The Greatest Story Never Told

William Van Nostran

Mark 1: 40 - 45

Have I told you just how fascinated I am by the Gospel that we have read from today: the one attributed to Mark? Mark is thought of as the very first attempt at recording the highlights of Jesus’ life; written, perhaps just 30 or 35 years following His death. And, of the arguments in favor of the “priority” of Mark, the one that I, personally, find most compelling is that the books attributed to Matthew and to Luke each contain about 95 percent of the stories found in the Gospel According to Mark.

And, it doesn’t make sense to me that the author of Mark would take a look at Luke and say, “This is a wonderful narrative of Jesus’ life and teachings-–except for the parables of the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan.” Likewise, I do not think it is likely Mark read Matthew and concluded something similar, “This is a great story about Jesus’ life and teachings-–except for the parts about ‘Blessed are the peacemakers (among others)’ and ‘Go therefore and teach all nations...’.” It makes more sense that the later two scrutinized Mark first, and then made a determination about which enhancements would be helpful to leave in, rather than for Mark to read either Matthew or Luke and make a judgement about what embellishments should be held out.

Admittedly, Mark is the shortest of the gospels: just 16 chapters. However, what interests me is a scholarly speculation that the Gospel was necessarily short because it would be more often heard: performed, rather than read. Evidently, 16 chapters is about as long as an audience can reasonably be expected to sit and listen before losing interest. There would not be a printing press for at least another 1400 years, and even if one could obtain a library card and could occasionally check out a favorite papyrus, it is widely held that very few people in first century Palestine could read–-well, maybe a little Hebrew, but certainly not much Greek.

And, this “performance hypothesis” stands up to my own “reasonableness test” due to the unusual number of characters in Mark, the incredible use of dialogue, and the captivating amount of descriptive actions. In Mark, Jesus doesn’t just teach a crowd; He gets in a boat and pulls away from the shore so that all can see Him while He speaks. In Mark, Jesus doesn’t just expel a demon; He casts it out into a herd of swine and sends them all galloping downhill into the sea. In Mark, Jesus doesn’t just restore a man’s sight with a word; He makes mud with His own spittle, and rubs it on the man’s eyes and, in effect, washes his blindness away. In the other gospels, each actor gives up and every event gives in to the monologues of Jesus.

Another of the aspects that intrigues me is the carefully designed structure, and symmetry–representative of far more literary sophistication than we normally are willing to give such ancient authors. The Markan story “line” can be thought of as the "equal" sides of an isosceles triangle: the geometric slope of the first side is positive and so is our emotional attitude toward this first half of the Gospel.

Herman Waetjen, professor emeritus of San Francisco Theological Seminary, calls the first eight chapters of Mark the “Way of Glory.” Jesus demonstrates power over fear, over failure, and over every finitude of the human body; Jesus demonstrates power over wind, over sea, and over every phenomenon of nature; Jesus even demonstrates power over the temptations and possessions of anything supernatural. On the “Way of Glory” we, the readers and hearers, are privileged by the author to discover the divinity of Christ. Unfortunately, on the “Way of Glory,” the disciples do not ever recognize Jesus for who He really is–-they just follow Him when He calls them, but they do not understand why.

Then... or in language more typical of such an action-packed Gospel: Suddenly... at the peak of our triangle, and at the very center of our Gospel, the attitude of our line and of our emotions, surprisingly, turns negative. Dr. Waetjen calls the last eight chapters of Mark the “Way of Suffering.” Ironically, once an apostle identifies Jesus as Messiah, in answer to His probe: “Who do you say that I am?” (in the last few verses of Eight), and once Jesus is revealed to three of them in His full glory at the peak of the mountain (in the first few verses of Nine), Jesus not only pronounces His imminent departure, but also proceeds towards Jerusalem as if there was now some urgency about His leaving!

