Palm Sunday – entry to Jerusalem Mark 11:1-10, Mark 14:3-11

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Paul S. Berge

We have been on our way to the city of Jerusalem from the opening words of the Gospel of Mark: "The beginning of the good news/gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God" (1:1).

Like the opening words in Genesis, the evangelist Mark is establishing an identity with the first beginning, "In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth" (Genesis 1:1), with a new beginning, a new beginning of God's good news, the gospel of Jesus Christ, God's Son.

The Gospel of Mark has been characterized as a passion narrative (11:1-16:8) with an extended introduction (1:1-10:52). We enter the passion narrative of the Gospel of Mark having just heard the cry of blind Bartimaeus identifying who Jesus is: "Son of David, have mercy on me!" His first cry is followed by rebuke and Bartimaeus cries out even more loudly, "Son of David, have mercy on me" (10:47-48). Jesus responds to his request for sight and says: "Go; your faith has made you well (Greek: or "saved you").  Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way" (10:52). This is the first occurrence of Jesus' identity as the Son of David in the Gospel of Mark and leads us into Jerusalem, the city of David, in our first text for today (11:1-10).

As Jesus and his disciples make their way from Bethphage and Bethany near the Mount of Olives to Jerusalem, he commissions two of the disciples: "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it" (11:2). Once again Mark draws our attention with the word, "immediately," and follows up with a second occurrence: "If anyone says to you, 'Why are you doing this?' just say this, 'The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately'" (11:3).

The immediacy of the stories that lead into and inaugurate the passion narrative is signaled by the three occurrences of the adverb immediately (10:52; 11:2, 3). The passion narrative is the "opportune time" (Greek: kairos) of the immediacy of God's reign breaking in through the death and resurrection of God's Son, the Son of David, in David's city. As the sighted Bartimaeus "followed him (Jesus) on the way" (10:52) into the city of Jerusalem, so we are called to follow in the procession that now commences to the cross.

The colt is brought, which has never been ridden to Jesus (see the messianic prophecy of Zech. 9:9), and they "threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it" (11:7). The evangelist describes the procession as festive with many people spreading their cloaks and leafy branches on the road. The acclamation of God's blessing is shouted or screamed out (Greek: krazo): "Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!" (11:9-10). Who among the bystanders wouldn't recall the words of Psalm 118:25-26,  proclaiming the hope of God's reign coming to restore David's kingdom? Is this the long awaited fulfillment of God's Anointed, the Messiah?

We fast forward in the passion narrative, from this festive celebration of the coming King, to the alternate text for Palm Sunday (14:3-11). The setting is now two days before the Passover and the conspiracy of the chief priests has been put in place to arrest and kill Jesus (14:1-2). In between the Palm Sunday story (11:1-10) and this text, Jesus has been teaching in the temple and challenging the religious authorities (11:11-12:44), and has stepped outside the temple to teach about the signs of its imminent destruction (13:1-31) and his own death (13:32-37).

As we move to the second text in Mark 14:3-11, Jesus is once again in Bethany where the passion narrative began (11:1). Jesus is at the table in the home of Simon the leper when an unnamed woman comes with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, breaks open (Greek: suntribo, to crush) the jar, and pours out the ointment over Jesus' head (14:3). The bystanders respond with anger and question: "Why was the ointment wasted in this way?" (14:4). The expense of the nard was seen as too extravagant to be poured out when it "could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor. And they scolded her" (Greek: embrimaomai "to snort in anger") (14:5).

From their positions of wealth, their protest belies their true concern for the poor. A year's wages in denarii would have been the least of their concerns. Jesus' response to the protesters is simply to back off:  "Let her alone: why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me" (14:6). The poor are always present and kindness can be shown anytime, but the truth of Jesus' response is that they "will not always have me" (14:7).

With these words Jesus discloses the significance of the extravagant act of devotion: "she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial" (14:8). What she has done is a sign that wherever the good news of the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world "what she has done will be told in remembrance of her" (14:9).

In contrast to what she has done, the story of Judas Iscariot will also be remembered for a quite different reason. As one of the twelve he will be remembered as the one who betrayed Jesus. Creating a conspiracy with the chief priests, who are greatly pleased with Judas' intention to betray, they promise to give him money, and from this time Judas looks for "an opportunity (Greek: "eukairos") to betray him" (14:10-11).

From a triumphal entry of Jesus as God's Anointed Son of David into the city of David, to his anointing for burial, we have cut deeply into the passion narrative of the Gospel of Mark. The story includes false political expectations and betrayal, and a final meal with those who are Jesus' closest followers. They will hear him announce words that will be spoken for all time. "This is my body." "This is my blood" (14:22-25). Come Lord Jesus, Come.

The close of the age Mark 13:1-12 [14-31] 32-37

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Ron Allen

Scholars widely agree that apocalyptic literature sought to encourage ancient communities to remain faithful in their difficult circumstances by using stock apocalyptic language and imagery adapted to particular contexts (1) to offer theological interpretation of the present threatening situations of the community and (2) to bolster the confidence that God would act in the near future to rectify the situation.

Contemporary congregations often mistakenly think the aim of apocalyptic literature was to frighten readers when the opposite is actually the case. Such writings intended to give congregations the theological confidence to endure until the apocalypse and the coming of the Realm of God.

Both of these dimensions are present in Mark 13. Mark has Jesus speak in the future tense about some events that have already happened in Mark's world and to point to some events that are yet to come. The technical name for this phenomenon is "prophecy after the fact." Mark 13:13b reveals the purpose of this chapter: to give the congregation the perspectives they need to endure until the apocalypse when they will be gathered into the final and full manifestation of the realm of God.

Mark 13:1-2 indicates that the temple has already been destroyed. Mark regards this event as a sign that the apocalypse will soon come.

According to Mark 13:3-6 and 13:21-22, the community is in danger of thinking that someone other than Jesus is the apocalyptic prophet through whom God signals the transformation of the ages. Mark here participates in an ongoing debate in Judaism regarding who -- if anyone -- would function as God's agent. So many Jewish groups about the time of Mark put forward multiple figures as God's agents to that an excellent book is entitled Judaisms and Their Messiahs, ed. Jacob Neusner et. al. (Cambridge University Press, 1988).

In 13:7-8, the writer uses traditional apocalyptic imagery to communicate that the social chaos -- including the violence -- of Mark's time is part of the end of the old age. Mark describes this process through the image of a woman in the pain of delivering a child.

Mark's community was in tension with some traditional Jewish groups. Mark 13:9-13 portrays this tension reaching the level of legal harassment as members of the community are called before synagogues, governors and other rulers. Moreover, families are coming apart as some members identify with Mark's community (and its movement towards the realm) and others resist.

One major source of tension between Mark's community and conventional Jewish leaders was the Markan congregation welcoming gentiles without initiating the converts fully into Judaism. Mark 13:10 portrays this movement as something that must happen before the apocalypse can occur. Despite social chaos and persecution, the community is to persist in this mission under the authority of the risen Jesus.

Mark 13:14 draws on Daniel 9:27, 11:31 and 12:11 to interpret the Roman destruction of the temple as a signal that the community is to flee from Judea (where Mark's community is probably located) to the mountains. Some scholars think that this passage links to Mark 14:28 and 16:7 so that the "mountains" refer to Galilee. The latter area, populated by about equal numbers of Jewish and gentile people, might be more hospitable to the gentile mission. According to 14:28 and 16:7, Galilee is also the place where the community would greet the returning Jesus at the apocalypse.

Mark 13:15-20 urges the community to act quickly. The season of transition between the ages will be one of intense suffering. But, the congregation should be grateful because God has "cut short those days."

The apocalypse itself is foreshadowed in Mark 13:24-27. God will destroy the structures that support the present creation (represented here by sun moon, stars and powers). Jesus will return and gather the faithful. The realm will be completely and forever manifest.

Just as people can know when summer is coming by paying attention to leaves coming on the fig tree, so the congregation can know the apocalypse is upon them by paying attention to the signs of the times (Mark 13:28-29). However, the congregation needs be firm in their commitment because present world will not end (and the suffering will not be over) until "all these things have taken place" (Mark 13:30-31).

While the apocalypse will come soon, no one can know the precise day or time. Indeed, not even the angels or Jesus know the time. That knowledge belongs only to God (Mark 13:32). Consequently, the congregation should keep alert, that is, the community should be faithful and should do what Jesus tells them to do. Waiting for the apocalypse is not a time of passivity but is a time for mission. Indeed, at the apocalypse, the Markan community will be judged on what it has done in the season of waiting in the same way that the master judges the servant whom the master has left in charge of the house (Mark 13:33-37).

I end with a confessional statement. With regard to hermeneutical movement from the time of Mark to today, I both agree and disagree with Mark. I believe, with Mark, that much in the present world violates God's purposes. God wants the world to be much more like the realm than it is. Yet, I do not believe that God can end the present world and replace it with a new one by means of a singular apocalypse.

Rather, I believe God is present in every moment, offering each situation the optimum qualities for realm-like life that are possible given the circumstances of the moment. We can participate with God in the renewal of the world, or we can resist. I take Mark's caution to heart: the transition from the world as it is to the world as it can be is often difficult, even chaotic; in such seasons we must endure. But, with Mark, I believe that God is always present through the Holy Spirit to offer us the power to endure.

