Domitian and who were questioned by him in connection
with claims to their being of the house of David and about their
apocalyptic beliefs (Eccl. Hist. III.19±20). Hegesippus' traditions
also refer to the cousin of Jesus, Simeon, who holds the dynastic
succession to the church in Jerusalem up until Trajan's reign
when he was martyred (Eccl. Hist. III.11; IV.22).
Jewish Christians are also mentioned in connection with Bar
Cochba's Second Revolt in 135 CE, where they are said to have
been persecuted by their fellow Jewish Messianists, presumably
for their belief in the coming of another Messiah, Jesus ( Justin,
Apologia, I.31). Jewish Christianity also survived in the form of
Jewish-Christian sects, the Ebionites and the Nazoraeans, who
produced Gospels such as the Gospel of the Hebrews, the Gospel of
the Nazoraeans, the Gospel of the Ebionites and the Pseudo-Clementines
(which attack Paul as the perverter of Christianity). They were
themselves regarded as heretics by the Paulinist and now
predominantly Gentile churches and their writings and beliefs
254
Ibid., p. 279.
suppressed in favour of an emergent Gentile Christianity.
Does the Gospel of Mark represent then an early (literary)
step in the process which eventually saw the triumph of a
Paulinist Gentile Christianity over a Jewish Christianity which
laid claim both to a legitimate tradition about Jesus (the
eschatological prophet/royal Messiah/apocalyptic Son of
Man) and a legitimate succession from Jesus?
chapter 3
Mark and the New Testament
mark and paul

I have completed my historical pro®le of the theology of the
Gospel of Mark and it is now my task to relate that theology to
the rest of the New Testament. Mark's Gospel and the Pauline
Epistles are the earliest extant writings of early Christianity that
we possess. It is ®tting therefore that I should begin by
commenting on the relationship between Mark and Paul. The
question has entered into our enquiry at a number of points
hitherto, and a positive connection between the two has in fact
been one of the conclusions towards which I have leaned. It is
time, therefore, to give more systematic attention to it.
There are clearly a number of af®nities between Mark and
Paul, a state of affairs which intriguingly (but no doubt co-
incidentally) mirrors the external tradition that connects the
apostle with the John Mark of the New Testament. Both exhibit
a tension with the Jerusalem church. Paul, in a number of
(admittedly disputed) passages, can barely disguise his im-
patience with these `pillars' of the establishment (e.g. Gal. 2.6ff.,
11±12; 2 Cor. 11.4±6, 22±3; 12.11), and, not averse to calling
down a curse on anyone preaching a different gospel (Gal.
1.8±9), accuses Peter as one who `stood condemned' (Gal. 2.11).
Implying that they are outsiders, Mark too imputes the charge
of blindness against them (Mk 4.10±12 in light of 8.17ff.),1 a
hapless Peter being likewise cursed by the Markan Jesus for his
lack of perception (Mk 8.33), and the major threesome (Peter,
1
See M. D. Goulder, `Those Outside (Mk. 4:10 ±12)', NovT, 33 (1991), pp. 289 ± 302.
164
Mark and the New Testament 165
James and John) accorded a revelation on the Mount of
Trans®guration which ± like Paul's Israelites before Moses
(2 Cor. 3.7ff.) ± taxes their powers of comprehension even more
(Mk. 9.2±8, 9±13).2
In each case, too, this tension with the original bearers of the
Jesus tradition seems to derive from a similar attitude to the
Law, one that exalts Jesus over the Jewish tradition (Mk 7.1±23
and Rom. 10.4), which has an overarching concern for Gentiles,
Jew±Gentile relations and the Gentile mission (Mk 13.10 and
Gal. 1.15±16),3 and which, as a result, is concerned with such
issues as table fellowship and the food laws (Mk 2.15±17, 7.1±23,
especially 19, and Gal. 2.11±21). Mark certainly demonstrates
an interest in `food and eating' imagery, as well as in the shared
meal (e.g. Mk 2.26; 5.43; 6.37ff.; 7.27±8; 8.1ff., 14ff.). Behind the
dual feeding stories, as we observed in chapter two, a deeper
signi®cance has been detected.4 If not pre®guring the Christian
Eucharist itself (compare the use of eucharistein in Mk 8.6 as well
as in 14.23),5 then these stories may at least symbolize the
extension of the Christian mission to Jew and Gentile alike. The
symbolism of the òne loaf ' in Mark 8.14±21 has been linked, by
some, to Paul's teaching in 1 Corinthians 10.1±5, 17, and Mark's
words of institution, `This is my blood of the (new) covenant,
which is poured out for many' (Mk 14.24) to Paul's `This cup is
2
For a link between Mk 9.1 and the triumvirate about whom Paul speaks, see
D. Wenham and A. D. A. Moses, ``There are some standing here . . .'': Did They
Become the `Reputed Pillars' of the Jerusalem Church? Some Re¯ections on Mark
9:1, Galatians 2:9 and the Trans®guration', NovT, 36 (1994), pp. 146 ±63.
3
See G. H. Boobyer, `Galilee and Galileans in St Mark's Gospel', BJRL, 35 (1952 ±3),
pp. 334 ±48 and F. G. Lang, ` `Ù È ber Sidon mitten ins Gebiet der Dekapolis'':
Geographie und Theologie in Markus 7,31', Zeitschrift des Deutschen PalaÈstina-Vereins, 94
(1978), pp. 145 ±60. Lang argues that the implausible route described in Mk 7.31
served a theological purpose for Mark. The places mentioned represent in toto the
Gentile regions lying to the north and east of Galilee. The three stories in Mk
7.24 ± 8.10 are hence included in this journey, and have a theological unity in that they
are concerned with the Gentile±Jew question, and the mission to the Gentiles. The
details all contribute to this theme: Jesus is shown blazing a trail in Gentile regions
which the church was later to follow.
4
See W. R. Telford, `The Interpretation of Mark: a History of Developments and
Issues' in Telford (ed.), The Interpretation of Mark (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1995), pp.
34 ±5.
5
For a negative judgment, see G. H. Boobyer, `The Eucharistic Interpretation of the
Miracles of the Loaves in St. Mark's Gospel', JTS, 3 (1952), pp. 161 ±71.
the new covenant in my blood' (1 Cor. 11.25).6 A common
strategy in regard to dealings with the Roman state may also be
discerned in both Mark 12.13±17 and Romans 13.1±7.7
It is not only in matters of praxis, however, that Mark and
Paul have been compared, but also in terms of a common
ideology. J. C. Fenton has identi®ed a number of themes which
unite Mark's Gospel and the Pauline Epistles,8 and numerous
ideas also relate them to one another in terms of theology. These
shared conceptions have mostly to do with Christology and
soteriology. Where Mark rejects a pre-Markan `Son of David'
Christology, Paul too appears to do so in favour of a higher `Son
of God' Christology. While acknowledging its priority in
Romans 1.3±4, he thereafter disowns it by sheer neglect. Paul,
as we have noted, does not use the title `Son of Man' for Jesus as
such, but he does speak of the resurrected Christ as `the last
Adam' or `the man of heaven' (see 1 Cor. 15.20±50, especially
21±2, 45±9; Rom. 5.12±21; Phil. 2.5±11). He, too, then, like
Mark, may have taken over but quali®ed a Jewish `heavenly
man' Christology, perhaps, as M. Black suggests, combining the
eschatological Son of Man (Dan. 7.13) with the ctisiological 9 or
`heavenly Adam' ®gure of which Philo speaks.10
Apart from a shared use of the title `Lord' for Jesus (Mk 11.3
and 1 Cor. 12.3), both the apostle and the evangelist regard the
title `Son of God' as of supreme importance (Mk 1.1, 11; 3.11;
5.7; 9.7; 15.39 and Gal. 4.4; Rom. 1.3±4; 8.3). This `Son of God'
for Paul is a pre-existent ®gure (Gal. 4.4; 1 Cor. 8.6; 10.4; 2 Cor.
5.21; 8.9 Rom. 8.3; Phil. 2.6±7; Col. 1.15±17)11 and although
doubts have been raised that `pre-existence' as such underlies
6
See B. W. Bacon, The Gospel of Mark: its Composition and Date (New Haven, CT: Yale
University Press; London: Oxford University Press, 1925), pp. 180, 269. For a
contrary view, see V. Taylor, The Gospel According to St Mark (London: Macmillan; New
York: St Martin's Press, 1966), pp. 127± 8.
7
See W. R. Herzog, `Dissembling, a Weapon of the Weak: the Case of Christ and
Caesar in Mark 12:13± 17 and Romans 13:1± 7', PerspRelSt, 21 (1994), pp. 339 ±60.
8
J. C. Fenton, `Paul and Mark' in D. E. Nineham (ed.), Studies in the Gospels. Essays in
Memory of R. H. Lightfoot (Oxford: Blackwell, 1955), pp. 89 ± 112.
9
From ktisis = creation.
10
M. Black, `The Pauline Doctrine of the Second Adam', SJT, 7 (1954), pp. 170 ± 9.
11
For a dissenting (minority) view, see J. D. G. Dunn, Christology in the Making. A New
Testament Inquiry into the Origins of the Doctrine of Incarnation (London: SCM Press, 1989),
pp. 33 ±46.
the Markan use of the title, the case has been made by a
number of scholars who cite such evidence as the `sending/
coming forth of the Son' language of Mark 12.6 (compare Mk
1.38 and Rom. 8.3), the miracles as epiphanies, the trans®gura-
tion (Mk 9.2±8), the Markan Jesus' identi®cation with the
heavenly Son of Man (e.g. Mk 2.10; 8.38) or even pre-existent
`Kyrios' (Mk 12.35±7).12 According to Bultmann, Mark's very
purpose was `the union of the Hellenistic kerygma about Christ, whose
essential content consists of the Christ myth as we learn of it in
Paul (esp. Phil. 2.6ff.; Rom. 3.24) with the tradition of the story of
Jesus'.13 One element in that myth was the self-emptying or
kenoÅsis of the heavenly ®gure, and, in keeping with Isaiah's
suffering Servant, his willingness to endure humiliation and
anguish in order to carry out his redemptive task.
It is this soteriological emphasis, then, this theology of the
cross, the salvi®c death of Jesus (Mk 10.45 and Rom. 3.23±5;
5.8±9, 18±19) and the universality of salvation engendered by it
(Mk 13.10; 14.9 and Rom. 15.14±21), which bring Mark and Paul
into the same theological orbit. According to U. Luz, it is only
in Paul and Mark, indeed, that a theologia crucis is placed
in opposition to a theologia gloriae (Mk 15.31±2 and 1 Cor.
1.18±25).14 In both writers, too, it is faith in Jesus, in the context
of discipleship, which enables the believer to appropriate his
divine power (Mk 9.20±4 and Rom. 1.16±17; Phil. 4.13).
This common Christology and soteriology extends even to
the technical vocabulary used to express it. Both writers make
the distinction between the `¯esh' and the `spirit' (Mk 14.38 and
Gal. 5.16±17), and where the ¯esh is weak, concur in their
12
See, for example, R. H. Fuller, A Critical Introduction to the New Testament (London:
Duckworth, 1966), p. 111; J. Schreiber, Die Markuspassion. Eine Redaktionsgeschichtliche
Untersuchung (BZNW, 68; Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1993), pp. 210 ± 59.
13
R. Bultmann, The History of the Synoptic Tradition (Oxford: Blackwell, 1968), pp. 347 ±8.
See also W. Marxsen, Mark the Evangelist. Studies on the Redaction History of the Gospel
(Nashville, TN and New York: Abingdon Press; London: SPCK, 1969), p. 216;
J. Schreiber, `Die Christologie des Markusevangeliums', ZThK, 58 (1961), pp.
154 ± 83; S. Schulz, `Mark's Signi®cance for the Theology of Early Christianity' in
Telford, Interpretation, pp. 197 ±206.
14
U. Luz, `Theologia crucis als Mitte der Theologie im Neuen Testament', EvTh, 34
(1974), pp. 116± 41.
catalogue of vices (Mk 7.21±3 and Rom. 1.29±31). 15 Each
employs the poÅroÅsis or `hardening' motif, `hardness of heart'
being applied by Mark to Jesus' Jewish disciples and enemies
(Mk 3.5; 6.52; 8.17) and by Paul to his Jewish compatriots (Rom.
11.7, 25; 2 Cor. 3.14). The word `gospel' (euangelion) is the term
used by each to denote the proclamation of the message of
salvation, or `good news' as preached by Paul,16 or by Jesus (e.g.
Mk 1.1, 14, 15; 8.35; 10.29; 13.10; 14.9). Two other favourite
Pauline expressions for the Christian message or the content of
God's revelation, the `word' (logos) and the `mystery' (mysteÅrion),
also occur in Mark (e.g. Mk 4.16 and 1 Thes. 1.6; Mk 4.11 and
Rom. 11.25; 16.25; Col 1.26; 2.2; 4.3).17
The parallels, then, are striking, and a variety of interpreta-
tions have been placed on them.18 Some have argued that the
Gospel is a defence of the authority of Paul and the Pauline
churches against the claims of the Jerusalem church
(G. Volkmar, A. Loisy). B. W. Bacon argued more modestly that
a Paulinist perspective could be detected in Mark and that `the
reduction of all soteriological teaching to the doctrine of the
Cross and Resurrection, cannot be explained without reference
to Paul'.19 Mark is then, in the words of R. H. Fuller, à
powerful reassertion, in terms of a ``life of Jesus'', of the Pauline
kerygma of the cross'.20 Others have denied a speci®c Pauline
in¯uence, preferring to view the Gospel as the product of the
same Hellenistic church out of which Paul emerged, and the
second evangelist as an heir therefore to the general tradition of
Gentile Christianity.
In a classic study published in 1923, M. Werner presented the
case that `there cannot be the slightest idea of an in¯uence of
Pauline theology in the Gospel of Mark'.21 Comparing the
15
For a number of the common words, see Taylor, Mark, p. 127.
16
Paul uses the term, according to Taylor, no less than ®fty-six times (ibid., p. 126).
17
After the occurrence of the term `mystery' in Col. 4.3, Taylor notes Paul's use of the
expression `those outside' (tous exoÅ) in 4.5 and compares this with Mk 4.11 (tois exoÅ)
(ibid.).
18
See Fenton, `Paul and Mark' in Nineham (ed.), Studies, p. 91.
19 20
Bacon, Mark, p. 262. Fuller, Introduction, p. 110.
21
M. Werner, Der Ein¯uss paulinischer Theologie im Markusevangelium (BZNW, 1; Giessen:
Alfred ToÈpelmann, 1923), p. 247.
Gospel with the Epistles, Werner argued that the resemblances
between the two could be put down to the common tradition of
primitive Christianity. A number of distinctively Pauline ideas,
moreover, were either absent in Mark (for example, justi®cation
by faith, faith union with Christ, life in the Spirit) or presented
from an opposing standpoint. Werner's study, which has been,
and still remains, extremely in¯uential, was produced, however,
before the advent of redaction criticism and the newer literary
criticism. W. Marxsen, for example, has criticized Werner for
comparing Pauline thought with the Markan Gospel as a whole
and not with the Markan redaction, that is, with the distinctively
Markan contribution to the pre-Markan tradition.22
When we recall that among these redactional features are to
be included the secrecy motif in respect of Jesus' true identity
(the `Son of God' Christology), the emphasis on Jesus' death
and resurrection, the use of the term `gospel', the interest in
Gentiles and the Gentile mission, the accent given to persecu-
tion, suffering and martyrdom and the true nature of disciple-
ship, and ®nally the harsh treatment accorded to the Jewish
leadership groups, Jesus' family and his original disciples, the
links with Paul are easier to see. When due allowance, further-
more, is made for the differences in the way each writer has
chosen to express his theology ± Paul in the direct form of an
epistle, Mark in the indirect form of a story ± the second
evangelist may be seen to have taken up, in Marxsen's words
`the Pauline fundamentals'. The use of pre-Markan Jesus
traditions as well as the narrative form, then, would not lead
us to expect more in the way of distinctively Pauline theo-
logical ideas and vocabulary than we in fact ®nd in the
Gospel. With the development, moreover, of narrative-critical
tools and an increasing sensitivity on the part of scholars to the
nuances of narrative theology, Volkmar's original suggestion
that Mark's Gospel is an allegorical presentation of Pauline
teaching in the form of a narrative may be due, therefore, for
a comeback.
22
Marxsen, Mark, p. 213.
mark and q
The af®nities between Mark and Paul should not lead us,
however, to undervalue Mark's individual and distinctive
contribution to the theological history of early Christianity.
What distinguishes Paul is the Christological and soteriological
signi®cance that he places on the death and resurrection of
Jesus. The apostle shows little interest, however, in the Pal-
estinian Jesus traditions which were grist for the evangelist's
theological mill (the parables, the Kingdom of God and Son of
Man sayings, the miracles, etc.). Mark's genius was to wed these
traditions, by means of the secrecy motif, to a theological
perspective on the death and resurrection of Jesus that unites
him, as we have seen, with Paul. Since their respective writings
represent the only surviving documents from the earliest period
of Christianity, is their proximity in time alone suf®cient to
account for these af®nities, as some have suggested? Here we
must turn to a comparison between Mark and Q , for the latter
source, although it is hypothetical and has to be reconstructed,
gives evidence of a Jewish-Christian tradition concerning Jesus
which predates the fall of Jerusalem. Examination of Q , there-
fore, may throw into further relief the distinctive Markan
contribution to the theological history of early Christianity.23
Q was compiled between 40 and 70 and passed through
various editorial stages, according to current scholarship. In
terms of genre, it is a `sayings' collection, although there is
dispute whether, as such, it is to be characterized as primarily
`prophetic' or `sapiential' (showing af®nities with either the
prophetic or the Wisdom writings).24 Beginning with the
preaching of John the Baptist, his testimony to Jesus, and Jesus'
temptation, it presents Jesus' public teaching and responses to
it, the mission of the twelve, Jesus' instructions about prayer, his
controversies with the scribes and Pharisees, his teaching about
23
For some scholarly treatments of Q , see, for example, D. R. Catchpole, The Quest for
Q (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1993); J. Delobel (ed.), Logia. Les Paroles de JeÂsus ± The
Sayings of Jesus (Memorial Joseph Coppens) (BETL, 59; Leuven: Leuven University
Press/Peeters, 1982); C. M. Tuckett, Q and the History of Early Christianity. Studies on Q
(Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1996).
24
See Tuckett, Q , pp. 325ff., esp. 353± 4.
discipleship, sayings about the Law, and prophecy concerning
the parousia of the Son of Man.25 Some of the material
contained in Q overlaps with Mark (see especially Mk 8.12 with
Mt. 12.39 = Lk. 11.29; Mk 8.38 and Mt. 10.33 = Lk. 12.9; or Mk
11.23 with Mt. 17.20 = Lk. 17.6), and so scholars are divided on
the question whether the evangelist knew Q or whether these
common sayings circulated independently within their respec-
tive communities.26
Careful analysis of the Q source has enabled scholars to
construct a pro®le of the community whose concerns it re¯ects.
What emerges is a group who, in terms of praxis, differed from
the Markan community in their continuing commitment to the
covenant, the Law and the Temple. Conservative in their
attitude to the Law, they were in close touch with the Pharisees,
with whom they were nevertheless at odds. Cherishing their
own Jewishness, and therefore their separateness from Gentiles,
they were conscious of having a mission to fellow-Jews with
whom they identi®ed but from whom they were experiencing
rejection, if not persecution. According to C. M. Tuckett, they
are to be understood as `more of a ``reform movement''
working within Israel than a ``sect'' separated from its Jewish
contemporaries by a rigid line of demarcation'.27 A similar
judgment is given by D. R. Catchpole whose picture of the Q
community is of one `whose outlook was essentially Jerusalem-
centred, whose theology was Torah-centred, whose worship
was temple-centred, and which saw (with some justice) no
incompatibility between all of that and commitment to Jesus'.28
In terms of ideology, analysis of the Q source (and its redaction)
has revealed a number of distinctive ideas and motifs.29 The
25
For a helpful, if dated, summary of the contents and structure of Q , see F. C. Grant,
The Gospels: their Origin and their Growth (London: Faber & Faber, 1957), pp. 59 ± 60. Also
in F. C. Grant, `Matthew, Gospel of ' in IDB, p. 305.
26
See W. R. Telford, `Pre-Markan Tradition in Recent Research (1980 ± 1990)' in F. van
Segbroeck et al. (eds.), The Four Gospels 1992 (Leuven: Leuven University Press/
Peeters, 1992), p. 701.
27 28
Tuckett, Q , p. 436. Catchpole, Quest, p. 279.
29
Tuckett includes among these `the phrase ``this generation'' as the object of Q's
preaching, the theme of the violent fate suffered by the prophets, and the theme of
Wisdom as the sender of the prophets' (Q , p. 166).
study of the theology of Q is still in progress,30 but where
comparison with Mark is concerned, an examination of Q in
respect of Christology, eschatology and soteriology is instruc-
tive.31 A witness other than Mark to the primitive Jewish
tradition of Jesus as teacher, prophet and exorcist (e.g. Lk. 11.20
= Mt. 12.28), Q also offers independent attestation, as we have
seen, of the Jewish-Christian identi®cation of Jesus with the
present and coming apocalyptic Son of Man. Evidence of a
`Son of David' Christology, however, is absent, and there is no
trace of the so-called `Messianic secret' (Q does not use the title
`Christos'/Messiah), far less of Mark's epiphany Christology.
Jesus is seen, on the contrary, in the category of the authoritative
teacher,32 èschatological prophet' or `the ®nal messenger of
Wisdom, the last in the line of Wisdom's envoys, these envoys
being regarded as prophets who experience rejection and
violence'.33
A major accent in Q is the eschatological one. Where the
Markan tendency is to de-eschatologize the life and message of
Jesus,34 a futurist eschatology permeates the Q material from
John the Baptist's opening words of judgment (Lk. 3.7b-9 = Mt.
3.7b±10) to the Son of Man's imminent parousia (Lk. 17.26±30
= Mt. 24.37±9). Despite setbacks and opposition, the Kingdom
of God is drawing near (Lk. 10.2±12 = Mt. 10.5±15), and in that
Kingdom, moreover, a leadership role will be reserved for the
twelve who will sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel
(Lk. 22.28±30 = Mt. 19.28).
What is apparent, then, is that, while Q has a place in its
divine scheme for rejection of, and even violence against
Wisdom's envoy, it has no passion narrative, no soteriology
connected with the death and resurrection of Jesus, no theology
30
Cf., however, R. A. Edwards, A Theology of Q. Eschatology, Prophecy, and Wisdom
(Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1976).
31
See Tuckett, Q , pp. 209 ± 37 (Q's Christology), 139 ±63 (Eschatology in Q).
32
See Tuckett, Q , pp. 214 ± 18. It is in this sense, according to Tuckett, that the
occasional and otherwise Christologically insigni®cant title `Lord' (Kyrios) is used in
Q.
33
Tuckett, Q , p. 221.
34
See U. Luz, `Das Jesusbild der vormarkinischen Tradition' in G. Strecker (ed.), Jesus
Christus in Historie und Theologie. Neutestamentliche Festschrift fuÈr Hans Conzelmann zum 60.
Geburtstag (TuÈbingen: Mohr±Siebeck, 1975), pp. 347± 74.
of the cross. In H. E. ToÈdt's words, `the one who is rejected is
seen not as the redeemer who gives his blood for many but as
the authoritative teacher who by means of his word summons
men to follow him'.35 To draw signi®cance from this situation
for the theological history of early Christianity is of course to
indulge in argumentation from silence. It is possible that, given
its function, perhaps as a manual of teaching or a guide to
catechists, a kerygma of the cross was presupposed by Q , as
some have argued.36 This too, of course, would be an argument
from silence, as would the claim that Paul likewise presupposed
the Jesus traditions known to Q and Mark. The fact remains,
however, that `Mark's originality', in R. P. Martin's words, ìs
thrown into relief by our admission that no pre-Markan tradi-
tion which united both Jesus' words and Jesus' Passion is
attested'.37 The nature of the Q evidence, therefore, gives us
one more reason for recognizing Mark's literary and theological
creativity and for regarding his Gospel as the `Gentilization' of
originally Jewish-Christian traditions under the in¯uence of a
Paul-inspired theology of the cross.
mark and the gospels