And, seemingly, just when it is most important that Jesus be “All-Powerful and Very God,” Mark uncovers the humanity of Christ. Jesus shows sorrow and regret in Bethany over the death of His good friend; Jesus shows frustration and anger at the commercial abuse of the Temple courtyard; Jesus even shows mental anguish and human indecision in the Garden while struggling in prayer over His own death. In chapters Nine through 16, the disciples have a better idea of why they are following Jesus, but now, they too have some frustration: maybe about sacrifices they have made over three years in the hopes of seeing Him usher in a New World, and some bewilderment over the prospect that, with Him in Jerusalem, they might well be ushered out of the Old one.

What a remarkable manuscript! It has heroes, villains, mystery, drama, and intrigue; everything you would want in a best-selling book, or a made-for-TV movie. In fact, another admired, SFTS professor, Dr. Bob Coote, even goes so far as to say, “Mark tells the Exodus story backwards!” Mark ends where Exodus begins: Jesus, the new Moses, frees us from the slavery of our sins–this time a captivity of our own making. Then, He leads His followers around the countryside searching for God and looking for answers. Next, Jesus ascends the holy mountain to speak with the Almighty, and just as Moses had to cover his head when he returned, because of God’s brightness on his face; so too, Jesus is clothed in brilliant raiment that causes His disciples to cower at the sight. Jesus then turns to the wilderness–a place where the Israelites endured 40 years, a place where Jesus spends 40 days. Finally, Mark’s story begins where the story of Exodus ends: crossing the Jordan. Moses never makes it across the river, and in Mark, there is some question whether Jesus reaches the Promised Land either. But, due to the genius of this author and the privilege granted to Mark’s readers and hearers, we are sure that He does.

Yes, the symbolic construction of Mark’s Gospel is truly re“Mark”able, and there are some poetic triplets that I also want you to know. First, there are three sight miracles: Mark brackets the literary turning point, the pivotal, chapter Nine mountain passage where the apostles’ eyes are opened figuratively, with the muddy spittle story in chapter Eight and the Bartimaeus story in chapter Ten, where helpless, but faithful, believers’ eyes are opened quite literally.

Also in Mark, there are three pronouncements by Jesus of His fateful departure: at 8.32, 9.32, and 10.32! On each occasion, Jesus discusses His impending demise, He calls attention to some of the misguided human priorities that prohibit a clear understanding of His mission, and Jesus defines some of what it means to be “My disciple.”

And, for Mark’s Jesus, there are three significant mountains: a mountain of Temptation and preparing (chapter 2), a mountain of Transfiguration and revealing (chapter 9), and a mountain of Crucifixion and forgiving (chapter 15).

Mark also highlights three, unusual affirmations of precisely who this Messiah is, and for what purpose He has come: 1. the mighty voice of God (chapters 1 and 9); 2. the confrontational, evil spirits (chapters 1, 3, and 5); and 3. the only human in the story who is certain–a complete outsider, a Roman centurion, of all people (a part in “The Greatest Story Ever Told” played by John Wayne, of all people), who confirms at the foot of the Cross, “Truly, this was God’s Son” (chapter 15).

And finally, in Mark there are at least three Baptisms: In the river, with John and the seekers, Jesus is washed with water signifying that He belongs in our present as an example for all of us; On the mountain, with Moses and Elijah, Jesus is bathed with radiant light signifying that He belongs in our past over the Law and the Prophets; On the Cross, with two commoners, Jesus is washed with blood signifying that He belongs to each of us, to our future, and to our salvation.

Mark is unquestionably my favorite Gospel. However, one feature still puzzles me... So, if Mark makes for such a tremendous performance, and this narrative is the very earliest and most descriptive of the four gospels, why is it that this “Greatest Story” is Never Told? For Mark, there is no commissioning of disciples to baptize the nations, Mark’s Jesus appears to go out of His way to perform many of His most significant deeds incognito, and the women at the empty tomb run away frightened and, reportedly, tell no one!

