The Gospel of Mark

By R. T. France

Drawing on many years of Marcan studies, world-class scholar R. T. France has produced an exegetical commentary on the Greek text of Mark that does what the best of recent Greek commentaries have done but in France's own inimitable, reader-friendly way.

This work is a commentary on Mark itself, not a commentary on commentaries of Mark. It deals immediately and directly with matters that France himself regards as important. Working from his own translation of the Greek text and culling from helpful research into the world of first-century Palestine, France provides an extensive introduction to Mark's Gospel, followed by insightful section and verse commentary.

France sees the structure of Mark's Gospel as an effective "drama in three acts." Act 1 takes up Jesus' public ministry in Galilee. Act 2 covers Jesus' journey to Jerusalem with his disciples. Act 3 focuses on Jesus' public ministry in Jerusalem, including his confrontation with the Jewish leaders, his explanatory discourse on the future, and his passion, death, and resurrection. France carefully unpacks for modern readers the two central themes of this powerful narrative of Jesus' life -- the nature of Christ and the role of discipleship.

Supported by careful argumentation and impressive in its sensitivity to Mark's structure, context, and use of the Old Testament, France's study of the second Gospel is without peer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eerdmans
• Release date: Feb 7, 2002
• ISBN: 9781467423397

R. T. France

 R. T. France (1938-2012) was Hon. Research Fellow in the Department of Theology and Religious Studies, University of Wales, Bangor. His other books include Jesus and the Old Testament, The Evidence for Jesus, and Matthew: Evangelist and Teacher.

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THE HEADING (1:1)

TEXTUAL NOTE

1. The phrase υἱοῦ (τοῦ) θεοῦ is absent from the first hand of א, but added by the original corrector (i.e., probably before the MS left the scriptorium). It occurs in all other uncials except Θ, but is absent from a number of patristic citations, notably from all of Origen’s five citations. It is improbable that a Christian scribe would deliberately omit this key title, and not at all unlikely that it might be added to fill out an apparently bald heading with a more explicitly christological title. For this reason some editors do not accept the phrase as original. But the omission in the two uncial MSS may reasonably be ascribed to mechanical error (especially since it was immediately corrected in one of them), in the light of the sequence of six identical -ου endings, especially if copied from a MS in which the titles were conventionally abbreviated, thus

ΑΡΧΗΤΟΥΕΥΑΓΓΕΛΙΟΥ

ΙΥ

ΧΥ

ΥΥ

(ΤΟΥ)

ΘΥ

Origen’s omission of the phrase ‘the Son of God’ may indicate that the shorter text was in circulation in Caesarea in the third century, especially since Θ in Mark generally reflects a similar (‘Caesarean’) text to that used by Origen. Patristic citations, however, may be selective, as is shown by the fact that in two places Irenaeus quotes the full text, but in one case the shorter. (C. H. Turner, JTS 28 [1927] 150, points out that Irenaeus’s omission of the words in this case, and that of Victorinus in a similar context, are due to their preoccupation at that point with the identification of Mark as the lion, to which the phrase υἱοῦ θεοῦ is not germane!) The prominence of the title ‘Son of God’ in Mark’s gospel (it will be picked up in 1:11, and reappear climactically in 15:39) makes its presence in the heading intrinsically likely. (J. Slomp, BT 28 [1977] 143-50, offers a clear overview of the issue, inclining with some hesitation to support the shorter text.)

This apparently perfunctory heading is in fact made up of several very significant terms. It identifies the subject as Ἰησοῦς, one of the commonest of first-century Jewish names,¹ and hence identified when he appears in the narrative as Jesus of Nazareth (1:9), but here described instead by terms which indicate his role rather than his place in society. Χριστός will not occur frequently in this gospel (in contrast with the Pauline corpus), and in every occurrence (8:29; 9:41; 12:35; 13:21; 14:61; 15:32) carries a clearly titular sense, focusing on Jesus’ perceived or claimed role as the Messiah. Here it is given added weight by the solemn introduction of the scriptural witness in vv. 2-3; the time of messianic fulfilment has arrived. The addition of υἱὸς θεοῦ (if it is an original part of Mark’s text; see Textual Note) apparently takes Mark’s heading beyond the sphere of Jesus’ messianic function to focus on his identity at a more fundamental level. It is possible, of course, in the narrative situation of the gospel, to understand Χριστός and υἱὸς θεοῦ as virtual synonyms, in the light of 2 Sa. 7:14 and Ps. 2:7 together with the evidence from Qumran that at least some first-century Jews interpreted these texts messianically,² but in an editorial heading the phrase must reflect the more developed understanding of Jesus’ divine sonship which was current in Mark’s church. In this fuller sense it will form the central term of Mark’s christology, twice declared by the voice of God himself (1:11; 9:7), acknowledged by the spiritual insight of demons (3:11; 5:7; cf. 1:24), coming to at least guarded expression in Jesus’ own words about his role and status (12:6-8; 13:32; cf. 12:35-37?) before being made the basis of his climactic declaration before the supreme court of Israel (14:61-62), and finally coming into focus in the striking paradox of the centurion’s ‘confession’ (15:39). In his heading, therefore, Mark has declared his hand, and set the framework in which we are to understand the story which follows, however strange we may find the way in which the Messiah/Son of God behaves and is received in Israel.

