The Theological Intentions of Mark’s Literary Devices: Markan Intercalations, Frames, Allusionary Repetitions, Narrative Surprises, and Three Types of Mirroring

By Dean B. Deppe

What sets The Theological Intentions of Mark's Literary Devices apart from other books? What niche does it fill that makes its publication important?

This volume will interest all those who value a literary approach to the Gospel of Mark. Dean Deppe introduces some new literary devices in the research of the Gospel of Mark as well as demonstrates the theological intentions of Mark when he employs these literary devices. Deppe argues that Mark employs the literary devices of intercalation, framework, allusionary repetitions, narrative surprises, and three types of mirroring to indicate where he speaks symbolically and metaphorically at two levels. Mark employs these literary devices not just for dramatic tension and irony, but also for theological reasons to apply the Jesus tradition to specific problems in his own day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wipf and Stock
• Release date: Oct 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781498209892

Dean B. Deppe

Dean B. Deppe is Professor of New Testament Theology at Calvin Theological Seminary concentrating on the teaching of the gospels and Greek. He is the author of The Sayings of Jesus in the Epistle of James (1989) and All Roads Lead to the Text: Eight Methods of Inquiry into the Bible (2011). You can find his Lexham Greek Clausal Outlines of the New Testament on Logos Bible Software.

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1

The Two Levels of Interpretation in Mark’s Gospel

1.1 Mark and the Jesus Tradition: Surprises in Reading the Gospel of Mark

Luke Johnson begins his discussion of the Gospel of Mark asserting, the shortest of the gospels is also the strangest and the most difficult to grasp. ¹ Although Johnson does not expound on this statement, he surely implies that readers’ expectations are overturned. Surprising twists occur in the narrative. Mark purposely intrudes unforeseen elements which clash with traditional expectations, creating theological innovations which the reader must reflect upon and evaluate. The following unexpected turns illustrate the complexity and depth of Mark’s gospel.

Surprises confront the reader at the beginning of Mark’s gospel. Mark labels Jesus as the promised Messiah in the very first verse, but no angelic announcements, heavenly dreams and visions, or astonishing prophetic fulfillments proclaim a special birth. Instead a secondary person appears front and center, John the Baptizer. In fact Jesus, the main character, needs to be baptized by John, an action which Matthew later tempers to prevent any misunderstanding of their respective roles (3:14–15) and which the fourth evangelist subtly transforms so that Jesus’ water baptism is omitted completely from the narrative (1:29–34). The Jewish nation expected a conquering Christ who would live forever. But by combining a messianic psalm (Ps 2:7) with an allusion to the Suffering Servant (Isa 42:1), the voice from heaven in Mark 1:11 introduces a novel theology of the Messiah. Through repetition of vocabulary (σχίζω in 1:10; 15:38) Mark connects the heavenly call of the Messiah with his Passion and crucifixion instead of emphasizing the political, economic, and miraculous powers of the expected Messiah.

Readers of the gospel certainly expect a story highlighting the growing popularity of Jesus, at least until he enters Jerusalem and encounters direct opposition from the temple establishment. Instead, spiritual opposition and human conflict dominate the narrative from the outset. Immediately following his baptism, the Holy Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness (1:12–13) to confront the devil, and in Jesus’ very first sermon in the synagogue (1:21–28) demons interrupt his preaching. Then Mark places five controversy dialogues to inaugurate Jesus’ Galilean ministry (2:1—3:6) so that at the very outset of Jesus’ ministry two social opposites, the Pharisees and Herodians, combine forces to plot Jesus’ assassination (3:6). Already in 2:20 Jesus predicts that the messianic bridegroom will be taken away. As Martin Kähler famously quipped, Mark’s gospel becomes a passion narrative with an extended introduction.²

Not only is the beginning of Mark surprising, but also the ending of the gospel is notoriously enigmatic (16:8). Although a young man dressed as a heavenly figure announces that Jesus is alive, no resurrection appearances follow. The message of Jesus’ resurrection is not presented evangelistically toward unbelievers in an effort to evoke belief, nor does a missionary commission send the disciples to successfully convert the nations. Instead the failures of the faithful are orated so that, overcome by fear, the woman flee from the tomb conspicuously silent. Instead of concluding on a high point of triumphant joy, the ending of Mark instills uncertainty and self-reflective pondering in the minds of the readers. The lack of resolution with regard to the themes of the Messianic Secret and the disciples’ unbelief and hardness of heart creates a bewilderment that must have generated a crisis in the readership.³ Would a book entitled a gospel (good news) end with human failure, incomprehension, disobedience, and fear? Mark’s ending is a surprise grammatically, literarily, thematically, theologically, and stylistically.

In retelling the story of Jesus, one would expect talk about crucifixion to occur near the end of the narrative and to be solely connected with the person of Jesus. Mark, however, introduces the cross at the middle of his gospel and speaks of a cross that the disciples must encounter. The discipleship catechism at the center of Mark’s gospel (8:27—10:45) is structured by the threefold Passion prediction of Jesus’ suffering in 8:31; 9:31; and 10:33 but culminates in a threefold teaching on discipleship which centers upon the disciples’ experience of carrying the cross (8:34), enduring death as salted sacrifices (9:49), and drinking the cup of suffering (10:39). This prominence of the cross early in the narrative creates a double twisting surprise later when Jesus’ closest followers fail to follow Jesus to the cross and play absolutely no role in the crucifixion story. This early introduction of instruction about the cross along with the failure to pay attention to this teaching late in the narrative creates a mysterious questioning in the minds of readers regarding the implications of this theme for their Christian discipleship.

Traditionally, miracle stories provide superlative proof for the distinctive role and differentiating character of the healer whose fame spreads far and wide through these wondrous works. But the Gospel of Mark famously accentuates the Messianic Secret, where Jesus commands utter silence after his most astounding miracles (1:34, 44; 5:43; 7:36; 8:26), his absolute dominion over demonic powers (1:24–25, 34; 3:11–12), and his instruction to the disciples about his true identity (8:29–30; 9:9). Instead of these wonders producing awe and transformational belief in the closest witnesses, the disciples remain faithless and hard-hearted after Jesus calms the storm-tossed sea (4:40) and walks upon the waves (6:52b) like God himself (Job 9:8). His followers fail to comprehend the miracle of the multiplication of bread (6:52a), even when it occurs a second time (8:4, 16), so that at the conclusion of the miracle catenae the disciples are extensively rebuked for their lack of faith, understanding, and hardness of heart (8:17–21). Instead of the normal elements of wonder and acclaim climaxing a miracle story, on several occasions Mark replaces positive awe with negative fear. Shockingly, in the same contexts where fear must be understand positively as wonder (4:41; 6:51; 16:5), as in the tradition,⁴ this term also takes on a negative connotation (4:40; 6:52; 16:8). Surprisingly, Mark connects fear with lack of faith (4:40–41), insufficient discipleship (9:6; 16:8), and the inability to discern a true understanding of Jesus’ identity (6:50–52; 9:32; 10:32).