Scribes and the widow Mark 12:38-44

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Ron Allen

Few passages have been as radically re-interpreted in my life-time as the story of the widow who places her two small coins in the temple treasury.

I grew up thinking of the widow in this story as a model of sacrifice. She commits her fundamental means of support to the temple. We should do the same: give as much as we can to God through the church.

A parallel story does not occur in Matthew. While Luke may use the widow as such a model for readers (Luke 21:1-4), a good deal of scholarship in the last twenty-five years sees the story in Mark as casting a negative judgment on the temple and its leadership at the time of Mark. This conclusion derives from the larger way in which Mark portrays the temple and its leadership and the immediate context in which Mark places the story.

As noted in connection with Mark 12:1-12 (March 4) and Mark 12:28-34 (March 11) Mark wrote about 70 CE after the fall of the temple when Mark's congregation was in tension with many Jewish leaders. Mark typically uses the figures of the scribes, priests, Pharisees to portray the Jewish leadership of Mark's own time. Furthermore, Mark believed that the leaders had corrupted the practices of the temple.

Mark was an apocalyptic theologian who believed that God is about to end the present age and replace the present world with a new one (the Realm of God) which manifests God's purposes in all ways. For Mark, most of the scribes, the other Jewish leaders, and the temple itself are creatures of the old world.

Mark characterizes the community of the realm as one in which those who are first (at the top of the social pyramid in this world) become last (at the bottom). People who join the movement towards the Realm should set aside their desire for old-age style brute power and social recognition and instead welcome children (who were at the bottom of the existing social order) (e.g. Mark 9:33-37; 10:13-16). The population of the realm is a population of people who serve one another (e.g. Mark 10:41-45). Indeed, participants in the Realm are to take up their crosses, that is, to cut their ties with values and behaviors of the old age.

By contrast, the behavior of the scribes in Mark 12:38-40 reinforce their allegiance to the old age. They wear long robes -- symbols of social power at the time of Mark. In the manner of the Roman patronage system, they like for people who are lower on the social ladder to greet them (i.e. to acknowledge their social status) when they are in public. They seek the best seats -- in which they can most easily be seen by others -- in the synagogues and at banquets. In order to make a positive impression on other people (and to communicate with God), they offer long prayers.

The scribes are the epitome of what is wrong with the power structure of the old age. Their goal is to reinforce their own social power and is not to serve God's purposes for all in the community to experience blessing. According to Mark, "they will receive the greater condemnation" at the apocalyptic judgment.
The connection between Mark 12:38-40 and 41-44 is revealed in the remark that the scribes "devour widows' houses." As is well known, the covenant God made with Israel called for the community to care for widows, orphans, and others whose quality of life -- and, indeed, whose very existence -- were often threatened in antiquity (e.g. Exodus 22:21-24; Deuteronomy 10:18, 14:28-29; 16:11, 14; 24:19-22; 27:19; Psalm 68:5; Jeremiah 49:11). As we learn from the situation of Ruth and Naomi, the situation of widows in antiquity could easily become precarious. By devouring widows' houses, the scribes engage in behavior that is exactly opposite that which God desires.

The text does not say directly how the scribes devour widows' houses, but Mark 12:41-44 implies that the widows make themselves bankrupt by putting all of their money into the temple treasury. Void of income, they would sell their houses in order to have financial resources with which to buy food. The scribes would buy these houses, thus increasing their own social power even as they violated God's purposes by devouring the widows' houses.

The plight of the widow is reinforced when Mark contrasts the contribution of the widow and that of the wealthy. "Many rich people put in large sums," yet these sums were but a small percentage of their total worth. They contribute out of their abundance. The widow, by comparison, put in "everything that she had," which Mark emphasizes, was "all that she had to live on." The "two small copper coins" were the smallest coinage of that time. It took 64 such coins to make a denarius, a day's wage, that is, enough on which to live for a day. The woman had only 1/32 of what it took to live for a day, yet she put it all in the temple treasury.

Mark thus leaves the impression that the scribes and the leadership of the temple engaged in a form of robbery. In Mark 15:38, Mark essentially declares the temple bankrupt. By the time Mark wrote, of course, the temple had been destroyed, and thus had received a form of greater condemnation."

Using the scribes as a lens, the preacher might meditate on leadership in the church, in government, in business, and in other settings in North America. To what degree do our leaders -- do we ourselves as leaders -- serve our own status and glory and to what degree do we serve the purposes of God's realm?

Indeed, do the congregation, church related bodies beyond the congregation, and other institutions in public life engage in behaviors that essentially devour widows houses today? That is, do we robe people and communities of the resources for meaningful life rather than support such life?

Parable of The Tenants Mark 12:1-12

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Ron Allen

Mark's theology is apocalyptic: Mark believes that history is divided into two ages: (1) the present evil age that God will destroy and replace with (2) a new world in which all things manifest God's purposes (the realm of God).

While the ministry of Jesus signals that the transition between the ages is underway, Mark believes that the complete transformation takes place only at the apocalypse at which Jesus returns.

Mark wrote about 70 CE when the Romans captured Jerusalem and destroyed the temple. As we note in connection with Mark 13 (March 25), Mark regards the destruction of the temple as a sign that the final apocalypse is near.

The Markan Jesus told the parable of the wicked servants in the temple in the presence of Jewish leadership (represented by chief priests, scribes and elders) (Mark 11:27). According to Mark 13:9-13, members of the Markan community were in tension with traditional Jewish leadership in both formal settings (e.g. synagogue actions) and within their own households (e.g. siblings betray siblings).

Mark believed that many Jewish leaders had allied themselves with Satan by resisting the notion that the ministry of Jesus signaled that the final manifestation of the Realm is underway. The temple was a symbol of the power-base of the misguided Jewish leadership; consequently, the destruction of the temple was a sign of God's judgment.

The parable of the wicked tenants is a narrative theological explanation for why these developments took place (Mark 12:1-8). Furthermore, the text asserts that God has rejected the Jewish leadership and replaced their role in the Realm with Jesus and his followers (Mark 12:9-12).

Some interpreters argue that, for Mark, God rejects Judaism and all Jewish people. However, it seems evident that God rejects only those Jews who reject the notion that the ministry of Jesus signals the transition of the ages. All people -- including Jews -- who repent of their collaboration with the old age are welcome in the community awaiting the Realm.

The parable is not an explicit allegory in which Mark makes direct allegorical interpretation of the details (as in Mark 4:1-20). Rather, the parable of the wicked tenants is an implied allegory in which the allegorical elements are obvious to readers.

The parable is structured on a motif familiar among Jewish storytellers of the time: a landowner goes away for a time, leaving servants in charge of the property. The owner returns to see how the tenants have performed. In this case, the owner plants a vineyard and leaves it in their care (Mark 12:1). The language of "vineyard" had long been a symbol for the promises of Jewish covenantal community (e.g. Isaiah 5:1-7; Ezekiel 15:1-7). Mark uses vineyard language to refer to qualities of the life in the Realm (2 Baruch 36, 39). God had left these qualities in the care of Jewish leadership.

According to Mark 12:2-5, the owner sent a series of servants to collect the owner's share of the produce. In the parable, this means that God sought to ascertain the degree of the faithfulness Israel through the prophets. However, Israel rejected the prophets. Mark recalls here a tradition from Judaism itself that many Jewish people persecuted the prophets (e.g. 2 Chronicles 24:20-22; Jeremiah 26:20-30; cf. Luke 13:34; Acts 7:52).

In Mark 12:6-8, God (the landowner) sent a "beloved son," thinking that the tenants would certainly respect the heir, the future ruler of the vineyard. However, the tenants reveal the depth of their unfaithfulness by killing the heir, Jesus (Mark 1:11; 9:7).

According to Mark 12:9, the owner will "destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others." In other words, God will destroy the Jewish leadership and give the leadership of the community of the Realm to Jesus and his followers. The language of "destroy" may imply not only that the leaders lose control of the temple and important aspects of Jewish life, but also that they are punished in the next world. In 12:10-11, Mark justifies this conclusion by appealing to Psalm 118:22-23. In the same way the builders in the psalm rejected the cornerstone, so the Jewish leadership rejected Jesus' witness to the Realm. God has now made that witness the pivotal development, the chief cornerstone, in the movement towards the Realm.

In a time of social chaos, including conflict with other Jewish people and conflict within their own households, Mark uses the parable of the wicked servants to assure members of the congregation they have a place in the vineyard by following Jesus and being committed to the community of the Realm. From my theological perspective a preacher can embrace this position and offer similar assurance to a congregation in chaos today. The leading dimension of the sermon, like the text, could lure the congregation towards faithfulness.

Unfortunately, Mark makes the aforementioned affirmation by claiming that God has rejected significant numbers of Jewish people. To be sure, the Bible contains a tradition that God punishes those who violate covenant. But, in Jewish tradition such punishment is typically for the purpose of encouraging repentance and return to blessing. Mark, however, bypasses that tradition in favor of claiming that many Jewish people face complete destruction.