If Q was a `sayings' collection without a passion narrative, and
Paul's was a death and resurrection kerygma with little connec-
tion to, or need for a Jesus tradition, then, Mark, we have seen,
represents a combination of the two. Let us now turn to the
later evangelists to see how they relate to the example set by
Mark.38 In essence, both Matthew and Luke represent a further
combination of tradition, this time that of Mark with Q , and
this con®guration in turn had its theological repercussions.
By common consent, Matthew took over Mark's Gospel,
35
H. E. ToÈdt, The Son of Man in the Synoptic Tradition (The New Testament Library;
Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press; London: SCM Press, 1965), p. 266; gratia R. P.
Martin, Mark ± Evangelist and Theologian (Exeter: Paternoster, 1979), p. 147.
36
Cf. T. W. Manson, The Sayings of Jesus (London: SCM Press, 1949), pp. 15 ±16; gratia
Martin, Mark, p. 147; Grant, Gospels, pp. 60 ± 1.
37
38
For background to the Gospels, see the standard Introductions, e.g. Fuller, Intro-
duction; W. G. KuÈmmel, Introduction to the New Testament (London: SCM Press, 1975).
subjecting the Markan framework to substantial editorial expan-
sions at the beginning (the birth narratives in 1±2) and the end
(the post-resurrection appearances in 28); major insertions (com-
prising Q/Special Matthew/editorial material) throughout,
largely in the form of sayings material (see the ®ve or six main
teaching or `discourse' blocks of 5±7, 10; 13; 18; 23/24±5, each
marked out by a special formula in 7.28; 11.1; 13.53; 19.1; 26.1)
and OT quotations (over sixty, including fourteen `formula
quotations'; see Mt. 1.22±3; 2.5±6; 2.15; 2.17±18; 2.23; 3.3;
4.14±16; 8.17; 12.17±21; 13.14±15; 13.35; 21.4±5; 26.56;
27.9±10);39 some limited rearrangements (the miracle stories found
in Mk 1, 2, 4±5, 10, for example, are combined into a single
block in Mt. 8±9) and a number of stylistic (e.g. the improve-
ment of Mark's Greek) and theological modi®cations.
The signi®cance of Matthew's redaction for his theology lies
in a number of areas.40 Matthew produced, as we noted in
chapter two, a more reverential portrait of the original disciples.
They understand Jesus' words (Mt. 13.16±17, 51; 16.12; 17.13 and
par.; contrast Mk 6.52 par.), recognize and confess him as `Son
of God' (Mt. 14.31±3; 16.1b±18 and par.) and are given a
prominent role to play, especially in the post-Easter church (Mt.
10; 16.16±20; 19.28; 28.18±20 and par.). While scathing in his
attack on the Jewish authorities, and especially on the scribes
and Pharisees (e.g. Mt. 23), Matthew, in contrast to Mark,
demonstrates an af®rmative attitude to the Law (e.g. Mt.
5.17±20; 16.27b; 22.11±14; 23.2±3; 28.18±20, especially 20 and
par.; contrast Mk 7.1±23),41 and, while accepting the Gentile
mission (Mt. 21.43; 28.18±20), albeit reluctantly, a certain
disparagement of Gentiles (Mt. 7.6; 10.5±6, 23; 15.24; 18.17).
Matthew's Christology and eschatology bear close com-
parison with that of Mark. Heir, like Mark, to the primitive
39
For a convenient treatment of Matthew's OT quotations, see Grant, `Matthew' in
IDB, pp. 307 ±11.
40
See, for example, G. Bornkamm, G. Barth and H. J. Held, Tradition and Interpretation
in Matthew (London: SCM Press, 1963); U. Luz, The Theology of the Gospel of Matthew
(New Testament Theology; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995).
41
See D. Hill, The Gospel of Matthew (New Century Bible; London: Oliphants, 1972).
`Matthew's teaching on the Law to which all disciples are to be obedient is striking
and signi®cant. The enduring validity of the Law is af®rmed' (p. 66).
tradition of Jesus as teacher, prophet and healer, Matthew
enhances this picture by the addition of teaching material
derived from Q combined with a more reverential portrayal of
Jesus' miracles.42 Where Christological titles are concerned, the
most fundamental of these, as for Mark, is `Son of God'.43
Mark's secrecy motif, and his epiphany Christology is to an
extent retained, therefore, although in contrast to the second
evangelist, he is shown being recognized and confessed as `Son
of God' (and as `Lord'; Mt. 8.25 and par.) by the disciples
already in his lifetime (Mt. 14.33; 16.16 and par.).
On the other hand, where Mark rejects a Jewish-Christian
Son of David Christology, Matthew clearly and emphatically
af®rms it (Mt. 1.1ff.; 1.20; 9.27; 12.23; 15.22; 20.30, 31; 21.5;
21.14±17 and par.), although it is softened by paci®c motifs (Mt.
11.28±30; 21.5; 26.52ff.) as well as by reference to Isaiah's
Servant (Mt. 8.17; 12.17±21).44 In further tension, it seems, with
Mark, Matthew re¯ects his Jewish-Christian orientation by
presenting Jesus as the new Moses: see, for example, the birth
narrative (especially Mt. 2.13ff.); the ®ve teaching blocks (= the
®ve books of the Law?); the teaching on a mountain (Mt. 5.1ff.;
cf. Exod. 19ff.); the new lawgiver (Mt. 5.17±20, 21±2, 27±8,
31±2); the commission to the disciples, also on a mountain (Mt.
28.16±20; cf. Deut. 31±4, especially 34.1ff.).45 Matthew's Chris-
tology, like that of the Q community, is inextricably connected
not only with his understanding of the `church' as `the true
Israel' (Mt. 5.20; 23.2±3) but also with his eschatology,46 and his
tendency to restore, rehabilitate, or simply to give due weight to
the Jewish-Christian tradition before him is further reinforced
not only by his preservation and enhancement of the `Son of
Man' sayings of Mark and Q , but also by a pronounced
42
Note, for example, the heightening of Jesus' miraculous powers in Mt. 8.13; 9.22;
15.28; 17.18 and par. (from that very hour/instantly); 8.16; 12.15 and par. (many becomes
all ); 20.30 and par. (one blind man becomes two!); 4.23 etc.
43
See J. D. Kingsbury, Matthew. Structure, Christology, Kingdom (London: SPCK, 1975),
esp. p. 83.
44
See Fuller, Introduction, p. 118.
45
Ibid. For a contrary view, see KuÈmmel, Introduction, p. 106.
46
Hill, Matthew, p. 66.
apocalyptic emphasis (e.g. Mt. 13.24±30; 16.27b; 22.11±14; 24
especially 30, 37±51; 25).
Luke, on the other hand, displays an opposite tendency.
While employing two of the same sources as Matthew, Luke
managed, by virtue of his redaction, to create a different
theological impression for his readers. He too subjected the
Markan framework to a number of changes. These consisted
of the following: substantial (but very different) editorial expan-
sions at the beginning (the birth and infancy narratives in 1±2)
and at the end (the post-resurrection appearances in 24);
major insertions (comprising Q/Special Luke/editorial material)
throughout (e.g. the two main `discourse' blocks of 6.20±8.3
and 9.51±18.14), largely in the form of sayings material,
especially parables; omissions (especially of Mk 6.45±8.26);
some limited (but intriguing) rearrangements (e.g. the placing of
John the Baptist's arrest by Herod in Mk 6.14±29 before Jesus'
baptism; cf. Lk. 3.18±20, 21±2; the transfer of Jesus' visit to his
home town in Mk 6.1±6 to the beginning of his ministry
immediately after the temptation pericope; cf. Lk. 4.16ff. and
par.; his alternative order for the temptations in Q , with Jesus'
®nal temptation before beginning his ministry taking place in
the Temple; cf. Lk. 4.9ff. and par.) and a number of stylistic
(again the improvement of Mark's Greek) and theological
modi®cations, some of which I have already remarked upon in
chapter two.
More faithful to the inherent direction of Mark's redaction,
Luke nevertheless can be seen to have a distinctive theology.47
Toning down Mark's harsh treatment of the disciples, as we
have observed, though somewhat ambiguous in his attitude to
the Jewish people and their leaders,48 Luke is sympathetic to
Gentiles (Lk. 7.1±10; 23.47) and welcomes the Gentile mission
47
See, for example, J. B. Green, The Theology of the Gospel of Luke (New Testament
Theology; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). Cf. I. H. Marshall, Luke.
Historian and Theologian (Exeter: Paternoster, 1988). Òur study, however, has sug-
gested that Luke was basically faithful to the traditions which he was using; he was
drawing out motifs already present in them rather than radically reshaping the
material and adding to it from his own ideas' (p. 217).
48
See Green, Luke, pp. 68 ±75.
(Lk. 14.16±24 and par.).49 While faithfully transmitting the
Christological traditions of his sources, imbued as they are with
their varying estimates of Jesus as teacher, prophet, exorcist,
`Son of David', `Son of Man', `Son of God' and `Lord', in terms
of Christological emphasis, Luke is generally regarded as
having a `lower' Christology than the other evangelists, 50
lacking in this respect the ìnnovative' thrust of Mark, the
`reactionary' emphasis of Matthew, or the `sublime' quality of
John. Although he incorporated the Q source into his Gospel,
Luke writes, where eschatology is concerned, at a greater
remove from the apocalyptic urgency of Jewish-Christianity. For
the third evangelist the delay of the parousia is more serious
than for Mark, so he further quali®es the imminent parousia
expectation of his source, by, for example, omitting Mk 1.14±15,
emending Mk 9.1 and 14.62 (note the omission of `come with
power' in the former, and the emphasis on Christ's present glory
in the latter) or altering the Markan apocalypse in subtle ways
(e.g. Lk. 21.8, 9, 20, 24 and par.).
According to H. Conzelmann, Luke, by means of such
redaction, transmuted the eschatology of his sources into a
threefold `salvation history' scheme, namely the time of Israel (`the
law and the prophets') before Jesus (e.g. Lk. 3.23±38; 16.16;
24.13±27, 44±9); the sacred time of Jesus (from baptism to ascen-
sion; e.g. Acts 1.21±2; 10.36±43, especially 37, 38) and the time of
the church or Holy Spirit (e.g. Acts 1.6±9).51 While this may be too
schematic for some, most scholars would agree that in the
Lukan perspective, redemptive history has been prolonged
through the delay of the parousia, and the interim period
49
Of the infrequency with which Gentiles are mentioned in the Gospel, Green writes:
In the Third Gospel, `Gentiles' may be understood as members of a more encom-
passing category of persons generally understood to be outside the boundaries of
divine graciousness. This list would include lepers, Samaritans, the sick, women,
`sinners', toll-collectors, children, Gentiles, and others ± that is, persons normally
excluded from the religious circles of the pious, but, in Luke's depiction, welcome in
the community of Jesus' followers. That is, in the Third Gospel, Luke's treatment of
`the problem of the Gentiles' is foremost a subset of his more general concern with
the universalism of grace proffered through Jesus' mission (ibid., p. 126).
50
See J. Drury, `Luke, Gospel of ' in DBI, pp. 413.
51
H. Conzelmann, The Theology of St Luke (London: Faber, 1960). Cf. also Fuller,
Introduction, p. 120; KuÈmmel, Introduction, pp. 144 ± 5.
theologically legitimated with the inauguration of the church's
mission. On the other hand, while `the Son of Man came to
seek and to save the lost' (Lk. 19.10), signs of a Markan (or
Pauline) theologia crucis are not apparent in Luke. Luke borrows
and embellishes the Markan passion narrative, but the climactic
ransom logion of Mark 10.45, by which Jesus' death is inter-
preted, and which is therefore so pivotal for the second evange-
list, is simply omitted by the third.52
When we turn to John,53 the situation is somewhat more
complicated, since the lack of certainty in the source-relations
between the Second and the Fourth Gospels means that it is not
clear where John's theological debt lies, and if to Mark whether
it was direct or indirect. Some scholars would hold that John
knew the Synoptics, or at least Mark (compare Jn 5.8 with Mk
2.11; Jn 6.7 with Mk 6.37; Jn 12.3 with Mk 14.3 for alleged
evidence of literary relationship), others that he was merely
acquainted with the tradition they contain, others still (follow-
ing P. Gardner-Smith) that he drew upon an entirely indepen-
dent tradition.54 Whatever view is taken (and I myself incline to
the ®rst), a comparison between their respective presentations
reveals that the Fourth Gospel marks a further advance in the
theological direction taken by Mark and followed by the other
Synoptists.
The recipients of extensive private revelatory discourses on
the part of the Johannine Jesus (see the `Farewell Discourses' in
13±17), the disciples are nevertheless shown to have recognized
the `true' (i.e. `divine') status of Jesus from the very beginning
( Jn 1.35ff.; 6.66±9). Where the Jewish leaders and, by impli-
cation, the Jewish people are concerned, however, the `hard-
ening' motif, has intensi®ed (e.g. Jn 12.37±43). The `Jews', the
Johannine reader is informed, cannot hear the words of God
because they àre not of God' ( Jn 8.47) but of their `father the
devil' ( Jn 8.44). Alluded to under the ®gure of the òther sheep
52
See Green, Luke, p. 125.
53
For a recent treatment of John's theology, see D. M. Smith, The Theology of the Gospel of
John (New Testament Theology; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). See
also R. Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament (London: SCM Press, 1952/1955), Vol.
ii, pp. 3 ±92.
54
For discussion of the evidence, see KuÈmmel, Introduction, pp. 200 ±4.
that are not of this fold' ( Jn 10.16), and pre®gured in the Greeks
who wished to see Jesus ( Jn 12.20ff.), the future mission to the
Gentiles is now clearly a fait accompli, a fact of redemptive
history.
Accredited with a veritable array of Christological titles,
whether `Messiah' (Messias/Christos; Jn 1.41; 4.25, 26, 29, 30;
7.25±31, 40±3; 9.22; 10.24, 25; 11.27; 20.31), `King of Israel' ( Jn
1.49; (6.15); 12.13; [18.33ff.]), `Son of Man' ( Jn 1.51; 3.13, 14;
5.27; 6.27, 53, 62; 8.28; 9.35; 12.23, 34; 13.31), `Lord' (Kyrios; Jn
4.1; 6.23; 11.2; 20.2, 13, 18, 25, 28), `Saviour' (SoÅteÅr; Jn 4.42), `Son
of God'/`Son' ( Jn 1.34, 49; 3.16ff.; 5.18ff.; 10.36; 11.4, 27;
20.30±1) or, supremely, the `Word' (Logos; 1.1±18), the Johannine
Jesus is a being whose supernatural status is now no longer in
doubt. More divine revealer than teacher, his (epiphanic)
healing and nature miracles ± there are no exorcisms in John ±
either `manifesting', to his disciples, `his glory' (e.g. Jn 2.11) or
merely proclaiming, to the people, `the prophet who is to come
into the world' ( Jn 6.14), the Johannine Jesus con®dently dis-
plays attributes which are merely presented as clues for the
Markan characters. Sent from God ( Jn 5.37; 7.28±9; 15.21;
17.25) and invested with his authority ( Jn 5.22, 27 (to execute
judgment); 17.2 (to confer eternal life); 20.22 (to impart the
Spirit)), he, like the Markan Jesus, is endowed with God's Spirit
( Jn 1.32±3). In perfect union with God ( Jn 8.46 (sinless); 10.30;
14.9), on terms, indeed, of equality with him ( Jn 5.17, 22ff., 26;
8.16, 58; 14.6±11; 15.23; 16.15; 17.5 contrast 5.30; 14.28c), the
Johannine Jesus issues impressive Ì Am' (EgoÅ Eimi) sayings
which throw into sharp relief the reluctance towards self-
disclosure of the Markan Jesus: ( Jn 6.35 (the bread of life); 8.12
(the light of the world); 10.7 (the door); 10.11 (the good shep-
herd); 11.25 (the resurrection and the life); 14.6 (the way, the
truth and the life); 15.1 (the true vine)).
Underlying the Johannine presentation, then, is the concep-
tion of a divine Being ( Jn 8.23), a divine man, one who
possesses supernatural knowledge of men and of events ( Jn
1.47±51; 2.23±5; 4.16±19; 6.64; 13.18±19), who is clairvoyant
( Jn 13.11, 24±26), who effortlessly works miracles ( Jn 2.1ff.;
4.46ff.; 5.2ff.; 6.1ff., 16ff.; 9.1ff.; 11.1ff.), who is in command of
his own destiny ( Jn 10.17±18; 18.4±6), a pre-existent Being ( Jn
1.1±18; 8.56±8; 17.5), a divine `Revealer' ( Jn 1.18; 5.37ff.; 6.46;
7.28±9; 8.19, 54±8; 14.6±11; 15.21ff.; 16.3; 17.25±6). With his
status as such no longer a secret,55 Mark's epiphany Christology
has been carried to new heights. In E. KaÈsemann's celebrated
words, `John changes the Galilean teacher into the God who
goes about on earth'.56
It is to be observed, therefore, that there are no parables in
John, such as we ®nd in Mark, and only two references to the
Kingdom of God ( Jn 3.3, 5). Radically transforming the apoca-
lyptic ideology which Mark was engaging, John presents a more
fully developed `realized' eschatology which gives a present
emphasis to traditional apocalyptic categories: the expected
tribulation is now ( Jn 16.32±3); the glory of God's eschatological
agent is already manifested and given to his followers ( Jn 1.14; 2.11;
17.22); the glori®cation of the Son of Man takes place in the cross,
not at the parousia ( Jn 3.14±15; 6.62; 7.39; 8.28; 12.23±4, 27±33;
13.31±2; 17.1ff.); the Father/Son come privately to the individual
believer in mystical fashion and not publicly to the world in
apocalyptic fashion ( Jn 14.21±3); resurrection from the dead is a
spiritual reality now ( Jn 5.25; 11.23±6); separation/division
( judgment or krisis) between righteous and wicked occurs now as
does the ®nal judgment ( Jn 3.18±19; 7.43; 9.39; 12.31); the right-
eous/believers are not removed from this world ( Jn 17.15); the
eschatological rewards for believers are a fact of present experi-
ence (eternal life ( Jn 3.36; 5.24; 6.47, 54; 17.3), adoption as God's
Sons ( Jn 1.12), joy, peace, glory ( Jn 1.14; 14.27; 15.11; 16.33; 17.13,
22ff.)). If not insertions by an ecclesiastical redactor (R. Bult-
mann),57 some vestiges of a futurist eschatology can be seen to
remain ( Jn 5.28±9; 6.39±40, 44, 54; 12.48) but the major thrust
of John's presentation is to replace traditional apocalyptic
eschatology with `Christ-mysticism' (see the Son's union with
the Father, Jn 5.18; 10.18, 30; 14.6, 7; 17.20ff.; the mutual
55
Cf., however, M. D. Hooker, `The Johannine Prologue and the Messianic Secret',
NTS, 21 (1974 ± 5), pp. 40 ± 58.
56
See E. KaÈsemann, The Testament of Jesus. A Study of the Gospel of John in the Light of
Chapter 17 (The New Testament Library; London: SCM Press, 1968), p. 27.
57
See R. Bultmann, The Gospel of John. A Commentary (Oxford: Blackwell, 1971), pp.
218ff.
intercommunion of believer, Christ and Father, Jn 1.12; 11.25;
14.17, 23; 15.1±6; 17.20ff.).
The Johannine soteriology is likewise more `sublime' than
that of Mark. John's soteriological vocabulary is full of the
dualisms of existence: God (theos)/the world (kosmos)/the ruler of
this world ( Jn 3.16; 12.31; 15.18±19; 16.11; 17.24); light/darkness
( phoÅs/skotia; Jn 1.4±9; 3.19±21; 8.12; 12.46); truth/falsehood
(aleÅtheia/pseudos; Jn 1.14; 8.31±3, 43±7; 14.6); freedom/bondage
(eleutheÅria/douleia; Jn 8.31±8); life/death (zoÅÅe/thanatos; Jn 5.24±7;
11.25±6). For those in sin (hamartia; Jn 8.21±4, 34), or who are
perishing (apolyein; Jn 3.16; 10.28; 11.50), there is wrath/judg-
ment (orgeÅ/krisis; Jn 3.19, 36; 5.22±9), but for those who believe
( pisteuein; Jn 3.16, 18, 36; 5.24; 7.38; 10.37±8; 20.31) or who know
(ginoÅskein; Jn 1.18; 8.32; 17.3; 17.26), glory (doxa; Jn 1.14; 2.11; 11.4,
40; 13.31; 17.22, 24), love (agapeÅ; Jn 13.34±5; 15.9±10) or eternal
life (zoÅÅe aioÅnios; Jn 3.16, 36; 5.24; 6.40, 68; 10.28).
Mark's theology of the cross has also reached new heights.
Salvation is effected through the personal agency of the Son,
the divine Word, or Revealer ( Jn 1.17; 5.39±40), who reveals his
glory not only through his miracles or `signs' ( Jn 2.11) but
through his cruci®xion. It is not for the Johannine Son of Man
to come ìn the clouds with great power and glory' (Mk 13.26),
nor to suffer and then enter into his glory (Lk. 24.26). The cross
itself, for John, is the glori®cation, the route by means of which
the descending `Son of Man' ascends again to his heavenly
Father' ( Jn 3.14, 15; 7.39; 8.28; 12.16, 23; 13.31±2; 17.1, 5). The
cruci®xion, therefore, is the ®nal sign. In John, an epiphany
Christology has been so united with soteriology that the distinc-
tion between them has become blurred. Salvation for the fourth
evangelist, furthermore, is understood in individualistic terms
rather than as a collective experience (as in apocalyptic escha-
tology). It is for the elect rather than for the world ( Jn 6.44,
64±5; 8.47; 10.26±9; 17.9; 18.37). It is theocentric rather than
anthropocentric ( Jn 6.44, 65). It is appropriated, by the Spirit's
agency, through knowledge or truth ( Jn 8.32; 14.16±17, 26;
15.26; 16.13; 17.3, 7, 8, 14, 24, 25), by faith ( Jn 3.16, 18, 36), and
in the present rather than the future ( Jn 3.18, 19, 36).
In John, then, we have advanced a long way, in terms of
Christology, eschatology and soteriology, from the ®rst bold step
taken by Mark in suggesting that the Jesus of his inherited
traditions was other than what he seemed, more than the Jewish
teacher, prophet and exorcist, more indeed than the Jewish
Messiah, whether Son of David or apocalyptic Son of Man.
John represents the ultimate triumph of a Hellenistic Christian
Jesus on his way eventually to Gnosticism. More con®dent in
his theology, John completes the movement initially begun by
Mark, partially resisted by Matthew, faithfully continued by
Luke. While the wedding of Q's apocalyptic and nomistic
sayings to Mark's narrative framework ensured the survival of a
Jewish-Christian emphasis, it was eclipsed by the Markan
`story' of Jesus' which in turn led to the `story' of his church in
the world.58 It is to this story, the Acts of the Apostles, that we
now turn.
mark and acts

The second volume of Luke's two-volume work, the Acts of the
Apostles, begins, as we have seen, with a radical rewriting of the
Markan ending. Furthermore, in contrast to the single day
scenario of the Gospel's epilogue (Lk. 24.1, 13, 33, 36, 50±2), the
prologue to Acts (1.1±11) presents its readers with a commis-
sioning scene which ends a forty-day period of instruction given
to the disciples by the risen Jesus prior to his ascension (Acts 1.3,
8±9). Replete with Lukan themes and redactional motifs (the
Jerusalem setting, the promise of the Holy Spirit, the delay of
the parousia, etc.), this programmatic passage (see especially
Acts 1.8) prepares the disciples, and the reader, for the world-
wide mission to come, a mission which will carry the redemptive
history of Jesus into the period of the church, leaving the ®nal
consummation of all things for a more distant future. Ostensibly
history, the Acts of the Apostles,59 like the Gospel of Mark, is
58
See Schulz, `Mark's Signi®cance' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, pp. 197± 206. `When
the Q halacha was subsumed under the Gospel, and not Mark's Gospel under the Q
halacha ± in this copernican revolution the victory in principle of hellenistic
Christianity over the apocalyptic-nomistic linguistic area of Jewish Christianity
becomes evident' (p. 201).
59
For introduction, background and history of interpretation, see, for example,
now being increasingly regarded as a product of theology, and
its author, long thought of as a historian, as in fact more of a
theologian, albeit of a `narrative' rather than a `systematic'
kind.60
Writing with the needs of his contemporaries in mind, Luke,
it is generally agreed, addressed two major theological concerns
of the post-apostolic generation, namely eschatology and eccle-
siology.61 Two particular questions receive special attention,
namely `the expectation of the imminent end of the world, and
the mission to the Gentiles without the law'.62 By refusing to
answer the disciples' question whether he would presently
restore the Kingdom to Israel (Acts 1.6, 7) ± a question appro-
priate to a triumphalist Son of David Christology ± by pro-
mising them the Holy Spirit in lieu of that Kingdom (Acts 1.8a),
and by decreeing a progressive evangelism (Acts 1.8b), the
Lukan Jesus not only silences speculation about the delay of the
parousia, and not only compensates for it, but effectively gives it
theological legitimation. Taking his cue perhaps from Mk 13.10,
Luke informs his readers that a world mission is to ®ll the space
between the resurrection and the parousia. Whether the writer
of the Acts of the Apostles himself expected the parousia to
occur in his lifetime is as dif®cult a question to answer as for the
writer of Mark (Mk 13.30, 32),63 but the enterprise itself, a
H. J. Cadbury, Àcts of the Apostles' in IDB, pp. 28 ±42; P. Esler, Àcts of the Apostles'
in DBI, pp. 2± 5; D. Juel, Luke±Acts (London: SCM Press, 1983); L. E. Keck and
J. L. Martyn (eds.), Studies in Luke±Acts ( London: SPCK, 1968); KuÈmmel, Introduction;
R. Maddox, The Purpose of Luke±Acts (Studies of the New Testament and its World;
Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1982); I. H. Marshall, The Acts of the Apostles (New
Testament Guides; Shef®eld: Shef®eld Academic Press, 1992); W. C. Robinson, Àcts
of the Apostles' in IDB(S), pp. 7 ± 9.
60
Esler, Àcts' in DBI, p. 4; E. Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles. A Commentary (Oxford:
Blackwell, 1971), p. 91; W. C. van Unnik, `Luke±Acts, a Storm Center in Contem-
porary Scholarship' in Keck and Martyn (eds.), Luke±Acts, pp. 23 ±4; P. Vielhauer,
Òn the ``Paulinism'' of Acts' in Keck and Martyn (eds.), Luke±Acts, pp. 33 ±50.
61 62
See Maddox, Luke±Acts, esp. p. 183. See Haenchen, Acts, p. 94.
63
See Vielhauer, Àcts' in Keck and Martyn (eds.), Luke±Acts, pp. 33 ±50. `The
expectation of the imminent end has disappeared and the failure of the parousia is
no longer a problem; Luke replaces the apocalyptic expectation of the earliest
congregation and the christological eschatology of Paul by a redemptive historical
pattern of promise and ful®llment in which then eschatology also receives its
appropriate place' (p. 47). For an opposing view, see E. Franklin, Christ the Lord. A
Study in the Purpose and Theology of Luke±Acts (London: SPCK, 1975). `[W]e would
suggest that Luke stood within the main eschatological stream of the early Christian
(theological) history of the early church for posterity, testi®es to
the waning of his eschatological expectation.
Initial responsibility for this worldwide mission is given to the
apostles whose status in Acts is noticeably more elevated than
that in the Gospel of Mark. Where Mark fails in narrative terms
to present them as witnesses of the risen Jesus, Luke emphasizes
the point (e.g. Acts 1.3 `to them he presented himself alive . . . by
many proofs'), making such witness indeed the sine qua non of
apostleship (Acts 1.22). Whereas in Mark they are unable to
work miracles (see the exorcism of Mk 9.14ff., especially 18±19),
in Acts they perform, in Jesus' name, many of the `wonders and
signs' (including exorcisms), which also legitimated their Lord's
`divine man' status and mission (e.g. Acts 2.22, 43; 3.16; 4.30;
5.12). Their role has also been extended from that assigned to
them in Mark. According to H. C. Kee `The apostles are
pictured in Acts as not only messengers . . . but also as agents of
supervision, con®rmation and commissioning.' 64 Peter, in par-
ticular, is given a prominent leadership role, and is credited,
surprisingly, in view of the evidence of Galatians (e.g. Gal.
2.6±9, 11±12), with the ®rst major breakthrough to the Gentiles
(Acts 10.1±11.18; 15.6±11). The leadership role, too, of James,
the brother of Jesus, is acknowledged, and it is under his benign
chairmanship and encouragement (contrast Gal. 2.12) that the
Jerusalem church gives its approval to the admission of Gentiles
(Acts 15). While he is not called an apostle (except Acts 14.4,
14),65 even greater prominence is given to Paul, his speeches
being presented as the mouthpiece of sub-apostolic theology,66
and his exploits made to occupy the major part of the work.
The emphasis in Acts, as in Mark, on Gentiles and the
Gentile mission, and the respective roles assigned to the Jeru-
expectations, and that salvation history in his two volumes, though present, is used in
the service of his eschatology rather than as a replacement of it' (p. 6).
64
See H. C. Kee, Good News to the Ends of the Earth. The Theology of Acts (London: SCM
Press; Philadelphia: Trinity Press International, 1990), p. 74.
65
See Fuller, Introduction, who comments: `But here the title is shared with Barnabas,
and probably means envoys commissioned by the Antioch community, not apostles
of Jesus Christ' (p. 128).
66
Ibid., p. 129; Vielhauer, Àcts' in Keck and Martyn (eds.), Luke±Acts, pp. 33± 50. `[T]he
author of Acts is in his Christology pre-Pauline, in his natural theology, concept of
the law, and eschatology, post-Pauline' (p. 48).
salem apostles, especially Peter, as well as to Paul, in the
initiation and promulgation of that movement, is clearly sig-
ni®cant. It has led many to see re¯ected therein, if not a
Hegelian synthesis between (historically antithetical) Petrine
and Pauline Christianity (F. C. Baur), then at least `some sort of
dialectic between what are often assumed to be clearly demar-
cated Jewish and Gentile modes of Christianity'.67 Where Mark
represents a less con®dent Gentile Christianity in the face of the
still prevalent in¯uence of Jewish Christianity, the Christianity
of Acts represents a viewpoint which looks back on the tensions
of a earlier period and attempts to reconcile these in the warm
and more edifying glow of a radically rewritten `myth of
Christian origins'. Luke's understanding of this Christianity's
relation to the Judaism out of which it emerged, however, is still
a matter of debate. Does the author of Acts see the church as
the `true' Israel or the `new' Israel? Does he envisage the
Gentiles being incorporated into an existing Israel, so ful®lling
the OT prophecies,68 or does he think that they, together with
believing Jews, comprise a reconstituted Israel, so replacing the
old (Israel)?69 This ambiguity also extends to the author's
treatment of the Jewish people, as we saw in the case of the
Gospel. While some would highlight Luke's ècumenism',
noting, for example, his acknowledgment of the place of Phar-
isees in the early church (Acts 15.5), others would maintain that
the portrait he paints of the Jews and their leaders ± as
obstreperous, as hostile to Jesus (e.g. Acts 4.25±8; 13.27±9) and
to the nascent Christian community (e.g. Acts 12.1±5), and as
predestined to reject the Gospel (e.g. Acts 28.17±28 and the use
of Isa. 6.9±10 and the `hardening' motif at the climax of the
second volume) ± is one that amounts to nothing less than anti-
Semitism.70
The Gospel's Christology and soteriology, in relation to
Mark, have already been commented upon. What is striking
about the Acts of the Apostles is the wide range of functions
67 68
Kee, Good News, p. 2. See Franklin, Christ the Lord.
69
See Vielhauer, Àcts' in Keck and Martyn (eds.), Luke±Acts, pp. 33± 50. Cf. Marshall,
Luke, pp. 231 ±2.
70
See J. T. Sanders, The Jews in Luke±Acts (London: SCM Press, 1987).
assigned to Jesus (e.g. healer and exorcist, Acts 2.22; 10.38;
eschatological prophet, Acts 3.20±3) or his `name' (Acts 2.38;
8.12; 10.48; cf. Mk 9.38±9) and the diversity of the Christolo-
gical titles used of him, some familiar (e.g. `Christ'/`Messiah',
Acts 2.31, 36; 3.18; 4.26; 5.42; `Son of Man', Acts 7.56; `Son of
God', Acts 9.20; `Lord', Acts 2.36 et passim), others less common
(e.g. `Servant'/pais; Acts 3.13, 26; 4.27, 30; `Saviour'/SoÅteÅr; Acts
5.31), some distinctively Lukan (e.g. `the (holy and) righteous
one', Acts 3.14; 7.52; 13.35; the Àuthor'/`Leader'/archeÅgos; Acts
3.15; 5.31)).71 Re¯ecting Gentile Christianity's basic confession
(1 Cor. 12.3), Luke uses the term `Lord' for Jesus on frequent
occasions (Acts 10.36; 11.16; 16.31; 20.21; cf. Mk 1.3; 2.28; 5.19;
7.28; 11.3). Curiously, the title `Son of God', so crucial for Mark,
is used only once in Acts, but nevertheless appropriately (Acts
9.20), for it is given as the essence of Paul's Christological
kerygma (see also Acts 13.33). The title `Son of Man' also occurs
only once (Acts 7.56) and here, as in Lk. 22.69 (contrast Mk
14.62), his present position of power at God's right hand (and
not his parousia) is emphasized. Important in the Gospel, the
title `Son of David' is, surprisingly, not present in Acts at all.
David himself, H. C. Kee points out, ìs portrayed in Acts not so
much as a prototype of the eschatological king but as a prophet
who foresaw that one of his descendants would ascend this
glorious throne as promised by God' (see, for example, Acts
2.25±35).72 Luke's distinctive term for Jesus, the archeÅgos (Acts
3.15; 5.31) is found elsewhere only in Hebrews (Heb. 2.10; 12.2).
Its signi®cance in relation to Markan theology will be com-
mented on later.
This smorgasbord of Christological estimates has placed a
question mark therefore over any notion that Luke harboured a
uniform Christology.73 A more recent study by D. L. Bock,74
nevertheless, has argued for a more uni®ed conception on the
part of Luke. Using the Old Testament in the service of his
71 72
See Kee, Good News, pp. 10 ±27. Ibid., p. 16.
73
See C. F. D. Moule, `The Christology of Acts' in Keck and Martyn (eds.), Luke±Acts,
pp. 159 ±85.
74
D. L. Bock, Proclamation from Prophecy and Pattern. Lucan Old Testament Christology
( JSNTSS, 12; Shef®eld: JSOT Press, 1987).
Christology, Luke, he claims, presents Jesus as the `Messiah-
servant' whom the reader is gradually led to see as `Lord'. If
Bock is right, Luke would be similar to Mark, then, in that his
redactional enterprise served to further the interests of what is
perceived to be a `higher' Christology. A number of scholars,
however, have not only argued that the author's Christology
was a composite one, but, following P. Vielhauer, that it was
pre-Pauline. `Luke himself ', Vielhauer declared, ìs closer to the
Christology of the earliest congregation, which is set forth in the
speeches of Peter, than he is to the Christology of Paul.'75
Analysing the self-same speeches in Acts, C. H. Dodd had also
concluded that `[t]he Jerusalem kerygma does not assert that
Christ died for our sins. The result of the life, death, and
resurrection of Christ is the forgiveness of sins, but this forgive-
ness is not speci®cally connected with His death.'76 Whether
the Lukan speeches re¯ect the Christology or soteriology of the
Jerusalem church, the sub-apostolic church or that of Luke
himself, then, is a moot point.
The issue also impinges upon the disputed question, already
touched upon, whether Luke or his sources in Acts, had a
distinctive soteriology, and, in particular, following Paul and
Mark, a `theology of the cross'. The case has had its ardent
supporters,77 but also its powerful detractors. 78 While foreseen
in scripture, according to Luke (Acts 4.25±8 and Ps. 2.1±2),
Jesus' death is `the outcome of a coalition of evil powers ±
Gentile and Jewish ± who were hostile toward the one who had
been chosen and empowered by God'.79 `[T]he Cross of Jesus',
then, according to E. KaÈsemann, ìs no longer a scandal but
only a misunderstanding on the part of the Jews which the
75
Vielhauer, Àcts' in Keck and Martyn (eds.), Luke±Acts, p. 45.
76
C. H. Dodd, The Apostolic Preaching and its Developments (London: Hodder & Stoughton,
1936), pp. 48± 9.
77
See, for example, C. K. Barrett, `Theologia Crucis ± in Acts?' in C. Andresen and G.
Klein (eds.), Theologia Crucis ± Signum Crucis. Festschrift fuÈr Erich Dinkler (TuÈbingen:
Mohr±Siebeck, 1979), pp. 73± 84; P. Doble, The Paradox of Salvation. Luke's Theology of
the Cross (SNTSMS, 87; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
78
For a review, see J. A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel According to Luke I±IX (Anchor Bible, 28;
New York: Doubleday, 1986), pp. 22 ± 3.
79
Kee, Good News, p. 8.
intervention God at Easter palpably and manifestly corrects'.80
For KaÈsemann, indeed, Luke's rewriting of Christian origins,
and in particular his triumphalist theology of history, with `the
Church itself . . . the willed and intended end-product of this
history,' means that `[a] theologia gloriae is now in process of
replacing the theologia crucis'.81 If KaÈsemann is correct, then
there is a certain irony in the fact that Luke, otherwise relatively
faithful to the redactional direction of Mark's Gospel, should
have placed in reverse gear one major thrust of his presentation
(as well as Paul's), namely his theology of the cross. Luke was
not deemed by KaÈsemann, however, to be a `late pupil of Paul,
but the ®rst representative of nascent early catholicism'. 82 This
judgment has, of course, been challenged,83 but since this takes
us away from our subject, let us turn to other exemplars of the
literature of early Catholicism, namely, the Letters of Peter, and
then the Epistle to the Hebrews, to see how their theology
relates to that of the Gospel of Mark.
mark and the letters of peter

In comparing the theology of the Second Gospel with 1 and 2
Peter, due allowance must be made for the differences between
these writings, especially in respect of their genre and purpose.
The ®rst, it should be remembered, is a narrative, while 1 Peter,
even if forged, like the Gospel, in the crucible of suffering and
persecution (or the threat of it) is a letter of encouragement to
Christians in Asia Minor. According to W. G. KuÈmmel, 1 Peter
is à hortatory writing formed from traditional paraenetic and
possibly liturgical material, which by recalling the gift of
baptism and the eschatologically grounded universality of these
sufferings serves to present to the consciousness of these Chris-
tians in a convincing way the necessity of enduring suffering
80
E. KaÈsemann, `Ministry and Community in the New Testament' in Essays on New
Testament Themes (London: SCM Press, 1964), p. 92.
81
Ibid.
82
E. KaÈsemann, `New Testament Questions of Today' in New Testament Questions of
Today (London: SCM Press, 1969), p. 21.
83
See KuÈmmel, Introduction, pp. 145 ± 6, 172 ± 3; Maddox, Luke±Acts, pp. 185 ±6; Ro-
binson, Àcts' in IDB(S), p. 8.
and the strength to do so'.84 Combining parenesis and polemic,
2 Peter too is clearly a work of exhortation whose purpose is `to
admonish the church to be steadfast and to warn it against
deceivers'.85 Both types of literature present their theology in
an indirect way, the Gospel's theology embedded in its story
form, the theology of the Letters over-ridden by their practical
concerns.86
All three writings, nevertheless, are linked in tradition, not
only by virtue of their deemed connection to Peter, but also, in
the opinion of some, by a common Roman provenance. The
two letters claim to have been written by the apostle (1 Pet. 1.1;
5.1; 2 Pet. 1.1, 16±18; 3.1, 15), who speaks of himself as à witness
of the sufferings of Christ' (1 Pet. 5.1), as present at the
trans®guration (2 Pet. 1.16±18), and as being in harmonious
relations with òur beloved brother Paul' (2 Pet. 3.15). While
some scholars have accepted the authenticity of 1 Peter, with
Silvanus acting as Peter's amanuensis (1 Pet. 5.12), most would
view it, along with 2 Peter, as pseudonymous.87 There is little in
the way of detail here that would lead one to assume the
apostle's own testimony, Jesus' sufferings, for example, being
described not in the realistic terms of an eye-witness but in the
stereotyped language of the Old Testament (compare 1 Pet.
2.21±25 with Isa. 53). If we were to press 1 Peter 5.1, indeed,
then Peter, according to Mark's Gospel, did not in fact witness
Jesus' sufferings since he disappears from the scene after the
denial (Mk 14.66±72), leaving the women alone `looking on
from afar' (Mk 15.40). A traditional connection between Peter
and Mark himself, as well as the case for a Roman provenance,
has also rested on 1 Peter 5.13 where `Peter' sends greetings
from `she who is at Babylon (= Rome?)' and from `my son
Mark' (= `John Mark'?).88 The dif®culties of this verse were
84
KuÈmmel, Introduction, p. 421.
85
B. Reicke, The Epistles of James, Peter, and Jude (Anchor Bible, 37; New York:
Doubleday, 1985), p. 147.
86
See F. W. Beare, The First Epistle of Peter (Oxford: Blackwell, 1947), p. 31; J. N. D. Kelly,
The Epistles of Peter and of Jude (Black's New Testament Commentaries; London: A. &
C. Black, 1969), p. 26.
87
See KuÈmmel, Introduction, pp. 421 ±4.
88
See Martin, Mark, p. 59. For the idea of a Petrine circle in Rome, including Mark and
Silvanus, see J. H. Elliott, `Peter, Silvanus and Mark in 1 Peter and Acts. Sociological-
discussed in chapter one, and the conclusion reached was that
this pseudonymous work merely witnesses at most to a late ®rst-
century or early second-century tradition that associated the
apostle with a `Mark' (even perhaps the John Mark) but does not
make of itself a connection between this `Mark' and the writer
of the Gospel.
The Letters of Peter belong, then, as previously stated, to the
literature of early Catholicism, 1 Peter, according to R. H.
Fuller `showing the crystallization of liturgy in the early sub-
apostolic age as one of the institutions through which the
apostolic tradition was perpetuated after the death of the
apostles',89 while 2 Peter, according to E. KaÈsemann, `was
written as an apologia for primitive Christian eschatology' and
ìs from beginning to end a document expressing an early
Catholic viewpoint'.90 On this view, therefore, the former is to
be dated (in light of the persecution references) towards the end
of Domitian's reign, 90±5 CE, or even as late as 113 CE in the
reign of Trajan,91 and the latter c. 150 CE, which would make it
hence the latest of the NT writings.92
For purposes of theological comparison, however, the deter-
mination of authorship and precise dating is less important than
the source- or tradition-critical relations between the three
documents, the nature of the theological emphases they
embody, and the theological development they evince. 1 Peter
was known to the author of 2 Peter, as 2 Peter 3.1 indicates.
Some have also detected theological af®nities between 1 Peter
Exegetical Perspectives on a Petrine Group in Rome' in W. Haubeck and M.