The traditional picture and purpose of parables as well as miracles is overturned. Normally parables provide simple pictures to make clear, practical, and understandable the more abstract and ethereal religious teachings of the kingdom of God. But for Mark the parables conceal rather than reveal. The purpose of parables according to 4:12 is that the listeners may be ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding. Parables apparently hide the identity of Jesus from the crowd rather than provide the secret to understanding his distinctiveness. What are we as readers to make of this phenomenon?

Readers would certainly expect a book entitled good news (1:1) to applaud Jesus with titles that acclaim his exalted nature. Jesus would be identified as the long-expected royal Messiah, a king more renowned than Caesar, and an exalted Son of Man lifted up to God’s throne in heaven as Daniel 7:13–14 describes. Instead, at the turning point in the narrative when Peter identifies his master as the Messiah, Jesus immediately changes the title to suffering Son of Man (8:29–31). Instead of ascribing Jesus as king, as both Matthew (2:2; 21:5) and Luke (19:38) proclaim, Mark identifies Herod as the king (6:14, 22, 25–27) so that Jesus is only designated by the term βασιλεύς in his Passion, where the language is consistently mockery rather than respect (king of the Jews in 15:2, 9, 12, 18, 26 and king of Israel in 15:32). Speaking about Jesus’ royal triumphal entry, Ben Witherington poetically explains,

Mark’s account is laden with irony, for the crowd associated the triumphal entry with the promise of coming salvation, whereas, in Mark’s view, Hosanna is what happens when the end of the week comes and there are no cries but Jesus’ cry of dereliction. Salvation came in a manner no one expected, not during the ecstasy but during the agony, not when everyone was on Jesus’ side but when he had been totally abandoned by humankind.⁵

Finally, the repeated chorus of the suffering Son of Man dominates Mark’s score (8:31; 9:12, 31; 10:33–34, 45; 14:21, 41) so that he only plays the note of an exalted Son of Man at the end of his composition (13:26; 14:62).⁶ Thus Mark alters the traditional coloring of the expected gospel picture of the Savior through all three titles of Messiah, king, and Son of Man.

1.2 Possible Explanations for Mark’s Descriptions of the Disciples

If I were composing a gospel, I would certainly exhibit the initial followers of Jesus as powerful models for the world to behold and emulate. Rather than revealing their continuing weaknesses and bumbling mistakes, I would treat them as gifted people and impeccable examples of growing commitment to Christ. But in Mark’s gospel the further the narrative progresses, the more negative the disciples appear. In 4:11 Jesus informs his disciples that the mystery of the kingdom is given to you, but they prove incapable of understanding this mystery during Jesus’ ministry (6:52; 7:18; 8:17; 9:32). Their hollow-headedness with regard to the parables is paralleled by their hard-heartedness with regard to Jesus’ miracles (6:52; 8:17). Furthermore, when Jesus predicts his Passion (8:31; 9:31; 10:33) they respond with a triad of misunderstandings (8:32–33; 9:33–34; 10:35–39). Finally, their physical actions replicate their head and heart misunderstandings when they desert Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane and run for their lives (14:50–52) instead of offering Jesus companionship in his time of need. Certainly Peter attempts to retrace his steps toward Jesus, but in the process commits graver errors, denying Jesus on three subsequent occasions (14:66–72) and even calling down curses on his master (14:71). The absence of the Twelve at the cross reveals their abandonment of the faith commitment that Mark is advocating. Not surprisingly, this portrait of the disciples is altered by Matthew and Luke because of its one-sidedness in portraying the followers of Jesus. But Mark pursues his agenda with single-minded consistency.

The tradition depicted the disciples, Jesus’ family, and the women as the constituting community, the 120 people who provide the foundation for the church (Acts 1:14). As tried and true followers of Jesus, they gallantly endure persecution as heroes of the faith (Acts 2–5). But in Mark’s gospel these three groups end up as failures even though they are introduced positively (1:16–20; 15:40–41). As we have seen, the disciples are transposed from powerful charismatic leaders to mistake-ridden misunderstanding neophytes. In addition, Jesus’ mother and family suppose that Jesus is out of his mind (3:21) so that they stand outside Jesus’ circle (3:31) and treat him without honor (6:4). Mark teams Jesus’ family together with the archenemy teachers of the law (3:22–30), whose accusation against Jesus that he is possessed by an evil spirit sounds conspicuously similar to the remark by Jesus’ family. Finally, the women become the characters in the narrative who provide the final picture of discipleship. Instead of icons of stalwart faithfulness, the women conclude the narrative as exhibits of fear, flight, and a failure to proclaim the gospel (16:8). Discipleship failure appears to triumph among those closest to Jesus.

These transformations of the tradition have been explained by a number of hypotheses. Through a harmonization of the Gospels, some scholars contend that Mark is not negative but employs these techniques to emphasize the supremacy of Jesus. The fear of the disciples is interpreted positively as awe throughout the gospel, so that the ending in 16:8 is portrayed triumphantly.⁷ Craig Evans explains, Mark’s Gospel ends with a dramatic finish, emphasizing once again the awesome power of Jesus, who not only astounded people during his ministry but also astounded people in his death and in his resurrection.⁸ In this scenario, each failure of the disciples magnifies the success of Jesus. Robert Gundry, in particular, promotes this approach. In the introduction to his commentary he offers a series of examples:

1. [T]he disciples’ failure to understand yet another passion prediction makes Jesus’ fore-sight stand out all the more.

2. [T]heir fear to ask him what he means implies the awesomeness of a divine being who knows his own fate (9:30–32).

3. Since Jesus stays awake in Gethsemane while his disciples fall asleep, his flesh is strong just as his voice will be strong at the very moment of his death.

4. That all his disciples forsake him increases the unlikelihood that Jesus’ predictions will be unfulfilled and thus magnifying the impressiveness of Jesus predictive foresight.

5. Jesus is Christ, Son of God—a figure of great dignity; so someone else takes up his cross (15:21).

6. The women flee away trembling, astonished, and awestruck beyond words because of the power of Jesus’ resurrection (16:7–8).⁹

Therefore, the disciples’ failures to understand and follow Jesus do not illustrate an unexpected alteration of the tradition but call attention to the supremacy of Jesus, who predicted these actions. Most of the authors of this persuasion assume a lost ending to Mark in which all the discipleship failures are resolved.¹⁰

This view does not naturally arise out of the text. As Juel exclaims, To hear in Mark’s elusive ending the strains of Handel’s ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ would require drowning out the music being performed.¹¹ Since the women’s response immediately follows the young man’s command to go and tell, their silence reads more naturally as an act of fearful disobedience than an attempt at hurried obedience.¹² Mark consistently constructs the final picture of Jesus’ family, the disciples, and the women in negative terms. The last time we encounter Jesus’ mother and brothers they stand outside (3:31–32) the circle of disciples who perform God’s will (3:34–35). In the climax of the gospel Jesus’ disciples are not present at the cross but instead all desert him and flee (14:50, 52 ἔφυγον; ἔφυγεν), which importantly becomes the identical description of the women at the end of the gospel (16:8 ἔφυγον). In fact, the overarching structure of Mark concludes each section with discipleship failure, as I explain at the end of Appendix 4. Instead of employing discipleship failure as a foil for an exalted Christology, Mark parallels Christology and discipleship so that the Passion of Christ enjoins a similar cross-bearing by the disciples.