From my theological point of view, God's love is unconditional and God's promises are utterly trustworthy. If we agree with the text that God that can destroy the tenants, then we believe that God's love is conditional and that God can break God's promises. God then would not be truly faithful. God, I believe, is active in every situation to offer the community the optimum experience of love and blessing that is possible given the limits of the context.

I do think we bring collapse upon ourselves when we violate God's purposes. The preacher, then, might critique the rejectionary aspect of the text while urging the congregation to cooperate with divine aims. God wants everyone to be in the vineyard.

Rich Young Ruler Mark 10:17-31

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Elizabeth Shively

When I approach this passage, many people ask me whether they, too, are required to sell all their possessions and give the money to the poor. I answer, "Maybe."

This story reveals what we cherish most. It is about the relationship between a person's greatest treasure and the self-denial required to follow Jesus. A close reading unsettles our view of discipleship by demanding that it consist of radically following Jesus rather than simply following the rules.

The Context: Jesus Teaches His Disciples Radical Discipleship

This story is part of the teaching block on discipleship that runs from 8:27-10:45, united by Jesus' three-fold prediction of his suffering, death and resurrection (8:31; 9:31; 10:32-34). After each prediction, the disciples expose their misunderstanding of Jesus' mission and their participation in it, and Jesus teaches what it means to follow him (8:32-37; 9:32-37; 10:35-45). To follow Jesus means to deny oneself and take up one's cross, in imitation of Jesus' own self-sacrificial service. It means to lose one's "soul" or life in order to save it (8:34, 35). Its goal is life in the kingdom of God that Jesus has come to bring. The eschatological coming of the Son of Man provides a warning and the Transfiguration gives a prophetic view of Jesus' glory (8:38-9:8), encouraging those who serve and suffer that God has the last word.

The Story: Jesus Calls a Man to Radical Discipleship

While on the way to Jerusalem, a man approaches Jesus and asks how he can inherit eternal life. The man comes kneeling before Jesus and addressing him with respect. From the preceding context, we know how to gain the life the man desires. At first, Jesus responds by repeating parts of the Decalogue that have to do with how to treat people. That is, the commands reflect what Jesus elsewhere cites as the second great commandment, "love your neighbor as yourself" (Mark 12:31; cf. Leviticus 19:18).

The man replies that he has kept all of those commandments. Now Jesus escalates the requirement by identifying what this man treasures most. He challenges him not only to follow the letter of the law but also to follow Jesus through radical self-denial and service to others. In fact, Jesus calls not for the law's elimination but for its escalation, similar to what he tells his disciples in John 13:34, "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another." 

The new element to this commandment is the line, "just as I have loved you." Disciples are to love their neighbors with the same self-sacrificial service to others that Jesus does, which demands personal engagement and self-denial. Returning to our story, Mark mentions the man's wealth only at the very end of this account, and it is at this point -- if we resist letting our Bibles direct our reading -- that we feel the rhetorical impact with the comment, "he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had great possessions" (verse 22). This story recalls the connection in 8:34-38 between the denial of self and life with salvation. The man walks away from Jesus, unable to embrace eternal life, choosing to keep the world and forfeit his soul.  

When the rich man leaves, Jesus teaches that wealth has a way of distracting people from seeking the kingdom of God. In the interpretation of the parable of the sower, the desire for money and possessions were key elements that enticed people from the word of God (4:19). Perhaps this is why Jesus had sent out his disciples on their mission with only a staff, to rely on divine providence through the gifts of those to whom they minister (6:6b-13). Still, in our text, the disciples are amazed at Jesus' teaching because a pious rich man appears to have all the resources necessary for gaining eternal life. If a man such as this cannot be saved, then who can (10:26)?  Jesus attributes the faithful following that leads to eternal life to the power of God: "with human beings it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God" (verse 27). 

Peter picks up where the rich man left off. Jesus had called the rich man to sell all he has and follow him. He has not responded, but Peter does. Peter cries out that he and the other disciples have given up everything to follow Jesus -- their families and their livelihood (verse 28; cf. 1:16-20). In other words, they have fulfilled the conditions that the rich man has not. Jesus promises that they will receive the eternal life that the rich man sought. Not only that, but they will also receive in abundance what they have given up, new family and land. On the one hand, Jesus reminds his disciples of the cost of discipleship: those who follow Jesus will be persecuted now, and will be last now. On the other hand, he reminds them of the dividend of discipleship: God has the last word. Those who follow Jesus are vindicated with abundance beyond imagination. 

We Are Called to Radical Discipleship

Jesus calls us to radical discipleship. Money is an object of desire in our wealthy society, and so this passage challenges us. Are we following the rules, while seeking to gain the whole world? Or are we following Jesus? Perhaps there is something other than money that we treasure most. Whatever it is, the exhortation in this passage is not to give up out of a martyr complex, but to give up to follow Jesus, in service to others for the sake of the gospel. This passage reassures those who have made personal sacrifices to follow Jesus, and who imitate his self-denial for the sake of others. It also challenges notions of discipleship that remain easy and complacent. We may suffer great loss with the assurance that God has the last word. The Kingdom of God can break into our world and transform our service now.

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Ash Wed – Passion prediction, who is the greatest Mark 9:30-50

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Elizabeth Shively

Ash Wednesday begins the season of Lent, when many of us choose to renounce a habit or a pleasure as a symbol of our devotion to God.

Perhaps we think about Jesus' exhortation after his first passion prediction, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me" (Mark 8:34). In the Gospel reading for today, the disciples have not thought about renunciation, but about reputation. Jesus' response to them helps us to take a closer look at our Lenten disciplines. 

Second Passion Prediction (verses 30-32)

This story is part of an extended teaching on discipleship that runs from 8:27-10:45, in which Jesus repeats the passion prediction 3 times (8:31; 9:31; 10:32-34). The disciples express misunderstandings, and Jesus provides remedial teachings (8:32-37; 9:32-37; 10:35-45). Here, we take a look at the second passion prediction and its aftermath. After the first passion prediction, Jesus had taught his disciples not only that he would suffer, die, and rise, but also that they must imitate him by losing their lives in order to save them. After the second passion prediction, Jesus makes it clear that this pattern of discipleship means service to others. Following Jesus is not something a person does alone. It takes a village.

We can break up the rest of this long text into two parts, both connected with catch-phrases. Mark connects two passages about who is the greatest (verses 33-37) and the strange exorcist (verses 38-41) with the catch-phrase, "in my name' (verses 37, 38, 39, and 41). These two passages show that while the disciples are most concerned with making a name for themselves, what is most important is to bear the name of Jesus. Second, Mark connects a group of sayings with a series of catchwords: "scandal/ize" (verses 42, 43, 45, 47); "fire" (verses 48, 49); and "salt" (verses 49, 50).  

Bearing the Name of Jesus (verses 33-41)

The disciples argue about who is the greatest, each one contending for first rank in their social group. In response, Jesus takes the posture of a teacher and places among them a little child, a symbol of weakness and a lack of status in society, and a symbol for discipleship in the Kingdom of God. That is, Jesus says that those who welcome "such a child," or disciple, "in my name" welcome not only him, but the one who sent him. The disciples are to identify with the humble child who comes without status or power.

Jesus had already begun to reveal this principle to the disciples when he sent them on their mission to teach and cast out demons (6:6b-13). He told them to go without status or power: take only a staff, no money or bread, and only one tunic. Like children, they had to rely on others for their sustenance. Some would welcome them, and others would not (6:11). In our text, we are to understand that those who would welcome them would welcome Jesus and the one who sent him. The pattern for discipleship, then, is not marked by a quest for greatness that seeks to secure one's own name, but by a humble and dependent ministry conducted in Jesus' name. 

When the disciples complain about another exorcist, they reveal that they have not learned the lesson of the child. They complain because this exorcist "was not following us." Jesus had set apart the Twelve and had given them authority to preach and to cast out demons. But this man has not been authorized; he was not initiated into their number. The irony of the disciples' complaint is that they have just found themselves powerless to cast out demons from a boy (9:18, 28). Their quest for exclusivity reveals that they are more concerned with their own reputation than they are with the success of Jesus' mission. This unfamiliar exorcist, on the other hand, has understood the centrality to Jesus ministry of the struggle against Satanic forces, and joins the struggle by casting out demons in Jesus' name.

Costly Discipleship (9:43-50)

The following sayings function to increase the radical nature of self-sacrifice to which Jesus has called his disciples. Jesus uses hyperbole to warn against "scandalizing," or tripping up, the "little ones," or would-be disciples, and also against tripping up oneself with sin. By connecting these sayings, Mark links the costliness of discipleship with responsibility for others. That is, it is just as costly to hinder someone else's progress in discipleship as it is to hinder one's own.

Also, by connecting the sayings about hell-fire with the sayings about salt, Mark contrasts two choices. The unquenchable fire is Mark's explanation of Gehenna, or Hell (verse 44), the place of final punishment of the wicked (Isaiah 66:24; 2 Kings 23:10; 2 Chronicles 28:1-4; Jeremiah 7:30-34). In contrast, the fire of verse 49 is one of purification. Salt was a preservative; but also, salt accompanied Old Testament sacrifices (Leviticus 2:13; Ezekiel 43:24). Perhaps the description of being "salted with fire" followed by the exhortation to "have salt in yourselves" is an exhortation for disciples to be seasoned with salt, like the sacrifice. If so, this is a call for self-sacrificial living.