Bachmann (eds.), Wort in der Zeit. Neutestamentliche Studien. Festgabe fuÈr Karl Heinrich
Rengstorf zum 75. Geburtstag (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1980), pp. 250 ± 67; J. H. Elliott, `The
Roman Provenance of 1 Peter and the Gospel of Mark. A Response to David
Dungan' in B. Corley (ed.), Colloquy on New Testament Studies. A Time for Reappraisal and
Fresh Approaches (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1983), pp. 181 ±94.
89
Fuller, Introduction, p. 159.
90
E. KaÈsemann, Àn Apologia for Primitive Christian Eschatology' in Essays, pp.
169 ±95. See also KuÈmmel, Introduction, pp. 430 ±4. For an opposing view, cf.
R. Bauckham, Jude, 2 Peter (Word Biblical Commentary, 50; Waco, TX: Word, 1983),
pp. 151± 3. `[F]or KaÈsemann `èarly Catholicism'' is not so much a historical category
as a theological accusation' (p. 151).
91
KuÈmmel, Introduction, p. 425. For an opposing view, Reicke, Epistles, p. 71.
92
KuÈmmel, Introduction, p. 434; KaÈsemann, Àpologia' in KaÈsemann, Essays, p. 172.
Contr. Reicke, Epistles, p. 144 ; Bauckham, 2 Peter, p. 158.
and the sermons in Acts discussed in the last section.93 By far
the greatest theological in¯uence on the author of 1 Peter is
Gentile Christianity, and in particular Paul, whose letters offer
abundant parallels to the language and ideas of this letter.94
The Pauline letters themselves, now elevated to the status of
`scripture', are appealed to by the author of 2 Peter (2 Pet.
3.15±16). He acknowledges also that they are `hard to under-
stand' and bemoans the fact that they are now subject to
misinterpretation by those he deems false teachers (see also
2 Pet. 1.20). Typical of early Catholicism, both letters represent,
then, à rapprochement between the two leaders',95 with Peter
and his theology being presented in Pauline terms, and with
both apostles acting in the capacity of guarantors of the one
apostolic tradition.96 This picture of Peter as àuthentic apos-
tolic teacher and source of tradition', whose ìmage is so strong
that [his] name can be invoked to correct those who are
misinterpreting the Pauline letters',97 can be clearly contrasted
with that in the Gospel of Mark.
Pursuing the question of source or tradition relations, we
might ask if either author knew the Gospels, and particularly
the Gospel of Mark. Parallels do exist, although mostly with
Matthew (compare 1 Pet. 1.10±11 and Mt. 11.13; 13.17; 1.17 and
Mt. 6.9; 2.7 and Mt. 21.42, though see also Mk 12.10; 2.12 and
Mt. 5.16; 3.9 and Mt. 5.44; 3.14 and Mt. 5.10),98 the closest of
these, according to E. Best, being 1 Peter 3.14 and Matthew 5.10
and 1 Peter 1.18 and Mark 10.45.99 In general, the lack of verbal
agreement indicates that knowledge of the Synoptic tradition,
especially that contained in Matthew 5.10±16, Mark 10.45,
Luke 6 and 12,100 rather than direct dependence upon the
93
See E. Best, 1 Peter (New Century Bible; London: Oliphants, 1971), p. 60; G. E.
Ladd, A Theology of the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974), p. 595;
E. G. Selwyn, The First Epistle of St Peter (London: Macmillan, 1947), pp. 33± 6.
94
See Beare, Peter, p. 25; Reicke, Epistles, p. 70.
95
J. L. Houlden, `Peter' in DBI, p. 534.
96
J. C. Beker, `Peter, Second Letter of ' in IDB, p. 771.
97 98
R. E. Brown, `Peter' in IDB(S), p. 657. See Kelly, Epistles, pp. 11± 12.
99
E. Best, `1 Peter and the Gospel Tradition', NTS, 16 (1969 ±70), pp. 95 ±113; Best,
1 Peter, p. 53.
100
See P. H. Davids, The First Epistle of Peter (The New International Commentary on
the New Testament; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1990), p. 27.
Gospels themselves is in view, and that such knowledge on the
part of the author was of the more developed rather than of the
more original form of the tradition.101 Although a common
provenance within the Roman church accounts, according to
Best, for the use in 1 Peter of the `ransom' image in connection
with the death of Christ, his highlighting of this important
Markan parallel is one to which we shall return. Similarly, with
2 Peter, a knowledge of the Gospel tradition, if not of the
Gospels themselves,102 is presupposed by parallels such as 2
Peter 1.14 and John 21.18, 1.16±18 and Mark 9.2±8 par., 2.20
and Matthew 12.45 = Luke 11.26, 3.10 and Matthew 24.43 =
Luke 12.39 (see also 1 Thes. 5.2).103 Where the Gospel of Mark
is concerned, the author's reference to and use of the Trans®g-
uration tradition is also to be noted.
If we cannot be certain, however, of a direct in¯uence of
Mark on the letters of Peter, then in what ways may the theology
of their respective texts be compared?104 As with other early
Catholic writings, ecclesiology is important. While employing
the language of Diaspora Judaism in addressing `the exiles of
the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and
Bithynia' (1 Pet. 1.1; see also 1.17; 2.11), the writer of 1 Peter had,
by common consent, Gentile Christians in mind. 105 Unlike the
Gospel of Mark, or the Pauline Epistles before it, the letter
shows little evidence of a tension between Jewish and Gentile
Christianity.106 This dispute has been left behind, and the
church is now viewed as the true people of God, the new Israel,
whose calling it is to be separate, whose duty it is to be holy, and
101
See Best, 1 Peter, p. 53. For a contrary view, see R. H. Gundry, `Verba Christi in
1 Peter: their Implications Concerning the Authorship of 1 Peter and the Authenti-
city of the Gospel Tradition', NTS, 13 (1967), pp. 336± 50.
102
However on 2 Pet. 1.16 ±17, see Beker, `Peter' in IDB, p. 771, and on 2 Pet. 3.2,
KaÈsemann, Àpologia' in Essays, p. 173.
103
See Bauckham, 2 Peter, p. 148. Bauckham also gives as possible echoes 2 Pet. 1.16
and Mk 9.1 par. Mt. 16.28 (but if so an independent form of this saying), 2.9 and Mt.
6.13, 2.21 and Mk 9.42; 14.21 par. (see also 1 Clem. 46.8) and 3.4 and Mk 9.1 par.;
Mk 13.30 par.
104
For a recent theological treatment of the letters, see A. Chester and R. P. Martin,
The Theology of the Letters of James, Peter, and Jude (New Testament Theology;
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994). For standard treatments, see Beare,
Peter; Kelly, Epistles; Selwyn, St Peter.
105 106
See Best, 1 Peter, p. 19. Ibid., p. 45.
whose real home is in heaven (1 Pet. 1.15; 2.4±5, 9±10).107 The
corollary of this theologoumenon, however, is that the `hardening'
motif where the Jews are concerned, has been intensi®ed.
Where Mark (or the tradition before him) appended the
`cornerstone' logion of Psalm 118.22±3 to the parable of the
Vineyard (Mk 12.10±11), so indicting the Jewish leaders for their
rejection of Jesus, the author of 1 Peter employs the same logion
to more universal effect (1 Pet. 2.7). Where Mark, in presenting
his `parables secret,' employed Isaiah 6.9±10 to explain the
òutsiders' rejection of Jesus' word (Mk 4.11±12), the writer of
1 Peter employs Isaiah 8.14±15 to even more telling effect so
that the old Israel `stumble because they disobey the word, as
they were destined to do' (1 Pet. 2.8; italics mine). The role given to
the church by the Letters of Peter is also re¯ected, as we have
seen, in the view taken of its leaders. Where Mark entertained a
negative attitude in respect of the original followers of Jesus, the
apostles, especially Peter, have now become the essential guar-
dians of the truth (e.g. 2 Pet. 3.2). Writing of the role of Peter in
2 Peter, KaÈsemann declares: `The messenger of the gospel has
become the guarantor of the tradition, the witness of the
resurrection has become the witness of the historia sacra, the
bearer of the eschatological action of God has become a pillar
of the institution which dispenses salvation, the man who is
subject to the eschatological temptation has become the man
who brings securitas.'108
Where sharp contrast, then, can be seen between Gospel and
Letters in the respective status accorded to Jesus' original Jewish
disciples, the Christology of the Letters may be seen to re¯ect
the Gentile orientation already adopted, though more tenta-
tively, by the Markan evangelist. The Christology is high,
focusing on Christ's sufferings and death, as well as his exalta-
tion. While the Gospel incorporates, though seeks to supersede,
the tradition of Jesus as teacher, prophet and exorcist, the
107
See KuÈmmel, Introduction, p. 418; Ladd, Theology, pp. 597, 599. `So far as the Church
is concerned, Christians are the new Israel, the people of God who were once no
people, strangers and sojourners in the world awaiting their heavenly inheritance',
Kelly, Epistles, p. 26.
108
KaÈsemann, Àpologia' in Essays, p. 177.
Letters have little interest in the historical Jesus other than in his
passion. Similarly, Jewish-Christian Messianic Christologies
which the evangelist did his best to engage ± Jesus as the royal
`Son of David' or as the apocalyptic `Son of Man' ± have also
been left far behind. The recipients of 1 Peter are instructed to
`reverence Christ (now virtually a second name) as Lord' (1 Pet.
3. 15), a title also used with reference to God (e.g. 1 Pet. 1.25;
2 Pet. 2.9, 11; 3.8, 9, 10). Both writers correspondingly refer to
Jesus in devotional terms as `the Lord Jesus Christ' (1 Pet. 1.3;
2 Pet. 1.8, 14, 16) or, in the case of 2 Peter, as òur Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ' (2 Pet. 1.11; 2.20; 3.18). Although 1 Peter
does not use the title `Son of God', some commentators think
that his status (e.g. 1 Pet. 1.2±3) and even his pre-existence as
such (1 Pet. 1.20) is presupposed.109 In citing the Trans®guration
story, with its heavenly declaration of Jesus' Sonship, the writer
of 2 Peter, however, is clearly recapitulating a tradition which,
in its original form in Mark, functioned, as we saw, to reinforce
such a Christology.
A distinctive element of 1 Peter is its presentation of Christ as
the suffering Servant of Isaiah 53 (1 Pet. 2.22±4).110 Although
this is deemed by some not to be a prominent feature of
Mark,111 the in¯uence of Isaiah 53 is to be detected, I have
argued, in Mark's transformation of the apocalyptic Son of
Man into the suffering Son of Man, in the pivotal `ransom'
saying of Mark 10.45 in particular, and in the narrative of the
passion itself (see also Mk 9.35 where true discipleship is de®ned
in terms of the `servant' role). It is signi®cant, then, that the
evangelist's portrait of Jesus, in its emphasis on his suffering and
death, is presented also by the writer of 1 Peter, the former
holding this portrait up to his readers for its Christological
implications, the latter (presupposing these) for its ethical ones.
For the one, Christian belief is the focus, and it resides in
penetrating the `secret' of Christ's sufferings. For the other, it is
109
See Selwyn, St Peter, p. 249. Cf. Ladd, Theology, p. 599.
110
See Kelly, Epistles, pp. 25, 30; S. Laws, `Peter, First' in DBI, p. 534.
111
See, for example, E. Best, The Temptation and the Passion: the Markan Soteriology
(SNTSMS, 2; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965), pp. 140ff.; Best,
1 Peter, p. 60; M. Hooker, Jesus and the Servant (London: SPCK, 1959), pp. 62± 102.
Christian behaviour that matters, and it resides in the imitatio
Christi, the imitation of that suffering.
In placing an emphasis on the salvi®c implications as well as
the exemplary nature of the suffering and death of Jesus, the
writer of 1 Peter may be said to stand in a soteriological
tradition which owes much to the in¯uence of Paul and Mark.
Like theirs, his soteriology is a theologia crucis. The essence of
Christian salvation lies in the death of Christ, and his subse-
quent glori®cation (1 Pet. 1.11), and this death is `sacri®cial,
vicarious, and redemptive'.112 Although the Gospel offers no
parallel to the remarkable descent of Christ into hell (1 Pet.
3.19±20), nor any claim that he was sinless (contrast 1 Peter 2.22
and Mk 1.4, 9; 10.18), the particular use by both Mark and the
writer of 1 Peter of `ransom' imagery (Mk 10.45 and 1 Pet.
1.18±19) to express the signi®cance of Christ's death is, as we
have noted, a striking feature, contrasting, as it does, with other
soteriologies which see Christ's death as a victory over evil
powers (e.g. Col. 2.15),113 or which view that death itself as his
glori®cation (e.g. Jn 12.23ff.).
Eschatology is an important feature in the Letters of Peter as
it is in the Gospel of Mark. There is in both writers the notion
that the death of Christ is in itself an eschatological event.
According to the writer of 1 Peter, Christ's death was prophesied
(1 Pet. 1.10±11), was predestined before the foundation of the
world (1 Pet. 1.20) and has inaugurated the end-time (1 Pet.
1.20).114 In the Gospel, links exist between the passion narrative
and the apocalyptic discourse which precedes it, with eschato-
logical signs attending the death of the Son of God (the
prediction of the Temple's demise, Mk 13.1±2 and 15.38; the
cosmic darkness, 13.24 and 15.33; the summons to watchfulness,
13.33, 35±7 and 14.32±42, 66±72; see also the anticipation of
Elijah, 1.2±3; 9.11±13; 15.35±6).115 As in Mark, watchfulness in
light of `the end of all things' is advocated in 1 Peter 4.7. An
112 113
Beare, Peter, p. 34. Best, 1 Peter, p. 60.
114
See Ladd, Theology, p. 595.
115
For a discussion of the links between Mk 13 and the passion narrative, see
R. H. Lightfoot, The Gospel Message of St Mark (Oxford: Clarendon, 1950), pp. 48± 59.
See also T. J. Geddert, Watchwords. Mark 13 in Markan Eschatology ( JSNTSS 26;
Shef®eld: JSOT Press, 1989), pp. 89 ±111.
eschatological emphasis, indeed, permeates the entire letter.116
While references to the Kingdom of God are lacking, the
eschatological hope is strongly declared both at the beginning
(1 Pet. 1.3±13) and at the end (1 Pet. 5.10).
By virtue of the author's emphasis on the salvi®c death of
Christ, however, a `realized' element, as with Mark, quali®es
this future hope.117 At the individual level, salvation comes to
the believer with conversion (1 Pet. 1.22) and `baptism now saves
you' (1 Pet. 3.21). At the cosmic level, Christ has been mani-
fested (1 Pet. 1.20), was resurrected, has ascended into heaven,
and is now àt the right hand of God, with angels, authorities,
and powers subject to him' (1 Pet. 3.22). At the social or political
level, however, believers must be subject to these earthly
powers, as well as to all human institutions (1 Pet. 2.13±17).
Despite the sufferings of Christian communities, Rome itself,
though described as `Babylon' (1 Pet. 5.13) must, in the form of
the Emperor, be honoured. Although the emphasis is on a
realized eschatology, therefore, the future hope, as with Mark
(Mk 13) has clearly not been abandoned (1 Pet. 1.5, 9, 13; 4.13),
and, in this respect, 1 Peter can be said to retain a primitive
feature.
This unwillingness to abandon the future hope is seen even
more strongly in 2 Peter's àpologia for primitive Christian
eschatology' (see especially 2 Pet. 3. 3±13). While sharing
Mark's view that the second coming will be sudden in appear-
ance and dramatic in nature (Mk 13. 24ff., 33, 35 and 2 Pet.
3.10), the writer departs from the Gospel's traditional apoca-
lyptic claim that God would shorten the days (Mk 13.20) and
speed its coming (Mk 13.30). Instead, God lengthens the time of
the end `not wishing that any should perish, but that all should
reach repentance' (2 Pet. 3.9).118 Notwithstanding this provi-
116
See Davids, Peter, p. 15; W. C. van Unnik, `Peter, First Letter of ' in IDB, p. 765.
117
`The Messiah has been revealed and the End has already begun (i. 20); redeemed
and regenerated, Christians have the promised salvation already within their grasp.
Although the full glory is yet to come (i. 4f.; iv. 13), their temporary sufferings are
themselves proof that it is just round the corner (iv. 7; 17: cf. v. 10); the ®nal con¯ict
of God and His saints with the Devil has been effectively won, so that they can face
every sort of ill-treatment with con®dence, even exultation', Kelly, Epistles, p. 26.
118
See Beker, `Peter' in IDB, p. 771.
dential delay, ®ery judgment for the ungodly will be inevitable,
and èntrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ' (2 Pet. 1.11) the reward for Christian
allegiance and fortitude. In this somewhat crude way, then,
2 Peter `has provided the church with a rationale to deal with
the delay of the Parousia while retaining a doctrine of the
destruction of the world at the time of the Last Judgment'.119
These primitive Christian convictions are also buttressed,
however, in another remarkable way. `Standing' with those in
the Gospel who would `not taste death' before they saw `the
Kingdom of God come with power' (Mk 9.1), the `Peter' of the
Second Letter, himself about to taste death (2 Pet. 1.12±15)
makes an appeal to his experience of the Trans®guration
(compare Mk 9.2±9 par. and 2 Pet. 1.16±19). Where the evange-
list used this account to reinforce his epiphany Christology,
however, the writer of the Second Letter uses it, along with Old
Testament prophecy, emphatically to reassert the primitive
parousia expectation. On the other hand, the removal of
imminence, the breaking of the link between Christ's death,
resurrection, ascension and parousia in the primitive kerygma,
and the unsophisticated use of the second coming both as a
carrot to reward the godly and as a stick to punish the
wicked,120 all contribute to KaÈsemann's criticism that 2 Peter is
`perhaps the most dubious writing in the canon'. 121 Having à
relatively autonomous existence alongside the other articles of
Christian doctrine', he declares, `. . . it would arouse no interest
at all if its help were not needed in giving a clear-cut solution to
the problem of theodicy and in encouraging Christian morality
by directing the eye towards reward and punishment . . . [C]on-
cerned only with the hope of the triumphal entry of believers
into the eternal kingdom and with the destruction of the
ungodly', this latest writing in the New Testament sadly demon-
strates, then, that a `[t]heologia gloriae triumphs all along the
line'.122
119 120
Ibid., pp. 767. See Fuller, Introduction, p. 165.
121 122
KaÈsemann, Àpologia' in Essays, p. 169. Ibid., pp. 185, 187.
mark and hebrews

Few comparisons appear to have been made between the
Gospel of Mark and the Epistle to the Hebrews,123 yet such
comparison can be illuminating, especially where the history of
NT theology is concerned.124 Both writings, as with 1 Peter, are
preoccupied with the theme of suffering, persecution and
martyrdom, and seek to bolster faith in face of it (e.g. Heb.
10.32±9 and Mk 10.29±30; 13.9±13). As with 1 Peter, too, both
hold up for the reader the example of Jesus' own sufferings and
draw implications from it, both practical and theological.125 As
with the Letters of Peter, Rome too has been claimed as a
possible provenance for the Epistle, hence bringing it into the
same orbit as that traditionally suggested for the Gospel. 126
With regard to its date of composition, the Epistle was probably
written between 80 and 90 CE,127 but an earlier date ± perhaps
just before 70 CE (if Heb. 9.9±10; 13.13±14 imply that Jerusalem
and the Temple are still standing) would make it almost
contemporary with Mark.
123
Cf., however, Bacon, Mark, pp. 331± 4; A. A. K. Graham, `Mark and Hebrews' in
F. L. Cross (ed.), Studia Evangelica 4,1. Papers Presented to the Third International Congress
on New Testament Studies held at Christ Church, Oxford, 1965: Part I. The New Testament
Scriptures (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1968), pp. 411 ±16.
124
For general background, see the standard introductions, commentaries or diction-
ary articles: e.g. H. W. Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia; Philadelphia,
PA: Fortress Press, 1989); F. F. Bruce, The Epistle to the Hebrews (The New Inter-
national Commentary on the New Testament; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
1964); F. F. Bruce, `Hebrews, Letter to the' in IDB(S), pp. 394 ± 5; D. C. Duling and
N. Perrin, The New Testament. Proclamation and Parenesis. Myth and History (New York:
Harcourt Brace College, 1994), pp. 282± 93; P. Ellingworth, The Epistle to the Hebrews.
A Commentary on the Greek Text (The New International Greek Testament Commen-
tary; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans; Carlisle: Paternoster, 1993); Fuller, Introduction,
pp. 144 ± 50; J. HeÂring, The Epistle to the Hebrews (London: Epworth Press, 1970);
KuÈmmel, Introduction, pp. 388 ±403; H. Monte®ore, The Epistle to the Hebrews
(London: A. & C. Black, 1964); R. Williamson, `Hebrews' in DBI, pp. 273± 6; R. M.
Wilson, Hebrews (New Century Bible Commentary; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans;
Basingstoke: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1987). More specialized theological discus-
sion can be found in Ladd, Theology, pp. 571± 87 and B. Lindars, The Theology of the
Letter to the Hebrews (New Testament Theology; Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1991).
125
See Bacon, Mark, pp. 333 ± 4.
126
Ibid., esp. p. 331; W. Manson, The Epistle to the Hebrews (London: Hodder &
Stoughton, 1951), esp. pp. 23 ±4.
127
See KuÈmmel, Introduction, p. 403.
Before making a speci®c comparison between their respective
theologies, we might again consider the source or tradition
relations existing in general between Hebrews and other NT
documents, especially the Gospels. Although there are clear
echoes of Pauline ideas in the Epistle,128 it is generally agreed
that the author's theology is to be clearly differentiated from
that of the apostle.129 Af®nities have been detected between
Acts and Hebrews, especially Acts 6±7. Here the expression
`the Hebrews' (probably Hebrew- or Aramaic-speaking con-
servative Jewish Christians, see Acts 6.1) is found. Ideas attrib-
uted to Stephen (e.g. the supersession of the Temple cultus, the
wandering people of God) also ®nd their place in the Epistle.130
The Epistle, or `word of exhortation', as it describes itself (Heb.
13.22) has its strongest links, however, with 1 Peter, especially in
terms of soteriology.131 References to the Synoptic tradition, on
the other hand, are scarce.132 Hebrews 7.14 remarks that òur
Lord was descended from Judah' rather than from priestly Levi,
a tradition that the writer's High Priest Christology has to
overcome. Hebrews 4.15 may allude to the Temptation (cf. Mk
1.12±13 par.) and 5.5 to the Baptism (cf. Mk 1.9±11 par.).
128
KuÈmmel lists these as `Christ the Son, the preexistent agent of creation; the
redemptive death of Christ as the central message of salvation; the idea of the New
covenant of God (kainhÁ diauhÂkh), cf. I Cor 11:25; II Cor 3:6, 14; Gal 4:24; the
decisive importance of faith; the use of the same quotations in scriptural proofs:
10:38 and Rom 1:17; Gal 3:11: Hab 2:4 ± 2:6 ff and I Cor 15:27: Ps 8; echoes of
Pauline exposition (cf. 5:12 ff with I Cor 3:1 ff )' (ibid., p. 395).
129
Ibid., p. 395; Monte®ore, Hebrews, p. 5; E. F. Scott, The Epistle to the Hebrews
(Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1922), pp. 58 ±9.
130
See Duling and Perrin, New Testament., pp. 284 ±5; Manson, Hebrews, esp. pp. vi,
23 ±4.
131
These are summarized by H. W. Attridge as follows: `Both focus on the Christ who
was ``manifested'' at the end of days. His `ònce for all'' death is a central salvi®c
event, and that death is portrayed in cultic terms, as the sacri®ce of a sinless victim.
The death of Christ is not the end of his story and both texts highlight his exaltation,
relying on Ps 110. The application of Christ's sacri®ce, imaged as a ``sprinkling of
blood'' and connected with baptism, removes sin, affects conscience, provides
access to God, and sancti®es. This soteriological event was announced in the
scriptures through which the spirit spoke', The Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia;
Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1989), pp. 30 ±1. See also Monte®ore, Hebrews, p. 5.
132
Bacon, Mark, p. 331; E. GraÈsser, `Der historische Jesus im HebraÈerbrief ', ZNW, 56
(1965), pp. 63 ±91; G. Hughes, Hebrews and Hermeneutics. The Epistle to the Hebrews as a
New Testament Example of Biblical Interpretation (SNTSMS, 36; Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1979), pp. 77 and 179, n. 89.
Hebrews 5.7ff. appears to re¯ect knowledge of the Gethsemane
story (Mk 14.32±42 par.) and Hebrews 13.12 of Jesus' death
outside Jerusalem. While a number of formative in¯uences have
been mooted for Hebrews, among them Platonism, Philo, the
Dead Sea Scrolls and Gnosticism,133 the Epistle is essentially a
work of theology which has been generated by a rich religious
imagination operating principally on the Old Testament
(especially on Ps. 110 and Gen. 14).
As before, I shall comment on this theology with regard to
the speci®c areas which have guided our comparison with the
Gospel thus far, namely ecclesiology, Christology, soteriology
and eschatology. Not only the background of thought, but also
the nature of the community addressed in the Epistle have
constituted a problem. Scholars are divided as to whether the
Epistle was written to Jewish Christians, to Gentile Christians,
or simply to Christians per se.134 The Epistle's arguments in
support of the superiority of Christian institutions over Jewish
ones (of the Son over angels, of Jesus over Moses, of the
heavenly high priest over the Levitical one, of the new covenant
over the old) is buttressed at the same time by a detailed and
comprehensive knowledge of, and dependence upon the Old
Testament, and especially the sacri®cial system. Its audience,
for this reason, can reasonably be seen as Jewish Christians,
who, in danger of apostasy (Heb. 6.4±6; 10.23, 26) or merely of
conservatism (Heb. 5.12±14; 6.1±3), are either òn the brink of
lapsing into their original Jewish beliefs',135 or òf remaining as
Christians under the covert of the Jewish religion'.136 On the
other hand, the terms `Jew' or `Gentile' do not appear, and, as
with 1 Peter, there is no evidence of the Jew±Gentile dispute
evident in Mark and Paul, nor indeed of any hostility between
them. Where the addressees of Hebrews are concerned, they
are `the people of God' who are to enter into the `sabbath rest'
133
See Bruce, `Hebrews' in IDB(S), pp. 394 ± 5; L. D. Hurst, The Epistle to the Hebrews. Its
Background of Thought (SNTSMS, 65; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990);
Wilson, Hebrews, p. 27.
134
See KuÈmmel, Introduction, pp. 398 ±401.
135 136
Williamson, `Hebrews' in DBI, p. 273. Manson, Hebrews, p. 24.
denied to the Israel of old, the wilderness generation (Heb.
3.7±4.13, especially 4.9).
With regard to Jewish institutions, the writer of the Epistle to
the Hebrews, like Mark, has an ìnterior' view of purity and the
laws governing it (Heb. 9.9±10; 13.9 and Mk 7.1±23) as well as a
spiritual view of sacri®ce (Heb. 10.1±10; 13.15±16 and Mk
12.32±4). For both writers, the Temple is man-made (Heb. 9.11,
24 and Mk 14.58). In what are admittedly very different
contexts, each nevertheless is concerned with the sabbath and
its implications for the follower of Jesus (Heb. 3.7±4.13 and Mk
2.23±3.6), both employing the `hardening' motif of unbelieving
Israel or the Jewish authorities in connection with it (Heb. 3.7ff.
and Mk 3.5). In offering a rebuke to its target audience for its
lack of courage in making spiritual progress, of advancing
beyond the fundamentals, Hebrews offers a picture similar to
that painted of the original disciples of Jesus in Mark. Likewise,
in presenting Jesus himself as `the apostle . . . of our confession'
(Heb. 3.1), as the one who `goes ahead' of his disciples on the
road to salvation (Heb. 2.10; 4.14; 6.20; 12.2 and Mk 10.32;
10.52; 14.28; 16.7), the two writers strike certain common notes.
It is in the area of Christology and soteriology, indeed, that
these resemblances are to be seen. Unlike the evangelist, the
writer of Hebrews shows little interest in, or knowledge of, the
Jesus tradition, as the paucity of references to that tradition
indicate. Nevertheless, `[n]o New Testament book', it is
claimed, èmphasizes the humanity of Jesus more emphatically
than does Hebrews' (see, for example, Heb. 2.17; 5.7; 12.3),137
and in this it can be compared with Mark. On the other hand,
both writers are clearly of the view that their subject is `more
than human', is indeed divine, and, in the case of Hebrews, as
with 1 Peter (though not Mark), even sinless (Heb. 4.15; 7.26; 1
Pet. 2.22; contrast Mk 1.4, 9; 10.18). In the case of Hebrews, as
with 1 Peter, other `lower' estimates of Jesus ± Jesus as teacher,
prophet, exorcist ± have clearly been left far behind, with no
apparent necessity to engage them. Miracles now attest `the
message declared by angels' and by the one addressed as `the
137
Ladd, Theology, p. 574. See also Graham, `Mark and Hebrews' in Cross (ed.), Studia
Evangelica 4,1, p. 415; Scott, Hebrews, p. 61.
Lord' (Heb. 2.2, 3; cf. 12.14; 13.20). Like Mark, but unlike
Matthew, the writer has little truck with Jesus as an earthly
Messiah or royal Son of David. The second evangelist provided
no family tree for the Jesus of his Gospel, and the Christ of
Hebrews, like Melchizedek, is similarly `without father or
mother or genealogy' (Heb. 7.3). Where Mark used the Mes-
sianic Psalm 110 to argue for the concept of `Christ' as `Lord'
rather than `Son of David' (Mk 12.35±7 and Ps. 110.1), the
author of Hebrews employs the same Psalm to argue for the
concept of `Christ' as `priest after the order of Melchizedek'
(Heb. 7 and Ps. 110.4). As Mark used but quali®ed the notion of
Jesus as the apocalyptic Son of Man (`The Son of Man must
suffer', Mk 8.31), so too the focus of the Epistle's Christological
presentation is on `the heavenly man' who, nevertheless,
achieves his salvi®c purpose through suffering. As `son of man'
made `for a little while lower than the angels', he is `crowned
with glory and honour because of the suffering of death' (Heb.
2.5±9). Hence it is `®tting that he, for whom and by whom all
things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the
pioneer of their salvation perfect through suffering' (Heb. 2.10).
The word translated here (and in 12.2) as `pioneer' (archeÅgos;
see also Heb. 4.14; 6. 20) is one encountered elsewhere, as we
have noted, only in Acts 3.15 and 5.31. In Mark, however, Jesus
too, as we have observed, `precedes' his disciples on his lonely
way to the cross (Mk 10.32, 52), and thence to `Galilee' (of the
Gentiles) where henceforth his living presence is to be dis-
covered (Mk 14.28; 16.7). Likewise, in Hebrews, as path®nder,
he `passes through the heavens' (Heb. 4.14), èntering', as
`forerunner', ìnto the inner shrine behind the curtain' (Heb.
6.19±20). It is tempting, therefore, to see the Epistle's bold
theological claim that Christ entered the heavenly sanctuary,
opening a `living way . . . through the curtain' (Heb. 10.20),
represented in narrative form in the Gospel's statement that at
the death of Jesus, `the curtain of the temple was torn in two,
from top to bottom' (Mk 15.38).138 While Hebrews also shares
with Mark some other Christological images (e.g. the `shepherd'
138
Graham, `Mark and Hebrews' in Cross (ed.), Studia Evangelica 4,1, p. 415. Cf. Bacon,
Mark, p. 332.
motif, cf. Heb. 13.20 and Mk 14.27),139 the supreme point of
contact lies in their mutual `Son of God' Christology. For Mark,
as we saw, this is the supreme title. For the writer of the Epistle,
too, it is a favourite one (Heb. 1.2, 5; 4.14; 5.5; 6.6; 7.3; 10.29).140
Where the pre-existence of the Son is germinal in the Gospel
rather than a more developed element of doctrine, the Chris-
tology of the author of Hebrews has clearly begun to develop
along this line (e.g. Heb. 1.1±4).141 Where the Son's status is
subject to secrecy in the Gospel, in the Epistle he is `now risen,
ascended, and seated at God's right hand, waiting for the
subjection to him of all his enemies'.142
If `Son of God' is one of the poles around which the author's
thought about Christ revolves, the other is represented by the
title `high priest' (e.g. Heb. 2.17; 3.1; 4.14; 5.10; 6.20).143 The
central theme, indeed, of the Christology of Hebrews is the high
priesthood of Christ.144 This Christology, on the other hand, is
not shared by Mark, nor by the Gospel tradition as a whole,
despite attempts to detect it.145 In the expressive words of
J. HeÂring, by `[s]eizing upon the ®gure of Melchizedek who
appears only in Genesis 14 and later in Psalm 110, the author
with remarkable wisdom has found the Archimedean point
which enables him to lift from its hinges the entire Jewish cult
going back by tradition to Moses and Aaron'.146 In terms
reminiscent of the prologue of John's Gospel ( Jn 1.1ff.; see also
Col. 1.15ff.), the writer of Hebrews in addition presents Jesus as
the sustainer of creation, as God's word or even his wisdom
(Heb. 1.1±3), and in this, of course, he also departs from Mark.
His Christology is explicitly a high one. Where Mark had to
present his epiphany Christology as a secret for the initiated,
the author presupposes it. Where Mark had to engage a Jesus
tradition that entertained lower estimates of his subject, the
author of Hebrews, apparently restrained by only its barest
elements, and obviously inspired by the Old Testament, could
139
See A. Nairne, The Epistle of Priesthood (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1913), p. 185.
140 141
See Ladd, Theology, p. 577. See Lindars, Hebrews, p. 42.
142
Williamson, `Hebrews' in DBI, p. 273.
143 144
See Ellingworth, Hebrews, p. 67. See Ladd, Theology, p. 578.
145
See, for example, Lk. 12.8 par.; 22.32; Jn 17 and Bruce, Hebrews, p. liii.
146
HeÂring, Hebrews, p. xi.
soar to greater heights (see especially Heb. 1.8; see also 2 Pet. 1.1
variant reading).
If `Son of God' describes for Hebrews Jesus' Christological
status, `high priest' de®nes his soteriological function. Since that
function is not only to act as the perfect high priest (Heb.
4.14±5.10; 7), but also to present the perfect sacri®ce (Heb.
9.11±10.18), then the Epistle's emphasis on the sacri®cial death
of Christ brings it yet again into relation with Mark (as well as
Paul). Each writer entertains a theologia crucis, and in the case of
Hebrews a theology of the cross par excellence. The one expresses
it in a deceptively simple and straightforward narrative, with an
interpretative saying (Mk 10.45), an account of the Last Supper
(Mk 14.22±5) and a passion story (Mk 14±15), the other in an
obviously comprehensive and loftier theological discourse. Each
presents Jesus as `the mediator of a new covenant' (Heb. 9.15;
12.24 and Mk 14.24), the writer of Hebrews developing, or even,
some would say, making explicit what is only implicit in the Last
Supper accounts.147 Both use the Old Testament to express
their passion theology, the evangelist to describe (and subtly
interpret) Jesus' death with intertextual allusion (see the use of
Psalm 22 or Isa. 53 in the passion narrative),148 the writer of
Hebrews to promote it with a series of proof-texts. Each too
uses the language of faith (e.g. Mk 4.40; 5.34; 9.23±4; 11.22 and
Heb. 11) albeit in different ways.149
If parallels can be seen in Christology and soteriology, then
what about eschatology? As with Mark (see Mk 13 especially
13.30ff.), a future consummation is awaited. Judgment has yet to
come (Heb. 6.2; 9.27; 10.27, 30±1; 12.23, 29; 13.4) and the
parousia is still expected (Heb. 9.28; 10.13, 25).150 Prominent in
Mark, the Kingdom of God rarely appears in Hebrews (Heb.
1.8; 12.28), although certain related images are used in scattered
147
See S. Lehne, The New Covenant in Hebrews ( JSNTSS, 44; Shef®eld: JSOT Press,
1990), pp. 83, 86, 88, 90, 119. See also Bacon, Mark, p. 331.
148
See W. R. Telford, Mark (New Testament Guides; Shef®eld: Shef®eld Academic
Press, 1995), p. 107.
149
`Faith is discovered to be less than the personal, saving relationship with Jesus which
it had been in Paul and even in the Synoptic writers; it has assumed a much more
academic, noetic quality', Hughes, Hebrews and Hermeneutics, p. 137.
150
See J. M. Scholer, Proleptic Priests. Priesthood in the Epistle to the Hebrews ( JSNTSS, 49;
Shef®eld: JSOT Press, 1991), p. 202.
passages throughout (e.g. Heb. 2.5 (`the world to come');
3.7±4.13 (`God's sabbath rest'); 6.5 (`the age to come'); 9.15 (`the
promised eternal inheritance'); 10.25 (`the Day drawing near');
11.16 (`the heavenly country')). Jesus' resurrection is only men-
tioned once (Heb. 13.20). A Platonic scheme focusing on the
earthly world below and the heavenly world above eclipses
temporal notions of `this age' and `the age to come', and this
spatial dualism leads some scholars to claim that the Epistle's
futurist eschatology is therefore residual rather than funda-
mental to its thought.151 What is clear is that the major thrust of
the Epistle's eschatological presentation is a `realized' one, and
in line, therefore, with the redactional direction of the
Gospel.152 Emphasis is placed on the `heavenly session' of
Christ, on his present role on behalf of believers at the right
hand of God. Where Mark was concerned to present the
earthly life of Jesus as that of the divine `Son of God', the death
of Jesus as the suffering `Son of Man', and the return of Jesus as
his ultimate vindication, `Heb', according to R. H. Fuller,
`makes the chief NT contribution to that part of Christology
which concerns the heavenly work of Christ between his exalta-
tion and the parousia, namely, as a priestly work in which his
once-for-all sacri®ce is the ground of his continued intercession
and appearance before God for the faithful on earth (7:25;
9:24)'.153
mark and revelation