Since Mark’s final picture of these three important groups in the early church (see Acts 1:13–14) is consistently negative, some scholars posit a negative apologetic purpose to explain these Markan innovations. Telford explains, Polemical theories have the advantage of offering more convincing explanations for the harsh treatment of Jesus’ opponents, family, and disciples as well as for the secrecy motif and its Christological motivation.¹³ In particular, Theodore Weeden famously concludes that

Mark is assiduously involved in a vendetta against the disciples. He is intent on totally discrediting them. He paints them as obtuse, obdurate, recalcitrant men who at first are unperceptive of Jesus’ messiahship, then oppose its style and character, and finally totally reject it. As the coup de grace, Mark closes his Gospel without rehabilitating the disciples.¹⁴

How are we to evaluate this proposal?

This apologetic approach embraces various variant interpretations. To explain this vendetta, Weeden proposes that "Jesus serves as a surrogate for Mark, and the disciples serve as surrogates for Mark’s opponents . . . Jesus preaches and acts the Markan suffering-servant theology. The disciples promulgate and act out theios-aner theology."¹⁵ According to this view, Mark is promulgating an anti-miracle Messiah. Mark employs the miracle stories to refute exaggerations of wonder-working enthusiasts, false disciples of Jesus who preach Jesus as a theios aner (divine man) and themselves as theioi andres, thus misunderstanding the gospel.¹⁶

Since the writing of Weeden’s manuscript, this thesis of a divine man theology in the gospels has been completely debunked.¹⁷ As Broadhead explains, the θεῖος ἀνήρ concept cannot be taken as a fixed assumption. No one has shown that a fixed θεῖος ἀνήρ existed, or that such a concept was widespread, or even that Mark’s opponents held this view.¹⁸ Instead the Gospel of Mark avoids any dichotomy between the Jesus of the miracles and the Jesus of the cross. Broadhead eloquently concludes,

No sharp division exists between the portrait of Jesus in the first and the last half of the Gospel. The narrative develops the failure of the disciples through both miracle stories and the passion account. The opposition of the religious leaders begins in a miracle story and concludes in the passion story. The focus on Jesus’ death originates in a miracle story and is fulfilled in the passion narrative.¹⁹

To posit that Mark polemicized against a θεῖος ἀνήρ Christology is to think unhistorically. Therefore, this formulation of the apologetic approach only leads to a dead end.

A second apologetic explanation posits that the disciples function as representatives of the Jerusalem church, headed by James. As Crossan explains, The polemic against the disciples and the polemic against the relatives intersect as a polemic against the doctrinal and jurisdictional hegemony of the Jerusalem mother-church.²⁰ Supposedly, the Jerusalem leadership promulgated a triumphalistic Jewish-Christian Son of David or apocalyptic Son of Man Christology.²¹ They only pictured Jesus as the victorious royal Messiah, while Mark advocated a divine but unrecognized Son of God whose suffering and death on the cross were redemptive.

Against this intramural polemics,²² the deceivers described in 13:6–7, 22–23 do not stand within the community but outside of it. To contend that Mark viewed the Jerusalem church negatively undermines the establishment of the church upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets (Eph 2:20).²³ To argue that Jesus’ family committed the unpardonable sin (Mark 3:21–22 interpreted by 3:28–29)²⁴ as represented in the Jerusalem community denies the foundational place of Jesus’ family in the early church as narrated by Acts.

Instead of following an apologetic approach, Ernest Best argues that the negative presentation of the disciples favors a pastorally corrective approach.²⁵ Through the misunderstandings of the disciples, Mark presents a foil for a cross-oriented Christology coupled with a cross-carrying discipleship. Mark addresses a church suffering persecution by presenting a suffering Messiah and using the disciples’ misunderstanding as a pedagogic device to present teaching on the true nature of discipleship under such circumstances. The Markan community finds a recognizable reflection of themselves mirrored realistically in the fallible disciples.²⁶ This approach fits the facts of Mark’s gospel.

Therefore, Mark could be categorized as a symbolic gospel which presents narratives metaphorically to teach the Christian community. Mark sets the memory of the historical Jesus alongside the experience of his community as a pedagogical tool to offer insights into the church’s struggles.²⁷ Despite the attractiveness of this proposal, this view has strong opponents because of the difficulty of determining exactly when Mark is employing symbolism.

1.3 Explanations for Markan Irregularities

These so-called Markan irregularities can be interpreted by a number of hypotheses. A simple proposal regards Mark as an inept and inexperienced writer. Perturbed by Mark’s style of duplicity and his habit of not revealing to the reader the theological implications of his narrative, some authors in frustration proclaim that The point is settled: the author of Mark was a clumsy writer unworthy of mention in any history of literature.²⁸ For instance, Nineham, quoting Turner, labels the gospel a naive and non-logical composition.²⁹ Chapman, in his volume entitled The Orphan Gospel, categorizes this approach as the Village Idiot Theory.

Regarding grammar and vocabulary, scholars point to paratactic sentences, unwarranted repetitions, double negatives, delayed gar clauses, unusual parentheses, and other unorthodox grammatical constructions. From such information Chapman concludes that Mark has a small vocabulary, his grammar is poor, his style is rough; his preoccupation with miracles suggests a person of limited intelligence.³⁰ Concerning style, Fowler laments, One sentence is juxtaposed to another, often with wrenching shifts of direction in the action or with unannounced changes in the subjects of the sentences.³¹ Regarding theology, Bultmann concludes that Mark is not sufficiently master of his material to be able to venture on a systematic construction himself.³² Regarding the integration of themes, James Williams bemoans the fact that the author offers broken pieces that the reader cannot quite fit into the total picture.³³ Concerning specific passages, Meagher concludes that 4:1–34 includes content in diametric opposition and has managed the contradiction not with a finesse that reveals a lesson but with a benumbing baldness that leaves us either bemused or scrambling to our own resources for an explanatory subtlety that is painfully lacking in the text.³⁴ Cumulatively, these concerns raise the issue of Mark’s competency as a writer.³⁵

Robert Fowler raises an alternative solution: that Mark is purposefully ambivalent. He contends that the scholarly fox hunt to explain the subtleties of Mark’s gospel has never found the prey. Maybe, Fowler proposes, this is precisely Mark’s intention.