Claim

The ashes on our foreheads today may remind us to be salted with fire through self-sacrificial living. The ashes form the sign of the cross, reminding us that we are not "great," but that we go in the name of one who is great because he died to save us. We go in his name and not our own. As we enter the season of Lent, we may consider doing more than renouncing a pleasure or habit. Instead, we may consider renouncing ourselves, recalling Jesus' exhortation that true followers "deny themselves and up their cross and follow me." We may renounce ourselves by developing the spiritual discipline of serving others in the name of Jesus. Perhaps we may develop habits that will continue beyond the season.

Transfiguration Sunday – Peter's confession and transfiguration Mark 8:27-9:13

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Elizabeth Shively

The question, "Who is Jesus?" is fundamental to Mark's Gospel.

From the start, Mark confesses that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God (1:1). The "Messiah" (Hebrew) or the "Christ" (Greek) is the "anointed one of God," signifying divine election to a particular task. In various ways, Mark invites the reader or hearer to answer the question, "who is Jesus," and adopt his opening confession. As we read, Mark develops what it means for Jesus to be Messiah, Son of God.  
 
Armed with the inside information that Mark provides about the nature of Jesus, we read and wait for someone in the narrative to answer the question, "Who is Jesus?" Yet in the first half of the Gospel, no one recognizes him (except demons) in spite of a series of events that demand a response. Jesus preaches the kingdom of God, calls disciples, performs miracles, exorcises demons, and miraculously heals people.

Characters' responses to Jesus' powerful acts in the Gospel consist of questions that demonstrate a wrestling with the query, "Who is Jesus?" When Jesus heals the paralytic, some scribes say, "Why does this man talk like that? He's blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?" 

Later, Jesus calms a storm, and the disciples ask, "Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!" Then, Jesus comes to Nazareth, his hometown, and the people say, "Where did this man get these things? What is the wisdom given to him? How are such mighty works done by his hands? Isn't this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joseph and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?" (6:2-3). These unanswered questions invite us to respond, when the characters do not. How will we answer the query, "Who is Jesus?" 

As Jesus' reputation spreads, people begin to speculate answers the question, "Who is Jesus?"  Some believe Jesus was John the Baptist returned from the grave; others, the prophet Elijah, and others, simply a prophet. (6:14-16). They assign to Jesus only a preparatory role, not the one Mark has given us.

In our text for today, Jesus himself asks his disciples, "Who do people say that I am?" (8:27). The disciples rehearse the three popular misconceptions about Jesus' identity, recalling the earlier speculations (verse 28). Jesus presses them: "But who do you say that I am?" Peter finally confesses that Jesus is the Messiah (verse 29). In response, Jesus predicts his suffering and death openly in order to interpret what "Messiah" means (verse 32). Peter does not want to listen, because suffering and death are not part of his conception of messiahship (8:31-32). He rebukes Jesus, charging him to deny his mission (verse 32). Jesus recognizes this as a test from Satan, and rebukes Peter accordingly (verse 33). As Satan tested Jesus before he began his public ministry (1:12-13), Satan likewise tests him when he turns his face towards the cross.

Jesus then instructs his disciples and all who would follow him about true discipleship. If they have misunderstood, "Who is Jesus?" then they have also misunderstood "Who is a disciple?"  True disciples follow Jesus by imitating him. They deny themselves and take up their cross and follow him (8:34). Jesus further explains what this means by contrasting those who secure physical life and possessions but lose their soul, with those who lose their physical lives but gain their soul through self-denial for the sake of the gospel (verses 35-36). Eternal life, or life in the consummated kingdom of God, is in view. Verses 37-38 warn of denunciation at the eschatological coming of the Son of Man for those who have denied Jesus, while 9:1 promises glory at the consummation of the kingdom for those whose self-denial leads to death. According to Jesus, both "Messiah" and "disciple" are characterized by suffering and self-denial for the sake of others. 

Six days later, the Transfiguration provides a prophetic manifestation of the power of the kingdom of God. On a mountain, Jesus appears in radiant glory to Peter, James, and John. 
The account confirms Jesus' words about suffering and death. Earlier, Peter had rebuked Jesus for his plain words about his fate. In his response, Jesus ties his fate to that of his disciples, and warns that the Son of Man will be ashamed of the one who is ashamed of him and his words.

Now, Peter mistakenly believes he is witnessing the consummation of the kingdom of God, and offers to build three booths for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Peter evidently seeks the fulfillment of God's kingdom without the suffering of which Jesus had spoken. By this, we know that Peter has not heeded Jesus' words. The divine voice from heaven intervenes, "This is my beloved Son, listen to him!" (verse 7). This recalls Jesus' baptism (1:11), where God proclaimed favor upon Jesus at the beginning of his ministry.

Now, at the turning point, when Jesus embraces suffering and death, God pronounces favor again. Jesus is left alone with his disciples, demonstrating that glory is assured, even if it is hidden. The Transfiguration is strategically placed as a confirmation of Peter's confession that Jesus as Messiah and as a development of the promise of vindication to those who follow him in 9:1. The account provides the promise of power necessary for including suffering and self-denial in our understanding of both "Messiah" and "disciple."

Like Jesus' first followers, it is tempting to leave suffering and self-denial out of our answer to the question, "Who is Jesus?" and, with it, "Who is a disciple?" We might prefer a prosperity gospel that gives us the whole world, but Jesus gives us a model of self-sacrificial service that gives us our soul. Conventional wisdom says that there is no place for suffering and self-sacrifice in the quest for power. But our text for today challenges that wisdom. In God's economy, there is power in humility and service because a hidden glory reinterprets the existence of God's people. 

The Great Commandment

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Ron Allen

The ancient notion that identity is communal is the background of Mark 12:28-34

To be was to be part of a specific group. The group was present in the individual; the individual represented the group. A primary question was, "Am I faithful to my community?" To be in tension with one's community was a major challenge to one's own identity. To be cast out of a community created a crisis. This situation was quite different from our North American emphasis on individuality and on finding oneself.

Mark wrote about 70 CE after the fall of Jerusalem. With the temple destroyed, many Jewish communities asked, "What does it mean now to be Jewish? What is the core of Jewish identity?" In today's text, Mark offers an answer to the Markan congregation.

The Markan congregation was a sect within Judaism with two distinguishing characteristics:

(1) The congregation believed that the ministry of Jesus, an apocalyptic prophet, signaled that the transition was underway from the present evil age to the coming Realm of God. This transition would be complete only when Jesus returned at the apocalypse.

(2) The Realm of God included the reunion of Jewish and gentile communities. The congregation foreshadowed this reunion by welcoming gentiles into the community (e.g. Mark 13:10). Because they believed the apocalypse would occur soon, the congregation did not require gentiles to engage in the full range of Jewish practice (e.g. Mark 7:1-23).

Receiving gentiles as full-standing members of the community was problematic to some traditional Jewish groups Some such folk believed that Mark's congregation had become unfaithful to the point that the congregation was no longer truly Jewish. Consequently, tension developed between the two groups; traditional synagogues may have planned disciplinary action against members of the Markan congregation (e.g. Mark 13:9-13). I believe that many members of the Markan community faced an identity crisis: Are we truly Jewish? Do we have a place we belong?

While Mark generally portrays the scribes negatively, Mark begins today's passage with a scribe who respects the way in which Jesus interacts with other Jewish leaders (Mark 12:28a). The scribes were interpreters of Torah. Mark thus signals the reader that a learned representative of Judaism initiates this discussion and takes a positive role in it.

The question the scribe asks, "Which commandment is the first of all?" is essentially the question, "What is essential to Jewish identity?" This question had been discussed by the Jewish community for a long time, but its importance was magnified with the destruction of the temple.

In Mark 12:29-31 Jesus responds by combining Deuteronomy 6:4-5 with Leviticus 19:18. In its context in Deuteronomy, the former emphasizes that the God of Israel is alone sovereign of the world and that God acts with complete integrity. In its context in Leviticus, the latter does not point to  individual self-love (as when people often say, "You have to love yourself") but has a communal dimension relating to kin: you shall love your neighbor (those who are outside your family) even as you love your own kin. In both contexts, love is less a feeling and more a decision to act for the good of the other-and-community.

Mark uses the figure of the scribe to show that some members of the Jewish establishment agreed with Jesus (Mark 12:32-33). Indeed, other Jewish teachers about the time of Jesus or slightly later made similar formulations (e.g. Philo, Every Good Man is Free 83-85; Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews, 15:375; Testament of Issachar, 7:6).

Mark often polemicizes against Jewish leaders and what Mark regards as violations of the spirit of Jewish practice. By means of the prophetic gesture of Jesus overturning the tables in the temple, Mark interpreted the destruction of the temple as divine condemnation on the corruption of those associated with the temple (Mark 11:15-19).

In Mark 12:33b, Mark makes the theological judgment that while the temple and sacrifice may have played an important role in Judaism in an earlier era, those things are not essential to Jewish identity. Indeed, with the temple destroyed, the community can no longer participate in burnt offering and sacrifice. Nevertheless, the congregation can be authentically Jewish by practicing the monotheism of the God of Israel and by loving neighbors.