If Hebrews contributes to a `realized' eschatological trend
which is already in evidence in Mark, then the ®nal book in the
New Testament canon, the Apocalypse or Revelation to John,
in common with its latest writing, 2 Peter, vigorously reasserts
the traditional expectation (e.g. Rev. 3.11, Ì am coming soon').
Mark too, of course, has a parousia expectation, but it is
quali®ed by his Christology and soteriology. Though dominated
151
For an opposing view, see Ladd, Theology, p. 572; Scott, Hebrews, p. 61.
152
`The eschatological focal point in Hebrews is clearly in the past, at the death and
exaltation of Christ', Attridge, Hebrews, p. 28. See also Scholer, Priests, p. 206.
153
Fuller, Introduction, p. 150.
by eschatology, Revelation, like the Gospel, has a rich theology
which only at times, however, transcends its major concern.
Again the differences resulting from genre, as well as presen-
tation, need to be noted. While Mark incorporates within its
narrative matrix an èschatological discourse', sometimes re-
ferred to as the `little apocalypse' (Mk 13), Revelation presents a
series of visions (Rev. 4.1±22.5) in a major apocalypse, set within
an epistolary framework (Rev. 1±3, esp. 1.4±8 and 22.6±21).
Where the Markan Jesus addresses the community through his
sayings and parables (e.g. Mk 4.1±34), the heavenly ®gure of
Revelation communicates through letters addressed to the
seven churches (Rev. 2±3). Whereas the Markan evangelist
offers his theology in story form, the seer of the Apocalypse uses
powerful imagery and symbolism.
Although Revelation shares with Mark, 1 Peter and Hebrews
a preoccupation with suffering, persecution and martyrdom, it
nevertheless presents a very different reaction to these experi-
ences.154 Instead of counselling patient forbearance or an
imitatio Christi, it treats its tormentors with vituperation (e.g. Rev.
2.20±3), calls for vengeance upon them (Rev. 6.9±11) and
conjures up vindictive images of their punishment (e.g. Rev.
14.9±11). In contrast to the respectful, or at least quietist attitude
adopted by other New Testament writings (e.g. Mk 12.13±17;
Rom. 13.1±7; 1 Pet. 2.13±17), the Apocalypse evinces an implac-
able hatred towards the Roman state which it pictures as a
beast (Rev. 13) and denounces as `Babylon the great, mother of
harlots' (e.g. Rev. 17±18). Judging by the seven letters, the bad,
154
For general background on Revelation, see the standard introductions, commen-
taries and dictionary articles: e.g. G. R. Beasley-Murray, The Book of Revelation (New
Century Bible; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1974); G. B. Caird, The Revelation
of St John the Divine (Black's New Testament Commentaries; London: A. & C. Black,
1984); J. M. Court, Revelation (New Testament Guides; Shef®eld: Shef®eld Academic
Press, 1994); J. M. Court, `Revelation of John' in DBI, pp. 593 ± 5; Duling and Perrin,
New Testament, pp. 447± 69; E. S. Fiorenza, `Revelation, Book of ' in IDB(S), pp.
744 ± 6; Fuller, Introduction, pp. 184 ± 90; KuÈmmel, Introduction, pp. 452± 74; R. H.
Mounce, The Book of Revelation (The New International Commentary on the New
Testament; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1977); J. Sweet, Revelation (SCM Pelican
Commentaries; London: SCM Press, 1979). For theological treatments, see e.g.
R. Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (New Testament Theology;
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993); Bultmann, Theology, Vol. II, pp.
173± 5; Ladd, Theology, pp. 619 ± 32.
highly Semitized Greek, and his familiarity with the OT (in its
Hebrew/Aramaic form) as well as the Jewish prophetic and
apocalyptic literature, the author would appear to have been a
Jewish-Christian prophet or visionary who wielded considerable
charismatic in¯uence over communities of fellow-believers in
Asia Minor (Rev. 1.4, 9; 2±3). Curiously, the suggestion has been
made that the writer may himself have been John Mark, the
author of the Gospel, but such a view has been just as quickly
dismissed.155 Though perhaps incorporating earlier visionary
material, the Revelation was probably composed in the closing
years of Domitian's reign (81±96 CE), a date which coheres with
the promotion of the Emperor-cult, the state-sanctioned perse-
cution envisaged (e.g. Rev. 2.10, 13; 3.10; 6.9; 13.4, 12ff.; 14.9, 11;
16.2; 19.20; 20.4) and the external evidence.156
Where source or tradition-relations are concerned, there are
few signs of direct literary dependence on the letters of Paul or
the Gospel of John, the Revelation emanating, it appears, from
prophetic-apocalyptic circles in Asia Minor independent of,
though not necessarily unin¯uenced by Paulinism or Johannine
Christianity.157 The book is the product of a Jewish apocalyptic
Christianity which resisted (and to a limited extent survived) the
Hellenization (and Gnosticization) of Christianity (especially
under the in¯uence of Paul), of a tradition which had roots
going back, it seems, to Jesus, the eschatological prophet, and of
a community which continued to proclaim both his eschato-
logical message and his imminent return as Messiah. One
intriguing link with Acts lies in the author's derogatory refer-
ence to the Nicolaitans (Rev. 2.6, 15), a group, according to
Eusebius, claiming allegiance to Nicolaus, one of the seven
Hellenist leaders of the primitive church (see Acts 6.1±6 and
Eusebius, Eccl. Hist. III.29.1ff.). As with Hebrews, allusions to
155
See Mounce, Revelation, p. 25; A. S. Peake, The Revelation of John (London: Joseph
Johnson, 1919), p. 46.
156
See J. Stevenson, A New Eusebius: Documents illustrative of the History of the Church to A.D.
337 (London: SPCK, 1968), pp. 8 ±10.
157
See E. S. Fiorenza, The Book of Revelation. Justice and Judgment (Philadelphia, PA:
Fortress Press, 1985), p. 5; Sweet, Revelation, p. 41. Cf., however, Fuller, `Rev knows
the earlier NT writings: Mt and Lk, the Pauline epistles (except Past)', Introduction, p.
187.
the Synoptic tradition are relatively slight. While reference is
made to the cruci®xion (Rev. 11.8; see also 5.6) and the ascen-
sion (Rev. 12.5), there is little mention of the life of the historical
Jesus. Jesus' name is infrequent, and, where it occurs, is often
used simply in connection with his `testimony' (namely his
proclamation of the coming Kingdom of God), whose faith in
such the community is called upon to share (Rev. 1.1, 2, 5, 9;
12.17; 14.12; 17.6; 19.10; 20.4; 22.16).
The one prominent exception lies in the striking correspon-
dences to be found between the content and structure of
Revelation itself (especially Rev. 6.1±7.1; 8.1) and the `little
apocalypse' of Mk 13 par. The eschatological discourse presents
its readers with a series of signs both presaging and attending
the end-time: the appearance of (false) eschatological agents
(Mk 13.6, 21±2); a period of tribulation and calamity (13.7±8,
14±20, 24±5); the persecution of the righteous (13.9, 11±13); an
act of sacrilege (`the abomination of desolation') perhaps associ-
ated with the anti-Christ (13.14); the foreshortening of the
(predetermined) days (13.20); cosmic disturbances (affecting
sun, moon and stars) following on from terrestrial disasters and
human calamities (13.24); the appearance of the redeemer
®gure, God's own eschatological agent (13.26); the eschato-
logical role of angels and the gathering and preservation of the
elect (13.27). Although these are conventional elements of Jewish
apocalyptic eschatology, the fact that these elements coincide so
obviously in the Apocalypse of John has led some scholars (e.g.
R. H. Charles) to argue that Revelation was dependent on a
documentary source underlying the Synoptic Gospels. 158 The
sequence occurring in Mark 13 has indeed been seen as `decisive
for the thematic development' of the Revelation.159 Whether
this is so or not, the `seven seals' section (6.1±7.1; 8.1) at least
appears to represent, according to J. M. Court, à development
of the apocalyptic tradition in continuity with the Synoptic
158
See J. M. Court, Myth and History in the Book of Revelation (London: SPCK, 1979), pp.
43± 81, esp. 49. See also G. R. Beasley-Murray, Jesus and the Last Days. The
Interpretation of the Olivet Discourse. (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1993); Sweet, Revela-
tion, pp. 19 ± 21.
159
Fiorenza, Revelation, p. 62, citing the view of A. Farrer, The Revelation of St John the
Divine (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964), p. 20.
Gospels'.160 `[T]he seals', he concludes, `represent a reappli-
cation of the tradition to the new circumstances of the church in
the years following the fall of Jerusalem'.161
But what of Revelation's theology, and the relation of that
theology to the community and its understanding of itself, the
person and role of Jesus, and the imminent consummation?
The Jewish-Christian features of the community are abundantly
apparent. Worship of God is defended in a very Jewish way (see
the uncompromising monotheism of Rev. 15.3±4; 19.9±10;
22.8±9), and that worship (as re¯ected in the heavenly liturgy)
shows parallels with the Jewish synagogue. 162 The cosmology
and eschatology are also particularly Jewish (see, for example,
Rev. 19±22 with its emphasis on the Messianic millennium, the
®nal judgment, the new heavens and the new earth, the descent
of the new Jerusalem).163 In sharp contrast with the openness
displayed by the Markan community, especially over the food
laws (Mk 7.1±23), that of the Apocalypse insists on little com-
promise with Gentiles or pagan society, railing mercilessly
against those accommodating themselves too easily with it
(compare, for example, Rev. 2.14, 20±1, 24 with Acts 15.28±9,
1 Cor. 8 and Rom. 14.13±23). While the Lamb's death seems to
secure universal admission (`from every tribe and tongue and
people and nation') to the true Israel, and `hast made them a
kingdom and priests to our God' (Rev. 5.9±10; cf. 1.6), yet it is
clear that Jewishness itself is of continuing value (Rev. 2.9; 3.9).
The `church' of the Apocalypse is a community which empha-
sizes strict obedience to God's commandments, loyalty to which
is underscored by repeated judgment òn the basis of works'
(Rev. 2.2, 5, 19; 3.1, 8, 15; 9.20±1; 12.17; 14.12; 20.12±13; 22.12).
Where the evangelist's regard for the Jerusalem temple is at best
dubious (Mk 11.17; 13.1±2; 14.58; 15.38), the apocalyptist's
knowledge of, and reverence for the Jerusalem temple is
apparent throughout. A similar reverence extends to the
160 161
Court, Myth and History, p. 54. Ibid., p. 70.
162
See P. Prigent, Apocalypse et Liturgie (NeuchaÃtel: Delachaux et NiestleÂ, 1964), pp.
46± 76; Sweet, Revelation, pp. 41± 2.
163
See N. Perrin, The Kingdom of God in the Teaching of Jesus (The New Testament
Library; London: SCM Press; Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1963), pp.
68± 73.
original twelve, whose names are inscribed on the foundations
of the new Jerusalem (Rev. 21.14).
`The Christianity of Revelation', then, `has to be termed a
weakly Christianized Judaism',164 or rather, as I would prefer, a
weakly Paulinized Jewish Christianity. What makes it Christian
is the central place it gives to Jesus in its Christology, soteriology
and eschatology. Nevertheless, his role, it can be argued, is
fundamentally different from that in the Gospel (or in Paul).
`John's Christology, and therefore his theology', it has been
claimed, ìs ®rmly anchored in the Jesus of history',165 yet the
lack of reference to the Jesus traditions found in the Gospel
makes this claim a debatable one. Though considered by some
scholars as àdvanced', the Christology of the Apocalypse of
John is essentially that of a martyred but vindicated eschato-
logical prophet now deemed returning Messiah, and need be
understood as no more developed than that.166 The whole
panoply of Jewish Messianic titles and images are applied to
him: e.g. òne like a son of man' (Rev. 1.13; 14.14?); `the lion of
the tribe of Judah' (5.5); `his (i.e. God's) Christ' (11.15; cf. 20.6);
`the Lamb' (5.6ff.; 6.1ff. et passim);167 the `Lord of Lords and
King of Kings' (17.14; 19.16); the returning warrior-king
(19.11ff.); `the root (and the offspring) of David' (5.5; 22.16); `the
morning star' (22.16). Only on one occasion is he called the
`Son of God' (Rev. 2.18) but comparison with Rev. 21.7 indicates
that this title may be meant in a Jewish rather than Hellenistic
sense, denoting therefore an ethical rather than a metaphysical
relationship. It is true that he is Àlpha and Omega', as God is
(Rev. 1.17; 2.8; cf. 1.8; 21.6), and `his head and his hair' recall the
description of the Ancient of Days in Dan. 7.9 (1.14), that he
possesses the seven spirits of God (3.1; 4.5; 5.6; cf. Isa. 11.2), that
he is `the beginning of God's creation' (3.14) as well as `the
Word of God' (19.13) and that, as `the Lamb', he is frequently
linked with God (7.10; 14.4; 21.22; 22.1, 3), receiving adulation
164 165
Bultmann, Theology, Vol. II, p. 175. Caird, Revelation, p. 290.
166
Pace T. Holtz, Die Christologie der Apokalypse des Johannes (Berlin: Akademie Verlag,
1971); G. R. Beasley-Murray, The Book of Revelation (New Century Bible; London:
Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1974), pp. 24 ± 5.
167
Mentioned some 29 times, the Lamb is never, however, explicitly identi®ed with
Jesus.
from the heavenly court (5.8±14). Yet the name of God is never
given to Jesus, and the apocalyptist goes out of his way to state
that God alone is to be worshipped (Rev. 19.9±10; 22.8±10). Jesus
is `the faithful witness, the ®rstborn of the dead (namely the ®rst
of the resurrected sons of the new age) and the ruler of the kings
on earth' (Rev. 1.5; see also 3.14).
While the soteriology of the Apocalypse also centres on Jesus,
his saving work appears to be limited, in the main, to two main
tasks. As `the (Messianic) Lamb', his role (as martyred but
vindicated eschatological prophet) is to open the seals (Rev.
5.5ff.) and (as the resurrected one, the `®rstborn of the dead') to
return as conquering warrior-king dispensing judgment upon
the nations (14.1ff.). As òne like a son of man' (an angelic being?
see Rev. 1.1, 13; 14.14ff.), he ( Jesus?) `reaps the earth' with his
sickle, and as `the Word of God', he will `smite the nations' with
the sword of his mouth and `rule them with a rod of iron'
(19.11ff.). With such powerful images of military conquest, it is
dif®cult to see how this picture coheres with the portrait of Jesus
painted in Mark, and in particular with its theology of the cross.
Although no detailed doctrine of redemption is outlined in
Revelation,168 one major route out of the theological dif®culty
has been to point out certain repeated references to the death of
Christ (e.g. Rev. 1.5; 5.6, 9; 7.14; 11.8; 12.11; 13.8) and even to
that death as a `ransom' (Rev. 5.9). In referring to `the blood of
the Lamb', the author of Revelation has engaged in what
A. Farrer has described as à rebirth of images'.169 In the words
of G. B. Caird, `[t]he Old Testament leads John to expect a
Messiah who will be the Lion of Judah, but the facts of the
gospel present him with a Lamb bearing the marks of slaughter
(vv. 5±6). The Old Testament predicts the smashing of the
nations with an iron bar, but the only weapon the lamb wields is
his own Cross and the martyrdom of his followers (ii. 27; xii. 5;
xix. 15).'170 This then, it is claimed, is the master-image in light
168
See Peake, Revelation, p. 202.
169
A. Farrer, A Rebirth of Images (Westminster: Dacre Press, 1949), esp. pp. 17 ± 18.
170
Caird, Revelation, pp. 292± 3. Cf. also Beasley-Murray, Revelation, p. 24; KuÈmmel,
Introduction, pp. 461 ±2.
of which the whole of the Apocalypse should be read. The
Lamb's sword is the power of the gospel (Rev. 1.16; 2.12, 16;
19.15) and what the slain Lamb signi®es is not military power
but `the power of redemptive love'.171
If Revelation is to be read in this way, as an implicit theologia
crucis expressed in the language of apocalyptic, then it could be
said to resemble Mark whose theology of the cross was ex-
pressed in the form of a narrative. But is this how it should be
read? There are insuperable dif®culties in `domesticating' the
violent images of Revelation in this way (e.g. Rev. 14.10±11,
19±20; 19.11±21), and we are in serious danger of reading a
Pauline (or Markan) theology into Revelation rather than
letting it speak for itself. The `Lamb' also appears as an
apocalyptic symbol for a warlike Messianic ®gure in 1 Enoch
90, à sword issuing from his mouth' or `slaying the wicked with
the breath of his lips' being conventional descriptive motifs for
his saving activity ± but hardly with peaceful persuasion in view!
(Compare 4 Ezra 13; Isa. 11.4 as well as Rev. 19.11, 12, 15, 21.)172
The Lamb, as D. H. Lawrence recognized, is a `lion in sheep's
clothing . . . [W]e never see it slain, we only see it slaying
mankind by the million'.173 The titles of God in the Apocalypse,
and of his Christ, are always ones of power, never of love, and
its world-view dominated by a thirst for vengeance (Rev.
6.9±10) and the hope of reigning in glory (Rev. 2.26±7; 3.21;
contrast Mk 10.41±5). This view is reinforced when we consider
the Apocalypse's eschatology.
Where the Markan redactor reveals ambiguity about apoca-
lyptic and has already begun to have doubts about the proxi-
mity of the parousia (Mk 13.32ff.),174 the apocalyptist reiterates
in clear tones its imminence (Rev. 1.1, 3, 7; 3.11; 22.6, 7, 10, 12,
20). Revelation offers us the boldest example in the New
171
See Sweet, Revelation, p. 50.
172
See C. K. Barrett, The New Testament Background. Selected Documents (London: SPCK,
1987), pp. 325 ± 6. Cf. also C. H. Dodd, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953), p. 232.
173
D. H. Lawrence, Apocalypse and the Writings on Revelation (Cambridge Edition of the
Letters and Works of Lawrence; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980),
pp. 99, 100.
174
See Telford, Mark, pp. 135 ± 7; Telford, `History of Developments' in Telford (ed.),
Interpretation, pp. 21 ±2.
Testament of a futurist eschatology. It presents the most power-
ful and extensive statement of the conventional apocalyptic
hope. In line with the historical Jesus, and with the Gospel of
Mark, its supreme preoccupation is with the coming Kingdom
of God, and its main theological symbol, as E. S. Fiorenza
points out, is therefore the throne.175 `The question, God or
Satan,' however, ìs now posed as the question of the kingship of
God and Christ or the dominion of the Roman Caesar and the
goddess Roma. This cosmic-mythological and political alter-
native is re¯ected in the lives of the Christians who represent
the kingdom of God on earth (1:6; 5:10), but are still in danger
of losing their right to participate in the eschatological kingdom
by becoming followers of the beast.'176 Entertaining a different
perspective on power (contrast especially Mk 10.35±45), the
writer of the Apocalypse envisages that kingship as resulting in
rewards for the righteous, and destruction for the wicked, the
Messianic kingdom being established upon the corpses of God's
enemies (Rev. 19.11±21). It is dif®cult therefore to agree with
those who claim that Revelation shares with the rest of the New
Testament a `realized' (and therefore a non-apocalyptic or
spiritual) understanding of salvation as well as a futurist one,177
and easier to concur with D. H. Lawrence that it is the Judas of
the New Testament.178 Were it not for Mark's eschatological
discourse, it would be tempting even to conclude that in
Revelation we see the Jewish-Christian Christology that the
evangelist himself was tilting against. Where our earliest Gospel
sought to present a theologia crucis, the ®nal book in the Christian
canon appears to end, in all its resounding triumphalism, with a
theologia gloriae.
175 176
Fiorenza, `Revelation' in IDB(S), p. 745. Ibid.
177
See, for example, Caird, Revelation, pp. 296, 300.
178
Ànd just as inevitably as Jesus had to have a Judas Iscariot among his disciples, so
did there have to be a Revelation in the New Testament', Lawrence, Apocalypse,
p. 67.
chapter 4
Mark in the church and in the world
mark in history
Having discussed the place of Mark's theology in the New
Testament, it now remains for me to make some concluding
remarks not only on the place of Mark in history but also on its
relevance for the contemporary world. Although it is clear to us
today that Mark's contribution to the theological history of
Christianity has been a not inconsiderable one, the value
attached to the Gospel both by the church and by the academy
over the centuries may be described as ambiguous.1 On the one
hand, its use as a source (albeit with modi®cations) by Matthew
and Luke in the ®rst century, as well as by Tatian (in the
composition of his Diatessaron, c. 170 CE) in the second, its
traditional connection with the apostle Peter in the early second
century, and its designation as one of the four pillars of the
church by Irenaeus later that century,2 are all factors which
attest its signi®cance for the early church. On the other hand,
quotations from the Gospel of Mark are relatively uncommon
among second-century writers, and commentaries on or exposi-
tions of the Second Gospel even more so. It was not until the
®fth century indeed that the ®rst of these (by Victor of Antioch)
1
For discussion, see S. P. Kealy, Mark's Gospel. A History of its Interpretation from the
Beginning until 1979 (Ramsey, NJ: Paulist Press, 1982); R. P. Martin, Mark ± Evangelist and
Theologian (Exeter: Paternoster, 1979), pp. 29 ±50; V. Taylor, The Gospel According to St
Mark (London: Macmillan; New York: St Martin's Press, 1996), pp. 1 ±25; W. R.
Telford, `Mark, Gospel of ' in DBI, pp. 424 ±8; W. R. Telford, `The Interpretation of
Mark: a History of Developments and Issues' in Telford (ed.), The Interpretation of Mark
(Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1995), pp. 1 ±13; W. R. Telford, Mark (New Testament
Guides; Shef®eld: Shef®eld Academic Press, 1995), pp. 26± 34.
2
See Adversus Haereses, III, xi, 8.
214
Mark in the church and in the world 215
appeared.3 Apart from that of Bede in the eighth century, and
certain medieval and post-Reformation expositions, there were
few treatments of the Second Gospel in subsequent centuries to
rival those devoted to the other Gospels. Mark's position in
canonical lists is also indicative of its position in the eyes of the
early church. It is almost never placed ®rst among the Gospels,
and in some cases even last.4 The use of the term `the Second
Gospel' itself re¯ects the early church's view of the sequence in
which the canonical Gospels were written (Matthew, Mark,
Luke, John). This traditional order owes much to Augustine's
theory that Mark (despite the contradictory claims of Papias
and Irenaeus regarding Markan dependence on Peter) was no
more than an abbreviation of the Gospel of Matthew, this `First
Gospel' being the product, it was believed, of an apostle and an
eye-witness, and a work therefore of superior literary and
theological value. It was only in the latter half of the eighteenth
century, when the Augustinian view was challenged, that cen-
turies of relative neglect for the Gospel of Mark were brought to
an end.
The factors which brought about this change in the Gospel's
fortunes, particularly in the academy, and which have propelled
it into prominence in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries,
are associated, of course, with the advent of the modern critical
approaches to the biblical text which were discussed in chapter
one. The ®rst of these was the application of source criticism
which, through the critical endeavours of scholars such as
K. Lachmann, C. H. Weisse and H. J. Holtzmann, led to the
establishment of the priority of Mark and the development of
the so-called `Markan hypothesis'. Deemed the earliest Gospel,
and as such the repository of data on the historical Jesus in its
most primitive form, Mark was the bedrock text for the so-
3
`No commentary on this Gospel was written before that of Victor of Antioch (in the
5th century) who complained that he could not ®nd any treatment of this gospel
comparable with expositions of Matthew and John', Martin, Mark, p. 30. According
to M. Cahill, `The Identi®cation of the First Markan Commentary', Revue biblique, 101
(1994), pp. 256 ±68, the ®rst formal full-length commentary on Mark was the seventh-
century Commentarius in Evangelium secundum Marcum. Transmitted in connection with
the writings of Jerome, this was enormously in¯uential, Cahill claims, in the history of
Markan exegesis.
4
called Liberal Lives of Jesus which ¯ourished in the nineteenth
and early twentieth centuries. The second of these was the
application of form criticism to the Gospel which, in its classic
phase between the Wars, exposed the degree to which the
Gospel was the product of fragmentary community tradition. In
the hands of scholars such as K. L. Schmidt, M. Dibelius and
R. Bultmann, `Formgeschichte' threw light on the in¯uence of
the early church's theology on the pre-Markan tradition while
simultaneously undermining the Gospel's trustworthiness as a
connected biographical account. Building upon form criticism's
®ndings, but shifting its emphasis, redaction criticism, after the
Second World War, produced a further re®nement on the
Gospel by concentrating on its editorial elements. Pursuing
insights ®rst suggested by W. Wrede at the start of the century,
or R. H. Lightfoot some time later, redaction critics such as
W. Marxsen and N. Perrin used the new method to open a
window into the evangelist's mind, and to establish more
scienti®cally the degree to which his own theology had shaped
the traditions to which he had become an heir. A further
consequence of redaction criticism, however, has been the high-
lighting of not only the theological but also the literary achieve-
ment of the evangelist. While the three historical-critical
methods have continued to be applied fruitfully to the Gospel, a
particular feature of the last quarter of the twentieth century
has been the application to Mark of the methods and ap-
proaches of the newer literary criticism.
In sum, the last two to three centuries have seen the restora-
tion of the Gospel of Mark to its rightful place as one of the
major products of nascent Christianity. While the traditional
view of Mark is still held, to a lesser extent in the academy, and
to a greater extent in the church, three major shifts in emphasis,
within this period, have been discernible within mainstream
scholarship. In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the
historical emphasis has been uppermost. Mark, in other words,
has been seen as a historian, albeit of an untutored kind.
Historical optimism has in turn given way to a greater appreci-
ation of the theological nature of his work, with the evangelist
being appreciated much more as a theologian. A further, more
recent, shift in emphasis has been the literary one, the notion of
Mark as (to some degree) an author being no longer ruled out of
court even by scholars in¯uenced by the traditional historical-
critical methods. It is arguable indeed that these literary
approaches have hence secured for the Gospel a further lease of
life.
the contemporary significance of mark
Mark and discipleship: some theological issues and observations

But what of the contemporary signi®cance of Mark? What is its
worth in today's world? What does it have to say to our
generation? Given that it is our earliest written record of ®rst-
century Jesus traditions, it is clear that it will retain its value as a
historical document (for scholar and believer alike), despite the
formidable problems that its interpretation as such presents.
Given too that this record has reached us in the form of a
connected narrative, a Jesus `story', and that this `story' has
generated a succession of further literary formations, the en-
during value of Mark as a literary composition cannot also be
underestimated. It was this text after all which ®rst established a
literary ìmage' of Jesus in the popular mind and, as a con-
sequence, it has exercised a profound in¯uence upon western
culture. The current and escalating interest in the in¯uence of
the Gospel in literature, especially in ®ction and ®lm, is a
testament to this.5 But does the Gospel have anything to say to
a world fast approaching a new millennium? Does it impinge in
any way on the theological, ethical, political, gender or ethnic
issues which form or inform the agenda(s) of our own age?
At ®rst sight, it is not clear that it does, given the contingent
nature of the text, particularly with regard to its socio-historical
situation as well as its ideological perspective. The Gospel of
Mark was composed in a very different world from our own. It
5
See W. R. Telford, `The New Testament in Fiction and Film: A Biblical Scholar's
Perspective' in J. G. Davies, G. Harvey and W. Watson (eds.), Words Remembered, Texts
Renewed. Essays in Honour of J. F. A. Sawyer (Shef®eld: Shef®eld Academic Press, 1995),
pp. 360 ± 94.
was written to address the issues and concerns of a ®rst century
Mediterranean community struggling to ®nd its identity and
mission not only within the political and cultural context of the
Graeco-Roman Empire but also within the religious context of
the Jewish-Christian tradition to which it was a reluctant heir.
The religious ideas which it presents do not rest easily with the
post-modern ethos of present society. Rationalism since the
enlightenment has undermined any literal acceptance of the
Markan miracles. The ministering presence of angels (1.13) or
the evil in¯uence of demons (5.1±13) are not the stuff of our
everyday experience. Despite our current prophets of doom, the
end of the world is no more imminent for us than it was in
reality for Mark, despite his predictions to the contrary (Mk 13,
especially 13.30). In the eyes of our generation too, `the concept
of Jesus as bearing the judgement of God,' to quote Ernest Best,
`seems immoral to some; why should men not bear their own
judgement?'6 The Christological titles with which the evangelist
expressed the signi®cance of Jesus in his day are likewise
culturally bound, and therefore less acceptable, even where
they are comprehensible, as vehicles for modern estimates of
Jesus. Mark's harsh portrait of the Jews, which appears to be an
inevitable concomitant of his Christology and soteriology, is
also a feature of his Gospel which many today would disavow.
Against this, nevertheless, is the fact that, in the eyes of the
church, the Gospel of Mark remains a sacred text, a religious
icon, an ìnspired' word from God whose major contribution to
the life of faith is the vivid picture it presents of Christian
discipleship and of the one whom Mark believed to be the
believer's supreme role model. Its value as a theological docu-
ment lies therefore in these twin motifs of Christology and
discipleship.7 Powerfully portrayed are the misunderstanding,
lack of spiritual perception, cowardice, faint-heartedness and
6
E. Best, Mark. The Gospel as Story (Studies of the New Testament and its World;
Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1983), p. 146.
7
For some recent discussion on Mark's understanding of discipleship, see, for example,
E. Best, Disciples and Discipleship. Studies in the Gospel According to Mark (Edinburgh: T. &
T. Clark, 1986); T. J. Geddert, Watchwords. Mark 13 in Markan Eschatology ( JSNTSS 26;
Shef®eld: JSOT Press, 1989); G. Twelftree, `Discipleship in Mark's Gospel', St Mark's
Review [Canberra], 141 (1990), pp. 5 ±11.
fear that are the constant enemies of the disciple. Repeatedly
emphasized is the need for faith (1.15; 4.20; 4.40; 5.34; 6.5, 6;
9.20±4; 10.52; 11.22±3),8 and prayer (1.35; 9.29; 11.24±5;
14.32±42).9 Of major importance is the central section of the
Gospel (8.27±10.45) where a combination of various stories and
sayings on the subject of discipleship are set within the context
of Jesus' journey or pilgrimage to Jerusalem, his instructions to
his disciples taking place òn the way' or òn the road' (8.27;
9.33, 34; 10.17, 32, 46, 52) to his appointment with death (`the
way of the cross').10 A recurring theme is not only the nature
but the cost of discipleship, especially in terms of suffering and
persecution. The Markan Jesus summons the disciple to `take
up his cross and follow me', and a number of passages in this
central section explore the implications of this call (8.27±35;
9.30±7; 9.38±50; 10.2±16; 10.17±30).11 Two contrasting ways of
life are offered to the disciple (and hence to the reader): saving
one's life out of fear, or losing one's life for others (8.35).12 Even
some of the minor characters in the Markan story can be seen
as paradigmatic disciples, Bartimaeus, for example
(10.46±52),13 or `the naked young man' (14. 51±2).14 Stripped of
their particularity, these `discipleship' motifs represent, then, a
timeless challenge to all believing Christians, in this generation
as well as in Mark's.
8
For the distinction between `kerymatic' faith in Mark, i.e. Christological faith
associated with commitment and discipleship, and `petitionary' faith, i.e. trust in the
miracle-worker to effect speci®c requests, see C. D. Marshall, Faith as a Theme in
Mark's Narrative (SNTSMS, 64; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). For
a different analysis of this Markan motif, see M. R. Thompson, The Role of Disbelief in
Mark. A New Approach to the Second Gospel (New York and Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press,
1989).
9
See S. E. Dowd, Prayer, Power and the Problem of Suffering: Mark 11:22 ±25 in the Context of
Markan Theology (SBLDS, 105; Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1988).
10
See Telford, Mark, pp. 140 ± 1.
11
See D. H. Juel, `The Way of the Cross: Markan Texts for Late Pentecost', Word and
World, 14 (1994), pp. 352± 59. See also J. B. Green, The Way of the Cross. Following Jesus
in the Gospel of Mark (Nashville, TN: Discipleship Resources, 1991).
12
See D. Rhoads, `Losing Life for Others in the Face of Death. Mark's Standards of
Judgment', Int, 47 (1993), pp. 358± 69.
13
See J. N. Suggitt, `Bartimaeus and Christian Discipleship (Mark 10:46 ±52)',
JTSouthAfr, 74 (1991), pp. 57± 63.
14
See S. R. Johnson, `The Identity and Signi®cance of the Neaniskos in Mark', Forum,
8 (1992), pp. 123 ±39.
Mark and the law: some ethical issues and observations