Fowler suggests that Mark’s ambivalence has caused divergent interpretations throughout each section of the gospel. In 1:1 readers are unable to discern if the title beginning of the gospel applies to the whole book or the section about John the Baptizer. In Jesus’ baptism, several alternative OT scriptures are proposed as the background for the voice from heaven. The wild animals in the testing of Jesus (1:13) have been applied to a new creation, the wilderness experience of Israel, and the wild beasts of Nero’s persecution. The expression fishers of men (1:17) is both viewed as a positive title of a missionary evangelist and as a negative description of a judgmental prophet. Likewise, the nicknames Rock and Sons of Thunder (3:16–17) seem to contain connotations of strength and fervor as well as clamorous judgment. Finally, Jesus’ disgustful dismissal of the leper (1:44) is left ambiguous so that the reader is uncertain whether Jesus respects the authority of the Jewish priests in carrying out the ceremonial law of Moses or if he is witnessing against them and usurping their authority to proclaim the leper clean.

Likewise in Jesus’ parables and miracles, Fowler explains that ambivalence reigns. Does Jesus recite parables to reveal the meaning of God’s kingdom or to conceal it? Does Mark promote Jesus as a great wonder-worker or polemicize against Jesus as miracle worker? Do the geographical descriptions where Jesus’ miracles occur entail a symbolism about Jews and Gentiles or is it historical data alone? Regarding the reason why the disciples do not understand Jesus’ miracles, Fowler point out,

Precisely what the disciples dare to understand is left unspecified; in fact, the evangelist never spells it out explicitly anywhere in this part of the gospel. The interpreter of the gospel must admit that even he does not know for sure what the disciples should understand.³⁶

The mystery of the kingdom (4:11), the secret understanding of the miracles, and, for that matter, the Messianic Secret itself are never explained.

Similarly, in Jesus’ Jerusalem ministry it is unclear whether references to the temple designate a Jewish institution, Jesus’ body, or the church. It is difficult to decide if 12:35–37 represents Jesus as a son of David or if Mark intends to undermine any historical connection between Jesus and David.³⁷ In the Passion narrative, the young man (14:51; 16:5) can be understood as a positive angel or a negative disciple. In the crucifixion narrative the centurion (15:39) is either construed as the ultimate mocker of Jesus or the sole revealer of Jesus’ true identity. Notoriously difficult is the ending of Mark, which is understood as a powerful manifestation of Jesus’ glory by some, a further negative description of the disciples by others, and an indication of a lost ending by yet another group of commentators.

Fowler contends that the logical interpretation of this phenomenon is that Mark pulls (and entices) the reader so vigorously (and seductively) in different directions simultaneously that it is ultimately an ambivalent narrative.³⁸ But why would an author purposely plan ambivalent narratives? James Williams proposes, The only conclusion I find convincing is that the author intends the audience to be prevented from overconfidence in its ability to fathom the gospel story.³⁹ But then the disciples become exemplary rather than a foil for discipleship re-education. Then the gospel of Jesus Christ does not increase faith and promote assurance so much as advance tolerance and encourage open-mindedness. These seem like modern-day virtues placed back upon the text. Fowler suggests that Mark has a parental concern for offspring nearing maturity and thus is championing the freedom of the reader to plot her own course through the reading experience.⁴⁰ Somehow this solution seems more an introduction to modern reader-response criticism than the purpose for an ancient gospel, almost a palimpsest covering the original text.

Therefore we must look elsewhere for an interpretation of Mark’s surprising changes to the Jesus tradition. Bird clarifies the main question: Certainly the second gospel is an enigma. But is it the child of confusion, or a signpost to mystery?⁴¹ This pressingly relevant question raises the possibility that Mark’s unexpected twists are purposeful literary devices. We will argue that Mark employs literary devices like intercalations, frames, allusionary repetitions, narrative surprises, and mirroring to offer a theological and symbolic interpretation of the events. But several scholars oppose such a hypothesis. Why have symbolic interpretations been dismissed?

1.4 The Difficulty in Discerning Symbolism

⁴²

The lack of specificity by Mark is the prominent reason why it is difficult to determine if Mark possesses intended symbolism. Unlike Matthew, who consistently quotes the Old Testament to enlighten the events of Jesus’ ministry, Mark only alludes to Scripture.⁴³ As Boring explains, Only occasionally does the evangelist make his allusions to Scripture explicit. Here, too, the reader must have ‘ears to hear.’⁴⁴ Similarly, Mark does not offer explicit signals to notify the reader of intended irony. As Fowler explains,

Verbal signals from the narrator that alert us to the presence of verbal irony are relatively rare. Almost all statements by the characters in the Passion Narrative are ironic, ambiguous, or otherwise oblique, but few are accompanied by explicit interpretive signals from the narrator.⁴⁵

This indirectness of Mark is reinforced by the recurring theme of secrecy in the gospel. Beside the famous Messianic Secret referring to Christology, Mark employs the mystery of the kingdom, the secret only demons know, the secret about miracles, the clandestine instruction to the disciples, and Jesus’ attempts to conceal himself from the crowds.⁴⁶ Consistent with this emphasis upon secrecy, Mark’s symbolism also remains opaque.

Second, the first interpreters of Mark, namely Matthew and Luke, obviously missed the alleged symbolic contents.⁴⁷ Matthew in particular fails to see the significance of Mark’s literary devices. For instance, Matthew omits the prominent symbolic miracle story, the two-stage healing of the blind man (Mark 8:22–26), probably because the lack of immediacy of the miracle was thought to diminish Jesus’ supremacy and because the method of healing with spit associates Jesus with uncleanness.⁴⁸ Likewise, Matthew misses the significance of Mark’s frame around the discipleship catechism by the two healings of the blind men (8:22–26 and 10:46–52). Similarly, Matthew dismantles the Markan intercalation around the cursing of the fig tree and the cleansing of the temple (Matt 21:12–17, 18–22 vs. Mark 11:12–14, 15–19, 20–25) as well as missing the Jewish symbolism of the number twelve in the combined stories of the bleeding woman and dead girl (Matt 9:25 vs. Mark 5:42). Thus Matthew overlooks Markan techniques for detecting symbolism.

Instead of following Markan redaction in the miracle stories to include symbolic elements about discipleship, Matthew returns to the original intent of miracle stories expressing the awe and acclaim of a mighty messianic healer. Matthew excludes the misunderstandings after the trips across the sea (Mark 4:40 missing in Matt 9:26–27; Mark 6:52 vs. Matt 14:33), thus transforming the narratives into pure miracle stories. Matthew omits Mark’s Jew/Gentile imagery with the feeding of the five thousand on Jewish territory and the feeding of the four thousand in Gentile lands so that the warning to the disciples (Mark 8:11–16) now clearly applies to the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees (Matt 16:11–12). In addition, Matthew drops the phrase some came from a distance (Gentiles in Mark 8:3 vs. Matt 15:32) since Jesus only comes for the lost sheep of Israel in Matthew (15:24). Finally, in the healing of the demon possessed boy, Matthew emphasizes miracle-working faith (17:20) instead of the discipleship action of prayer in the absence of Jesus as emphasized in Mark 9:28–29. Therefore the argument runs: if the closest interpreters neglect possible Markan symbolism, how can modern commentators expect to diagnose its existence?