I have been assuming so far that v. 1 is intended to function as the heading to the whole book. It has, however, been taken as the heading only to the prologue, whether construed as 1:1-13 (so Cranfield, Lane) or 1:1-15 (so Guelich), or to the account of John the Baptist (so Hooker), or even merely to the scriptural material in vv. 2-3. There is an element of truth in each of these views. The καθώς which begins v. 2 indicates that v. 1 should not be regarded as syntactically free-standing, since καθώς does not normally introduce a new sentence, but links what follows with what precedes (except occasionally where there is a following οὕτως), and this is regularly the case with καθὼς γέγραπται.³ Vv. 2-3 are therefore, formally speaking, a scriptural comment on v. 1, rather than the beginning of a new section introducing John the Baptist. The function of vv. 2-3 is, however, to indicate the significance of John the Baptist, whose story immediately follows in vv. 4-8. This story in turn serves to introduce the account of Jesus’ baptism, and in that account the title υἱὸς θεοῦ, declared in the opening verse, is dramatically taken up. A further key term of the first verse, εὐαγγέλιον, recurs prominently in vv. 14-15. In all these ways, then, v. 1 leads into the prologue. Formally speaking, it is not a mere ‘title’ for the book.

In its contents, however, v. 1 points far beyond the first part of chapter 1. It sets forth themes which the whole book will explore. The εὐαγγέλιον which Mark is about to proclaim is not limited to the prologue. The prologue is, as Mark states, only its beginning (ἀρχή). Theologically it ‘begins’ with the scriptural hopes set out in vv. 2-3; from the narrative point of view it ‘begins’ in the context of John’s baptism (vv. 4-8); the true content of the good news ‘begins’ to be revealed in the events at and after Jesus’ baptism (vv. 9-13); and the open declaration of the εὐαγγέλιον ‘begins’ as Jesus’ Galilean ministry is launched in vv. 14-15. All of this is ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, and the rest of the book will fill out its content.⁴ In separating off v. 1 as ‘the heading’ I am not therefore suggesting any lack of connection with the prologue which follows, and I am consciously overriding its formal syntactical link with v. 2. Its function is broader than its immediate syntactical status. In these words Mark is alerting his reader to the significance of all that is to follow. But it is typical of his urgency and lack of formal concern that rather than constructing a neat self-contained ‘title’ he cannot wait to ‘begin’ with that which he has so effectively signalled in the few breathless (and verbless!) words of v. 1.

Ἀρχή (with neither article nor verb) may seem a rather bald way to begin a book. It is, however, typical of biblical style.⁵ Similarly anarthrous headings, also without main verb, open the Gospel of Matthew (Βίβλος γενέσεως …) and the Book of Revelation (Ἀποκάλυψις Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ …), and are common in the OT (see Pr. 1:1; Ec. 1:1; Ct. 1:1); most of the prophetic books have a similar verbless heading (Is., Je., Ho., Joel, Am., Ob., Na., Hab., Zp., Zc., Mal.), and all of these headings in the LXX except those for Jeremiah and Habakkuk characterise the following work by an anarthrous noun. (Cf. also the headings of the Psalms.) Mark’s use of ἀρχή, however, is not directly paralleled in any of these headings. The nearest biblical parallel is Ho. 1:2, where, after the heading, the content of the prophecy is introduced by ἀρχὴ λόγου κυρίου πρὸς Ωσηε.

It is sometimes suggested that, just as Matthew’s opening words, Βίβλος γενέσεως, are designed to recall the reader to the beginning of the OT, so also the choice of ἀρχή as the opening word of Mark is intended, like John’s Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, to be heard as an echo of Gn. 1:1 (so, e.g., Anderson, Myers following D. Via). The function of ἀρχή in Mark is, however, quite different from that in Genesis and John. It does not refer to the beginning of all things, but is defined by the following τοῦ εὐαγγελίου. The parallel with Ho. 1:2 gives a more satisfactory account of its function, as literary rather than theological.