So much for the church but what about the world? So much for
theology but what about ethics?15 How does the Gospel's
particular understanding of religion and religious practice
relate to the realities as well as the concerns of modern society,
and what has it to contribute to the issues that dominate secular
discussion? What has its particular perspective on ritual purity
(7.1±23), for example, to say to a world which has experienced
the impact of HIV/AIDS?16 What relevance has its debates on
what is permissible on the sabbath (2.23±3.5) for a society
which is increasingly abandoning a statutory day of rest encom-
passed by religious taboos? Can its seemingly radical attitude to
wealth and status (10.17±31) really be entertained in a world
that has seen the triumph of capitalism, the virtues of competi-
tion and the mass bene®ts (notwithstanding the disadvantages)
of the consumer society? What has its rigorist attitude towards
divorce and remarriage (10.2±12) to say to a society which has
fought to free itself from marital restraints? While everyone in
today's world can admire the Markan Jesus' concern for chil-
dren (9.33±7; 10.13±16), and not a few side with his penalty for
the child-abuser (9.42), some might be appalled by his insensi-
tivity to the rights of animals (5.11±13) or even of trees (11.12±14,
20)! In an age that has learned to be suspicious of esoteric cults
and new religious movements, how can a text which purports to
support family values (10.2±16) at the same time sanction the
relativization of family ties (3.31±5) or even the disruption of
families in the name of religious commitment (10.29±30;
13.12±13)? `Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and
15
For general discussion on ethics in Mark's Gospel, see, for example, J. L. Houlden,
Ethics and the New Testament (Penguin Books; London and Oxford: Penguin/Mowbray,
1973), pp. 41± 6; H. C. Kee, Community of the New Age. Studies in Mark's Gospel
(Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1977), pp. 151 ±61; J. T. Sanders, Ethics in the
New Testament. Change and Development (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1975), pp.
31± 40; W. Schrage, The Ethics of the New Testament (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press,
1988), pp. 138± 43; D. O. Via Jr., The Ethics of Mark's Gospel ± In the Middle of Time
(Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1985).
16
For a dialogue between the two, see A. H. Cadwaller, `The Hermeneutics of Purity
in Mark's Gospel: A Consideration for the AIDS Debate', Paci®ca, 5 (1992), pp.
145 ± 69.
to God the things that are God's' (12.17) is a memorable
injunction, but how in the end does it enable us to quantify the
individual's duties to the state or determine the legitimate limits
of individual freedom or state intervention?
Contradictions in the text apart, one obvious response to the
above is that it is unfair to demand precise ethical answers to
speci®c modern questions from an admittedly ancient text,
especially when the author's concerns are so very different from
our own. Close study of the Gospel, moreover, has led a number
of scholars to comment on the relative paucity of ethical rules
actually to be found in Mark.17 While the evangelist does offer
his readers the famous and still relevant `love command'
(12.28±34), or catalogues the vices that they are presumably to
avoid (7.21±2), he presents only relatively few passages (10.1±12,
13±17; 12.13±17) which give some guidance on the duties of
Christians either to each other, or to society at large. Several
reasons have been proffered for such. J. L. Houlden, for
example, has taken the lack of ethical material in Mark as
evidence of gnostic tendencies on the part of the evangelist,18 as
well as of the eschatological perspective that permeated his
thought.19 J. T. Sanders, likewise, is of a similar opinion in
respect of the second of these factors.20 An additional consid-
eration to be borne in mind is that the primary thrust of the
Gospel is Christological, as I have argued, and not ethical.
Where Mark's contribution to ethical debate is concerned,
however, this is not the end of the matter, and some further
comments are in order. It is also possible to discern in Mark an
underlying concern for `spirituality', ìnteriority', `the inward
17
See, for example, E. Best, Following Jesus. Discipleship in the Gospel of Mark ( JSNTSS, 4;
Shef®eld: JSOT Press, 1981), p. 14; Houlden, Ethics, pp. 41 ±2.
18
Houlden, Ethics, pp. 41± 2.
19
`For this writer then, as for John, it appears that facing and settling moral problems,
in the everyday sense, was not a primary concern . . . For Mark, the End, though not
immediately to appear (xiii, 7), was not far away', ibid., p. 45.
20
Òne will have to say, then, that Mark has very little interest in the welfare of the
world or its inhabitants other than to persuade as many of them as possible to repent
and follow. His imminent eschatology is so much the basis of his outlook that he
cannot even pass on Jesus' command to love in its original meaning; instead, he
appeals for what one today would have to call retreat from the world and its
problems, Sanders, Ethics, p. 33. For a dissenting opinion, however, see Schrage,
Ethics, p. 139.
disposition of the heart' or `core values' which transcends his
culture's concern for ritual or cultic purity, or for the èxternal'
morality that is expressed in rules or regulations. `Food taboos
are abandoned', according to Houlden, `not by a mere alter-
ation of the rules, but because of a wholly different conception
of what constitutes uncleanness in the sight of God (vii,
1±23).'21 In sharp contrast to the Qumran sectarians, where
ritual purity was a major preoccupation, 22 the Markan
approach to de®lement has this ìnternal' or `moral' quality
(`the things which come out of a man are what de®le him', 7.15)
and the solution for such de®lement, one observes, is a Christo-
centric one (`the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive
sins', 2.10).23
The situation is similar with regard to the question of sabbath
observance. While there is uncertainty over whether the histor-
ical Jesus actually broke the sabbath commandment or merely
engaged in legitimate debate over what was permissible,24 it is
clear in Mark that it is a concern for human life as well as for
the original intention of the sabbath that makes Jesus challenge
the imputed casuistry of the Pharisees, and which leads to the
evangelist's Christological conclusion. `Thus, the sabbath law
must give way, not before a set of amended regulations but
before a God who has only one choice when it comes to saving
life or destroying it (iii, 4), and before the Son of Man who is the
sabbath's lord (ii, 28)'.25 In a context where the rigour of the
Pharisees was only matched by that of the Essenes,26 it is easier
21
Houlden, Ethics, p. 43.
22
See Kee, Community, p. 98; F. G. Martinez and J. T. Barrera, The People of the Dead Sea
Scrolls. Their Writings, Beliefs and Practices (Leiden, New York and Cologne: E. J. Brill,
1993), pp. 156± 7.
23
For recent discussion of the notion of `purity' in Mark, see R. P. Booth, Jesus and the
Laws of Purity. Tradition History and Legal History in Mark 7 ( JSNTSS, 13; Shef®eld:
JSOT Press, 1986); J. H. Neyrey, `The Idea of Purity in Mark's Gospel', Semeia, 35
(1986), pp. 91± 128; J. Neyrey, À Symbolic Approach to Mark 7', Foundation and Facets
Forum, 4 (1988), pp. 63 ±91.
24
See, for example, S. Bacchiocchi, From Sabbath to Sunday. A Historical Investigation of the
Rise of Sunday Observance in Early Christianity (Rome: Ponti®cia Universitas Gregoriana,
1977); H. Weiss, `The Sabbath in the Synoptic Gospels', JSNT, 38 (1990), pp. 13 ±27.
25
Houlden, Ethics, p. 43.
26
See M. Black (ed.), The Scrolls and Christianity (Theological Collections, 11; London:
SPCK, 1969), p. 100.
in our day to sympathize with a ®gure who appears to cham-
pion freedom over regulation, or human well-being over re-
ligious scruples.
This emphasis on the value of life itself over against worldly
success (8.36, 37), as well as the absolute claim that Jesus himself
makes on the disciple (8.35) also informs the evangelist's attitude
to wealth and status, and can be interpreted as qualifying what
appears otherwise to be an impossibly radical, even unpalatable
position. A stake in society through family and property are not
necessarily evil of themselves, nor repudiated for their own
sake, or else the Markan Jesus would not have promised them as
concrete rewards to his disciples in exchange for their over-
riding commitment (10.28±30). As H. C. Kee points out:
Peter's challenge as reported in Mark 10.28 . . . suggests that in the
Markan community the break with family, home, personal and
economic security, and even the seeming irresponsibility towards
one's own offspring, would be compensated for in the new pattern of
relationships and identity that would develop in the Christian com-
munity, culminating in the full achievement of blessedness in the age
to come (10.31).27
Allegiance, then, to the new community, born of discipleship,
with its faith in Jesus and its commitment to `the way of the
cross' is the prism through which the evangelist's ethical con-
cerns are refracted, and it is his religious allegiance which
relativizes (rather than destroys) the claims of worldly institu-
tions.
Something similar can be seen in the Markan attitude to
marriage and the family.28 Where the evangelist is concerned,
marriage will not exist in the new age (12.25). As an institution,
it too must take second place, if need be, to Jesus and the
27
Kee, Community, p. 153. See also Schrage's comment on this passage: `These verses
emphasize . . . that renunciation and sacri®ce are not undertaken for ascetic reasons
or in hope of eschatological reward. They will be repaid in this age with concrete
material and personal reward within the community as the family of God ( familia
dei )', Ethics, p. 142.
28
For a discussion of discipleship and family ties in Mark, see S. C. Barton, Discipleship
and Family Ties in Mark and Matthew (SNTSMS, 80; Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 1994), pp. 57± 124. For a more general perspective, both biblical and
contemporary, see S. C. Barton (ed.), The Family in Theological Perspective ( Edinburgh:
T. & T. Clark, 1996).
demands of the gospel (10.28±30). On the other hand, marriage
in this age is to be regarded as an indissoluble union (10.2±12).
Here, as in the case of the sabbath, the Markan Jesus appeals to
the institution's original divine intention. In contrast to his
approach to the sabbath, however, his rigid attitude to the
marriage law outmatches that of the Pharisaic school (even the
stricter Shammaites), and is paralleled only among the Qumran
sectarians.29 Here, too, given the discrepancies between the
Synoptic and Pauline divorce pericopae, there is uncertainty
over the nuances of the historical Jesus' attitude to the marriage
law,30 but it is nonetheless clear that, for Mark, lifelong mono-
gamy was the norm for both partners. Although this is still the
ideal for many Christians, the dif®culties of applying the
Markan Jesus' teaching to the complex problems of divorce in
the modern world are clearly formidable.31 Some scholars have
commented on what seems to be an unusually legalistic position
for Jesus, and have attempted to interpret this teaching in light
of his alleged concern for the rights of women as well as of
children. If such is the underlying intention of the Markan
Jesus' teaching, then it obviously impinges on contemporary
concerns.32 Whether the passage should be so interpreted is a
moot point, but the ideal of lifelong monogamy presented by
the Gospel, its regard for `family values' (even when displaced
by the new community of faith) and its repeated emphasis on
Jesus' identi®cation with the child make it at least a worthy
partner in any modern discussion on these issues. Where ethics
are concerned, then, the Gospel has a continuing capacity to
remind the reader that he or she must go `back to basics'. True
greatness lies in service (9.33±7), true ful®lment in self-giving
(8.35), true happiness in `receiving the kingdom of God like a
29
See the advocacy of lifelong monogamy in 11Q Temple Scroll a (11Q19) LVII.17± 18 as
well as Cairo Damascus Documenta IV.20 ±21 = 4Q Damascus Documentf 3 1 ±2
where there is a similar, though not identical, appeal to Gen. 1.27.
30
See, for example, E. P. Sanders and M. Davies, Studying the Synoptic Gospels (London:
SCM Press; Philadelphia, PA: Trinity Press International, 1989), pp. 324 ±8;
B. Vawter, `Divorce and the New Testament', CBQ , 39 (1977), pp. 528 ±42.
31
For a succinct and measured statement on the subject, see Taylor, Mark, p. 421.
32
Kee, for example, has seen in this Markan passage on divorce à conception of
something close to full equality and mutual responsibility between members of both
sexes', Community, p. 155.
child' (10.15). In these general respects, if not in its particu-
larities, the Markan Gospel has still much to offer to contem-
porary ethical debate.
Mark and the cross: some political issues and observations

If the `spirituality' re¯ected in Mark's Gospel still has relevance
for our own day, then what can be said for its `take' on politics,
a subject that has come to dominate the contemporary world.
The enigmatic saying of the Markan Jesus, previously referred
to (`Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God
the things that are God's', 12.17) has long been used by
Christianity to justify a separation between the spiritual and the
material, between the sacred and the secular, between politics
and religion, between the community of faith and the political
order.33 Usually interpreted, along with Romans 13.1±7, as
articulating a theory of the relation between church and state,
the passage has often bolstered in particular a quietist position
in this regard.34 That an ambiguous utterance of this kind
should be allowed to bear the weight of any such developed
doctrine is questionable, but does this mean that the evangelist
has nothing otherwise to contribute to political discussion? The
contrary is surely the case, for when one considers the Gospel as
a whole, then it is obvious that its major motifs (strength versus
weakness, power versus love, con¯ict and its resolution, the
nature of authority, the necessity of suffering, etc.) have a
bearing upon the subject. Indeed there is a sense in which, the
particularities aside, the Gospel may be said to be ultimately
concerned with the ideology of power,35 and that, in a deeper
sense, its major aim is to expound the true nature of power, and
to connect it with the notion of redemptive suffering.
33
For a discussion of different interpretations of this passage, see M. A. Corner and
C. R. Rowland, Liberating Exegesis (Biblical Foundations in Theology; London: SCM
Press, 1990), pp. 106 ±7.
34
For an opposing view, see Herzog, `Dissembling', PerspRelSt, 21 (1994), pp. 339 ± 60.
Questioning this standard assumption, Herzog regards both passages as examples of
the coded `double-speak' of the weak when forced to reveal their political hand in
public.
35
See W. C. Placher, `Narratives of a Vulnerable God', Princeton Seminary Bulletin, 14
(1993), pp. 134 ±51.
Throughout this study of the Gospel, I have commented on
the notion that there are opposing Christologies at work in the
Markan text. In promoting Jesus as the Messianic `Son of
David', or as the apocalyptic `Son of Man' (or even, some
would say, as the Hellenistic `divine man'), these Christologies
distinguish themselves by their triumphalist estimate of his
person and role, and hence by their understanding of the nature
of power. In seeing him as Messiah despite, and not because of, his
death, and by looking to his second return or parousia to effect
humankind's salvation, neither of these perspectives accords a
signi®cant place to the cross in its soteriological scheme. In
assessing the signi®cance of the Markan redaction on these
traditions, furthermore, we have observed Mark's repeated
emphasis on the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus (8.31;
9.31; 10.33±4; 10.45; 14.24). As with Paul, but by means of
narrative rather than theological discourse (compare, for
example, 1 Cor. 1.18±25 with Mk 15.31±32), Mark communi-
cates to his readers the claim that Jesus discloses his true identity
(as Son of God) and achieves his essential victory (as Son of
Man) through his redemptive suffering on the cross. By empha-
sizing `the way of the cross' as `the way of love and service',36
the evangelist has succeeded in transforming Jesus' own self-
giving into a timeless icon with the capacity to shatter all the
pretensions that surround worldly notions of power (see
especially Mk 10.42±5). By opposing a `theology of glory'
(theologia gloriae), and its concomitant understanding of earthly
power, with a `theology of the cross' (theologia crucis), wherein
God's `power is perfected in weakness' (2 Cor. 12.9), the evange-
list may be credited with producing a critique of illegitimate
authority or abusive power which is still capable of challenging
the power structures of today's world, whether personal or
institutional.
36
`The main purpose of his [the Markan Jesus'] teaching is to bring his followers to an
understanding of his own Cross, not only as redemptive, but also as a way of life for
themselves; they must take up their crosses as he did and serve as he served. Thus it
is not that he only enlightens their minds but that he calls for them to go on the way
of discipleship, which is the way of love and service', E. Best, The Temptation and the
Passion: the Markan Soteriology (SNTSMS, 2; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1965), p. 190.
The relevance of the Gospel in such general terms to con-
temporary power relationships or to modern political realities is
clear, but there is at least one body of opinion that would claim
that Mark has a much more de®nite political edge than the
somewhat abstract account above would suggest. A variety of
socio-political, and even Marxist readings of the Gospel have
been undertaken in recent years, all springing from the desire to
situate Mark realistically (and not just theologically) within the
socio-historical currents of his day (and ours). For liberation
theologians, the Gospel of Mark is `poor man's literature'37 in
that it sides with the oppressed against the oppressor. A truly
subversive text (10.31), it seeks to overturn not only those
religious ideas that it deems false but the underlying institu-
tional and oppressive power structures which are assumed to
give rise to these ideas in the ®rst place.
One such contemporary reading is that of F. Belo, a Christian
lately turned Marxist, whose somewhat dif®cult book attempts
to apply materialist theory and insights to the Gospel.38 With
an egalitarian ethic derived from Deuteronomy and the
prophets, the Jesus of Mark represented a threat, it is claimed,
to conventional understandings of family, wealth, and status,
and to contemporary Jewish leadership as mediated by the
priests through the Temple.
So what we ®nd in Mark's Gospel is an account of con¯ict: between
on the one hand the reign of God and the action of the eschatological
salvation outside the Temple and on the other hand the ®rm view of
the opponents that the prevailing culture, concerned as it is with the
support of a society which divides, marginalizes, justi®es wealth and
makes economic gain out of theological virtue, is inimical to the
radically new.39
Jesus' death resulted from his ideological challenge to the
Temple, then the foremost economic and political (as well as
37
See J. CaÂrdenas Pallares, A Poor Man Called Jesus. Re¯ections on the Gospel of Mark
(Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1982).
38
F. Belo, A Materialist Reading of the Gospel of Mark (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1981). For an
admirably clear account of Belo's views, see Corner and Rowland, Liberating Exegesis,
pp. 93 ± 114. For comment, see J. Volckaert, `Mark, A Subversive Reading', Vidyajyoti,
46 (1982), pp. 246 ±52.
39
Corner and Rowland, Liberating Exegesis, p. 114.
religious) institution of his day. Although he was cruci®ed for
essentially practical reasons, his death was subsequently trans-
formed by theological doctrine to such an extent that the sting
was drawn from its original revolutionary (socio-political)
implications. `The cross', in the words of Corner and
Rowland, `becomes an ideological device which justi®es the
socio-economic realities and warns against naive idealism.'40
A further contemporary `political' reading of Mark's story of
Jesus is that represented by C. Myers.41 The periphery, Mark's
story tells us, and not the centre, is where God is at work, the
cross representing the beginning of the new world order. With
a socio-political strategy that may be described as `non-aligned
radicalism' or `revolutionary non-violence', the evangelist's
aim, according to Myers, is to subvert, on behalf of the
common people, the dominant ideology of his culture (and
ours). `Mark', Myers claims, `looks for the end of the old world
and the inauguration of the new, but it is discipleship ± which
he equates with a speci®c social practice and costly political
engagement ± that will inaugurate this transformation.'42
Writing in response to the crisis created by the Jewish War, the
evangelist spoke to and for a community of revolutionary
activists whose pursuit of this radical discipleship involved
them in non-violent resistance to Rome, opposition to the
Jewish ruling class, and friction with those who sought to
suborn them into the War. `The pro®le of Mark's community',
he therefore concludes, `does not ®t in the strictures designed
by sect-sociology, nor does it ®t the caricatures of millennial
groups. It must be taken seriously on its own terms, as a
distinct socio-political strategy in a determinate formation, and
indeed as an ideology of practice that begs to be heard in our
own time.'43
One of the most recent attempts to address current political
concerns through the lens of Mark's Gospel is that by R. R.
40
Ibid., p. 101.
41
C. Myers, Binding the Strong Man. A Political Reading of Mark's Story of Jesus (Maryknoll,
NY: Orbis, 1988). See also C. Myers, Who Will Roll Away the Stone? Discipleship Queries
for First World Christians (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1994).
42 43
Myers, Strong Man, p. 416. Ibid., p. 444.
Beck.44 Beck's theme is the ideology or myth of violence in
modern society, and in particular the contemporary assumption
that violence has had, and still has, a constructive part to play
in bringing about civilization. After examining how certain
narratives (the western stories of Louis L'Amour are taken as an
exemplar) both legitimate and perpetuate myths of redemptive
violence, he turns to the Gospel of Mark in order to gauge how
it contributes to our understanding of con¯ict, and in particular
to its stance regarding non-violent as opposed to violent means
of con¯ict resolution. Applying narrative criticism to the
Gospel, and focusing upon the literary patterns of con¯ict to be
found there, Beck exposes the underlying ideological message
conveyed by the Markan narrative. While entering into con¯ict,
indeed refusing to avoid it, the Markan Jesus at the same time
confounds the expectations of `constructive violence', Beck
claims, by demonstrating his unwillingness to engage in such
violence himself. With its underlying ideology of non-violent
resistance to evil, then, and in its presentation of Jesus as the
true model for such, the Gospel, by thus engaging the myth of
violence, offers a clear message for contemporary society.
`Political' readings of Mark, such as these, clearly highlight
the contemporary signi®cance of Mark, although many would
wish to distance themselves from the left-wing agenda or
perspective that is frequently associated with liberation theol-
ogy. The tendency of such treatments is to treat the religious
ideas of the text as a secondary manifestation of underlying
economic or political realities, or the theology as a form of false
consciousness. As a result, they may be doing violence them-
selves to the author's theological integrity. At times the ambi-
guities of the Markan text can frustrate even the liberation
theologian's efforts to suborn it into his or her world-view, as,
for example, when the Markan Jesus is made to defend an act of
extravagance which could have garnered resources for the poor,
and to speak (almost ¯ippantly) of the permanent availability of
the poor for charitable dispensation (14.3±9)!45
44
R. R. Beck, Nonviolent Story. Narrative Con¯ict Resolution in the Gospel of Mark (Maryknoll,
NY: Orbis, 1996).
45
This passage has often been used to defend theology over politics, or to promote an
Mark and women: some gender issues and observations

If the subject of violence is one of the preoccupations of the
present day, then the subject of gender is another. A great deal
of attention has been directed to issues of masculinity and
femininity in our post-modern society, and a great deal of
interest taken in ìmages' of male and female in the modern
media. This interest focuses not only on the nature of these
images, and how they are conveyed, especially by literature and
®lm, but also on how in turn they in¯uence cultural under-
standings of gender, for better or for worse. Feminism has done
much to encourage this interest, with its exposure of the
patterns of dominance and submission which have traditionally
governed relations between the sexes, and with its critique of
the oppressive structures of patriarchy. One focal point for
feminist theology has been the place of women in the early
Christian movement,46 and the role and status of women in the
New Testament, especially the Gospels.47 Special interest has
been taken in ®gures such as Mary Magdalene,48 and it is now a
common claim that she and other women played a signi®cant
role within the early Jesus movement.49 It is no surprise, then,
that issues of gender have been discussed in connection with the
Gospel of Mark. Feminist interpretation has interpreted
Markan soteriology in terms of liberation from patriarchy,50
and questions regarding the understanding of gender in the
ancient world, as well as our own, have been raised in connec-
evangelical gospel over a social one. For a liberation theologian's interpretation of

the passage, see R. S. Sugirtharajah, ` ``For you always have the poor with you'': an
Example of Hermeneutics of Suspicion', Asia Journal of Theology, 4 (1990), pp. 102± 7.
46
See, for example, M. Fander, Die Stellung der Frau im Markusevangelium. Unter besonderer
BeruÈcksichtigung kultur- und religionsgeschichtlicher HintergruÈnde (MuÈnsteraner Theologische
Abhandlungen, 8; Altenberge: Telos, 1989).
47
See, for example, M. Evans, Women in the Bible (Exeter: Paternoster, 1983), pp. 44 ± 60.
48
See, for example, R. Atwood, Mary Magdalene in the New Testament Gospels and Early
Tradition (European University Studies, Series 23: Theology 457; Bern, Berlin and
Frankfurt: Lang, 1993).
49
See, for example, C. Ricci, Mary Magdalene and Many Others. Women who Followed Jesus
(Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1994).
50
See M. S. Medley, Èmancipatory Solidarity: the Redemptive Signi®cance of Jesus in
Mark', PerspRelSt, 21 (1994), pp. 5 ± 22.
tion with such passages as Mark 6.17±29.51 By far the majority
of recent studies, however, have occupied themselves with the
role and status of women in Mark.52
Women ®gure in the Gospel in a handful of passages: Mark
1.29±31 (Peter's mother-in-law); 3.31±5 ( Jesus' mother); 5.21±4,
35±43 ( Jairus' daughter); 5.24±34 (the haemorrhaging woman);
6.17±29 (Herodias and her daughter); 7.24±30 (the Syrophoeni-
cian woman and her daughter); 12.41±4 (the poor widow);
14.3±9 (the anointing woman); 15.40±1, 47 (the ministering
women ± Mary Magdalene, Mary and Salome ± and others);
16.1±8 (the women at the empty tomb ± Mary Magdalene,
Mary and Salome). They appear in the context of healing
stories (1.29±31; 5.21±43; 7.24±30), in other isolated stories and
incidents (3.31±5; 6.17±29; 12.41±4) and in the narrative of the
passion and resurrection (14.3±9; 15.40±1, 47; 16.1±8). In total,
the women are thirteen in number (if the daughter of the
Syrophoenician woman is counted, although she does not make
an appearance, and the `many other women' of Mk 15.41 are
not). Some of them are speci®cally named (Herodias, Mary
Magdalene, Mary, Salome), or by reference to associated men
(Peter's mother-in-law, Jesus' mother, Jairus' daughter), others
are unnamed (the haemorrhaging woman, the poor widow, the
anointing woman).53 Encountered usually by Jesus as isolated
individuals in private, women only become prominent as his
followers (where the Markan reader is concerned), or as belong-
ing to his circle, from Mark 15.40 onwards, that is, in the
51
See J. A. Glancy, Ùnveiling Masculinity. The Construction of Gender in Mark
6:17± 29', Biblical Interpretation, 2 (1994), pp. 34 ±50.
52
See Telford, `History of Developments' in Telford (ed.), Interpretation, p. 12; Telford,
Mark, p. 111; Fander, Stellung. For a Japanese feminist perspective, see H. Kinukawa,
Women and Jesus in Mark. A Japanese Feminist Perspective (Bible & Liberation; Maryknoll,
NY: Orbis, 1994).
53
For individual studies of some of these nameless women, see, for example, S. C.
Barton, `Mark as Narrative. The Story of the Anointing Woman (Mk 14:3± 9)', ExpT,
102 (1990 ±1), pp. 230 ± 4; M. Fander, `Frauen in der Nachfolge Jesu. Die Rolle der
Frau im Markusevangelium', EvTh, 52 (1992), pp. 413 ±32; M. Minor, `The Women of
the Gospel of Mark and Contemporary Women's Spirituality', Spirituality Today, 43
(1991), pp. 134 ±41; D. Rhoads, `Jesus and the Syrophoenician Woman in Mark. A
Narrative-Critical Study', Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 62 (1994), pp.
343 ±75.
cruci®xion and resurrection narrative.54 Although `words-and-
deeds chreiai' about women are rare in the ancient world,55
Mark's women are essentially minor characters who do little in
the context of the Gospel to propel the plot forward.
A key issue, then, is whether we should regard the evangelist's
portrayal of women as positive or negative. The vast majority of
commentators have opted for the former view, claiming that
women emerge in Mark as `hidden heroes', following Jesus on
his way to the cross, demonstrating courage, showing faith,
offering service, in short, exemplifying the marks of true dis-
cipleship.56 The anointing woman, for example, has been taken
as the model disciple, expressing ìn a nutshell' the overall
message of the Gospel itself.57 Mark's exemplary treatment of
women as minor characters in his Gospel has been taken as a
function of his `reversal theme' (`many that are ®rst will be last,
and the last ®rst', 10.31),58 their role in the narrative acting as a
counterpoint to that of the male disciples, whose discipleship
(and leadership), by contrast, are found wanting.59 It is the
women who in the ®nal analysis act as witnesses to both his
death and his resurrection, and therein, notwithstanding their
silence, lies their ultimate signi®cance.60
If this assessment of the role of women in the Markan Gospel
54
See W. Munro, `Women Disciples in Mark?', CBQ , 44 (1982), pp. 225 ±41.
55
See M. A. Beavis, `Women as Models of Faith in Mark', BTB, 18 (1988), pp. 3± 9.
56
Ibid.; Fander, `Frauen', Evth, 52 (1992), pp. 413 ±32; E. S. Fiorenza, In Memory of Her
(New York: Crossroad, 1983), pp. 316 ±23; J. A. Grassi, `The Secret Heroine of
Mark's Drama', BTB, 18 (1988), pp. 10 ±15; J. A. Grassi, The Hidden Heroes of the
Gospels. Female Counterparts of Jesus (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1989);
W. J. Harrington, `Mark as Story', Priests & People, 8 (1994), pp. 243 ±7; J. Kopas,
`Jesus and Women in Mark's Gospel', Review for Religious, 44 (1985), pp. 912 ± 20;
Minor, `Women', Spirituality Today, 43 (1991), pp. 134 ± 41.
57
See Barton, `Mark as Narrative', ExpT, 102 (1990 ±1), pp. 230 ±4.
58
See Fiorenza, Memory, p. 318; A. Gill, `Women Ministers in the Gospel of Mark',
Australian Biblical Review, 35 (1987), pp. 14 ±21; E. S. Malbon, `Fallible Followers.
Women and Men in the Gospel of Mark', Semeia, 28 (1983), pp. 29 ± 48.
59
See A. B. Lane, `The Signi®cance of the Thirteen Women in the Gospel of Mark',
Unitarian Universalist Christian, 38 (1983), pp. 18± 27; J. J. Schmitt, `Women in Mark's
Gospel', Bible Today, 19 (1981), pp. 228± 33; M. J. Selvidge [Schierling], `Women as
Leaders in the Marcan Communities', Listening, 15 (1980), pp. 250 ± 6. The thirteen
women in Mark are taken by Lane to correspond to the thirteen male disciples in the
Gospel (the twelve plus Levi).
60
See Fiorenza, Memory, pp. 321 ±2; P. J. Hartin, `The Role of the Women Disciples in
Mark's Narrative', Theologia Evangelica, 26 (1993), pp. 91 ±102; L. Schottroff, `Die
is correct, then it raises the question of the evangelist's motiva-
tion(s) in portraying them so positively, especially when the
male disciples are treated so harshly. Some have suggested that
the evangelist's exemplary treatment of the women re¯ects the
true state of affairs in the Markan community, where women, it
is claimed, were treated as equals, and occupied positions of
in¯uence or even leadership,61 others that it re¯ects the situa-
tion of the early church where more women than men were
martyred for their faith.62 On the other hand, it could simply
represent the obverse side of his attack on the male disciples,
the women (along with other minor characters) being elevated,
in literary terms, in order to highlight per contrarium his criticism
of the Jerusalem leaders.
Before accepting, however, the basic premise of a Markan
intention to elevate women, for whatever reason, a number of
factors can be mentioned which suggest a different picture. In
the ®rst place, it should be noted that Mark's portrayal of
women is neither extensive nor uniformly positive (see, for
example, the depiction of Herodias and her daughter, 6.17±29).
Apart from individual cameos, their narrative role is largely
con®ned, as has already been observed, to the passion narrative.
Overall the evangelist appears to have only taken a moderate
interest in women and their roles, if we are to judge by the fact
that there are relatively few female characters, and little teach-
ing with regard to them.63 Male characters, as I have remarked,
propel the plot throughout, with the female characters playing
only a very passive role. The Markan text indeed appears to be
coloured by an androcentric mindset, the virtues displayed by
the women (humility, submissiveness, service, etc.) embodying
those of the ancient world, and not the modern.64 They are not
muÈtigen Frauen aus GalilaÈa und der Auferstehungsglaube', Diakonia, 20 (1989), pp.
221± 6.
61
Cf. Fiorenza, Memory, pp. 321 ±2; Lane, `Thirteen Women', pp. 18± 27; Munro,
`Women Disciples', pp. 225 ±41; Selvidge, `Women as Leaders', pp. 250 ± 6.
62
Cf. Fander, Stellung.
63
See B. Witherington, Women in the Earliest Churches (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 1988), pp. 158 ±66; B. Witherington, Women and the Genesis of Christianity
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), pp. 225 ±8.
64
See M. E. Cotes, Images of Women in the Gospel of Mark (unpublished dissertation,
Manchester University, 1993).
actually given the title `disciple' (matheÅteÅs), moreover,65 and it is
by no means clear that they functioned as leaders in the
Markan community. In the crucial role as witnesses to the
resurrection (`Go tell his disciples . . .', 16.7), they failed, as we
observed in chapter two, saying `nothing to any one, for they
were afraid' (16.8). In this respect, then, they are no better than
their male counterparts, for whom, indeed, in narrative terms,
they act as `stand-ins.' Their late presence in the Gospel, in a
de®nite narrative role, need be accounted for by no more than
the necessity on the part of the evangelist to carry the story
forward in view of the absence of the male disciples (14.50). By
likewise displaying the fear, stupidity and disobedience predi-
cated of the male disciples elsewhere by the evangelist, the
womenfolk of the Jerusalem community can be seen, in the end,
to come under the same harsh judgment as their menfolk.
Mark's treatment of the women is therefore not as simple as it
may seem, and the case for a positive or negative treatment
should at least be given an open verdict.
Mark and the Jews: some ethnic issues and observations