Third, Mark begins with literal miracle stories and only later in the gospel adds a significant symbolic element. This inconsistency results in the reader’s not expecting symbolism to occur since Mark did not begin in this fashion. For instance, the miracle stories in chapter 1 including the exorcism in the synagogue, the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law, and the healings of townsfolk from Capernaum (1:23–34) are interpreted as straightforward miracle stories by the consensus of commentators, whereas the trips across the sea and the healings of the blind men are said to be filled with symbolism.

Fourth, the divergent scholarly evaluations of the material make it unlikely that Mark’s symbolism is clear enough for the reader to perceive its presence. For instance, Geddert offers thirty-five different interpretations of the rending of the veil.⁴⁹ The imagery is so maddeningly obscure⁵⁰ that it becomes easy to deny its presence altogether.

Not only the opacity of the metaphors but also the scholarly overinterpretation of these metaphors has caused conservative scholars to emphasize a literal reading of Mark and to minimize any symbolism. In addition to parallel mania and chiasm mania, symbolism mania can also raise its head. Some authors, justifiably, demand that those enamored with finding symbolism everywhere must rein in their flights of fancy. An overinterpretation of Markan symbolism has resulted in some overly specific conclusions about the provenance and background of the gospel. For instance, from the miracle catenae Achtemeier concludes that these miracle stories were formed as part of a liturgy which celebrated an epiphanic Eucharist based on bread broken with the θεῖος ἀνήρ Jesus.⁵¹

The contrasts between Galilee and Jerusalem are especially notorious for resulting in divergent proposals of symbolism.⁵² For some Galilee is understood theologically as the place where the parousia will occur (14:28; 16:7).⁵³ For others Galilee becomes the location where Mark’s gospel is written and the point of departure for the Gentile mission (7:24, 28, 37; 14:28).⁵⁴ For a third group the geographical differences become a means by which Mark expresses a philosophy of history (3:22; 7:1; 10:33; 11:18; 12:12; 13:2; 14:41; 15:38) so that he is giving expression to the philosophical-theological doctrine that the promised Messiah had to be rejected by his own nation before God’s new offer of salvation through the crucified Christ could be freely proclaimed.⁵⁵

Finally, for a fourth group a negatively perceived Jerusalem represents a challenge to the central authority of the Jerusalem church.⁵⁶ Jesus’ family represents the Torah-observant Jewish Christian church in Jerusalem, which Mark opposes as an exponent of the Torah-free Gentile Christianity.⁵⁷ Mark then becomes a representative of a northern Galilean Christianity in opposition to a Jerusalem-type Christianity, which traced its origin to the relatives of Jesus, considered itself standing in unbroken tradition with the Twelve under the primacy of Peter, and advocated a faith in so Jewish a fashion as to be—in the eyes of Mark, the opponent.⁵⁸ This vendetta against the disciples is seen from a number of different angles, with Tyson identifying them with a royal Davidic Christology, Weeden with a miracle-working Christology, Trocmé calling attention to the hierarchal pretensions of the Jerusalem church, Goulder viewing Mark as a Pauline Christian, and Crossan contending for a polemic against the doctrinal and jurisdictional hegemony of the Jerusalem mother church. The multiplicity of explanations demonstrates the overinterpretation of the data.

For many, this variety of proposals weakens the likelihood of ever determining the certainty of Markan symbolism. Likewise, for conservative scholars the positioning of Mark over against other leaders of the church represents a theory which receives no support from the biblical record, and so all symbolic approaches are dismissed.

Robert Gundry is an advocate par excellence for a literal interpretation of Mark. On the very first page of his commentary he produces an assault against possible Markan symbolism:

The Gospel of Mark contains no ciphers, no hidden meanings, no sleight of hand; . . . No ecclesiastical enemies lurking between the lines or behind the twelve apostles, the inner three, and Jesus’ natural family. No mirror-images of theological disputes over the demands and rewards of Christian discipleship. No symbolism of discipular enlightenment in the miracles. No way-symbolism for cross-bearing. No bread-symbolism for the Eucharist. No boat-symbolism for salvation or for the Second Coming. No Jerusalem-symbolism for Judaism or Judaistic Christianity. . . . None of these. Mark’s meaning lies on the surface.⁵⁹

Gundry is concerned that symbolic interpretations undermine the event character of the narrative so that the Sitz im Leben Jesu is downplayed.⁶⁰ Certainly it is true that several modern interpreters have poisoned the pot against accepting a symbolic approach to Mark. When Kelber contends that Mark has taken a decisive step toward identifying the disciples as Jesus’ opponents,⁶¹ scholars like Gundry migrate back to a completely literal interpretation of Mark. Similarly, James Kallas’ book The Significance of the Synoptic Miracles is a vigorous protest against Alan Richardson’s symbolic treatment of the feedings of the multitude. Characteristic of all literal interpreters, Kallas asks, Why not take the passages for what they say? Simply that Jesus, with practically nothing at all, fed a group of hungry people.⁶² Thus for some authors symbolism becomes a flight of fancy away from the true intention of the narrative.

With regard to miracles, many writers emphasize only the kingdom-sign nature of the narratives rather than any symbolic ramifications.⁶³ The miracle section of 4:35—8:26 details Jesus’ triumph over demons, danger, death, and disease. These interpreters concentrate on the Sitz im Leben Jesu rather than attempting to discern how Mark is using these narratives to speak to the church. The elements in a typical miracle story take prominence. For instance, when Jesus touches a twelve-year-old dead girl and a sick woman bleeding for twelve years, these authors fail to emphasize the Jewish nature of the numbers and how Jesus fulfills the OT ceremonial legislation regarding touching a menstruating woman and a dead body. Instead, Jesus’ power receives prominence through his secret knowledge of her condition (5:27, 30b), the instantaneousness of the cure (5:29a), the healing power streaming from Jesus’ body like an electric current (5:30a), and the extraordinariness of the event so that crowd and disciples alike cannot fathom how it could have happened (5:31). The proof of a mighty healing is authenticated by the feeling of wholeness in one’s body (5:29b) and the little girl’s partaking of food (5:43b). Therefore, the touching is merely a sympathetic method of healing by a holy man combined with special healing formulas like "Talitha koum" (5:41). Thus many interpreters prefer a literal, single-dimensional approach to the Gospel of Mark since the identification of Markan symbolism leads to subjectivity and unverifiability.

1.5 Evidence for Two Levels of Interpretation in Mark’s Gospel

I concede that the supposition of Markan symbolism complicates the interpretation of the gospel, but recognizing Markan redaction is crucial to receiving the full impact of his composition. With Geddert I conclude that There are many ways to go wrong when one watches for subtleties. In the case of Mark, however, the greater danger is to overlook the deeper points and examine only the surface of the texts.⁶⁴ The literal historical layer is basic and takes priority, but Mark employs the Jesus tradition to speak to the needs of his community as well. This two-layer approach to the gospel accounts for the redactional symbolism employed in the book.