According to Mark, not only does the scribe answer wisely, but the scribe's agreement with Jesus means that the scribe is "not far from the [realm] of God" (Mark 12:34a). The reference to "not far" could be simply a reference to time, that is, the scribe is only a short time away from being included in the realm. However, given that the scribe has not expressly believed in the gospel in the way that Mark formulates it (Mark 1:14-15), it is more likely that the scribe still needs to believe in the Markan way and to join the community of Jesus to be part included in the Realm.

This passage assures the Markan community that they are, indeed, faithful to the Jewish tradition as they are part of the movement from the present world to the Realm of God. Jewish people live in this way without the temple. Gentiles can live in this way without being initiated fully into Judaism. This passage is intended to reinforce the congregation's confidence that they are truly faithful, even in the face of challenges from other Jewish people.

Many congregations' today face issues of identity -- questions and uncertainties similar to those before Mark's community in arenas as diverse and far reaching as approaches to worship, historic and contemporary options for belief, positions issues, and how to relate to other religions.

If the core of Christian identity is love for God and neighbor, what are the implications for such areas of church life? The preacher might go a step further and use this passage as a starting point for reflecting on whether, today, these qualities are the essentials for being a Christian congregation or whether we might formulate them differently.

Pentecost - Gifts of the Spirit - 1 Corinthians 12:1-11

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Mary Hinkle Shore

What is God Up To?

Paul begins chapter 12 by saying, "Now concerning spiritual gifts, brothers and sisters, I do not want you to be uninformed" (1 Corinthians 12:1).

By all accounts, the Corinthians had a full measure of the Spirit's power. Prophecy, speaking in tongues, and the interpretation of tongues, knowledge: the Corinthians had them all and more. Yet they also had conflict, immorality, and thoughtless disregard for one another. How could they know something was a gift of the Spirit and not merely self-indulgence? Throughout this chapter and the next, Paul teaches on the topic of how to discern God's work in the activation of various gifts and how to value one's brothers and sisters in Christ across that variety.

What is God up to? My colleagues in the field of congregational mission and leadership regard this question as the central one for Christian public leaders: "What is God doing in this place?" What is God doing in the church, in the neighborhood, in the lives of people within the fold of the congregation and the lives of those beyond it?

Sometimes congregations have never asked questions about their reason for being in this way. Other times, people are used to God talk but not sure how to differentiate what God might be up to from what one or another group on the ground is fervently working for. Paul offers three criteria for making such judgments.

What is God up to? Through God's Spirit, God is first of all bearing witness to Jesus as Lord. "No one speaking by the Spirit of God ever says 'Let Jesus be cursed!' and no one can say 'Jesus is Lord' except by the Holy Spirit" (1 Corinthians 12:3). In Bad Religion: How We Became a Nation of Heretics, Ross Douthat is sharply critical of various Christian heresies popular in America today, from the prosperity gospel of people like Joel Osteen, to preoccupation with "the God within" from Oprah Winfrey and others, to Glenn Beck's understanding of God as chiefly concerned to spread democracy throughout the world by means of American military might and foreign policy. One of the things all of these voices have in common is silence about that which Paul told the Corinthians was all he decided to know among them: "Jesus Christ and him crucified" (1 Corinthians 2:2).

According to the apostle Paul, one way to know whether a movement is led by the Spirit of God is to listen for its claims about Jesus Christ. The Spirit makes Jesus known to us in the cross (cf. 1 Corinthians 1:18-31), the supper (cf. 1 Corinthians 11:23-34), and the resurrection (cf. 1 Corinthians 15). By the Spirit, the church testifies that Jesus -- not money, security, self esteem, paranoia, power, or anything else -- is Lord. 

Gifts from God's Spirit proclaim Jesus as Lord. They also serve the common good. Paul's second criterion for discerning the work of the Holy Spirit points to the Spirit's interest in the common life of those it draws together. Just as the Spirit is all about talking up Jesus as Lord, so the Spirit is all about building up the group rather than enriching individuals. "To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good" (1 Corinthians 12:7).

Individuals receive gifts from the Spirit, yet each gift is for the body as a whole. This implies that if a gift cannot be shared, and shared for the good of others, it is not from the Spirit. It also implies that any attempt to rank individuals according to their possession of "better" gifts would be at odds with each gift's common purpose for the good of all. 

The third clue Paul offers to us as we try to answer what God is up to in a particular place is a sort of negative criterion. Whatever God's Spirit is doing, it will probably not be characterized by tidiness. When you are looking for the Spirit's gifts, look for a bit of a mess. This means, among other things, that the fact that you did not think of something -- whether "you" are a long-time member, or a pastor, or the church council, or the apostle Paul -- is not enough to say it is a bad idea. True, Paul urges that Corinthians to do everything "decently and in order" (1 Corinthians 14:40), but this requirement does not preclude a varied collection of activities.

The Corinthians were the original enthusiasts, giving every evidence of having swallowed the Holy Spirit feathers and all. Many of them seem enthralled by the more dramatic external manifestations of the Holy Spirit's work (tongues, prophecy, healing, etc.). Sadly, at the same time, they ignored the quieter work of the Spirit to draw them into a community that respects all its members. They could not, for instance, share the Lord's Supper together equitably (cf. 1 Corinthians 11:23-34).

When Paul tries to redirect the Corinthians' attraction for spiritual gifts, it is not because he likes tradition more than innovation or because he is trying to erase difference. Paul directs the Corinthians to the "still more excellent way" of faith, hope, and love (cf. 1 Corinthians 12:31; 13:13) because that way will bring them back to valuing one another more than their own knowledge, wisdom, prophecy, miracles, tongues, and all the rest. The person sitting beside you in the pew or kneeling alongside you at the altar rail: that brother or sister in Christ matters more than all the spiritual gifts in the congregation. Paul's goal is not a tidy community life but a loving one.

How do we know the work of the Holy Spirit among us? The Spirit proclaims Jesus as Lord, offers its gifts to the church for the common good, and activates love for the neighbor. These criteria give us a place to start as we continue to look for what God is up to in our own churches and neighborhoods today.

Jesus rejected, sends the 12, John beheaded Mark 6:1-29

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Micah D. Kiel

Turning the Tables

The stories leading up to the beginning of chapter 6 have generally been taking place in Galilee, but in 6:1 Jesus specifically goes home.

Things do not go well. His teaching in the Synagogue produces amazement, but also questions as to the origin of Jesus' insight.  This is not the first time that an encounter with Jesus results in the question: "Who is this?"  There has been a nice reversal, however, from Jesus' first encounter at home in 3:19b-35. 

In his first episode while at home, no one questions Jesus' identity, only his sanity. Jesus, however, reconstitutes his family: "Who are my mother and my brothers? . . . Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother" (3:33-35 New Revised Standard Version). Almost as if to mock Jesus for his question in chapter 3, in chapter 6 Jesus' family questions his identity: "Is this not the carpenter, the son of Mary and the brother of James and Joseph and Judas and Simon?" (6:3 New Revised Standard Version).  

Mark turns the tables in another way as well. Previously, characters with faith sought out an encounter with Jesus, which resulted in a healing and widespread amazement. Here, at Jesus' home, things happen in reverse. The encounter with Jesus produces few miracles because of a lack of faith. More pointedly, it is Jesus, not the crowds, who marvels (a reversal also noted by Clifton Black, who says "now Jesus is the one flabbergasted"¹).

The stories in chapter 5 suggested that both societal and religious institutions do not control how the Kingdom of God works. In Mark 6:1-6, this dynamic extends even to the family. They question where Jesus is getting his wisdom and power, and their reaction is "offense" (New Revised Standard Version). Perhaps a better way to translate this would be to say that they were "scandalized by him." He presented a stumbling block. 

Finally, Some Success

If the pericope at the beginning of chapter 6 confirms Mark's pessimism regarding human volition, 6:7-13 reverses things. Other than their initial decision to follow Jesus in chapter 1, this may be the zenith for the disciples' success in the entire gospel. Jesus sends them out two by two, and they have some success: casting out many demons and curing some who were sick. This good feeling will not last long. The story about John the Baptists' death intervenes, but by the end of chapter 6, the disciples will be further ensconced in their lack of belief and hardened hearts. 

A Morbid Interlude

This brings us to the story about the death of John the Baptist, which is anomalous for several reasons. First, it is one of the longest episodes in the gospel where Jesus is not present on stage. The other instances of Jesus' absence are easily explained: plots to kill Jesus and the post-resurrection account of the empty tomb. From a narratological point of view, it also stands out because it is a flashback. The reader has heard nothing of John the Baptist since chapter 1, when Mark reports that Jesus' ministry begins after John was arrested. One wonders, then, with Jesus off-stage, and John already dead anyway, why Mark lingers on this story at this point in the narrative?

Suspense

Clifton Black uses Alfred Hitchcock to help explain the tension in the intercalated stories in 5:21-43.² Here, a different movie may be instructive in understanding the narrative technique Mark is using. The story about John's death interrupts the flow of the narrative, and at an important point. For two chapters, Mark pummeled his reader with the idea that human initiative is moot; the Kingdom of God does its own thing independent of, or, more pointedly, in spite of, humanity.