One would think that, within this first Gospel, an Earth-shattering account of God’s long-awaited arrival among us, the characters would be (or should be) shouting Good News from the rooftops! So, I wondered if anyone else has ever noticed this paradox. In fact, a German theologian, William Wrede, placed a 1971 label on the apparent contradiction: “The Messianic Secret.”

Here are some examples of the secret to which Dr. Wrede and I are referring:
     In 1.34: “and He would not permit the evil spirits to speak, for they knew Him.”
     In today’s lesson: “He sternly charged (the leper), ‘See that you say nothing to anyone’.”
     Again to demons, 3.12: “and He strictly ordered them not to make Him known.”
     After healing Jairus’ daughter: “He strictly charged them that no one should know this.”
     Near Tyre and Sidon: “(He) would not have anyone know; yet He could not be hidden.”
     After healing the deaf-mute, at Seven, verse 36: “And He charged them to tell no one...”
     To blind Bartimaeus: “He sent him to his home saying, ‘...tell nobody in the village’.”
     Directly after Peter’s identification of Jesus: “He charged them to tell no one about Him.”
     Coming down from the mountain: “He charged them to tell no one what they had seen.”
     And 9.30: “They... passed through Galilee, but He would not have anyone know it...”

Yet, a direct question is posed by the Chief Priest of the Council following Jesus’ arrest, “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the most-high God?” And, unlike the evasiveness portrayed within the other Gospel stories, but uncharacteristic in Mark, Jesus replies, “Yes. I am.”

Arguably, Jesus knew exactly what He was about, and Mark makes certain the readers and hearers do too. But there are four possible (and popular) explanations offered for such Markan secrecy among the Gospel’s best supporting actors:

First, Marks’ Jesus is not a snake oil salesman. Mark is careful not to characterize Jesus as some sort of traveling circus, or a fast-talking “con” artist with a buckboard full of elixir. Mark demonstrates clearly that people come to Jesus, not for entertainment, but for truth and love.

Second, Mark’s Jesus is not about self-aggrandizement. Mark is careful not to characterize Jesus as some sort of politician, shaking hands and kissing babies and generally drawing the focus of all their attention to Himself. Mark demonstrates that people come to Jesus, not just for who He is, but for what He has to offer: remember, “The Kingdom of God is at Hand!”

Third, Mark may be employing a bit of “reverse” psychology. For, what child can resist telling a secret, and what adult can resist betraying a confidence–especially once one has received explicit instructions not to tell? Well, this suggestion may seem a bit far-fetched, but by indications given by the blind man, the leper, the deaf-mute, and the man with the evil spirit--to mention just a few–-it seems to have worked!

And last, Mark is careful that we do not miss the real value of faith and faithfulness, in favor of some deflection to Jesus’ miraculous works. Mark is very Pauline in this regard: in fact, if this Mark is truly John Mark (as some scholars believe), nephew of Barnabas, and his uncle’s companion when roaming around the Acts of the Apostles with Paul, then this would make perfect sense. Mark’s Jesus repeatedly acknowledges and rewards faithfulness first, and His beneficial deeds come out of that trust. To twist James a little: “Good works without faith are simply not enough.”

I would like to summarize, briefly, where all we have been this morning: Mark is the most action and dialogue-filled Gospel. Mark either describes or makes reference to nearly 40 miracles, easily more than any other book in the Canon. The healing of a leper, in chapter 1, is characteristic of both the "Markan Secret" and, despite a charge from the Master, the often uncontrollable urge to broadcast the irrepressible Good News. And while, Christ’s reliance upon a profession of faith and His passion for the powerless are indeed characteristic of Mark, it is quite uncharacteristic for Jesus to supply such a direct and unequivocal response to the leper’s plea, “I know that You can heal me if you wish it...” Jesus says to the leper exactly what we are excited He says to each of us, when we respond to Him in faith, and with commitment, and ask Him for grace, “I do wish it!”

Amen. 

16 February 2003