This fact has been recognized by a series of exegetes who express this truth in various ways:

1. Augustine Stock (Call to Discipleship, 33): Two time frames are superimposed in the narrative: that of the reader and that of the characters in the plotted narrative. . . . The super-imposition of the two time frames is so handled that the reader is confronted by the same challenge to faith as were Jesus’ contemporaries.

2. Heikki Räisänen (Messianic Secret in Mark, 190): On the one hand, he is telling a story of what happened when Jesus of Nazareth was active in Galilee and Jerusalem; on the other hand, he is projecting the story of his own Christian congregation on to the same screen.

3. William Telford (Theology of Mark, 132): In addressing his disciples in private, the Markan Jesus is in actuality addressing the church for whom the gospel was written, and expanding on the tradition in light of the community’s contemporary problems and needs.

4. Timothy Geddert (Watchwords): Both the parables and the miracles of Jesus have meanings deeper than whatever appears at the surface of the empirical data (74). Mark intends the whole ministry of Jesus to be a model for discipleship in the post-resurrection age (181). Mark has found a way of reproducing textually exactly what he is advocating existentially (178).

5. Joel Marcus (The Mystery of the Kingdom of God, 195): For Mark, the events of Jesus’ lifetime are not just events that occurred once-and-for-all, long ago, as in Luke; they are that, but they are also more.

6. Eugene Boring (Mark: A Commentary, 160): The narrative functions at two levels, and the there-and-then account modulates into the here-and-now experience of the readers.

7. Robert Fowler (Let the Reader Understand, 225): We learn through reading this Gospel that narrative can work on different levels simultaneously; that if we read on one level only, then we may end up as deaf and blind as certain characters in the story.

How do we account for these two levels? Martin Hengel maintains that the fatal error in the interpretation of the Gospels in general and of Mark in particular has been that scholars have thought that they had to decide between preaching and historical narrative, that here there could only be an either-or.⁶⁵ In order not to fall into this interpretative error, it is important to categorize the Gospel of Mark not simply as history or biography but with a combination of terms such as preached history or kerygmatic biography.⁶⁶ Mark recounts the story of Jesus in order to shape the beliefs and actions of the community which takes its identity from the Messiah. As Ernest Best explains, Unlike biography it is concerned to advance an ideological position and move its readers to practice more zealously the faith to which they are committed. In that respect it is more like a sermon.⁶⁷

But notice that I have not reversed the terms to designate the gospel as historicized preaching or biographical kerygma.⁶⁸ Mark is not consciously preaching a contemporary sermon in a historical guise. The historical nature of the narratives is the primary emphasis since the noun takes prominence, but the adjective kerymatic indicates that Mark is addressing the narratives at the needs of his community, thus creating a double-leveled story. Two layers of tradition are placed on top of each other: the events of the historical Jesus, and the chosen themes of the evangelist. In addition to the biographical events of Jesus’ life, the voice of Mark applying these events to his own community can constantly be heard.⁶⁹ To call something Markan redaction is not to label it unhistorical. We should not commit the error of confusing a judgment of style with a judgment of history. But through the preaching of the Jesus tradition Mark wishes to touch directly upon the real-life situation of his readers.

Each of the gospels can be mapped on a continuum from history to preaching. Luke is basically a historian who respectfully reproduces his sources (Luke 1:1–4).⁷⁰ Matthew employs the Jesus tradition as an apologist who defends the christological claims of the Christian synagogue over against the Pharisaic synagogue.⁷¹ Mark and John, on the other hand, stand closer to the preaching pole of the continuum and can be categorized as symbolic gospels.

Alan Culpepper perceptively describes the two layers in the Gospel of John with the following enlightening paragraph:⁷²

What seems clear and simple on the surface is never so simple for the perceptive reader because of the opacity and complexity of the gospel’s sub-surface signals. Various textual features, principally the misunderstandings, irony, and symbolism, constantly lead the reader to view the story from a higher vantage point and share the judgments which the whispering wizard conveys by means of various nods, winks, and gestures. It is the discovery of subsurface signals which had previously escaped the reader’s notice that allows the gospel to be read again and again with pleasure and profit. Traffic on the gospel’s subterranean frequencies is so heavy that even the perceptive reader is never sure he or she has received all the signals the text is sending.⁷³

The confirmation of Markan symbolism comes when we examine its similarities with the Gospel of John.⁷⁴ If John is a whispering wizard, then Mark is a softly speaking sophisticated sorcerer who repeatedly hints at a deeper level of interpretation through his use of literary devices.

In both John and Mark parables become allegorical riddles. The meaning of the dark saying in John 10:1–6 (the Parable of the Good Shepherd) is hidden from Jesus’ disciples (10:6) since it refers to a time when the church will be required to follow Jesus out of the synagogue in order to worship Jesus as God, similar to the blind man in 9:38. Likewise, the Markan expression to speak in parables means to teach allegorical riddles. Matthew repeatedly understands the plural parables to mean more than one and therefore supplements additional parables in the context of Mark 12:1 (Matt 21:28—22:14), whereas to speak in parables for Mark is really a technical term meaning an allegorical riddle.⁷⁵ Thus in the Parable of the Tenants the owner of the vineyard (God) sends messengers (the prophets) to receive the fruit from the tenants (the Jewish leaders), but they kill the son (Jesus) so that the vineyard is given to others (the church). Thus the parable mirrors a later time.⁷⁶

Second, several of the miracle stories focus upon Christology rather than kingdom signs. A sign in the Gospel of John entails a miracle that displays the specialness of the person of Jesus, so that in the multiplication of the bread Jesus becomes the bread of life, in the healing of the blind man Jesus becomes the light of the world, and in the raising of Lazarus from the dead Jesus becomes the resurrection and the life. Not as obvious and straightforward, but following his habit of allusion, Mark relates the story of Jesus walking on water as a feat which only God can accomplish since Job 9:8 teaches that God alone stretches out the heavens and treads on the waves of the sea. In the process of the sea walking, Jesus passes by the boat of disciples (6:48), another OT allusion to an epiphany, as when Moses (Exod 33:22; 34:6) and Elijah (1 Kgs 19:11–13) experience the very presence of God. Then when Jesus enters the boat he secretly proclaims the name of God (6:50 It is I, ἐγώ εἰμι), similar to several I am sayings in the Gospel of John. Thus as Kelber proclaims, In principle, Mark’s handling of the miracle catenae is similar to John’s appropriation of his miracle source . . . miracles are transformed into signs.⁷⁷

Third, misunderstandings abound in each gospel. In John the characters interpret a saying of Jesus at a literal level whereas he intends it on a more profound symbolic plane.⁷⁸ Fowler discerns a similar literary device in Mark 8:14–16: What we have here is the same kind of play on words and associated misunderstanding that we find repeatedly in the Gospel of John (e.g. John 4:33, 6:33–35). The disciples misunderstand the bread-talk of v. 15 as a reference to loaves of bread; they are oblivious to the true significance of Jesus’ words.⁷⁹ In both gospels the misunderstanding technique directs the conversation to a deeper level, so that in John the reader encounters the theological significance of an event, whereas in Mark the misapprehensions lead to a teaching on discipleship.⁸⁰