The story in Mark 6:7-13 disrupts this tendency, as the disciples have some success. The reader might very well then be forced with a question: are the disciples complete failures, or are they capable of some success? Just as this tension builds, the scene cuts to a flashback with some gruesome details. Nevertheless, the reader may still feel the initial tension about the disciples' ability.

It reminds me of the movie, "The Two Towers" from the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. The climactic scene of that movie is the battle for Helm's Deep, a rain-soaked orc barrage on the last stronghold for the people of Rohan. Peter Jackson, director of the movie, deftly cuts between the battle and the Entmoot, a meeting of the talking trees: slow, serene, the embodiment of inaction. Cutting away from the main plot to an important yet ancillary one creates even more tension, as the observer must wait for the real action to return. 

Typology

Mark does not revel in the story of John the Baptist's death only to create tension, however. There is a shape to John's life that Jesus himself will share. John is a gadfly to those in power. He has specifically criticized Herod's marriage to Herodias. The more pressing problem for Herod, however, is Jesus' fame (and presumably that of John the Baptist, too). When word gets to Herod of a rabble-rouser, John is immediately brought to mind. Running afoul of those in power in this way does not end well for John. He ends up laid in a tomb. So also will it end for Jesus. While this episode is, on its face, a flashback, it simultaneously anticipates the end, it is a "flash-forward."³

---

¹C. Clifton Black, Mark (Nashville: Anbingdon Press, 2011), 147.
²Black, Mark, 142.
³Black, Mark, 157.

Jesus heals Jairus' daughter & a woman Mark 5:21-43

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Micah D. Kiel

After healing the Gerasene Demoniac, Jesus crosses back across the sea immediately and a large crowd gathers around him.

The reader is presented in these verses with the best example of a Markan intercalation -- better known as a Markan "Sandwich" -- a narrative technique that places one story inside of another. The intercalation suggests that Mark wants these stories to be read in tandem, to comment mutually on each other, and be interpreted side by side. 

Jew and Gentile: No Distinction

Mark juxtaposes 5:1-20 with 21-43 in such a way as to make them broadly symbolic as Gentile and Jewish stories, respectively. In Mark 5:1-20 the demoniac, his neighbors, and those Jesus encounters in that episode are all symbolically on Gentile soil. The Demoniac is in the region of the Decapolis, among those who raise pigs (an unclean animal for the Jews), which clearly build a Gentile context. This Gentile territory finds its Jewish counterpart in Mark 5:21-43.

Jesus immediately encounters a leader of the synagogue. The number 12, obviously symbolic within a Jewish background, functions prominently in both parts of the intercalation. This territory, however, is no less fraught with the danger of uncleanliness.  By the end of the framing story about Jairus' daughter, Jesus will touch a dead body. In the middle of the intercalation, a woman with a flow of blood, who would have been continually unclean throughout the 12-year period of her ailment, touches Jesus. Like in the previous pericope in Gentile territory, Jesus paid no heed to these boundaries. The Kingdom of God's entrance into the world renders such societal and religious boundaries irrelevant.

At issue in this intercalation, and in Mark in general, is a question at the very heart of first-century Judaism: is the covenant between God and the chosen people meant only for one ethnic group, or is it open more broadly to all the Gentiles? Segments of Israel's scriptures testify to both positions.  Judaism in the first century was not univocal on the matter, nor was early Christianity (See Galatians 1-2). Mark clearly has cast his lot with the more inclusive of these interpretations.

In chapter 5, Jesus does not discriminate between Jew and Gentile; both are healed and transformed. The rules and structures of either society are irrelevant to him. He demolishes the demoniac's isolation. He honors the ritually unclean -- the bleeding and the dead -- with no heed for the consequences. Neither Jew nor Gentile has an inherent advantage.  In the words of St. Paul, "God shows no partiality" (Galatians 2:6 New Revised Standard Version). 

Mark himself has adapted and interpreted certain traditions from within Judaism and kneaded them into his narrative so as to challenge both Jew and Gentile. No one context is given privilege over another; in both pericope in chapter 5, the society -- whether Jewish or Gentile -- stands inimical to the way God's Kingdom works. The seed can take root and bear fruit in either context, but never by the rules that those contexts have erected.  Embedded within the sower's profligate indiscretion is a deeper penchant for unexpectedness and fecundity. 

When translating these core principles to today we might expect to react with fear and trembling, like the healed old woman or those who gaze upon the changed demoniac.  The challenge of Mark's gospel seems intended for those who sit in the pews, the insiders who think they have been given or have earned a special position. God, Mark tells us, does not dwell where we want. The curtain has been torn. God is no longer contained. 

Based on Mark 5 -- the exorcism of a demoniac, the healing of twelve years of bleeding, and the resurrection of the dead -- what God is going to do next, we have absolutely no hope of predicting. 

Faith in Mark's Gospel

Mark defines faith as fortitude or gutsiness. The woman in the middle part of the sandwich shows aggressive, bold action. She knows that any touch from Jesus, whether sanctioned or clandestine, will result in her being healed. Knowing this, she crawls forward and takes what she wants by touching his hem. Jesus wheels around and grumpily asks who touched him. The woman could have crept away, having already received what she came for, but she does not. Instead, although in fear, she presents herself before Jesus; she recounts the whole truth. Jesus' response is simply to say: "your faith has healed you." What her faith means in this context is something more than belief.  Faith entails bold action and fortitude. 

As the story returns to Jairus' daughter, some attendants arrive with an update: the girl is dead, so Jesus may as well head home. Jesus responds by saying: "do not fear; only have faith."  The introduction of fear seems strange. There is no indication that Jairus' family or the attendants were afraid of anything. This is, however, the typical Markan pairing. 

In Mark's gospel, fear and faith are paired opposites. The theme of fear is already fresh in the reader's mind, as it was prominent in the disciples' response to Jesus' calming of the storm (4:35-41) and in the response to the Gerasene Demoniac (5:1-20).   

Fear is a recurring them in Mark. Not only has it led up to Mark 5:21-43, but later in the narrative it continues to epitomize one reaction to the Kingdom of God breaking into the world. The disciples react with fear when Jesus walks on the water, and the episode ends with their hearts being hardened (6:45-52). Heading up to Jerusalem produces fear in those who follow (10:32-34). The Jewish leadership fears Jesus because he has curried favor and fame with crowds (11:18). 

Most notably, the entire gospel ends with fear. The women, who approached the tomb and found it empty, after being told that Jesus had been resurrected, leave in silence and fear.  The last verb of the entire gospel narrates fear.  Whether it is the disciples afraid of Jesus, the leaders fearing the crowds, or the crowds fearing Jesus, fear is a central dynamic in Marks' story of Jesus.

Mark's use of fear suggests that humans and their institutions are an obstacle and impediment to the in-breaking of God's kingdom. When properly understood, the Kingdom of God will leave one stupefied. With the import Mark gives to fear and the way he imparts it to certain characters, Mark wrests control of  the Kingdom of God from humans.

Gerasene Demoniac Mark 5:1-20

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Micah D. Kiel

As Jesus disembarks on the other side of the sea, the disciples fade from the story.

A ghastly figure takes center stage. He's possessed, he howls, he dashes himself with stones. His strength is such that no human figure can bind or control him. From his first encounter with Jesus, there is no question who is in control. Jesus is the strong one with the upper hand; the demoniac cowers and asks that he be left alone.

When it becomes apparent that Jesus will expel the demons (their name is Legion, for there are many of them), they ask instead to be sent into a nearby herd of swine. Jesus permits this, and the herd of pigs rushes headlong into the lake and drowns. 

A few years ago, I was teaching about this story in a small, rural Roman Catholic parish somewhere in the middle of Iowa. A man in overalls (all the men were wearing overalls) in the back row raised his hand and commented: "Everyone in this town is a hog farmer, and I don't know if you know this, but pigs can swim." Not being intimately familiar with swine, this came as new information to me.

This launched a discussion about the ways in which the story in Mark 5:1-20 is not plausible. From the point of view of people who are intimately familiar with pigs, aspects of the story and reactions of the characters seem illogical. These Iowan farmers noted that 2,000 dead pigs in the lake would have been disastrous, because it would have polluted the local water source. The Iowans were even more vehemently incensed at the reaction of the locals in the story. After a report spread quickly about what had happened, a crowd gathered around Jesus and the changed man. When the people saw the demoniac sitting, clothed, and in his right mind, they were terrified. The Iowan hog farmers rightly focused on this reaction. "They should be mad because their pigs are dead, not afraid because of a demon that disappeared," one woman, who proudly identified herself as the wife of a hog farmer, commented. 

These farmers in the middle of Iowa quickly identified the scandal of this passage. The Kingdom of God refuses to play by society's rules. The demoniac had been dealt with.  True, the people clearly would have preferred to bind him, but they nevertheless had found a way to marginalize him. He was among the tombs, sequestered, out of sight, out of mind. A howl might have drifted occasionally into town, but its distance only confirmed the demoniac's ostracism. The hog farmers in Iowa intuitively came to the observation of Rene Girard, who said of the people in this story: "Clearly, the drowning of their pigs concerns them less than the drowning of their demons."¹

The point for Mark, obviously, is not to have told a story that represents accurately a community and its pigs. In his story about the Kingdom of God, it becomes increasingly clear that humanity -- its society and institutions -- impedes the in-breaking of God's kingdom more than it expedites. The way the Kingdom of God breaks into the world in Mark's story wrests control from humanity. Their way of "dealing" with the demoniac -- ostracism and segregation -- is not tenable in God's Kingdom.