If Mark's portrayal of women represents a modern concern,
then his treatment of the Jews re¯ects an even greater one. The
ìmage' of the Jews in the Gospel of Mark touches upon one of
the burning issues of our day, namely the question of anti-
Semitism and its relation to the New Testament, particularly
the Gospels.66 The question is an important one for Christians
and Jews alike and has given rise to a vigorous debate in recent
times.67 The answers offered and the claims made have signi®-
cant implications for relations between Christianity and
65
For a dissenting view, see J. Dines, `Not to be Served, but to Serve: Women as
Disciples in Mark's Gospel', Month, 26 (1993), pp. 438 ±42.
66
While a growing body of opinion argues that the anachronistic term ànti-Semitism'
should be replaced, where the New Testament is concerned, by the more appropriate
terms ànti-Jewishness' or ànti-Judaism', the term remains in vogue as a cogent
reminder of the disastrous effects that anti-Jewish sentiments within the New
Testament have had in the more recent history of Jewish±Christian relations.
67
See, for example, J. D. G. Dunn, `The Question of Anti-semitism in the New
Testament Writings of the Period' in J. D. G. Dunn (ed.), Jews and Christians: The
Parting of the Ways A.D. 70 to 135. The Second Durham±TuÈbingen Research Symposium on
Judaism, and especially for the current Jewish±Christian
dialogue. On the one hand, there are those, following
R. R. Ruether, who would claim that anti-Semitic attitudes are
built into the very structure of the Christian myth and that
`[t]he foundations of anti-Judaic thought were laid in the New
Testament'.68 This view is shared by J. Hellig,69 for example,
who holds that the very roots of the negative image of the Jew,
and of the demonization of Jews are to be found in these
writings. On the other hand, there are those who argue that the
New Testament is not necessarily anti-Semitic, although it can
provide, and indeed has provided, a basis for anti-Semitic
consequences or effects.70 Anti-Jewish comments in the New
Testament oppose Judaism theologically but are not directed
against Jews, qua Jews. Anti-Jewish passages are in a minority
and are not used with any frequency until the Crusades and
modern times.71 The New Testament is no more anti-Jewish, it
is claimed, than the Old Testament or Hebrew Bible, the
prophetic tradition being prominent in pointing out Israel's
spiritual ills, the prophets vehemently railing against their
erring compatriots.72 By the measure of Hellenistic conventions
and contemporary Jewish polemic, moreover, the New Testa-
ment's slander against fellow Jews is remarkably mild.73
A key trend in recent years, among New Testament scholars,
has been the assertion that anti-Semitic statements or attitudes
in the New Testament are the product of contingent situational
Earliest Christianity and Judaism (Durham: Mohr±Siebeck, 1989), pp. 177 ± 211 for an
excellent summary of the debate.
68
See R. Ruether, Faith and Fratricide: The Theological Roots of Anti-Semitism (New York:
Seabury Press, 1974), p. 226.
69
J. Hellig, `The negative image of the Jew and its New Testament roots', JTSouthAfr,
64 (1988), pp. 39 ± 48.
70
See G. Baumbach, `Das Neue Testament ± ein Judenfeindliches Buch? Zur Frage
nach der Entstehung und Verbreitung antijuÈdischer Tendenzen im fruÈhen Chris-
tentum', Die Zeichen der Zeit, 40 (1986), pp. 138± 142.
71
See L. H. Feldman, Ìs the New Testament Anti-Semitic?', Humanities, 21 (1987), pp.
1± 14; L. Feldman, Ìs the New Testament Anti-Semitic?', Moment [Washington, DC],
15 (1990), pp. 32 ±5, 50 ±2.
72
See C. Goldstein, Ìs the New Testament Anti-Semitic?', Liberty [Silver Springs, MD],
87 (1992), pp. 11± 15; J. D. Levenson, Ìs there a counterpart in the Hebrew Bible to
New Testament Antisemitism?', Journal of Ecumenical Studies, 22 (1985), pp. 242± 60.
73
See L. T. Johnson, `The New Testament's Anti-Jewish Slander and the Conventions
of Ancient Polemic', JBL, 108 (1989), pp. 419 ± 41.
factors.74 Different portrayals of Jews in the New Testament
re¯ect the differing situations of the writers and their commu-
nities, especially with regard to the particular stage reached in
what has now been termed `the parting of the ways' between
the two religions.75 Anti-Judaism decreases as we regress
towards Christian origins, while later writers intensi®ed the
anti-Judaism of their sources in light of their search for religious
identity, their developing Christology, their response to socio-
political factors (the desire to appease Roman opinion, the
concern to distance themselves from Jewish nationalism, etc.)
and so on.76 The less hope that a Christian writer had for a
successful mission to fellow Jews, it is observed, the more
animosity is shown.77
A particular feature of scholarly debate in the last ten years
or so has been the contention that disputes between early
Christians and Jews in the New Testament were for the most
part intra-Jewish disputes and had the character of `sibling
rivalry'.78 Anti-Jewish statements in the New Testament are
seen as childlike polemics against the emergent Christian sect's
older and more ®rmly established `mother religion'.79 The
general thrust of the argument, therefore, is to support the view
74
See, for example, J. C. Beker, `The New Testament View of Judaism' in J. H.
Charlesworth (ed.), Jesus and Christians: Exploring the Past, Present and Future (New York:
Crossroad, 1990), pp. 60 ± 75.
75
See E. TrocmeÂ, `Les Juifs d'apreÁs le Nouveau Testament', Foi et Vie, 90 (1991),
pp. 3 ±22.
76
See M. J. Cook, `Confronting New Testament attitudes on Jews and Christians: four
Jewish perspectives', Chicago Theological Seminary Register, 78 (1988), pp. 3 ±30;
J. Neusner and E. S. Frerichs (eds.), `To See Ourselves as Others See Us': Christians, Jews,
Òthers' in Late Antiquity (Scholars Press Studies in the Humanities; Chico, CA:
Scholars Press, 1985); G. N. Stanton, Àspects of early Christian±Jewish polemic and
apologetic', NTS, 31 (1985), pp. 377 ±92.
77
See E. E. Johnson, `Jews and Christians in the New Testament. John, Matthew and
Paul', Reformed Review, 42 (1988), pp. 113 ±28.
78
See Dunn, Ànti-Semitism' in Dunn (ed.), Jews and Christians, pp. 177 ±211; C. A.
Evans and D. Hagner (eds.), Anti-Semitism and Early Christianity: Issues of Polemic and
Faith (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1993); D. SaÈnger, `Neue Testament und
Antijudaismus: Versuch einer exegetischen und hermeneutischen Vergewisserung im
innerchristlichen GespraÈch', Kerygma und Dogma, 34 (1988), pp. 210 ± 31.
79
See N. A. Beck, Mature Christianity. The Recognition and Repudiation of the Anti-Jewish
Polemic of the New Testament (Selinsgrove, PA: Susquehanna University, 1985);
R. A. Everett, `The Christian Responsibility in Anti-Semitism', Judaism, 36 (1987),
pp. 377 ± 81.
that ànti-Jewish trends in Christianity' are `peripheral and
accidental, and not grounded in the New Testament itself '. 80
According to R. W. Klein, indeed, the New Testament offers
more resources than obstacles to Jewish±Christian dialogue
today.81
Be this as it may, the fact remains that in the Gospels, and
particularly in the earliest of the Gospels, the reader is con-
fronted with a portrait of the Jews which has been used by
subsequent generations of Christians to justify persecution. A
particular charge levelled against Jews by their persecutors was
that of being the spiritually blind executioners of Jesus of
Nazareth, their Christ, and, insofar as that ®gure is seen as an
incarnation of God, as the perpetrators of deicide, as God-
slayers. Given that this portrait owes much to Mark's presen-
tation, it is therefore fair to ask whether religious anti-Semitism
has any basis in the attitudes expressed by the evangelist,
whether he himself can be considered ànti-Semitic' or ànti-
Jewish', and, if so, to what degree, and with what signi®cance?
The question was raised in chapter two, one recalls, in
connection with the discussion of Mark's treatment of the
Jewish leaders in relation to that of Jesus, but has been post-
poned until now. There I concluded that for Mark, as for Paul,
Jesus is more than the Jewish Messiah confessed as such by his
original Jewish followers in the person of Peter; he is the divine
Son of God, a status recognized only by the supernatural world
(the demons) and by a Gentile centurion at his cruci®xion. The
Markan Jesus, the Son of God incognito, is depicted as being
misunderstood or rejected by various representative Jewish
leadership groups and in turn as repudiating their authority
and their doctrine. This Markan Jesus is a commanding ®gure
who is shown constantly in a favourable light vis-aÁ -vis these
Jewish leaders (`he taught with authority, and not as the scribes,'
1.22). He is depicted as condoning the breaking of the sabbath
(2.23ff.; 3.1±6). In chapter 12, he is placed in the contrived but
80
See G. Baum, Is the New Testament Anti-Semitic? (Glen Rock, NJ: Paulist Press, 1965)
and Dunn, Ànti-Semitism' in Dunn (ed.), Jews and Christians, p. 177.
81
See R. W. Klein, Ànti-Semitism as Christian Legacy: the Origin and Nature of our
Estrangement from the Jews', Currents in Theology and Mission, 11 (1984), pp. 285 ± 301.
dramatically appropriate setting of the Jewish Temple and
shown being confronted by and besting in argument each of the
leadership groups of the nation in turn: the chief priests, elders
and scribes, the Pharisees, the Herodians and the Sadducees.
If any New Testament writing deserved to be described as
anti-Semitic, therefore, Mark would be a good candidate. The
treatment of Judaism and the Jewish leaders amounts almost to
à pronounced campaign of denigration', in the words of one of
the scholars cited (S. G. F. Brandon). Jewish lustration practice
is disparaged, as are other Jewish practices (7.1±23). Judaism is
implied to be obsolescent (2.21±22 ± new wine is not be placed
in old wineskins). The Jewish leaders are depicted as hard of
heart (2.1ff.; 3.5), as hypocrites (7.6±7), as guilty of the unforgi-
vable sin in questioning the source of Jesus' power (3.28±30),
and as wicked murderers for rejecting Jesus (the beloved Son of
the vineyard owner) and the prophets before him (12.1ff.). All
the Jewish leadership groups are shown implausibly as plotting
his death, with Jesus anticipating their culpability in the passion
predictions (8.31; 9.31; 10.33±4). They act with stealth and
deviousness (14.1±2), are accused of acting out of envy (15.10),
and are depicted as cruelly mocking Jesus on the cross (15.31±2).
Not only these Jewish leadership groups but Jesus' own
family and friends are represented as rejecting him (3.31±5).
`Who are my mother, brothers, sisters?' Jesus asks, and answers,
`Those who do the will of my Father.' Thus, blood relationship
is repudiated and a spiritual relationship with Jesus is empha-
sized. This failure to recognize and confess Jesus as `Son of
God' extends even to the original Jewish disciples, who are
shown as remarkably obtuse, even fearful, stupid, cowardly and
treacherous. In the Gospel, furthermore, we see the attempt on
the part of Judaism (and also of Jewish Christianity) to come to
terms theologically with the rejection of the claims of Gentile
Christianity for Jesus. In one of the most remarkable passages in
the New Testament, the Old Testament, we observed, is pressed
into the service of theological explanation. In Mark 4.12, Isaiah
6.9±10 is employed to argue that Jesus' original parabolic
teaching had as its very purpose the hardening of Jewish hearts.
That had been the historical outcome; this must, therefore,
have been the intended effect. It is this theological datum ± not
merely the motif of `spiritual blindness' but the predestined
rejection by the Jews of the Son of God ± that carries with it the
germ of further religious anti-Semitism (1 Pet. 2.7±8).
Is Mark anti-Semitic, then, or anti-Jewish? Various views
have been expressed in regard to this. On the one hand, it has
been argued that the evangelist's hostility is con®ned to the
Jewish authorities and not to the nation as a whole. In his
controversies with these leaders, his Jesus remains within the
limits of intra-Jewish dispute (e.g. in sabbath observance or
divorce), and does not overstep the bounds of acceptable Jewish
behaviour (e.g. by repudiating his people). 82 As the feeding
stories may indicate, Mark sees in the Christian community a
place for Jew and Gentile alike. This tendency on the evange-
list's part may be strengthened by the observation that the
treatment of the Jewish leaders is not uniformly negative. One
anonymous scribe is treated sympathetically (12.28±34), as are
two named members of the Jewish establishment, Jairus, a ruler
of the synagogue (5.22±4, 35±43), and Joseph of Arimathea,
a respected member of the council (15.42±7). In light of this,
E. S. Malbon concludes:
Being a foe of the Marcan Jesus is a matter of how one chooses to
relate to him not a matter of one's social or religious status and role.
And the same is true of being a friend of Jesus. Furthermore, the
Jewish religious establishment (although subdivided) is but one major
category of foes of the Marcan Jesus. Other categories are the Roman
political establishment (Herod, Pilate, soldiers) and nonhuman foes
(unclean spirits, demons, Satan) . . . Thus Mark challenges both the
absolutism of `good' and `bad' (no one is a perfect disciple) and the
absolutism of types determined by status and role (no one is ruled out
as a disciple). By suggesting that even presumed foes can be followers,
Mark opens up the category of disciples; by indicating that even
known followers can sometimes fail, Mark deepens the meaning of
discipleship.83
82
See H. Baarlink, `Zur Frage nach dem Antijudaismus im Markusevangelium', ZNW,
70 (1979), pp. 166 ±93.
83
E. S. Malbon, `The Jewish Leaders in the Gospel of Mark: a Literary Study of
Marcan Characterization', JBL, 108 (1989), pp. 276, 277, 280. For a dissenting view,
see J. D. Kingsbury, `The Religious Authorities in the Gospel of Mark', NTS, 36
(1990), pp. 47 ± 50.
On the other hand, it cannot be denied that the various
Jewish leadership groups (Pharisees, Herodians, Sadducees,
chief priests, elders, scribes) are for the most part united as a single
body or character in opposition to Jesus, and that there are also
hints that the evangelist's horizons extend to all Jews (7.3±4 `the
Pharisees and all the Jews', as well as 7.6).84 Even accounting for
their leaders' machinations, it is the Jewish crowd who in the
end call for Jesus' cruci®xion (15.13). For killing his heir, God
will destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others (12.9).
The evangelist also links Jesus' family with his opponents (3.21,
22), as we have seen, and has Jesus repudiate in effect his blood
ties with the former (3.31±5). The matter of the Mark's attitude
to the Jews is hard, therefore, to resolve.
Modern enlightened Christian opinion would of course re-
pudiate all expressions of religious anti-Semitism. Gone are the
days when à pair of female statues [EccleÅsia and SynagoÅga] was
erected in Gothic cathedrals in Europe to symbolize the
Church triumphant and the Synagogue rejected and fallen.
The Church is represented as a proud but modest maiden
crowned and holding the EccleÅsia in one hand, and sometimes a
staff in the other. The Synagogue is depicted as a blindfold
wanton, and her characteristic appurtenances are a broken staff
(2 Corinthians 3:14), broken tablets of the Law and a fallen
crown.'85 Christian reaction against anti-Semitism found sig-
ni®cant expression in the decree of the Vatican Council (in
1965±6) exonerating Jews from the guilt of crucifying Jesus,
although there was some opposition to this. A modern Christian
would claim that all humankind shares responsibility corpo-
rately and spiritually for the death of Jesus.
A dilemma still faces the Christian, however, whose faith is
born of and is re¯ected in New Testament writings such as the
Gospel of Mark. If it is a matter of divine revelation that Jesus of
Nazareth is to be considered more than a Jewish prophet,
teacher and exorcist, as Mark maintained, and that he is to be
84
See W. A. Johnson, `The Jews in Saint Mark's Gospel', Religion and Intellectual Life, 6
(1989), pp. 182± 92.
85
J. Heinemann, J. Gutmann, C. Roth and others, Ànti-Semitism' in Encyclopaedia
Judaica ( Jerusalem: Keter Publishing House, 1972), pp. 91± 2.
worshipped as the `Son of God', and therefore as no less than
the incarnation of God, then all who reject this view ± and Jews
would be in this category ± must be considered in Christian
theology as `spiritually blind'. Yet the position of the church,
based on that self-same theology, claims that all men are
brothers, and that they are to be treated with love, justice and
respect. As a corollary they are not to be regarded, because of
their different traditions, views or perspectives, as `spiritually
inferior'. In uttering his (in)famous theory of the parables
(4.11±12), the Markan Jesus appears to consign his Jewish
hearers to such a position, and the question that remains
therefore is whether a Christianity based on such a declaration
can really shed its anti-Jewishness and yet stay true to its
revelatory claims.
Select bibliography
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL RESOURCES
For a comprehensive and classi®ed coverage of bibliographical
resources on the Gospel of Mark, the following are helpful. Neirynck
is the most up to date. For publications after 1992, the student should
consult NTA which gives periodical abstracts on Mark, as well as book
notices (see Gospels±Acts).
Humphrey, H. M., A Bibliography for the Gospel of Mark 1954±1980
(Studies in the Bible and Early Christianity, 1; New York and
Toronto: Edwin Mellen Press, 1981).
Neirynck, F. et al. (eds.), The Gospel of Mark. A Cumulative Bibliography
1950±1990 (BETL, CII; Leuven: Leuven University Press/
Peeters, 1992).
New Testament Abstracts.
COMMENTARIES
Among the standard commentaries, the following should be noted:
Anderson, H., The Gospel of Mark (New Century Bible Commentary;

Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1981). A very good popular
commentary based on the Revised Standard Version, which is
well-informed (up to its date of publication) by modern scholar-
ship. It has in particular an excellent sixty-page introduction to
the Gospel. Published in paperback in 1981.
Cran®eld, C. E. B., The Gospel according to St Mark: an Introduction and
Commentary (Cambridge Greek Testament Commentary; Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959). Reprinted frequently
with revised additional supplementary notes, but essentially
predating contemporary approaches and understandings of the
Gospel.
Guelich, R. A., Mark 1±8:26 (Word Biblical Commentary, 34A; Dallas,
242
TX: Word, 1989). The most recent large commentary. Careful,
cautious, conservative scholarship with a well-balanced discus-
sion of the problems. Guelich's untimely death has unfortunately
deprived us of a second volume from his own hand.
Gundry, R. H., Mark. A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross (Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1992). A hefty commentary! Offers an
exposition of each pericope which engages scholarly views and
pays special attention to Mark's grammar and style.
Hooker, M. D., The Gospel According to St Mark (Black's New Testament
Commentaries; London: A. & C. Black, 1991). Though taking
account of modern scholarship on the Gospel, this excellent
`middle of the road' commentary, in running style, does not, in
the tradition of the series, òverburden the reader with names
and theories'.
Lane, W. L., The Gospel According to Mark. The English Text with
Introduction, Exposition and Notes (The New International Commen-
tary on the New Testament, 2; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans;
The New London Commentary on the New Testament; London:
Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1974). Detailed, conservative scholar-
ship based on the American Standard Version of 1901.
Mann, C. S., Mark. A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary
(Anchor Bible, 27; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1986). A
substantial seven hundred-page commentary in a series aimed at
the general reader with no special formal training in Biblical
Studies. The only major modern commentary to be based on
`the Griesbach hypothesis', namely that Mark is a simple
con¯ation of Matthew and Luke. Mann's `Mark' for that reason
is at odds with the more sophisticated author revealed by
modern literary-critical study of the Gospel.
Nineham, D. E., The Gospel of St Mark (Pelican Commentary; London
and New York: A. & C. Black, 1968). The classic commentary on
the English text and still worth buying. Though ®rst published in
1963, its scholarly insights and forward-looking approach have
anticipated later developments.
Schweizer, E., The Good News According to Mark (London: SPCK, 1971).
Translated from the German, this commentary is by a major
scholar on Mark's Gospel who has contributed much to our
understanding of the evangelist's theological achievement.
Taylor, V., The Gospel According to St Mark (London: Macmillan; New
York: St Martin's Press, 1966). The classic commentary on the
Greek text. Preserves much of value but its emphasis on the
historicity of the Gospel has been long overtaken by modern
preoccupation with the Gospel's literary and theological aspects.
244 Select bibliography
Helpful condensed treatments are to be found in the following one-
volume commentaries or dictionaries:
Cran®eld, C. E. B., `Mark, Gospel of ' in G. A. Buttrick (ed.), The
Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible (New York and Nashville, TN:
Abingdon Press, 1962), Vol. III, pp. 267±77. A conservative
interpretation of the Gospel, now decidedly dated. Should be
read in conjunction with N. Perrin's article in the later
supplementary volume.
Perrin, N., `Mark, Gospel of ' in K. Crim (ed.), The Interpreter's
Dictionary of the Bible, Supplementary Volume (Nashville: Abingdon
Press, 1976), pp. 571±3. A succinct discussion of more recent
approaches and issues by an American scholar who dominated
Markan studies in the seventies.
Mally, E. J., `The Gospel according to Mark' in R. E. Brown, J. A.
Fitzmyer and R. E. Murphy (eds.), The Jerome Biblical Commentary
(London: G. Chapman, 1968), pp. 21±61. A scholarly treatment
in a Catholic commentary recognised for its erudition. Now
eclipsed by The New Jerome Biblical Commentary (1989).
Harrington, D. J., `The Gospel according to Mark' in R. E. Brown,
J. A. Fitzmyer and R. E. Murphy (eds.), The New Jerome Biblical
Commentary (London: G. Chapman, 1989), pp. 596±629. Intro-
duction rather brief but the most recent condensed commentary
there is.
Telford, W. R., `Mark, Gospel of ' in R. J. Coggins and J. L. Houlden
(eds.), A Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation (London: SCM Press;
Philadelphia, PA: Trinity Press International, 1990), pp. 424±8.
Reviews the history of interpretation of Mark and the variety of
critical approaches to it.
Wilson, R. McL., `Mark' in M. Black and H. H. Rowley (eds.), Peake's
Commentary on the Bible (London: Thomas Nelson, 1962), pp.
799±819. Now decidedly dated (as the bibliography indicates)
but useful for its concentrated exposition of the text.
The major foreign-language commentaries include:
È bersetzt und ErklaÈrt (Regens-
Ernst, J., Das Evangelium nach Markus. U
burger Neues Testament; Regensburg: F. Pustet, 1981). Draws on
recent Markan research to accent literary and theological
questions.
Gnilka, J., Das Evangelium nach Markus (Evangelisch-Katholischer
Kommentar zum Neuen Testament, II 1/2; Zurich, Einsiedeln
and Cologne: Benziger, 1978; Neukirchen and Vluyn: Neu-
kirchener Verlag, 1979). A major work of German scholarship
which in its moderate assessment of the Gospel perhaps comes
closest to representing the consensus (if such exists) on matters
which divide the scholars. Includes discussion on the history of
interpretation.
LuÈhrmann, D., Das Markusevangelium (Handbuch zum Neuen Testa-
ment, 3; TuÈbingen: Mohr±Siebeck, 1987). One of the most recent
major German commentaries and one which, while still in the
German mainstream, comes closest to incorporating insights
from the newer literary studies.
Pesch, R., Das Markusevangelium (Herders Theologischer Kommentar
zum Neuen Testament, II, 1/2; Freiburg, Basle and Vienna:
Herder, 1976/1977). A magisterial commentary of meticulous
conservative scholarship which views Mark as a relatively
unoriginal collection of historically reliable traditions which
determined, along with his own minimal editing, the structure of
his Gospel. Further editions published I 41984; II 31983.
Schmithals, W., Das Evangelium nach Markus (O È kumenischer Faschen-
buchkommentar zum Neuen Testament, 2/1 & 2/2; GuÈtersloh:
Mohn, 1979). Represents two extremes of interpretation by
seeing Mark as the ultra-conservative editor of an extensive
underlying source written by someone with great theological
originality.
SPECIAL STUDIES
The following offer useful treatments of Mark by way of general
background:
Best, E., Mark. The Gospel as Story (Studies of the New Testament and
its World; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1983). Based on a series of
lectures, this book, by a prominent British scholar, offers
observations on and reactions to a number of Markan issues and
problems (e.g. Mark's purpose and continuing signi®cance, the
passion, Christology, etc.).
Hengel, M., Studies in the Gospel of Mark (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress
Press, 1985). Three essays by a prominent German scholar on the
Gospel's origin and situation, literary, theological and historical
problems, and the titles of the Gospels and Mark.
Hooker, M. D., The Message of Mark (London: Epworth Press, 1983).
Eight lectures on Mark's message by another prominent British
scholar.
Kee, H. C., Community of the New Age. Studies in Mark's Gospel
(Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1977). One of the most
important works on Mark in the last twenty years.
Martin, R. P., Mark ± Evangelist and Theologian (Exeter: Paternoster,
1979). A classic guide to the Gospel, and notable for its account
of and engagement with scholarship up until the end of the
seventies.
Pesch, R., Das Markus-Evangelium (Wege der Forschung, 411; Darm-
stadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1979). A collection of
classic essays in German by various scholars.
Telford, W. R., Mark (New Testament Guides; Shef®eld: Shef®eld
Academic Press, 1995). A more recent study guide to the Gospel
approached from the point of view of history, literature and
theology.
Telford, W. R. (ed.), The Interpretation of Mark (Studies in New
Testament Interpretation; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1995). After
a 61±page introduction to Markan studies, this volume presents
thirteen articles in English by prominent Markan scholars. A
twenty-page select bibliography is also included.
THE THEOLOGY OF MARK

In addition to the works above, the following offer re¯ections on
Mark's theology, either as a whole or with respect to speci®c aspects
or passages:
Baarlink, H., AnfaÈngliches Evangelium (Kampen: Kok, 1977).