Fourth, physical characteristics and entities like blindness, bread, fig trees, and the temple take on metaphorical meanings.⁸¹ Physical blindness becomes a foil for spiritual blindness so that sight becomes perception. In John 9 the blind man gradually deepens his spiritual insight into the identity of Jesus until he finally worships Jesus as God.⁸² In Mark blind Bartimaeus perceives Jesus as only the triumphant Son of David (10:47–48) until he is healed and follows Jesus along the way to the cross (10:52), thus recognizing Jesus’ true mission and identity. In John 6 bread is portrayed as spiritual manna which symbolizes the person of Jesus (6:33, 35, 51). In Mark bread becomes a keyword stitching together the pericopes that stretch from 6:30 to 8:21, culminating in Jesus as the bread:

In Mark 8:14 the disciples have forgotten to buy bread but still have one loaf in the boat, which must be a symbolic metaphor for Jesus since, as Stock explains, the translation ‘no bread’ is nonsensical when it has just been stated that they had one loaf with them in the boat.⁸³ Therefore, symbolic meanings are prominent in both John and Mark.

The fig tree represents Israel and its leaders. In John 1:50 Jesus sees Nathaniel under the paradigmatic fig tree since he represents all true Israelites, who become disciples of Jesus and acknowledge him as the new Israel (king of Israel 1:49) and the true Bethel (1:51) or house of God. Likewise, in Mark various elements in Jesus’ cursing of the fig tree point to a deeper level of interpretation. The fact that Jesus is hungry means that he is metaphorically hungry for the righteous fruit produced by Israel. However, the fig tree produces nothing but leaves, indicating that Judaism looks fine from the outside but is fruitless in reality. It is no longer the season for figs since the time for Israel’s fruit production is past. As a result the fig tree surprisingly withers from its roots, meaning that the Jewish leadership in charge of the temple is corrupt.

Finally, the temple becomes Jesus’ body. John states this truth clearly in 2:19–21, where he develops a theological and symbolic interpretation of the temple as the body of Jesus. Likewise, Mark employs the word sanctuary (ναός 14:58; 15:29, 38), not temple courts (ἱερόν 11:15–16; 12:35 and 14:49; 13:1–3) to refer to Jesus’ death and resurrection, which will symbolically actualize the destruction of the temple and its rebuilding in three days. Both gospels witness a remarkably similar approach to symbolism.

Fifth, the characters in the narrative signify groups of people present in the evangelists’ communities.⁸⁴ In John the beloved disciple represents the model believer (13:23–26; 18:15; 19:26–27, 35; 20:4–5, 8; 21:7). In Mark Peter represents the half-sighted incomplete disciple who recognizes Jesus as the royal Messiah but not as the suffering Son of Man (Mark 8:22–33). For John the Samaritan woman at the well who was married to five husbands (John 4:16–18) represents the Samaritan nation with its worship of five other gods (2 Kgs 17:24, 29–30), whom Jesus is wooing as his bride at the traditional well (Gen 24:11–27; 29:2–12; Exod 2:15–21). Likewise, the salvation of the Gentiles is epitomized in John by the royal official (4:43–54) who believes that Jesus is the Savior of the world (4:42), along with his entire household (4:43), similar to the Gentile conversions in Acts.⁸⁵ In Mark, the Syrophoenician woman embodies the Gentiles so that because of her faith the dogs (Gentiles) now eat crumbs at the table (signifying table fellowship) with the family’s children (the Jews).

By paralleling incidents in the early church with gospel episodes, both John and Mark trace back events that occur in Acts into the ministry of Jesus. In John 3–4 the Jewish leaders, the disciples of John the Baptizer, the Samaritans, and the Gentiles come to Jesus just as these groups receive the gospel in Acts.⁸⁶ Likewise, Mark previews the Gentile mission through Jesus’ ministry in the Decapolis, where the healed demoniac becomes the first Gentile missionary (5:19–20), and in Tyre, where the Syrophoencian woman’s faith establishes table fellowship between Jews and Gentiles (7:28–29).⁸⁷ In Mark 7:20 Jesus declares all foods clean, which does not happen historically until the conversion of Cornelius in Acts 10. In John 5–10 Jesus fulfills all the OT feasts, like the Sabbath (5), the Passover (6), the water ceremony at the feast of tabernacles (7), the light ceremony at the feast of booths (8–9), and the feast of dedication (10:22–42). In Mark Jesus’ kingdom actions such as the cleansing of a leper, the healing of a woman with a flow of blood, and the curing of a dead girl all through physical touch fulfill various OT ceremonial regulations against contact with lepers, menstruating women, and all corpses so that as a result the church reads the Old Testament in a new way. Therefore, the fulfillment of OT ceremonies plays a major role in both gospels.⁸⁸

Sixth, the symbolic nature of both John and Mark is evidenced in the predictions made by Jesus which come true in the evangelists’ communities. Here the upper room discourse in John 13–17 compares with the apocalyptic sermon of Mark 13. In the final sermon in John’s gospel Jesus prophesizes that his followers will be put out of the synagogue; in fact, a time is coming when anyone who kills you will think he is offering a service to God (16:2). This coming time points to the time of the writing of the fourth gospel so that the blind man’s suspension from the synagogue before he can worship Jesus as God represents John’s solution to one of the struggles of his community (10:1–6). A second prediction concerns the coming of the Holy Spirit, who will lead the community into all truth and make Jesus’ teaching clear and understandable (16:12–15; 14:26). This prophecy as well is fulfilled through the writing of John’s gospel. As Moody Smith asserts, It is by no means unreasonable to surmise that the specific function of the Spirit-Paraclete as described in the Fourth Gospel is actually represented in the figure and words of the Johannine Jesus.⁸⁹ Similarly, Jesus’ prophecies in the last sermon in Mark are beginning to be fulfilled and experienced by the church as Mark writes his gospel. Brother is betraying brother to death (13:12) during the persecutions of Nero, Christians are on trial before governors and kings (13:9); the gospel is preached to the whole world (13:10); and the antichrists are appearing among the Jewish Zealots in Jerusalem (13:5–6, 21–22). War with Rome is already a reality (13:7), so that the abomination of desolation is standing where it does not belong (13:14).