God's kingdom in Mark's gospel comes with power, power to do things that humans can not do on their own. It transforms and forces humans to perceive the truth that God's kingdom best takes root in the marginalized, the outcasts, those seemingly most insignificant. This runs counter to human institutions -- even most ecclesiastical ones -- in which power, wealth, fame, and influence are given pride of place.     

The story of the changed demoniac answers a question that lingered at the end of chapter 4: who is the good soil? The seed clearly has taken root in the demoniac, the least significant and least likely place imaginable (like a mustard seed). His change comes about through no human initiative whatsoever (like an untended planting). In the demoniac, the reader finally meets an example of the good soil.

The seed takes root in the absolute last place anyone would look or expect. And, this is not a temporary blooming, later to wither away. The man earnestly asks Jesus if he might be with him. The phrase with which he asks directly echoes the call of the disciples in chapter one. But, unlike the disciples, who need coddling, correction, and attention from Jesus, the former demoniac needs no help whatsoever. Instead, Jesus sends him immediately on a preaching mission, which is wildly successful. Everyone was amazed. 

One of the themes that this narrative lectionary series hoped to explore is how God works through flawed people and institutions. This is an interesting and important sentiment, but I'm not sure it fits what Mark is doing in chapters 4-5. The Kingdom of God breaks into the world, not so much through flawed institutions and individuals, but in spite of them.  Individuals and society's structures set impediments to the Kingdom, which it ignores. 

At the same time, the Kingdom values those who are flawed, not as a way of making the best of what we've got, or making lemonade out of lemons, but because that seems to be the essence of its disposition. The Kingdom of God is oriented toward those whom society deems flawed and keeps at arms length. When the thing we fear most is transformed and brought directly into our midst, our natural inclination is fear and a reliance upon violence to rid ourselves of the change that we can not explain.  

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¹Rene Girard, The Scapegoat (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1986), 174.

Parable about sowing and growing seeds Mark 4:1-34

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Micah D. Kiel

In Mark chapter 4, the evangelist spins a series of parables and narratives about seeds, planting, harvesting, and seafaring.

These are indicative of an agrarian, rural background, the intimate details of which increasingly few people in modern societies have any intimate familiarity. A close look at these stories will quickly reveal that they are not just quaint quotidian creations. Mark here begins to expose the troubling confrontation between humanity and the Kingdom of God.

Mark's Gospel is about the Kingdom of God, and in chapter 4 Mark specifically begins to expose what exactly this kingdom is like. The string of parables in chapter 4 ask, and then begin to answer, one specific question: in whom does the kingdom best take root. Mark brilliantly weaves his narrative in such a way that this question is not fully answered until one reaches the end of chapter five.

The parable of the sower (4:1-9) is often interpreted in a way not tenable in the ancient world. Our modern world of combines, fertilizers, massive irrigation, and land-leveling equipment can make almost any soil farmable.  In the ancient agrarian context, such was not the case. The shocking dynamic of the parable is that soil has no choice in what type of soil it is. The sower is indiscriminate, wasteful, or perhaps optimistic; soil types are entrenched in their own ways.

This inevitably leads to questions about free will: do we have any? Mark is not concerned with this question. Instead, his apocalyptic worldview leads him to understand the advent of the Kingdom of God as like a light switch being turned on, at which point things are revealed for what they truly are. 

While the initial encounter with the parable may be troubling in its idea that soil cannot change, the next brief episode (4:10-11) might start to provide comfort: at least the disciples are cuddled up to Jesus and on the inside so they can understand what is going on. For those outside, however, the word is even more troubling: Jesus speaks in parables so that those who are outside might not understand and be forgiven. Mark's appropriation of Isaiah 6 does not comport well in its context, but it does confirm what the parable itself initially indicated: soil is soil, and has no ability to change what it is.

Arriving at 4:12, however, the shock increases: Jesus chastises the disciples: "Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand all the parables?" At this point, the reader should be even more confused. The insider/outsider schema was palatable as long as we can sit in the comfort of knowing who is inside and who is not. This last buttress of the reader's epistemological edifice Mark demolishes with the disciples' lack of understanding.  If they are not the insiders, then who is? 

Following in verses 21-32 are a series of strange little parables that continue the exposition of the Kingdom of God. Mark 4:26-29, for example, highlights an aspect of the Kingdom of God that fits with the parable of the sower and its aftermath in the narrative just explored. The Kingdom of God is like someone who scatters seed and goes to bed, then wakes up shocked at the growth that has occurred without human cultivation.  According to this parable, the Kingdom of God surprises. It does its own thing.

A quotation from the movie No Country for Old Men summarizes this nicely: "It ain't all waiting on you. . .that's vanity." In other words, Mark presents the Kingdom of God as one that relies little, if at all, on human action. It "does not operate in accordance with received opinion . . . at every point it upsets conventional wisdom, turns and defies it again."¹ A second parable about a mustard seed is similar. The kingdom of God, it claims, is so small and insignificant that it might be missed or overlooked. Once full grown, however, its true significance becomes known.

The parable of the sower plants a question: who is the good soil? The disciples, it seems are not. The subsequent parables further erode human volition and efficacy in instigating the kingdom of God. This question lingers in the mind when one reaches the final episode of the chapter, a miracle narrative in which Jesus calms a violent storm. Jesus prompts a trip to the other side, and then quickly decides to take a nap. A windstorm arises; the disciples are terrified. Rousing Jesus results in his calming of the storm. Jesus then berates them for a lack of faith. 

Most translations obfuscate the disciples' response to this entire episode in verse 41. The Greek most literally says, "And they feared a great fear." The NRSV translates this as, "And they were filled with great awe." Awe does not cut it in this context. Fear is intended, and without it, the reader misses the point. Mark here dashes any hope that the disciples might be on special epistemological footing. The initial hunch is confirmed: the disciples, those on the supposed inside, are hopelessly ignorant. 

If following Mark's threads throughout this chapter leaves one uneasy and frustrated, then we are in the exact place Mark would intend. Clifton Black, in his recent commentary, summarizes the effect of this chapter insightfully: "The astringency of Mark's epistemology, his view of the conditions under which understanding is possible, is at once a balm to the vulnerable, frail as seeds, and an indictment of those who presume some inside track onto the workings of the Almighty."²

Mark 4 can challenge modern readers in a variety of ways. Mark struggles, as did many segments of early Judaism and early Christianity, to understand Isaiah 6. How, precisely, are we to understand God's message to Isaiah to speak in such a way that the people will not turn and be healed? Mark appropriates this text by pairing it with the parables in such a way as to apply it to those who think they've got things figured out. It turns the tables on those who think they are insiders, who think they are the ones ushering in God's kingdom. The "good" news for them is that this is not their kingdom, it's God's. Those of us entrenched in mainline denominations ought not to try to remove the shock that Mark intends here. Are our ears attuned to the ways in which the Kingdom is moving?

Mark will eventually answer the question about who is the good soil. The answer comes in a way unexpected (like a fecund seed) and from a place easily overlooked (like a mustard seed). Mark will provide a narrative answer to the questions raised by the parables, and the answer is one that leaves its onlookers in fear. 

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¹C. Clifton Black, Mark (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2011), 130
²Black, Mark, 131.

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John the Baptist and beginning of Jesus' ministry Mark 1:1-20

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Elisabeth Johnson

Mark relates no stories of Jesus' birth or childhood, but launches right into Jesus' adult life and the beginning of his public ministry.

He introduces his story succinctly: "The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God" (1:1). From the beginning, readers are told what characters in the story will struggle and often fail to understand -- that Jesus is Christos (Greek translation of the Hebrew word Messiah), God's anointed one, the long-expected deliverer of God's people.

This story is good news for all who are awaiting God's deliverance. Yet the way in which this Messiah delivers God's people will shatter all expectations. He does not come as a warrior to overthrow the Roman occupiers. He does not appear in Jerusalem among the religious and political rulers, but in the Judean wilderness among sinners coming to be washed in the Jordan. This tension between what is expected of the Messiah and who Jesus is will only intensify as the story progresses.¹

The Messenger

Before Jesus appears on the scene, we are introduced to John the baptizer, by way of the prophets. Mark's scriptural citation conflates material from Malachi 3:1 and Isaiah 40:3. In Malachi 3, the Lord promises to send his messenger to prepare the way before the Lord, who will suddenly appear to purify God's people. Isaiah 40:3, an oracle of salvation for God's people in exile, speaks of a voice crying out to prepare the way of the Lord in the wilderness.

The description of John's clothing (1:6) recalls that of the prophet Elijah (2 Kings 1:8), who was expected to return at the end of the age. Early Jewish interpreters understood the "messenger" of Malachi 3:1 to be Elijah, whose return is promised in Malachi 4:5-6, "before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes."

John the baptizer appears "in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins" (1:4). With characteristic hyperbole, Mark says that people "from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem" come to be baptized (1:5).