Boring, M. E., `The Christology of Mark: Hermeneutical Issues for
Systematic Theology', Semeia, 30 (1984), pp. 125±53.
Bultmann, R.,Theology of the New Testament (London: SCM Press, 1952/
1955), passim.
Burkill, T. A., `St Mark's Philosophy of History', New Testament Studies,
3 (1957), pp. 142±8.
Conzelmann, H., An Outline of the Theology of the New Testament (The
New Testament Library; London: SCM Press; Evanston, IL:
Harper & Row, 1969), pp. 140±4.
Conzelmann, H., `History and Theology in the Passion Narratives of
the Synoptic Gospels', Interpretation, 24 (1970), pp. 178±97.
Dewey, J., Markan Public Debate. Literary Technique, Concentric Structure,
and Theology in Mark 2:1±3:6 (Society of Biblical Literature
Dissertation Series, 48; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1980).
Donahue, J. R., The Theology and Setting of Discipleship in the Gospel of
Mark (Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press, 1983).
Dowd, S. E., Prayer, Power and the Problem of Suffering: Mark 11:22±25 in
the Context of Markan Theology (Society of Biblical Literature
Dissertation Series, 105; Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1988).
Evans, C. F., The Beginning of the Gospel. Four Lectures on St Mark's Gospel
(London: SPCK, 1968).
Evans, C. F., Explorations in Theology (London: SCM Press, 1977).
Geddert, T. J., Watchwords. Mark 13 in Markan Eschatology ( Journal for
the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series, 26;
Shef®eld: JSOT Press, 1989).
Goppelt, L., Theology of the New Testament. Volume One: The Ministry of
Jesus in its Theological Signi®cance (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
1981), passim.
GraÈsser, E., `Jesus in Nazareth (Mark VI.1±6a). Notes on the
Redaction and Theology of St Mark', New Testament Studies, 16
(1969±70), pp. 1±23.
Jeremias, J., New Testament Theology. Part One: The Proclamation of Jesus
(The New Testament Library; London: SCM Press, 1971), passim.
Kertelge, K., `The Epiphany of Jesus in the Gospel (Mark)' in W. R.
Telford (ed.), The Interpretation of Mark (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark,
1995), pp. 105±23.
Kingsbury, J. D., The Christology of Mark's Gospel (Philadelphia, PA:
Fortress Press, 1983).
KuÈmmel, W. G., The Theology of the New Testament according to is Major
Witnesses Jesus ± Paul ± John (Nashville, TN and New York:
Abingdon Press, 1973), passim.
Ladd, G. E., A Theology of the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI:
Eerdmans, 1974), passim.
Lindemann, A., ÈrwaÈgungen zum Problem einer ``Theologie der
synoptischen Evangelien'' ', Zeitschrift fuÈr die neutestamentliche Wis-
senschaft und die Kunde der aÈlteren Kirche, 77 (1986), pp. 1±33.
Marshall, C. D., Faith as a Theme in Mark's Narrative (Society for New
Testament Studies Monograph Series, 64; Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1989).
Martin, R. P., `The Theology of Mark's Gospel', South Western Journal
of Theology, 21 (1978), pp. 23±36.
Matera, F. J., The Kingship of Jesus. Composition and Theology in Mark 15
(Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series, 66; Chico, CA:
Scholars Press, 1982).
Robbins, V. K., `The Healing of Blind Bartimaeus (10:46±52) in the
Marcan Theology', Journal of Biblical Literature, 92 (1973), pp.
224±43.
Schreiber, J., Theologie des Vertrauens. Eine Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersu-
chung des Markusevangeliums (Hamburg: Furche, 1967).
Schulz, S., `Mark's Signi®cance for the Theology of Early Chris-
tianity' in W. R. Telford (ed.), The Interpretation of Mark (Edin-
burgh: T. & T. Clark, 1995), pp. 197±206.
Schweizer, E., Theologische Einleitung in das Neue Testament (Grundrisse
zum Neuen Testament 2; GoÈttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht,
1989), pp. 115±21.
Schweizer, E., `Mark's Theological Achievement' in W. R. Telford
(ed.), The Interpretation of Mark (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1995),
pp. 63±87.
Thompson, M. R., The Role of Disbelief in Mark. A New Approach to the
Second Gospel (New York and Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1989).
Index of references
2.1 ±2 187
Old Testament
2.2 107
Genesis 2.7 39
1.27 224 8 199
5.24 106, 107 8.4 105
14 200 22 204
Exodus 22.28 70
4±14 90 65.7 101
14 98 77.19 101
15.18 70 80.17 105
16 98 103.19 70
19ff. 107.28± 9 101
34.6 101 110 199, 200, 202
Numbers 110.1 37, 202
23.19 105 110.4 202
Deuteronomy 118.22± 3 64, 193
24.1± 4 119 145.10 ±13 70
31± 4 175 146.3 105
34.1ff. 175 146.10 70
2 Samuel Isaiah
7.14 39 2.12 70
1 Kings 6.9 ± 10 66, 185, 193, 238
17ff. 90 8.14 ± 15 193
19.11 101 9.1 149
2 Kings 11.1± 5 106, 107
1ff. 90 11.4 107, 212
2.6 ±8 98 13.6 70
2.11 106 13.9 70
4.42 ± 4 98 24.21 ±3 70
1 Chronicles 25.6 81
28.5 70 33.22 70
29.11± 12 70 44.24 ±45.25 70
Job 51.12 105
9.8 101 53 110, 114, 189, 194, 204
25.1 ±6 105 53.7 114
38 ±41 70 53.9 114
38.16 101 53.12 114
Psalms 56.2 105
2 106
249
250 Index of references
Jeremiah 13 107, 212
27.5 ± 11 70 13.1 ±13 75
Ezekiel Psalms of Solomon 71
2.1 105 17 106
Daniel 36, 72 17.23ff. 72
6.27 91 17.23 ±51 36
7 91, 106, 108, 110 Sibylline Oracles
7.1ff. 106 iii.767 ±808 91
7.1±14 72
7.4 106
Dead Sea Scrolls
7.5 106
7.6 106 4 Q Damascus Document
7.7 106 3.1 ±2 224
7.8 106 11 Q Temple Scrolla (11 Q 19)
7.9 106, 210 lvii.17 ±18 224
7.11± 12 106 Cairo Damascus Documenta
7.13± 14 106 iv.20 ±21 224
7.13 107, 166
7.18, 22, 27 106
New Testament
8.17 105
9.15ff. 91 Matthew
12.1ff. 105 1.1ff. 38, 175
Joel 1.20 38, 175
1.15 70 1.22 ± 3 174
2.1 70 2.5 ± 6 174
2.30 ±1 91 2.13ff. 175
3.14 70 2.15 174
Amos 2.17 ± 18 174
1± 2 70 2.23 174
Habakkuk 3.3 174
2.4 ± 6ff. 199 3.7 ± 10 172
Zephaniah 3.7 118
1.7 81 4.14 ±16 174
3.14 ±18 70 4.15 149
Zechariah 4.23 175
14.16 70 5 ±7 174
Malachi 5.1ff. 175
4.5 106 5.10 ±16 191
5.10 191
5.11 109
Jewish Apocrypha and
5.14 56
Pseudepigrapha
5.17 ±20 174, 175
Assumption of Moses 5.20 175
10 71, 106 5.21 ±2 175
1 Enoch 36, 72 5.27 ±8 175
37 ± 71 107, 108 5.31 ±2 175
48 74 5.44 191
62.13± 14 81 6.9 191
69.26 ±9 74 6.10 76, 79
71.14 ±17 74 6.13 192
90 212 7.6 174
4 Ezra 36, 74, 108, 113 7.28 174
8± 9 174 14.33 175
8.5 ± 13 92 15.22 38, 175
8.11 ±12 76, 83 15.24 174
8.13 175 15.28 175
8.16 175 16.1 ±18 174
8.17 174, 175 16.1 119
8.20 109, 112 16.6 118
8.25 34, 175 16.11 118
9.8 112 16.12 118, 129, 174
9.22 175 16.13 109
9.27 38, 175 16.16ff. 129
10 129, 174 16.16 ±20 174
10.5 ±15 172 16.16 130, 175
10.5 ±8 85 16.17 ± 19 130, 140
10.5 ±6 150, 174 16.19 141
10.7ff. 76 16.23 133
10.16 55 16.27 174, 176
10.23 76, 83, 85, 109, 150, 174 16.28 109, 192
10.32 ±3 83, 109 17.13 129, 174
10.33 171 17.18 175
10.39 19 17.20 171
11.1 174 17.23 129
11.13 190 18 174
11.19 109 18.12 ±14 60
11.2 ±6 76 18.17 174
11.16 ±17 56 18.18 130, 131, 140, 141
11.25 81 19.1 174
11.28 ±30 175 19.28 51, 76, 109, 130, 172, 174
12.15 175 19.30 61
12.17 ± 21 174, 175 20.16 61
12.23 38, 175 20.20ff. 130
12.28 76, 81, 82, 83, 98, 172 20.30 38, 175
12.32 109 20.31 38, 175
12.38 119 21.4 ± 5 174
12.39 171 21.5 38, 175
12.40 109, 112 21.14 ±17 38, 175
12.43 ±5 89 21.31 82
12.44 61 21.42 191
12.45 192 21.43 63, 174
13 60, 174 22.1 ±14 59, 61
13.14 ±15 174 22.1 ±10 60
13.16 ±17 76, 129, 174 22.6 ±7 61
13.17 190 22.11± 14 60, 61, 174, 176
13.24 ±30 60, 176 22.14 61
13.35 174 23 174
13.37 109 23.2 ± 3 174, 175
13.41 109 24 ± 5 174
13.44 82 24 176
13.45 ± 6 82 24.27 109
13.51 129, 174 24.30 109, 176
13.53 174 24.37 ± 51 176
14.31 ±3 130, 174 24.37 ± 9 172
Matthew (cont.) 1.21 26
24.37 109 1.22 40, 121, 125, 237
24.38± 9 69 1.23 ± 2.12 95, 99
24.39 109 1.23 ± 6 97
24.43 ±4 59 1.23 ± 8 96
24.43 192 1.24 30, 31, 39, 99, 102, 129
24.44 109 1.25 41, 88, 101
25 176 1.27 40, 100
25.14 ± 30 60 1.28 14, 154
25.31 109 1.29 ± 39 20
26.1 174 1.29 ± 31 21, 96, 97, 127, 231
26.2 109, 113 1.30 ± 1 96
26.52ff. 175 1.32 ± 4 30, 96
26.56 174 1.34 41, 46, 88, 101
27.9±10 174 1.35 ±7 42
27.51± 3 89 1.35 26, 219
27.62 118 1.36 127
28.1±7 140 1.38 167
28.2± 4 140 1.39 14, 22, 96, 154
28.8 140 1.40 ±5 96, 97
28.9 ±10 140, 141 1.44 41, 88, 101
28.11± 15 140 1.45 42, 45
28.16± 20 140, 175 2 174
28.16 140 2.1 ±3.6 20, 23, 34, 122, 124, 152
28.18± 20 130, 174 2.1ff. 126, 238
28.20 2.1 ±14 10
Mark 2. 1± 12 45, 95, 97, 99, 124
1 174 2.1 22, 26
1.1 ±8.26 99, 102 2.2 34
1.1 ±15 5, 20 2.4 127
1.1 34, 36, 38, 52, 166, 168 2.5± 10 99, 124
1.2 ±3 195 2.6 118, 121
1.3 37, 186 2.8 40
1.4 26, 195, 201 2.10 38, 40, 46, 112, 114, 167, 222
1.9 ± 11 21, 199 2.11 178
1.9 22, 154, 195, 201 2.13 ± 3.6 122
1.11 38, 52, 64, 85, 166 2.13 22, 26, 127, 134
1.12 ±13 21, 102, 199 2.15 ±17 165
1.12 26 2.15 22, 26
1.13 218 2.16 117, 120, 121
1.14 ± 5.53 150 2.17 ± 22 62
1.14 ± 3.6 137 2.17 21, 61, 62
1. 14 ±15 5, 76, 81, 84, 177 2.18 ±20 124
1.14 13, 14, 154, 168 2.18 ±19 21, 63
1.15 34, 80, 83, 168, 219 2.18 120
1.16 ±39 10 2.19 ± 20 62, 63
1.16 ±20 127, 128, 142 2.19 21, 61
1.16 14, 26 2.20 21
1.21 ±2.12 20, 152 2.21± 2 21, 62, 126, 238
1.21 ±39 20 2.21 61, 83
1.21 ±34 40 2.22 62, 83
1.21 ±2 22, 30 2.23ff. 125, 237
2.23± 3.6 201 4.10ff. 129
2.23± 3.5 220 4.10 ±12 64, 126, 128, 132, 164
2.23± 28 123. 124 4.10 ±11 129
2.24 120, 124 4.10 127, 128
2.26 165 4.11± 12 16, 42, 54, 64, 65, 84, 88, 133,
2.27 21 193
2.28 21, 37, 38, 46, 112, 114, 186, 222 4.11 80, 82, 87, 156, 168, 241
3.1 ±6 45, 95, 99, 124, 125, 237 4.12 238
3.1 26 4.13± 20 61, 62, 132
3.4 222 4.13 129
3.5 126, 133, 168, 201, 238 4.14ff. 34
3.6 11, 99, 117, 118, 120, 121, 124, 125 4.16 168
3.7 ±6.6 137 4.17 13
3.7 ±12 22, 95, 96 4.20 219
3.7 14, 26, 42 4.21 ± 5 62, 84
3.9 26, 127, 134 4.21± 2 21
3.10 ± 12 40 4.21 62
3.11 ±12 41, 46, 62, 88, 101, 158 4.22 84
3.11 38, 39, 52, 102, 129, 166 4.23 64
3.13 ±19 10, 128 4.24 62
3.13 22, 26 4.26ff. 82
3.14 ± 15 128 4.26± 9 62
3.14 127 4.26 80, 83
3.15 96 4.30ff. 82
3.17 11 4.30 ±2 62, 69
3.19 133 4.30 80, 83
3.20 ±35 42, 124 4.33 ±4 42, 84
3.20ff. 126, 132, 157 4.33 34
3.20 26, 127, 134 4.34 127, 129
3.21±35 25 4.35 ± 8.26 95, 97, 104
3.21 22, 240 4.35 ± 6.44 94, 99
3.22± 30 20, 152 4.35 ± 5.43 10, 19, 20, 40, 95, 99, 152
3.22± 7 91, 98, 101, 102 4.35 ± 41 40, 92, 94, 96, 97, 101, 102
3.22 96, 118, 121, 240 4.35ff. 20
3.23± 7 62, 95 4.35 42
3.24 ±5 62 4.36 26, 127
3.27 62 4.38 30, 33, 34
3.28± 30 126, 238 4.40 ± 1 129, 133, 146
3.28 38, 109, 112 4.40 101, 133, 204, 219
3.30 22 4.41 42, 97, 129
3.31±5 21, 126, 128, 220, 231, 238, 240 5. 1± 43 25, 95, 96
3.32 127, 134 5.1± 20 89, 96
3.34 127 5.1± 13 218
4±5 174 5.1 11
4 20, 40, 62, 84 5.2 26
4.1± 34 18, 20, 21, 34, 68, 152, 206 5.6± 8 45
4.1± 33 76 5.7 38, 52, 129, 166
4.1± 20 25 5.9 14
4.1± 8 62 5.11± 13 220
4.1 22, 26, 33, 127, 134 5.15 146
4.8 83 5.19 ±20 45
4.9 64 5.19 37, 186
Mark (cont.) 6.35 127
5.21 ±43 95, 231 6.37 ff. 165
5.21 26, 127, 134 6.37 178
5.22 ±4, 35 ± 43 96, 97, 231, 239 6.45 ± 8.26 94, 99, 176
5.24 127, 134 6.45 ± 53 19
5.25 ± 34 96, 231 6.45 ± 52 40, 96, 97, 101, 102
5.27 127 6.45 ± 51 94
5.28 97 6.45 ± 7 42
5.30 40, 127 6.45 26, 127, 134
5.31 127 6.46 26
5.32 40 6.50 ± 2 146
5.33 146 6.50 ± 1 133
5.34 204, 219 6.50 146
5.35 33 6.52 42, 100, 129, 133, 168
5.36 146 6.53 ±6 22, 95, 96
5.37 127 6.54 26
5.41 11, 22 7.1 ±23 20, 34, 123, 124, 126, 152, 165,
5.43 41, 45, 88, 101 174, 201, 209, 220, 222, 238
6.1 ±9.50 150 7.1 ±8 124
6.1 ±6 176 7.1 118, 120, 121
6.1 22 7.2 ± 4 11
6.2 33, 40 7.3 ± 4 18, 22, 119, 240
6.3 ±4 35 7.3 118, 120
6.4 35 7.5 118, 120, 121
6.5 96, 219 7.6 240
6.6 ±8.21 137 7.6 ±7 126, 238
6.6 ±13 128 7.11 11
6.6 22, 100, 219 7.14 127, 134
6.7 ±30 25 7.15 21, 222
6.7 ±13 10, 128, 129 7.17ff. 129, 132
6.7 96, 127 7.17± 23 42
6.12 ±13 128 7.17 26, 127, 134
6.13 96 7.18 129
6.14 ± 29 176 7.19 22, 165
6.14 ± 16 35 7.21± 3 168
6.14 40 7.21± 2 221
6.17 ± 29 13, 231, 232 7.24 ±8.26 19, 40, 99
6.17 11 7.24 ±8.10 20, 152, 165
6.21 153 7.24±37 95
6.27 14 7.24 ±30 96, 99, 231
6.29 134 7.24 22, 26, 42, 99
6.30 ±7.23 95 7.27 ±8 165
6.30 ±56 10, 99 7.28 186
6.30 ±44 19, 96 7.31± 7 21, 96, 99
6.30 ±4 22 7.31 11, 14, 22, 26, 99, 165
6.30 127 7.32± 7 97
6.31±52 20, 95, 152 7.33 127
6.31 26, 42 7.34 11
6.32 26 7.36 41, 45, 88, 101
6.34 ±44 92, 95, 133 8.1 ±21 95
6.34 33, 127, 134 8.1 ±10 19, 92, 95, 96, 99
6.35 ±56 40 8.1 ff. 165
8.1 127, 134 9.2± 8 21, 42, 98, 127, 165, 167, 192
8.2 127 9.2 26, 85
8.4 26, 133 9.5 ±6 12, 42
8.6 127, 165 9.5 30. 34
8.10 26, 127 9.6 133, 146
8.11 ±13 42, 85, 102, 123, 124 9.7 38, 40, 52, 64, 85, 166
8.11 118, 119, 120 9.9 ±13 42, 165
8.12 171 9.9 38, 42, 46, 47, 112, 115
8.14ff. 129, 165 9.10 129, 133
8.14 ± 21 24, 42, 100, 129, 133, 165 9.11± 13 13, 106, 195
8.14 26 9.11 121
8.15 ± 9.48 10 9.12 38, 112
8.15 11, 118, 120, 121, 124, 126, 137 9.14ff. 184
8.17ff. 164 9.14 ±29 96, 99
8.17 ±18 133 9.14 ±27 21, 40, 101
8.17 133, 168 9.14 121, 127, 132, 134
8.21 95, 129 9.15 127
8.22 ± 10.52 51 9.17 33, 127
8.22 ± 6 21, 95, 96, 97, 100, 152 9.18± 19 132, 134, 184
8.22 11 9.18 128, 133
8.26 41, 88, 101 9.19 133
8.27 ± 10.45 114, 219 9.20 ±4 167, 219
8.27 ± 9.1 104 9.21± 4 101
8.27 ± 35 219 9.23 ±4 134, 204
8.27 ff. 161 9.23 133
8.27 ± 9 48 9.28± 9 42, 124, 129, 132
8.27 ± 8 30, 35 9.28 127
8.27 26, 105, 219 9.29 219
8.28 40 9.30ff. 129
8.29 ± 31 36 9.30 ±7 219
8.29 30, 35, 36, 40, 127, 129 9.30 ±2 13, 42
8.30 42, 46, 104 9.30 42, 105
8.31 ±10.45 104, 129 9.31 19, 38, 45, 52, 105, 112, 126, 155,
8.31 ±9.1 13 226, 238
8.31 ±3 42 9.32 ±4 52
8.31 ±2 37 9.32 42, 105, 129, 133, 146
8.31 19, 33, 38, 45, 52, 105, 112, 114, 9.33 ±10.31 34
121, 126, 155, 202, 226, 238 9.33 ±50 152
8.32 ± 3 42, 52, 105, 127 9.33 ±7 128, 129, 133, 220, 224
8.33 12, 37, 129, 130, 133, 164 9.33 ±4 105, 130
8.34 ± 9.1 18, 20, 34, 52, 105, 152 9.33 26, 219
8.34 127, 133, 134 9.34 26, 42, 219
8.35 ±7 223 9.35 ± 50 18, 20, 52
8.35 5, 19, 21, 34, 84, 133, 168, 219, 9.35 ± 7 105
222, 224 9.35 127, 133, 194
8.38 21, 38, 46, 80, 83, 112, 133, 167, 9.38± 50 219
171 9.38± 9 96, 128, 129, 186
9.1±8 102 9.38 33, 42, 127
9.1 19, 21, 76, 80, 83, 84, 85, 148, 165, 9.41 36
192, 196 9.42 21, 192, 220
9.2ff. 129 9.43 80
9.2± 9 40, 197 9.45 80
Mark (cont.) 10.42± 5 105, 206
9.47 80 10.45 13, 21, 30, 38, 105, 112, 114, 155,
9.49 ±50 19, 62 167, 178, 191, 194, 195, 204, 226
10 20, 175 10.46± 52 51, 96, 97, 99, 100, 219
10.1 11, 33, 127, 134 10.46 26, 127, 134, 219
10.1± 12 123, 221 10.47± 8 36, 51
10.2ff. 119 10.47 30, 31
10.2 ±45 152 10.48 46
10.2 ±16 219, 220 10.51 34
10.2 ±12 124, 220 10.52 26, 201, 202, 219
10.2 11, 120 11± 12 20, 122
10.5 133 11.1 ±33 10
10.10 ± 12 42, 129, 132 11.1 ±10 21, 45, 48, 83
10.10 26, 127 11.1 11, 127
10.11± 12 21 11.2 ±6 40
10.13 ±17 221 11.3 37, 186
10.13 ±16 220 11.8 ±10 51
10.13 ±14 42, 129 11.9 127
10.13 127 11.10 36, 51, 83
10.14 ± 15 80, 81 11.11 26, 128
10.15 225 11.12 ±25 25
10.17 ±30 219 11.12 ±14, 22 ±5 25
10.17 ±31 220 11.12 ±14, 20ff. 96, 99, 100
10.17 26, 33, 80, 219 11.12 ±14, 20 ± 5 95
10.18 195, 201 11.12 ±14, 20 220
10.20 33 11.12 ±14 25, 40, 95, 99
10.23 ±5 80 11.13 18
10.23 127 11.14 127, 128
10.25 62 11.15 ±19 25, 45
10.28 ±31 133 11.15 ±18 19
10.28 ±30 224 11.15 26
10.28 127, 223 11.17 209
10.29 ± 30 13, 198, 220 11.18 121, 127, 134
10.29 5, 34, 84, 168 11.20 ±5 95
10.30 80 11.21 34, 127
10.31 21, 61, 227, 232 11.22± 5 19, 20, 25, 100, 152, 219
10.32 ±52 10 11.22± 3 219
10.32 ±4 13, 42, 128, 146 11.22 133, 204
10.32 26, 42, 105, 127, 133, 146, 201, 11.23 171
202, 219 11.24 ±5 219
10.33 ±4 19, 45, 52, 105, 112, 126, 155, 11.25b 21
226, 238 11.27± 12.44 34
10.33 38, 121 11.27± 12.40 124, 152
10.35ff. 127 11.27± 33 42, 123
10.35 ± 45 37, 42, 45, 129, 133, 213 11.27 26, 121
10.35 ± 41 105 11.28 40
10.35 ± 7 52 11.29 40
10.35 33 11.32 35, 127, 134
10.38 ±9 13 11.33 40
10.39 ± 45 52 12 62, 237
10.41± 5 127, 128, 212 12.1ff. 125, 126, 238
10.42± 4 21, 136 12.1 ±12 124
12.1 ±9 62 13.11 ±13 13, 208
12.6 64, 167 13.11 143
12.9 240 13.12 ± 13 220
12.10 ± 11 193 13.14 ±20 94, 208
12.10 191 13.14 15, 16, 22, 208
12.12 64, 127, 134 13.17 ± 23 13
12.13 ± 27 122 13.20 196, 208
12.13 ± 17 123, 166, 206, 221 13.21± 2 208
12.13 11, 120, 121, 124 13.21 36
12.14 ±17 21 13.22 35, 36
12.14 33 13.24ff. 196
12.17 221, 225 13.24 ±31 13
12.18 ±27 124 13.24 ±7 63, 76
12.18 120 13.24 ±5 208
12.19 33 13.24 195, 208
12.25 223 13.26 38, 40, 112, 148, 181, 208
12.28ff. 121 13.27 208
12.28± 34 123, 221, 239 13.28± 9 21, 83
12.28 121, 158 13.28 62
12.29 ±30 21 13.30ff. 204
12.32± 4 201 13.30 83, 85, 183, 192, 196, 218
12.32 33, 121 13.32ff. 212
12.34 80, 81 13.32± 7 10, 13
12.35 ±40 122 13.32 19, 38, 85, 183
12.35 ±7 36, 37, 51, 124, 167, 202 13.33ff. 85
12.35 118, 121 13.33 195, 196
12.38± 40 21 13.34 ±7 21
12.37 127, 134 13.34 ±6 62, 63
12.38 118, 121 13.35 ±7 133, 195
12.41 ±4 231 13.35 ±6 63
12.41 127 13.35 63, 196
12.42 14 14 ±16 30, 123, 139, 155
12.43 127 14 ±15 20, 123, 152, 204
13 20, 21, 34, 76, 152, 196, 204, 206, 14.1± 11 25
208, 218 14.1± 2 126, 238
13.1 ±37 83 14.1 11, 121
13.1 ±31 89 14.3± 9 134, 229, 231
13.1 ±4 85 14.3 178
13.1 ±2 40, 195, 209 14.9 5, 34, 84, 134, 167, 168
13.1 33, 127 14.10 ±12 128
13.3ff. 132 14.10 121, 127, 133
13.3 ±37 19, 42 14.12ff. 128
13.3 ±4 10 14.12 ±16 21
13.3 26, 127 14.12 127
13.6 ±8 13 14.13 ±16 40
13.6 208 14.13 127
13.7 ± 8 208 14.14 33, 34
13.7 221 14.16 127
13.9 ± 13 149, 196 14.17ff. 133
13.9 13, 208 14.17 ±50 10
13.10 5, 13, 34, 84, 85, 150, 167, 168, 14.17 ±31 25
183 14.17 128
Mark (cont.) 15.15 127
14.21 38, 112, 155, 192 15.16 22
14.22 ±5 204 15.21 14, 134
14.22 ±4 86 15.22 11
14.23 165 15.26 48
14.24 165, 204, 225 15.27 114
14.25 76, 80, 83, 85, 86 15.31 ±2 126, 167, 225, 238
14.27 133, 203 15.31 121
14.28 14, 130, 137, 138, 141, 145, 146, 15.32 36
147, 148, 149, 150, 154, 201, 202 15.33 195
14.29 127 15.34 11, 22
14.30 ± 1 12 15.35 ±6 195
14.30 25, 63 15.38 89, 195, 202, 209
14.32 ±42 130, 133, 195, 200, 219 15.39 30, 38, 134, 166
14.32 127, 128 15.40 ±16.8 25
14.33 127 15.40 ±1 127, 231
14.36 11 15.40 189, 231
14.37 ± 42 63 15.41 231
14.38 167 15.42± 7 134, 138, 239
14.41 13, 38, 112, 155 15.43± 6 114
14.43 121, 127, 128, 133 15.43 80, 81
14.45 34 15.47 231
14.48 114 16.1 ±8 134, 231
14.50 130, 133, 234 16.1 ±5 138
14.51± 2 10, 12, 219 16.5 26
14.53± 72 25 16.6 31, 147
14.53± 65 45 16.7 14, 127, 130, 137, 138, 141, 145,
14.53± 4 10 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 154, 201, 202,
14.53 121 234
14.54 127, 131, 133, 142 16.8 138, 140, 144, 145, 146, 147, 149,
14.55 121 234
14.58 201, 209 16.9 ± 20 144
14.61 ±2 36, 46, 48 16.9 144
14.61 36, 38, 114 16.14 145
14.62 38, 46, 112, 148, 186 Luke
14.64 11 1± 2 176
14.65 25 3.7 ± 9 172
14.66ff. 12, 127 3.18 ±20 176
14.66 ±72 10, 25, 131, 134, 142, 189, 3.21± 2 176
195 3.23± 38 176
14.67 31 4.9ff. 176
14.72 63 4.16ff. 176
15.1± 33 48 4.16± 21 76
15.1 121 4.34 39
15.3 121 5.1± 11
15.5 114 6 191
15.8 ±15 134 6.20 ±8.3 176
15.8 127 6.22 109
15.10 126, 238 7.1 ±10 92, 176
15.11 121, 127 7.11± 17 94
15.12 ±15 126 7.16 94
15.13 240 7.18± 23 76
7.31± 2 56 18.14 61
7.34 109 19.10 109, 178
9.1±6 130 19.11± 27 60
9.51 ±18.14 176 21.8 177
9.58 109, 112 21.9 177
10.1± 24 130 21.20 177
10.2± 12 172 21.24 177
10.17 ±19 91 21.36 109
10.18 76 22.22 113
10.19 92 22.28± 30 172
10.21 81 22.29 ±30 51, 109
10.23 ±4 76 22.30 130
11.2 79 22.31± 2 130, 131, 143
11.16 119 22.45 130
11.20 76, 81, 82, 83, 98, 172 22.48 109
11.24 ±6 61, 89 22.69 186
11.26 192 23.47 176
11.29 171 24 176
11.30 109, 112 24.1± 7 140
12 191 24.1 182
12.8 ±9 83 24.6 149
12.8 109, 203 24.7 109, 113
12.9 171 24.8± 11 140
12.10 109 24.12 141, 143
12.35 ±56 76 24.13 ±35 141
12.39 ±40 59 24.13 ±27 177
12.39 192 24.13 182
12.40 109 24.24 141
13.22± 30 76 24.26 181
13.28± 9 83 24.33 182
13.30 61 24.34 130, 140
13.32 55 24.36 ±49 141
14.11 61 24.36 182
14.12 ±14 61 24.44 ±9 177
14.16± 24 59, 61, 177 24.46± 9 130
14.21 ±4 61 24.47 141, 149
15.3 ±7 60 24.48 141
15.11± 32 56 24.49 141, 149
16.8 ±13 61 24.50 ±2 182
16.9 61 24.51 141
16.16 177 John
17.6 171 1.1ff. 203
17.20 ±1 76, 82, 86 1.1± 18 179, 180
17.22± 37 76 1.4 ± 9 181
17.22 109 1.11 126
17.24 109 1.12 180, 181
17.26± 30 172 1.14 180, 181
17.26± 7 69 1.17 181
17.26 109 1.18 180, 181
17.30 109 1.32 ±3 179
17.33 19 1.34 179
18.8 109 1.35ff. 178
John (cont.) 6.7 178
1.35 ±51 131 6.14 92, 179
1.41 179 6.15 179
1.47 ±51 179 6.16ff. 179
1.49 179 6.22 ± 71 46
1.51 110, 179 6.23 179
2.1ff. 179 6.27 110, 179
2.11 179, 180, 181 6.35 179
2.13 ± 22 19 6.39 ±40 180
2.23± 5 179 6.40 181
3.3 79, 180 6.44 180, 181
3.5 79, 180 6.46 180
3.13 110, 179 6.47 180
3.14 ±15 180 6.53 110, 179
3.14 110, 179, 181 6.54 180
3.15 181 6.62 110, 179, 180
3.16ff. 179 6.64 ± 5 181
3.16 181 6.64 179
3.18 ±19 180 6.65 181
3.18 181 6.66 ±9 178
3.19 ±21 181 6.68 ±9 131
3.19 181 6.68 181
3.36 180, 181 6.69 39
4.1 179 7.14 ±52 46
4.16± 19 179 7.25 ±31 179
4.25 179 7.28± 9 179, 180
4.26 179 7.38 181
4.29 179 7.39 180, 181
4.30 179 7.40 ± 3 179
4.42 179 7.43 180
4.46ff. 179 8.12 ±59 46
5.2ff. 179 8.12 179, 181
5.8 178 8.16 179
5.17 ±47 46 8.19 180
5.17 179 8.21 ±4 181
5.18ff. 179 8.23 179
5.18 180 8.28 110, 179, 180, 181
5.22ff. 179 8.31 ±8 181
5.22 ±9 181 8.31 ±3 181
5.22 179 8.32 181
5.24 ± 7 181 8.34 181
5.24 180, 181 8.43 ±7 181
5.25 180 8.44 178
5.26 179 8.46 179
5.27 110, 179 8.47 178, 181
5.28 ±9 180 8.54 ± 8 180
5.30 179 8.56 ±8 180
5.37ff. 180 8.58 179
5.37 179 9.1ff. 179
5.39 ± 40 181 9.22 179
6 95 9.35 110, 179
6.1ff. 179 9.39 180
10.7 179 14.22ff. 132
10.11 179 14.23 181
10.16 179 14.26 181
10.17 ±18 180 14.27 180
10.18 180 14.28 179
10.24 179 15.1± 6 181
10.25 179 15.1 179
10.26 ±9 181 15.9 ±10 181
10.28 181 15.11 180
10.30 179, 180 15.18± 19 181
10.36 179 15.21ff. 180
10.37 ±8 181 15.21 179
11.1ff. 179 15.23 179
11.2 179 15.26 181
11.4 179, 181 16.3 180
11.23 ± 6 180 16.11 181
11.25 ±6 181 16.13 181
11.25 179, 181 16.15 179
11.27 179 16.32 ± 3 180
11.40 181 16.33 180
11.50 181 17 203
12.3 178 17.1ff. 180
12.13 179 17.1 181
12.16 181 17.2 179
12.20ff. 179 17.3 180, 181
12.23ff. 195 17.5 179, 180, 181
12.23± 4 180 17.7 181
12.23 110, 179, 181 17.8 181
12.27± 33 180 17.9 181
12.31 180, 181 17.13 180
12.34 109, 110, 179 17.14 181
12.37± 43 178 17.15 180
12.40 66 17.20ff. 180, 181
12.46 181 17.22ff. 180
12.48 180 17.22 180, 181
13± 17 178 17.24 181
13.11 179 17.25 ±6 180
13.18 ±19 179 17.25 179, 181
13.24 ±6 179 17.26 181
13.31± 2 180, 181 18.4 ± 6 180
13.31 110, 179, 181 18.33ff. 179
13.34 ±5 181 18.37 181
14 132 20 141
14.5 132 20.2 179
14.6± 11 179, 180 20.3 ±10 143
14.6 179, 180, 181 20.11± 18 141
14.7 180 20.13 179
14.8 132 20.18 179
14.9 179 20.19 ± 23 141
14.16± 17 181 20.21 141
14.17 181 20.24 ± 9 141
14.21 ±3 180 20.22 ±3 131
John (cont.) 6.9 134
20.22b 179 7.52 186
20.23 141 7.56 108, 186
20.25 179 8.4 84
20.28 37, 179 8.12 186
20.30 ± 1 179 9 139
20.31 179, 181 9.2 27
21 131, 141 9.20 186
21.15 ±17 131, 143 10.1± 11.18 183
21.18 192 10.36 ±43 177
Acts 10.36 186
1.1 ±11 141, 182 10.37 177
1.3 182, 183 10.38 177, 186
1.4 141 10.48 186
1.5 141 11.16 186
1.6 ±9 177 11.19 ± 30 14
1.6 183 11.19 134
1.7 183 11.22± 26 14
1.8 ±9 182 12.1ff. 117
1.8 141, 182, 183 12.1 ±5 185
1.9 ± 11 141 12.1 ±2 162
1.20 14 12.12 11
1.21 ±2 177 12.25 11
1.22 183 13.1 134
2.1ff. 141 13.5 11
2.22 183, 186 13.13 11
2.25 ±35 186 13.27 ±9 185
2.31 186 13.33 186
2.32± 6 113 13.35 186
2.36 186 14.4 184
2.38 186 14.8± 15 94
2.43 183 14.14 128, 184
3.13 186 15 183
3.14 186 15.5 185
3.15 186, 202 15.6± 11 183
3.16 183 15.28 ±9 209
3.18 186 15.37 11
3.20 ±3 185 15.39 11
3.26 186 16.31 186
4.11 64 19.9 27
4.25 ± 8 185, 187 19.11± 20 89
4.26 186 19.23 27
4.27 186 20.21 186
4.30 183, 186 21.38 92
5.12 183 22 139
5.31 186, 202 22.4 27
5.36 92 23.9 118
5.42 186 24.14 27
6± 7 199 26 139
6ff. 136 28.3 ± 5 92
6.1 ±6 207 28.6 94
6.1 199 28.17± 28 185
28.26ff. 66 15.45 ±50 108
Romans 15.45 ±9 166
1.1± 4 5, 84 16.22 79
1.3 ±4 166 2 Corinthians
1.3 38 3.6 199
1.4 113 3.7ff. 165
1.16 ±17 167 3.14 66, 168, 199, 240
1.16 84 4.3± 4 66
1.17 199 4.5 37
1.23 113 5.21 166
1.29 ± 31 168 8.9 166
3.23± 5 167 11.4 ± 6 164
3.24 167 11.22 ± 3 164
5.8± 9 167 12.9 226
5.12 ±21 166 12.11 164
5.14 ±19 108 Galatians
5.18± 19 167 1.6± 9 84
8.3 166, 167 1.8± 9 164
9±11 66 1.11± 17 139
10.4 165 1.15 ± 16 165
10.9 37 2.6ff. 164
11.7 168 2.6 ±9 184
11.8 66 2.9 165
11.25 168 2.11 ±21 165
13.1 ±7 166, 206, 225 2.11 ±12 164, 184
14.13 ±23 209 2.11 14, 164
15.14 ± 21 167 2.12 184
16.7 128 3.11 199
16.13 134 4.4 166
16.25 168 4.24 199
1 Corinthians 5.16± 17 167
1.17 84 6.6 84
1.18 ±25 167, 226 Ephesians
3.1ff. 199 3.8 ±10 84
8 209 Philippians
8.6 166 2.5 ± 11 108, 166
9.1 139, 148 2.6ff. 167
10.1± 5 165 2.6 ±7 166
10.4 166 4.13 167
10.17 165 Colossians
11.25 166, 199 1.15ff. 203
12.3 37, 166 1.15 ± 17 166
15 149 1.25 ± 6 84
15.3 ±8 139, 145 1.26 168
15.4 139 2.2 168
15.5 ± 8 148 2.15 195
15.5 148, 150 4.3 84, 168
15.7 142 4.5 168
15.20 ± 50 166 4.10 11
15.21 ±3 108 1 Thessalonians 78
15.21 ±2 166 1.6 168
15.27 199 5.2 192
2 Thessalonians 78 10.13 204
2 Timothy 10.20 202
1.11 84 10.23 200
4.2 84 10.25 204, 205
4.11 11 10.26 200
Philemon 10.27 204
24 11 10.29 203
Hebrews 10.30 ± 1 204
1.1 ±4 203 10.32 ±9 198
1.1 ±3 203 10.38 199
1.2 203 11 204
1.5 203 11.16 205
1.8 204 12.2 186, 201, 202
2.2 202 12.3 201
2.3 202 12.14 202
2.5 ±9 202 12.23 204
2.5 205 12.24 204
2.10 186, 201, 202 12.28 204
2.17 201, 203 12.29 204
3.1 201, 203 13.4 205
3.7ff. 201 13.9 201
3.7 ± 4.13 201, 205 13.12 200
4.9 201 13.15 ±16 201
4.14 ± 5.10 204 13.20 202, 203, 205
4.14 201, 202, 203 13.22 199
4.15 199, 201 13.13± 14 198
5.5 199, 203 James
5.7ff. 200 1.21 84
5.7 201 1 Peter 190
5.10 203 1.1 189, 192
5.12ff. 199 1.2 ±3 194
5.12 ±14 200 1.3 ±13 196
6.1 ±3 200 1.3 194
6.2 204 1.4 ± 5 196
6.4 ± 6 200 1.5 196
6.5 205 1.9 196
6.6 203 1.10 ± 11 191, 195
6.19 ± 20 202 1.11 195
6.20 201, 202, 203 1.13 196
7 202, 204 1.15 193
7.3 202, 203 1.17 191, 192
7.14 199 1.18 ±19 195
7.25 205 1.18 191
7.26 201 1.20 194, 195, 196
9.9 ±10 198, 201 1.22 196
9.11± 10.18 204 1.25 194
9.11 201 2.4 ± 5 193
9.15 204, 205 2.7 ± 8 239
9.24 201, 205 2.7 64, 191, 193
9.27 204 2.8 84, 193
9.28 204 2.9 ± 10 193
10.1± 10 201 2.11 192
2.12 191 1.5 208, 211
2.13 ±17 196, 206 1.6 209, 213
2.21±5 189 1.7 212
2.22± 4 194 1.8 210
2.22 195 1.9 207, 208
3.9 191 1.13 108, 210, 211
3.14 191 1.14 210
3.15 194 1.16 212
3.19 ± 20 195 1.17 210
3.21 196 2± 3 206, 207
3.22 196 2.2 209
4.7 195, 196 2.5 209
4.13 196 2.6 207
4.17 196 2.8 210
5.1 189 2.9 209
5.10 196 2.10 207
5.12 189 2.12 212
5.13 196 2.13 207
2 Peter 190 2.14 209
1.1 189 2.15 207
1.8 194 2.16 212
1.11 194, 196 2.18 210
1.12 ±15 196 2.19 209
1.14 192, 194 2.20 ±3 206
1.16 ±19 196 2.20 ±1 209
1.16 ±18 189, 192 2.24 209
1.16 ±17 192 2.26 ±7 212
1.16 192, 194 2.27 211
1.20 191 3.1 209, 210
2.9 192, 194 3.8 209
2.11 194 3.9 209
2.20 192, 194 3.10 207
2.21 192 3.11 205, 212
3.1 189, 190 3.14 210, 211
3.2 192, 193 3.15 209
3.3 ±13 196 3.21 212
3.4 192 4.1± 22.5 206
3.8 194 4.5 210
3.9 194, 196 5.5ff. 211
3.10 192, 194, 196 5.5 ±6 211
3.15 ±16 191 5.5 210
3.15 189 5.6ff. 210
3.18 194 5.6 208, 210, 211
1 John 5.8± 14 211
2.7 84 5.9 ±10 209
Revelation 78 5.9 211
1± 3 206 5.10 213
1.1 5, 208, 211, 212 6.1± 7.1 208
1.2 208 6.1ff. 210
1.3 212 6.9 ± 11 206
1.4 ± 8 205 6.9 ± 10 212
1.4 207 6.9 207
7.10 210 22.10 212
8.1 208 22.12 209, 212
9.20 ± 1 209 22.16 208, 210
11.8 208, 211 22.20 79, 212
11.15 210
12.5 208, 211
Church Fathers
12.11 211
12.17 208, 209 1 Clement
13 206 5.4 162
13.4 207 46.8 192
13.8 211 Eusebius
13.12ff. 207 Ecclesiastical History
14.1ff. 211 i.7.14 162
14.4 210 ii.23 162
14.9 ±11 206 iii.11 ±12 162
14.9 207 iii.11 162
14.10 ± 11 212 iii.19 ± 20 162
14.11 207 iii.29.1ff. 207
14.12 208, 209 iii.39.14 ±16 10
14.14 108, 210 iv.22 162
14.19 ± 20 212 Jerome
15.3 ±4 209 De Viris Illustribus
16.2 207 2 142
17 ±18 206 Justin Martyr
17.6 208 Apology
17.14 210 i.31 5, 162
19 ± 22 209 Origen
19.9 ±10 209, 211 Against Celsus
19.10 208 7.9 91
19.11ff. 211
19.11± 21 212, 213
NT Apocrypha and
19.11 212
Pseudepigrapha
19.12 212
19.13 210 Acts of Pilate 142
19.15 211, 212 Epistula Apostolorum 142
19.16 210 Gospel of the Ebionites 162
19.20 207 Gospel of the Hebrews
19.21 212 see Jerome; also 162
20.4 207, 208 Gospel of the Nazoraeans 162
20.6 210 Gospel of Peter
20.12 ±13 209 8.28 ±14.60 142
21.6 210 Pseudo-Clementines 162
21.7 210
21.14 210
Other Ancient Writers
21.22 210
22.1 210 Josephus
22.3 210 Antiquitates Judaicae
22.6± 21 206 xx.97 ±8 92
22.6 212 xx.197 ±203 162
22.7 212 Bellum Judaicum
22.8± 10 211 ii.258 ±9 91
22.8± 9 209 ii.261± 3 92
Bellum Judaicum (cont.) vii.38 93, 98
ii.285 ±7 92 viii.7 93, 98
vi.288 89 Porphyry
Philostratus Life of Pythagoras 97
Life of Apollonius of Tyana 97 27 ±9 93, 97
i.19 93 Tacitus
iv.44 93, 97 Annals
iv.45 97 15.44 13
Index of names
Achtemeier, P. J. 19, 34, 95 Betz, O. 98