Seventh, the absence of Jesus becomes a central metaphorical theme in both John and Mark. In John’s upper room discourse Jesus’ departure (14:28; 16:5, 28) becomes the central theme, with Jesus instructing the community how to live fruitfully in his absence. Jesus comforts his distraught disciples with the promise that he will be constantly with them through the Holy Spirit (14:16–20; 16:7), through his living words (15:7–8), through their common love (15:9–17), and through prayer (15:7, 16; ch. 17). In Mark we encounter four events where the disciples falter without Jesus. In the trips across the sea where Jesus is sleeping in the boat (4:38) or praying on the mountain (6:45–46), the disciples display profound doubt and fear so that they are unable to complete the journey of discipleship. When Jesus is absent in the glory of the mount of transfiguration, the disciples cannot cast out the demon in the valley below (9:17–19). Finally, in the ending of Mark the woman flee in fear and forget to spread the gospel message even though they know that the absent Jesus has risen (16:8). These narratives become teaching paradigms for the early church since they mirror their experiences without the physical presence of Jesus during such events as the Neronic persecution and the destruction of Jerusalem.⁹⁰

Therefore in both of these symbolic gospels we must exercise double vision and stereophonic hearing if we are to catch all the artistic overtones of meaning. The writings of John and Mark are not just examples of archivisitic activity. Both authors place the history of Jesus alongside the situation of the community and thus provide the Jesus tradition with a contemporary kerygmatic relevance.

However, despite a multitude of similarities, one basic difference stands out: in John the theological interpretation occupies far more space than the historical account, whereas Mark does not clearly specify the theological interpretations which we contend are clearly in his mind. As Hooker explains, Unlike the Fourth Evangelist, Mark rarely spells out the meaning of Jesus’ miracles. He prefers to set incidents side by side and to leave it to his readers to make the necessary connections.⁹¹ Mark’s lack of specificity becomes an invitation to probe and penetrate the gospel more deeply.

1.6 Literary Devices Employed by Mark to Indicate Symbolism

Only on one occasion throughout the entire gospel does Mark as an editor openly reveal his intention for a particular pericope.⁹² In Mark 7:19b, after Jesus’ logion about uncleanness contaminating a person through inward character qualities and not outward actions, Mark clearly concludes that in saying this Jesus declared all foods ‘clean.’ This unambiguous signal of Markan redaction⁹³ indicates his desire to instruct the reader how to read the OT ceremonial instructions from a Christian point of view. Mark envisions the later church’s discovery (Acts 10:9–20, 34–35) that kosher food is not integral to the gospel message already happening proleptically in Jesus’ proclamation of the kingdom in his parables.

Why does Mark specify this single example to convey his intended meaning but does not employ similar parenthetical devices at other places in his gospel? Does this entail that only here at 7:19b is Mark commenting about the fulfillment of Jewish ceremonies? I think not! It is our hypothesis that Mark employs literary devices like intercalation, framing, allusionary repetitions, narrative surprises, and mirroring to demonstrate that in Jesus’ kingdom words and actions the conclusions of the early church are substantiated. But why is 7:19b unique? Why does he not employ a literary technique here? Although not immediately obvious, the fact that Mark entitles the saying in 7:15 a parable (7:17) entails that he understands Jesus’ saying as an allegorical riddle that needs an interpretation. Mark aspires to make the interpretation crystal clear since purity rites are so important to a proper understanding of a Gentile’s response to the gospel. Therefore, he attaches an explicit editorial comment. Through this procedure Mark clarifies that this entire section speaks about the fulfillment of Jewish ceremonial laws. By inserting a controversy dialogue (7:1–23) in the midst of a series of miracle stories, Mark has transformed the theme into Jesus’ teaching on clean hands (7:1–13), clean food (7:14–23), clean people (7:24–30), and clean spittle or fluids (7:31–37).⁹⁴

Normally Mark offers his own theological commentary through literary devices. Just as Mark only alludes to OT references,⁹⁵ so he narrates incidents without an interpretation of their significance. As Geddert comments, Juxtaposing narrative elements without comment but with deliberate intent to influence the readers’ interpretations is a favourite Markan technique.⁹⁶ The literary devices are Mark’s manner of offering a narrator’s implicit commentary. Therefore as Fowler points out, We are given a puzzle to solve and the key to unlock it, but the unlocking is left up to us. He leaves the work for us to do but provides the necessary tools.⁹⁷ What are these necessary tools?

First, the Markan hints occur through the intercalation or sandwich, whereby Mark ties together two narratives to shine theological meaning on each other. As Shepperd notes, It is as though the author uses intercalation as a tool to address the reader’s own situation.⁹⁸ Therefore Mark sets up a parabolic, metaphorical relationship between two narratives by embedding one within the other. For instance, Mark sandwiches Jesus’ Jewish trial (14:55–65) with Peter’s threefold denial of Jesus (14:53–54, 66–72). Through this literary device Mark is warning the church about denying Jesus when they are brought to trial. This historical event in the life of Jesus is repeating itself in Mark’s time where the disciples are denying any relationship with Jesus rather than going to trial for professing his name.⁹⁹

Second, hints for discerning two levels of meaning occur through the production of frames around a series of pericopes. For example, Mark surrounds the eschatological discourse with two stories of women who offer all they possess to Jesus (12:44; 14:3–5). This speaks to a situation in Mark’s day where the Christian community is prepared for Jesus’ arrival in all the splendor, glory, and victory of his parousia but they are completely resistant to sacrificing their all for Jesus in the required martyrdom of Nero’s persecution. The frame around Mark 13 proclaims a theological message which Mark aims at his community to equip them to deal with this situation.

Third, the hints occur through Markan allusionary repetitions whereby he strategically replicates verbal expressions in order to demonstrate that Jesus is both the triumphant Son of David miracle-working Messiah but also the Suffering Servant Son of Man. As Luke Johnson explains, Mark not only tells a story, he establishes deliberate and meaningful connections between parts of it, signaling those connections to the careful reader.¹⁰⁰ For instance, Mark employs the eschatologically pregnant term torn (Matt 27:51b; T. Levi 4:1) to link together the tearing of the dome of heaven in divine splendor at Jesus’ baptism (1:10 σχιζομένους) with the tearing of the temple curtain (15:38 ἐσχίσθη) at the exact time of the tearing of Jesus’ body in death. Theologically and apologetically, Mark is proclaiming to those who refuse to accept the implications of a crucified Messiah that the same person who is exalted by God as the messianic revelation is also sovereignly led by God through forsaken suffering and a crucified death. In these cases Mark is speaking metaphorically through a symbolic literary device.

Finally, the hints occur through Markan narrative surprises especially in the miracle stories. These narrative surprises function like an ideological subcode that surgically opens a narrative to its deeper potencies. For instance, after the feeding of the five thousand Mark neglects to conclude the miracle story with the typical ending of audience astonishment and thunderous praise to the mighty wonder-worker. Instead, the following narrative concludes, with the surprising finale to an astonishing sea crossing, that the disciples did not understand about the loaves and their hearts were hardened (6:52). Here again, Mark is writing at two levels and addressing a situation in the early church through the Jesus tradition. In the midst of intense struggles the community yearns for Jesus to perform another deliverance miracle. Instead they must open their hardened hearts to the truth that the breaking of the bread in the feeding of the multitudes points forward to the broken body of Jesus in the Last Supper. The multiplication, resulting in baskets of spiritual food left over for all, will occur through Jesus’ Passion and death and not through a miracle. Thus through the subtle use of these literary