Ritual washing was important in Jewish practice, particularly for priests serving in the temple, but also for lay people and proselytes to Judaism. John's baptism is distinctive in that it is performed in the wilderness, far from the temple. Its focus is not on ritual purity, but on repentance and forgiveness in preparation for the more powerful one who is coming, the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit (1:8).

John the baptizer fulfills the words of the prophets, sounding both judgment and promise, calling God's people to repentance in preparation for the coming of the Lord, and promising forgiveness, a new return from exile.

Heavens Torn Open

John has spoken of the more powerful one who is coming, and as if on cue, Jesus appears and is baptized by John in the Jordan. As he is coming up out of the water, Jesus sees the heavens "torn apart" (schizώ) and the Spirit descending like a dove on him (1:10). The verb schizώ is also used to speak of the rending of the temple veil at the moment of Jesus' death. When Jesus breathed his last, Mark says, "the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom" (15:38).

The design of the temple was intended to symbolize the design of the cosmos, with the heavens as the great cosmic curtain protecting creation from God's presence. So the temple curtain before the Holy of Holies was meant to provide protection from God's awesome presence. Only the high priest could pass beyond this curtain, and only on the Day of Atonement. As Don Juel has suggested, the rending of the heavens and of the temple curtain indicates that our protection is gone. The barriers have been torn down, and God is "on the loose" in the world.²

A voice comes from heaven declaring, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased" (1:11). This declaration echoes Psalm 2:7, a royal psalm in which God speaks to God's "anointed" as "Son." The voice thus confirms Mark's introduction of Jesus as Christ and Son of God (1:1). The phrase "in you I am well pleased" echoes Isaiah 42:1, spoken by God to the servant on whom God has poured out the Spirit.

There is a sense in which Jesus is "possessed" by the Spirit in Mark. Immediately after his baptism, the Spirit drives or "throws" (ekballώ) Jesus out into the wilderness, where he stays for forty days with the wild beasts, tempted by Satan, but also waited on by angels. Mark does not narrate any details of Jesus' testing, as Matthew and Luke do, but his wilderness sojourn is reminiscent of both Moses (Exodus 34:28) and Elijah (1 Kings 19:8), as well as Israel's forty years of testing in the wilderness.

The Time is Fulfilled

Jesus returns to Galilee and begins his public ministry after John has been arrested (1:14), an ominous note that hints at what lies ahead for Jesus. Mark summarizes Jesus' proclamation of "the good news of God" with the words, "The time (kairos) is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near" (1:15). Like John, Jesus speaks in eschatological language. The fullness of time has arrived, the decisive moment chosen by God for the in-breaking of God's reign on earth. This proclamation is followed by the urgent imperative to "repent, and believe in the good news" (1:15).

Mark follows this summary of Jesus' preaching with the story of Jesus calling his first disciples, two sets of fishermen brothers. Jesus says to Peter and Andrew, "Follow me and I will make you fish for people" (1:17). Immediately (euthus) they leave their nets and follow him (1:18). Similarly, Jesus calls James and John, and immediately they leave their boats and nets, and their father Zebedee too (1:19-20). Mark does not explain their willingness to drop everything and follow Jesus. Jesus seeks them out and claims them for his mission, and apparently that is enough. They demonstrate the appropriate response to the reign of God coming near in Jesus.

God on the Loose

A sense of urgency pervades these opening episodes in Mark. The critical time has arrived; God's reign is breaking in, and there is no time to dawdle. This announcement of God's in-breaking reign may come as threatening news to us. It is much more comfortable to think of God safely beyond the heavens, benignly looking down on us. If God is "on the loose" in Jesus, alive and active in our world, then we are not in control. There is no telling what God might do, or what God might ask of us. Might we too be called to drop everything and follow Jesus on a risky mission?

There is no escaping the call. Yet this is good news. Through Jesus, God is on a mission to reclaim the world as God's own, beginning with each of us. Through our baptism into Christ, we too are declared God's beloved children, "possessed" by the Holy Spirit, and enlisted for God's mission. God's gracious claim on our lives defines us and gives us purpose.

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¹Don Juel, Mark (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1990), 36.
²Ibid, 34.

CHRISTMAS EVE

Luke 2:1-20

Narrative Lectionary 016: Christmas Eve

Posted 12.18.11

Join Profs. Rolf Jacobson, Kathryn Schifferdecker, and Craig Koester for "I Love to Tell the Story," a weekly conversation on the narrative lectionary. This week's reading is Christmas Eve: Luke 2:1-20.

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Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Elisabeth Johnson

Luke's infancy narrative sets the humble birth of Jesus against the backdrop of a mighty empire and powerful rulers.

While Caesar Augustus orchestrates an empire-wide census, the seemingly insignificant birth of a baby to peasant parents unfolds in the rural Palestinian village of Bethlehem.

The "Roman Peace"

Caesar Augustus -- whose name means revered or exalted one -- ended a long period of war in the Roman Empire and was hailed as a prince of peace, the savior of the world. With his reign began the Pax Romana, or "Roman Peace." Under his rule, the economy was booming and Rome was rebuilt more glorious than before -- with temples, arenas, public baths, and forums. A system of roads was built across the empire. Images of the Emperor and the Roman gods filled Rome and all major cities of the empire, proclaiming "Caesar is Lord" and extolling his rule of peace and prosperity.

Beneath the emperor's polished public image, however, was a much darker reality. Augustus brutally murdered any perceived enemies. He achieved peace in the empire by suppressing human rights and liberties. Receiving the benefits of the Roman peace meant submitting to totalitarian rule. And of course, peace achieved by coercion and oppression is no true peace at all.

"In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered" (2:1).

The purpose of this census was so that taxes could be collected from all the conquered peoples of the empire. And so a very pregnant Mary and her fiancé Joseph made the arduous 90-mile trek from Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem, the city of David, so that Joseph could be registered in his ancestral home town. Utterly insignificant among the countless subjects of the Roman Empire, Mary and Joseph were poor, weary travelers who could find no suitable place to lodge. Far from home and the family who might assist and comfort her, Mary gave birth to her first-born and laid him in a manger.

On the surface of this story, it appears that Emperor Augustus is in absolute control, ordering the movements of people in far-flung corners of his empire. Yet there are clues that another hand is at work in and through these events. Centuries earlier, Samuel had journeyed to Bethlehem and anointed the shepherd boy David to be king of Israel, even while Saul remained in power. Now in this city of David, a child is born to inherit "the throne of his ancestor David" (Luke 1:32), even while Herod, Quirinius, and Augustus ostensibly remain in power.

Peace on Earth

In the humblest and most unlikely of circumstances, a child is born who will be the true shepherd-king, the true Prince of Peace and Savior, who will usher in God's reign on earth as it is in heaven. The peace he brings will come not from military might, but from justice and mercy. He will rule not with coercive force, but with the power of self-giving love.

It is strangely appropriate that news of this royal birth comes first to some shepherds -- among the lowliest of the emperor's subjects. We tend to romanticize those "shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night," but in the first century, shepherds were not considered desirable company. They were poor, illiterate, and thought to be dishonorable because they could not be home at night to protect their women. They were also considered thieves because they grazed their flocks on other people's property. They were outcasts of polite society, usually ranked together with sailors, butchers, camel drivers, and other despised occupations.¹

Yet it is to these unlikely folk that the angel announces: "Do not be afraid, for see -- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people. To you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord" (2:10-11). The news of Jesus' birth is for all the people -- not just the powerful and elite, but all the people, especially the lowly and outcast. The shepherds go to Bethlehem to find this baby, and become the first to share the good news of the Savior's birth.

In Luke 1, Mary sang of God bringing down the powerful from their thrones and lifting up the lowly (1:52). In the Messiah's humble birth and the shepherds receiving and sharing the good news, we see the lowly being lifted up. It will be some time before Caesar is brought down from his throne, but that day will come, as it will for all the emperors after him. Meanwhile Mary's child will "reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end" (1:33).

Good News of Great Joy

We live in a world still dominated by little caesars, a world still enamored with wealth, power, and military might, a world where the lowly still get trampled far too often. Yet recently we have seen some of those little caesars fall. We have been reminded that, one way or another, the rule of every tyrant eventually comes to an end.

Lest we become smug, we are reminded that our personal empires too will pass away -- all the things we hold onto so tightly, all the ways in which we seek power over others, all our relentless planning and maneuvering that never brings true peace or security. We can no longer delude ourselves into thinking that we are lords over our own lives, for God's anointed one, the Savior and Lord, has arrived among us.

This Savior is born for us, even these many centuries later, and his birth is good news for all people. He comes to bring peace on earth by reconciling us to God and to one another with the power of love that casts out fear. His reign continues to break into our world wherever the lowly are lifted up -- wherever the outcast are welcomed, wherever the hungry are fed, wherever the poor are clothed and sheltered, wherever the captives are set free, wherever enemies are reconciled, wherever the good news is proclaimed, sins are forgiven, and lives are transformed.

As we celebrate the Messiah's birth, we look forward to the day when his reign of justice, mercy, and peace will come in all its fullness.

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¹Bruce Malina, Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels (Minneapolis, Fortress, 2002) 232.