GNB usefully captures the function of v. 1, and its syntactical link through καθώς with the following biblical quotations, when it translates as follows:

This is the Good News about Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

It began as the prophet Isaiah had written:…

We have noted in the introduction that εὐαγγέλιον was not a recognised title for a literary genre at the time Mark wrote, and that Mark is generally credited with having initiated that usage, not by design, but by the fact that his use of the term in the heading of his work offered an obvious label to those who in due course found it necessary to refer in generic terms to this apparently new category of writing. In classical Greek (where it was normally plural, like our ‘good news’) it originally meant the reward given to the bearer of good news, and then came to refer to the good news itself. In the Hellenistic period there are examples of its use in a more specifically religious context, particularly in connection with the cult of the emperor, whose birthday, accession to power, and the like, even a forthcoming ‘royal visit’, were hailed as εὐαγγέλιον. In the LXX, however, the noun occurs clearly only in 2 Kgdms. 4:10,⁶ where it is plural and refers to a messenger’s reward (with no particularly religious meaning). The verb εὐαγγελίζομαι (occasionally εὐαγγελίζω) is slightly more common, as the normal translation of Hebrew biśśar, ‘to bring good news’, and this is used in the Psalms (e.g., 40:9; 96:2) and prophets (especially the classic Deutero-Isaianic texts, Is. 40:9; 52:7; 61:1) with a more clearly religious connotation; here the news is that of the establishment of God’s reign, the good news of salvation.⁷ The quasi-technical use of the singular εὐαγγέλιον to refer to the Christian message seems, however, to have been a new development (perhaps to be attributed to the influence of Paul, drawing on Hellenistic religious usage?), already firmly established in the letters of Paul (which account for 80% of NT uses of εὐαγγέλιον), and therefore presumably already current usage by the time Mark wrote his gospel.

Mark’s book is intended, therefore, to pass on the good news about Jesus. This news has been hitherto the subject of primarily oral declaration (Mann therefore appropriately translates εὐαγγέλιον here as ‘Proclamation’), but Mark’s book is an attempt to communicate it in written form (though probably with a view to its being read orally in the congregation). εὐαγγέλιον denotes the content rather than the form of the book.

The genitive Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ may, in theory, be read either as subjective (‘the good news proclaimed by Jesus Christ’) or objective (‘the good news about Jesus Christ’). Some commentators take up positions on one side or the other, but most prefer to have it both ways. Guelich will not allow this since ‘one or the other emphasis has to dominate’. Syntactically this is no doubt true, but if Mark is deliberately exploiting the ambiguity of the genitive construction, he would not be the first to do so, and either sense is entirely appropriate; moreover, ‘the gospel of God’ in 1:14 allows the same suggestive ambiguity. There are no other uses in Mark of the genitive after εὐαγγέλιον; the noun used absolutely refers in three cases to a message to be believed (1:15) or proclaimed (13:10; 14:9) rather than to the act of proclamation, though in the remaining two uses (8:35; 10:29) either sense is possible. It is therefore probably more natural to read the genitive after εὐαγγέλιον here as objective (the gospel about Jesus Christ), and this is the more normal usage in the rest of the NT (though note to the contrary Rom. 2:16; 16:25, etc., and, denoting the recipients of the gospel, Gal. 2:7). But vv. 14-15 will make it clear that the εὐαγγέλιον is in fact preached by Jesus as well. Whatever the dictates of syntactical pedantry, I think it likely that Mark would have approved, and may well have intended, the double entendre which the genitive construction allows.

THE PROLOGUE (1:2-13)

Whereas most modern writers (and some ancient writers; e.g., Lk. 1:1-4) introduce a book with a separate preface setting out its nature and purpose, Mark appears, after the heading in 1:1, to launch straight into his story without further indication to the reader of what the book will be about. Most recent commentators agree, however, that the first part of that story stands apart to some extent, as more of a preface than merely the first scene of the drama.

It is often suggested that Mark’s prologue is similar in conception to that of John, where the first eighteen verses set the scene for what follows, not merely by introducing John the Baptist and Jesus as the main characters around whom the story will begin, but also by offering a theological framework against which the story can be better understood. Central to John’s introduction is the creative idea of Jesus as the Λόγος, yet in the rest of the Fourth Gospel there is no further mention of this idea (compare also the term χάρις, of central importance in Jn. 1:14, 16, and 17, but not used in the rest of the gospel). We have here then, perhaps, John’s reflection on the significance of the story of Jesus, written after the rest of the gospel was finished, and using new language which represents the theological conclusions which John wants his readers to share with him.