Albertz, M. 122 Bieler, L. 31
Ambrozic, A. M. 82 Bird, C. H. 146
Anderson, H. 159 Black, C. C. 7, 11
Andresen, C. 187 Black, M. 166, 222
Attridge, H. W. 198, 199, 205 Blackburn, B. 31, 102
Atwood, R. 230 Blatherwick, D. 27
Augustine 59, 215 Blevins, J. L. 43
Aune, D. E. 5, 43, 44, 98 Bock, D. L. 186, 187
Boobyer, G. H. 149, 165
Baarlink, H. 239 Boomershine, T. E. 16, 147
Bacchiocchi, S. 222 Booth, R. P. 222
Bachmann, M. 190 Boring, M. E. 32, 40
Bacon, B. W. 166, 168, 198, 199, 202, Bornkamm, G. 173
204 Borsch, F. H. 111
Bammel, E. 12 Botta, P. J. J. 16
Barclay, W. 43 Brandon, S. G. F. 13, 17, 125, 135, 158,
Barrera, J. T. 222 161, 162, 238
Barrett, C. K. 13, 36, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, Broadhead, E. K. 30, 31
89, 91, 93, 96, 187, 212 Brown, R. E. 191
Barth, G. 174 Bruce, F. F. 12, 198, 200, 203
Bartholomew, G. L. 147 Bryan, C. 16
Barton, S. C. 223, 231, 232 Bultmann, R. 18, 23, 28, 35, 39, 40, 96,
Bauckham, R. 190, 192, 206 110, 111, 128, 167, 178, 180, 206, 210, 216
Baum, G. 237 Bunyan, J. 55
Baumbach, G. 235 Burkill, T. A. 43
Baur, F. C. 185 Burkitt, F. C. 43
Beare, F. W. 189, 191, 192, 195
Beasley-Murray, G. R. 206, 208, 210, Cadbury, H. J. 182 ±3
211 Cadwaller, A. H. 220
Beavis, M. A. 16, 65, 100, 232 Cahill, M. 215
Beck, N. A. 236 Caird, G. B. 206, 210, 211, 213
Beck, R. R. 229 Camery-Hoggatt, J. 24, 25
Bede 215 CaÂrdenas Pallares, J. 227
Beker, J. C. 191, 192, 196, 197, 236 Carlston, C. E. 3, 65
Belo, F. 227 Cartlidge, D. R. 90, 97, 98
Best, E. 2, 16, 28, 127, 128, 131, 132, 134, Casey, M. 111
135, 137, 158, 191, 192, 194, 195, 218, 226 Catchpole, D. 138, 170, 171
Betz, H. D. 31, 98 Celsus 91
268
Index of names 269
Charles, R. H. 208 Everett, R. A. 236
Charlesworth, J. H. 236
Chester, A. 192 Fander, M. 230, 231, 232, 233
Chilton, B. D. 31, 68, 77 Farrer, A. 208, 211
Collins, J. J. 39 Feldman, L. H. 92, 235
Conzelmann, H. 49, 159, 177 Fenton, J. C. 166, 168
Cook, M. J. 118, 120, 122 ±3, 236 Fiebig, P. 92
Corley, B. 190 Fiorenza, E. S. 77, 79, 206, 207, 208,
Corner, M. A. 225, 227, 228 213, 232, 233
Cotes, M. E. 233 Fitzmyer, J. A. 39, 187
Court, J. M. 206, 208± 9 Focant, C. 137
Cran®eld, C. E. B. 143, 144, 158 Ford, D. F. 3
Cross, F. L. 198, 202 Fortna, R. T. 3
Crossan, J. D. 57, 58, 139 Fowler, R. M. 25
Cullmann, O. 33 Franklin, E. 183, 185
Frerichs, E. S. 236
Dahl, N. 158 Fuchs, E. 57, 58
Danove, P. L. 138 Fuller, R. H. 33, 39, 43, 78, 80, 101, 108,
Daube, D. 47 111, 114, 138, 139, 143, 144, 148, 149,
Davids, P. H. 191, 196 167, 168, 173, 175, 177, 184, 190, 197,
Davies, J. G. 217 198, 205, 206, 207
Davies, M. 3, 6, 224 Funk, R. W. 57, 58
Davies, W. D. 43, 47
Delobel, J. 170 Gardner-Smith, P. 178
Dewey, J. 16, 23, 122 Geddert, T. J. 2, 195, 218
Dibelius, M. 24, 216 Gill, A. 232
Dines, J. 234 Glancy, J. A. 231
Doble, P. 187 Gnilka, J. 20
Dodd, C. H. 55, 56, 57, 59, 61, 78, 80, Goldstein, C. 235
81, 187, 212 Goulder, M. D. 164
Donahue, J. R. 17 Graham, A. A. K. 198, 201, 202
Dowd, S. E. 100, 219 Grant, F. C. 171, 174
Drury, J. 65, 177 GraÈsser, E. 199
Duling, D. C. 52, 95, 100, 104, 198, 199, Grassi, J. A. 232
206 Green, J. B. 176, 177, 178, 219
Dungan, D. L. 90, 97, 98, 190 Greig, J. C. 43
Dunn, J. D. G. 33, 40, 43, 108, 111, 122, Grobel, K. 3
166, 234, 236, 237 Guelich, R. A. 5, 6
Gundry, R. H. 192
Easton, B. S. 122 Gutmann, J. 240
Edwards, J. R. 25, 40
Edwards, R. A. 172 Hadas, M. 93, 97, 98
Ellingworth, P. 198, 203 Haenchen, E. 183
Elliott, J. H. 189, 190 Hagner, D. 236
Elliott, J. K. 143 Hahn, F. 33, 111
Ellis, E. E. 12, 85 Hamilton, N. Q. 147
Esler, P. 183 Harrington, W. J. 232
Eusebius 10, 108, 162, 207 Hartin, P. J. 232
Evans, C. A. 31, 236 Harvey, A. E. 77
Evans, C. F. 33, 149 Harvey, G. 217
Evans, M. 230 Haubeck, W. 190
Evans, O. E. 69, 75, 81, 82 Hay, L. S. 39
270 Index of names
Heinemann, J. 240 Klein, R. W. 237
Held, H. J. 174 Kopas, J. 232
Hellig, J. 235 Kuhn, H.-W. 20
Hengel, M. 12 KuÈmmel, W. G. 20, 33, 78, 81, 82, 111,
Hennecke, E. 142 147, 173, 175, 178, 183, 188, 189, 190,
HeÂring, J. 198, 203 193, 198, 199, 200, 206, 211
Herzog, W. R. 166, 225 Kundsin, K. 96
Hill, D. 35, 174, 175
Holladay, C. 31 Lachmann, K. 215
Holtz, T. 210 Ladd, G. E. 111, 191, 193, 194, 195, 198,
Holtzmann, H. J. 215 201, 203, 205, 206
Hooker, M. D. 39, 68, 77, 111, 180, 194 Lane, A. B. 232, 233
Hoskyns, E. C. 149 Lane, W. L. 13
Houlden, J. L. 191, 220, 221, 222 Lang, F. G. 165
Hughes, G. 199, 204 Lawrence, D. H. 212, 213
Hull, J. M. 89, 90, 93, 97 Laws, S. 194
Hultgren, A. J. 122 Lehne, S. 204
Hurst, L. D. 200 Levenson, J. D. 235
Hurtado, L. W. 6 Lightfoot, R. H. 43, 47, 48, 138, 146,
148, 195, 216
Irenaeus 144, 214, 215 Lincoln, A. T. 147
Lindars, B. 32, 105, 108, 111, 198, 203
Jeremias, J. 39, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, Linnemann, E. 57
65, 69, 78, 83, 86, 97, 109, 111, 142 Lohmeyer, E. 136, 148
Jerome 10, 145, 215 Loisy, A. 168
Johnson, E. E. 236 LuÈhrmann, D. 20, 39
Johnson, L. T. 235 Luz, U. 48, 167, 172, 174
Johnson, S. E. 105
Johnson, S. R. 219 Mack, B. L. 2
Johnson, W. A. 125, 240 McCasland, S. V. 90
Josephus 88, 89, 91, 92, 162 Maddox, R. 183, 188
Juel, D. 183, 219 Magness, J. L. 138
JuÈlicher, A. 56 Malbon, E. S. 27, 122, 125, 132, 232, 239
JuÈngel, E. 57 Manson, T. W. 39, 43, 47, 68, 69, 75, 78,
Justin 162 111, 173
Manson, W. 198, 199, 200
KaÈhler, M. 125 Marcus, J. 13, 26
KaÈsemann, E. 79, 180, 187, 188, 190, Mare, W. H. 6
192, 193, 197 Marin, J.-J. 40
Kealy, S. P. 214 Marshall, C. D. 2, 23, 100, 219
Keck, L. E. 95, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187 Marshall, I. H. 3, 176, 183, 185
Kee, H. C. 15, 17, 26, 33, 39, 90, 91, 95, Martin, R. P. 4, 5, 33, 43, 49, 159, 160,
96, 98, 111, 122, 124, 184, 185, 186, 187, 173, 189, 192, 214, 215
220, 222, 223, 224 Martinez, F. G. 222
Kelber, W. H. 139 Martyn, J. L. 183, 184, 185, 186, 187
Kelly, J. N. D. 189, 191, 193, 194, 196 Marxsen, W. 13, 17, 65, 84, 138, 144, 147,
Kermode, F. 147 148, 149, 153, 154, 158, 159, 167, 169,
Kertelge, K. 5, 156 216
Kingsbury, J. D. 2, 8, 31, 32, 39, 102, Maurer, C. 39
122, 125, 175, 239 Mearns, C. L. 65
Kinukawa, H. 231 Medley, M. S. 230
Klein, G. 187 Metzger, B. M. 144
Index of names 271
Meye, R. P. 127 Robinson, J. M. 126, 137
Meyer, E. 127 Robinson, W. C. 183, 188
Michie, D. 23, 25, 125, 131 Rohrbaugh, R. L. 17
Millar, A. 2, 77 Roth, C. 240
Minor, M. 231, 232 Rowland, C. R. 73, 107, 108, 225, 227,
Monte®ore, H. 198, 199 228
Moses, A. D. A. 165 Rowley, H. H. 117
Moule, C. F. D. 12, 33, 78, 111, 186 Ruether, R. R. 235
Mounce, R. H. 206, 207
Mowry, L. 55, 65 Sanday, W. 43, 47
Muddiman, J. B. 3 Sanders, E. P. 3, 6, 224
Mudiso MbaÃ Mundla, J.-G. 122 Sanders, J. T. 185, 220, 221
Munro, W. 232, 233 SaÈnger, D. 236
Myers, C. 228 Sariola, H. 119
Schierling, M. J. see Selvidge
Nairne, A. 203 Schleiermacher, F. 68
Neirynck, F. 23, 139 Schmidt, K. L. 216
Neusner, J. 236 Schmitt, J. J. 232
Neyrey, J. H. 222 Schneck, R. 26
Niederwimmer, K. 12 Schneemelcher, W. 142
Nineham, D. E. 12, 43, 45, 166, 168 Scholer, J. M. 204, 205
Schottroff, L. 232
O'Neill, J. C. 39 Schrage, W. 220, 221, 223
Schreiber, J. 39, 41, 43, 149, 158, 161, 167
Papias 10, 11, 12, 152, 215 Schulz, S. 39, 154, 161, 167, 182
Parker, P. 11 Schweitzer, A. 43, 49, 69, 78, 87
Patten, P. 65 Schweizer, E. 28, 29, 85, 100, 111, 137,
Peake, A. S. 43, 207, 211 160
Perkins, P. 139 Scott, E. F. 199, 200, 205
Perrin, N. 28, 29, 43, 47, 52, 58, 63, 68, Selvidge, M. J. 232, 233
69, 76, 77, 80, 81, 83, 95, 100, 104, 105, Selwyn, E. G. 191, 194
110, 113, 114, 129, 138, 198, 199, 206, Senior, D. 13
209, 216 Sergeant, J. 2
Pesch, R. 20 SjoÈberg, E. 43, 44
Petersen, N. R. 24, 147 Skilton, J. H. 6
Philo 108, 166 Smalley, S. S. 3, 32
Philostratus 93, 97, 98 Smith, D. M. 102, 178
Placher, W. C. 225 Smith, M. 34, 91, 93, 97, 98, 116, 119,
Porphyry 93, 97 124
Powell, M. A. 132, 147 Stanton, G. N. 236
Prigent, P. 209 Stein, R. H. 32, 148
Stevenson, J. 207
RaÈisaÈnen, H. 27, 43 Strecker, G. 172
Reicke, B. 189, 190, 191 Streeter, B. H. 144
Reploh, K.-G. 132 Stuhlmacher, P. 6
Reumann, J. 34 Suggitt, J. N. 219
Rhoads, D. 2, 23, 25, 125, 131, 219, 231 Suggs, M. J. 6
Ricci, C. 230 Sugirtharajah, R. S. 230
Riches, J. 77 Suh, J. S. 17
Ritschl, A. 68 Sweet, J. 206, 207, 208, 209, 212
Rivkin, E. 35
Robinson, J. A. T. 78 Tacitus 13
272 Index of names
Talbert, C. H. 6 Van Oyen, G. 25
Tannehill, R. C. 3, 23, 131, 132, 134 Van Segbroeck, F. 12, 20, 25, 171
Tatian 214 Van Unnik, W. C. 183, 196
Taylor, V. 13, 17, 33, 43, 47, 48, 82, 128, Vawter, B. 224
158, 166, 168, 214, 224 Vermes, G. 33, 36, 39, 92, 105, 110, 111
Telford, W. R. 2, 3, 5, 6, 9, 10, 18, 20, 21, Via, D. O., Jr 57, 58, 220
23, 25, 27, 29, 31, 37, 49, 51, 68, 83, 100, Victor of Antioch 214, 215
101, 103, 104, 114, 122, 123, 128, 131, 132, Vielhauer, P. 183, 184, 185, 187
134, 135, 137, 138, 154, 158, 165, 167, Volkaert, J. 227
171, 182, 204, 212, 214, 217, 219, 231 Volkmar, G. 168, 169
Thackeray, H. St. J. 89
Thompson, M. R. 2, 100, 219 Waetjen, H. 17, 2
Tiede, D. L. 31, 102 Watson, F. 48, 67
ToÈdt, H. E. 105, 110, 111, 114, 173 Watson, W. 217
Tolbert, M. A. 2, 15 Weeden, T. J. 43, 49, 103, 135, 158, 160
Travis, S. H. 3 Weiss, H. 222
TrocmeÂ, E. 27, 32, 97, 117, 121, 135, 158, Weiss, J. 69, 78, 87
236 Weisse, C. H. 215
Trotter, F. T. 31 Wenham, D. 165
Tuckett, C. M. 3, 43, 48, 137, 158, 170, Werner, M. 168, 169
171, 172 Wilcox, M. 85
Twelftree, G. 218 Wilder, A. 57, 58
Tyson, J. B. 37, 43, 50 ± 1, 135, 136, 137, Williamson, R. 198, 200, 203
158, 161 Wilson, R. M. 198
Winter, P. 117, 119, 120, 123, 124
Van der Horst, P. W. 146 Witherington, B. 233
Van Iersel, B. 17, 23, 27 Wrede, W. 43, 46, 47, 48, 49, 131, 216
Index of subjects
Anti-Semitism 125, 161 ±2, 185, 234 ± 41 Community 15 ±17, 86, 153, 171, 209,
Apocalyptic Judaism 70 ±6, 90 ±1, 94, 218, 228, 233
103, 106 ±8 Controversy Stories 123± 7, 152
Apostles Cosmology 3, 209
see Disciples Creativity 27 ± 8, 153, 158, 173
Audience 15 ± 17, 152 Cross, theology of (theologia crucis) 28, 50,
Author 6 ±7, 9 ± 12, 151, 152, 189 ±90 114, 115, 131, 136, 155, 157, 160,
167 ±8, 172± 3, 178, 181, 187 ±8, 195,
Blindness 51, 100, 102, 129, 137, 239, 241 204, 212, 213, 225 ±9
Crowd 127, 134
Characters 23, 37, 53, 134, 232
Christology 3, 28 ±9, 30 ±54, 66, 84, 87, Date 12± 13, 158
88, 135, 154, 156, 160, 166, 167, 172, Disciples 28, 37, 42, 53, 105, 127 ±37,
174 ± 6, 177, 182, 185 ±7, 193 ±5, 200, 143, 149 ± 51, 154, 159, 160 ± 1, 169,
201± 4, 205, 210 ±11, 218 174, 176, 178, 184 (apostles), 193
Divine Man (theios aneÅr) 31, 39 ±40, Discipleship 28, 34, 36, 51± 2, 100, 105,
49 ±50, 94 ±6, 97, 102, 103, 104, 116, 132, 133, 154, 159, 167, 169, 171,
135, 156, 160, 179, 184, 226 217 ±19
Lord (kyrios) 30, 31, 34, 37, 41, 166, Divorce 224, 239
167, 175, 177, 179, 186, 194, 202
Messiah/Christ (Christos) 30, 31, Ecclesiology 4, 183, 192 ± 3, 200
35 ± 41, 104, 105, 106, 107, 113, 124, Ending, the Marcan 137 ± 51
156, 167, 179, 182, 186, 202, 210 Epiphany (Christology) 39, 50, 54, 85,
Servant 30, 31, 39, 114, 167, 175, 186, 88, 93, 94, 102, 103, 136, 155, 156,
194 167, 175, 179, 180, 181, 197, 203
Son of David 30, 31, 36± 8, 41, 50 ±4, Eschatological Discourse 83, 85 ±6, 152,
71, 83, 106, 111, 124, 136, 155, 166, 195, 206, 208, 213
172, 175, 177, 182, 183, 186, 194, 202, Eschatology 4, 57 ±8, 66 ±88, esp. 75ff.,
226 103 ± 16, 154, 156, 172, 174 ±6, 180 ± 1,
Son of God 30, 31, 36, 38± 41, 52 ±4, 182, 183, 190, 195 ± 7, 200, 204 ± 5,
63 ±4, 84, 98, 102, 103, 104, 114, 116, 209, 210, 212 ±13
129, 136, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 166, Ethics 4, 220 ±5
169, 174, 175, 177, 179, 186, 194, 203, Exorcism(s) 62, 83, 89 ± 90, 92, 93, 98,
205, 210, 226, 237, 238, 241 157± 8, 179, 184
Son of Man 28, 30, 31, 34, 36, 38, 41, Exorcist, Jesus as 30, 98, 172, 177, 182,
44, 45, 50 ±4, 63, 72 ±5, 76, 83, 85, 99, 186, 193, 201, 240
102, 103 ±16, 136, 147, 153, 154, 155, see also Healer, Miracle-worker
166, 167, 170, 171, 172, 177, 178, 179,
181, 182, 186, 194, 202, 205, 210, 226 Faith 100 ± 1, 167, 198, 204, 219
273
274 Index of subjects
Family 28, 42, 126, 132, 154, 157, 159, Literary Techniques 23
161, 162, 169, 223 ±5, 227, 238 Luke 10, 11, 14, 33, 76, 110, 113, 118 ±19,
Feeding Stories 19, 92, 95, 98, 99, 100, 130, 140 ± 1, 146± 7, 148, 173, 176 ±8,
165, 239 214
Feminist Interpretation 230
Form Criticism 2 ±3, 6, 16± 17, 18 ±21, Marriage 223 ±5
55 ±6, 60, 96 ±9, 123 ±4, 152 ± 3, 216 Matthew 10, 11, 14, 33, 38, 76, 109, 113,
Fourth Gospel 118 ±9, 129, 140, 146 ±7, 148, 173 ±6,
see John 191, 214
Message
Galilee 14, 26± 7, 28, 138, 139, 141, 142, of Jesus 54 ±88
143, 148± 9, 150, 151, 153, 157, 159, of Mark's Gospel 21 ±9
202 Messianic Secret
Genre 4 ±6 see Secrecy Motif
Gentiles and Gentile Mission 28, 59, Miracles and Miracle Stories 21,
99 ±100, 149, 150 ± 1, 154, 155, 157, 88± 103, 115, 152, 156, 157, 160, 167,
159, 161, 165, 169, 174, 176, 179, 183, 174, 175, 201, 219
184 ± 5 Miracle-worker, Jesus as 54, 90, 103, 135
Geography 11, 105, 151 see also Exorcist, Healer
`Gospel' 1, 4 ± 6, 28, 34, 84, 154, 155, 159, Miracle-workers 90 ±4
168, 169
Narrative Criticism 3, 13, 22 ±8, 229
Hardening motif 54, 64 ±7, 126, 133, Narrative Theology 3, 169
168, 178, 185, 193, 201, 238 Narrator 24, 52
Healer, Jesus as 30, 31, 41, 53, 175, 186 Nazarene 30
see also Exorcist, Miracle-worker
History, Mark in 214 ±7 Old Testament 26, 69 ± 70, 90, 92, 94,
History, Problem of 152 98, 101, 103, 105 ± 6, 110, 189, 200,
203
Intercalation 25
Parables 21, 42, 54 ± 67, 69, 84, 115, 152,
Irony 24 ± 5 156, 157, 170, 180
Parable Theory 64 ± 7
Jerusalem 12, 13, 26 ±7, 45, 48, 61, 71, 85, Parousia 77, 79, 85, 87, 113± 4, 115, 131,
88, 89, 116, 120, 121, 122, 123, 139, 148, 171, 177 ± 8, 183, 197, 205, 212,
141, 142, 143, 149, 150, 151, 159, 162, 226
170, 171, 182, 198, 200, 209, 210, 219 Passion Narrative 34, 50, 102, 125, 152,
Jewish Leaders 11, 28, 42, 99, 116 ±27, 155, 172, 178, 195, 233
154, 156 ±7, 161, 169, 174, 176, 178, Passion Predictions 19, 50, 51 ±2, 102,
185, 193, 237 ±8 105, 126, 155, 159
John 19, 46, 78, 79, 110, 130 ±1, 141± 2, Paul 11, 32, 33, 37, 50, 66, 78, 79, 108,
178 ±82 115, 136, 139 ± 40, 148, 155, 160, 161,
162, 164 ± 9, 170, 173, 184, 185, 188,
Kingdom of God 28, 34, 57 ±8, 67 ±88, 189, 191, 199, 207, 210, 226
91, 94, 102, 103, 104, 106, 110, 115, Peter 10 ± 12, 35, 37, 104, 130, 133 ±4, 141,
129, 153, 155, 156, 157, 170, 172, 180, 142, 143, 148, 149, 152, 162, 164, 184,
196, 204, 213 185, 189, 191, 193, 197, 214
Plot 23, 99, 147
Law 21, 34, 92, 94, 119, 123± 4, 125 ±6, Politics 225 ±9
161, 165, 171, 174, 220 ± 5 Power 213, 226
Literary Approaches 22 ±8, 57 ±8, Prayer 103
125 ±7, 147, 216 ±7 Pre-existence 41, 166 ±7, 180, 194, 203
Index of subjects 275
Priority of Mark 215 Settings 23, 26± 7, 60
Prophet, Jesus as 30, 31, 35, 41, 53, 54, Socio-Political Readings 227 ±9
77 ±8, 88, 102, 103, 104, 172, 175, 177, Soteriology 3, 66, 84, 87, 103± 16, 135,
182, 186, 193, 201, 207, 240 154, 155, 156, 166, 167 ± 8, 172, 181,
Provenance 13± 15, 151 ±2 182, 185 ± 8, 195, 200, 201, 204, 205,
Purpose (of Mark's Gospel) 28 ±9, 210, 211± 12, 218, 230
137 ±63, esp. 151ff. Source Criticism 2 ±3, 94, 122, 152,
190 ±2, 215
Q 19, 34, 76, 78, 82, 109, 112 ±13, 114, Sources 18 ±20, 94 ±6, 118± 19, 122± 3,
130, 170 ± 3, 175, 176 127 ±8, 152, 199 ±200, 207 ±9
Spirituality 221 ±2
Rabbi 30, 34, 35 Style 23
Rabbinic Judaism 75, 92, 94, 103 Suffering 13, 28, 38, 41, 49, 52, 111, 113,
Reader-Response Criticism 3 114, 131, 135, 153, 155, 159, 169,
Readership 15 ± 17 188± 9, 194, 198, 206, 219, 226
Redaction Criticism 2± 3, 6, 22, 32,
60 ±7, 82, 99 ± 103, 124, 128, 152 ± 4, Teacher, Jesus as 30, 31, 33± 5, 41, 53,
169, 173 ±4, 176± 8, 216 54, 56± 7, 88, 102, 172, 175, 177, 182,
Resurrection 47, 48, 50, 66, 115, 124, 193, 201, 240
136, 142, 205 Temple 13, 25, 26, 45, 51, 89, 100, 151,
Resurrection Narratives 139 ±45 171, 176, 195, 198, 199, 201, 202, 209,
Rhetorical Devices 23 227 ± 8, 238
Theology, Mark as 1 ±4
Sabbath 222 ±3, 239
Secrecy Motif 28, 41± 54, 84, 99, 101, Wealth and Status 223, 227
102, 115, 137, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, Women 127, 134, 139, 143, 224, 230 ±4
159, 169, 170, 172, 175

The Theology of The Gospel of Mark (New Testament Theology)

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The Theology of the Gospel of Mark

This book presents the reader with a comprehensive view

w. r. telford is lecturer in Christian Origins and the

This series sets out to provide a programmatic survey of the individual

Titles published in the series

© Cambridge University Press 1999

First published in printed format 1999

A catalogue record for the original printed book is available

ISBN 0 511 00936 4 virtual (eBook Edition)

Editor's preface page xi

The historical setting of the Gospel of Mark 1

2 The theology of Mark 30

3 Mark and the New Testament 164

4 Mark in the church and in the world 214

Although the New Testament is usually taught within Depart-

University of Durham james d. g. dunn

My interest in the Gospel of Mark began when in 1972 I

BETL Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum

The historical setting of the Gospel of Mark

authorship, date and provenance

the markan community

the tradition before mark

the message of mark

The theology of Mark

the person of jesus

`Who then is this?': the nature and signi®cance of Markan Christology

the message of jesus

`The time is ful®lled': the Kingdom of God in Mark

the mission of jesus

`The Son of Man must suffer': eschatology and soteriology

support and opposition: heroes and villains in the

`The leaven of the Pharisees': Mark's treatment of the Jewish leaders

`Are you also without understanding?': Mark's treatment of the disciples

the purpose of mark's gospel

Parenesis or polemic?: Mark's theology in historical perspective

Mark and the New Testament

mark and paul

mark and the gospels

mark and acts

mark and the letters of peter

Exegetical Perspectives on a Petrine Group in Rome' in W. Haubeck and M.

mark and hebrews

mark and revelation

Mark in the church and in the world

the contemporary significance of mark

Mark and discipleship: some theological issues and observations

Mark and the law: some ethical issues and observations

Mark and the cross: some political issues and observations

Mark and women: some gender issues and observations

evangelical gospel over a social one. For a liberation theologian's interpretation of

Mark and the Jews: some ethnic issues and observations

Anderson, H., The Gospel of Mark (New Century Bible Commentary;

THE THEOLOGY OF MARK

Baarlink, H., AnfaÈngliches Evangelium (Kampen: Kok, 1977).

Achtemeier, P. J. 19, 34, 95 Betz, O. 98

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