The language of Mark’s prologue is perhaps not so obviously distinct from that of the book as a whole (though see below on πνεῦμα and ἔρημος), but it is generally recognised these days as setting the scene in a similar way, through the introduction of the main dramatis personae in a context separate from that of the succeeding narrative. The main disagreement is as to the extent of this ‘prologue’, whether it concludes with v. 13 or v. 15.⁸ That issue will be discussed later; for now I will treat v. 13 as the end of the prologue.

R. H. Lightfoot pioneered this view in British scholarship.⁹ In a lecture in 1949 he argued against the decision of Westcott and Hort to place a major break in their Greek text after Mk. 1:8,¹⁰ and proposed that Mk. 1:1-13 should be understood as Mark’s ‘prologue or introduction’, and that ‘just as in John, the narrative proper only begins with the account of the Lord’s activity in vv. 14 and 15, when he comes into Galilee with the announcement that the time is ripe, and God’s promises are now in process of accomplishment’.¹¹

Lightfoot argued this case from the contents of the passage rather than by noting more specific linguistic markers. But subsequent study has drawn attention to the fact that, just as Jn. 1:1-18 uses key terms not used in the rest of the gospel, so also does Mk. 1:2-13. The terms usually noted are πνεῦμα and ἔρημος.

Πνεῦμα. In the whole of the gospel after 1:13 there are only three references to the (Holy) Spirit (3:29; 12:36; 13:11), only one of which (3:29) relates (indirectly) to the role of the Spirit in the ministry of Jesus. Yet in these opening verses the Spirit is mentioned three times (1:8, 10, 12) and appears as a central figure in the launching of Jesus’ ministry. This remarkable difference in focus suggests that Mark has something of importance to which he wishes to draw his readers’ attention at the outset.

The eschatological outpouring of God’s Spirit was a significant feature in OT expectation, as seen in Is. 32:15; 44:3; Ezk. 36:26-27; 39:29; Jo. 3:1-5 (EVV 2:29-32), and the quotation of the latter in Peter’s Pentecost sermon (Acts 2:17-21) shows the importance of this expectation for early Christian understanding of the significance of Jesus’ ministry. This expectation underlies the prediction of John the Baptist that an ἰσχυρότερος will come who βαπτίσει ὑμᾶς ἐν πνεύματι ἁγίῳ (v. 8). But the references to the Spirit in 1:10, 12 do not refer to a general outpouring, but to his specific involvement in the ministry of Jesus himself; here, too, there is a suggestive OT background, with the prophecy of a coming ‘shoot from the stump of Jesse’, on whom the Spirit of Yahweh would rest (Is. 11:2), and of the chosen Servant upon whom Yahweh has put his Spirit (Is. 42:1), the anointed herald of good news upon whom the Spirit has come (Is. 61:1).

By his emphasis on the role of the Spirit in 1:2-13, therefore, Mark alerts the reader at the outset of his gospel, in a way which will not be open to him in the narrative situation after 1:14, to the messianic significance of Jesus, both as the one who is himself empowered and directed by the Spirit in the fulfilment of his eschatological role, and also, remarkably, as the one who ‘dispenses’ the Spirit, a role which in the OT passages mentioned above was exclusively that of Yahweh himself. The christological implications of this latter point will be taken up in the commentary on 1:2-8. For the moment we note the function of the prologue in taking Mark’s readers behind the scenes to see something of the theological dimensions of the story which is to follow. In the subsequent narrative we shall hear little of the Spirit, but the reader who has listened well to the prologue will be able to interpret the scenes in Galilee and Jerusalem in the light of this more ultimate wilderness perspective.

Ἔρημος. The ‘voice’ of Is. 40:3 cries ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ (1:3). It is therefore ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ that John the Baptist, as the embodiment of that voice, comes to preach (1:4), and the ἔρημος thus forms the scene for Jesus’ baptism. Immediately afterwards it is εἰς τὴν ἔρημον that the πνεῦμα directs Jesus (1:12), and Mark rather labours the point by reminding us in 1:13 that Jesus was there ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ with Satan and the wild animals. In view of the fact that the noun ἡ ἔρημος does not occur at all in the rest of Mark’s gospel, it seems that Mark is going to some lengths to make sure that the reader of his prologue notices its special location and draws the appropriate conclusions.

But what are the appropriate conclusions? Is there any special theological significance in a wilderness?

At the very least, it marks a distinctive location. The rest of Mark’s story will be set in the context of normal life, with Jesus surrounded by ordinary people. From time to time he will seek out a quiet place to get away from it all (1:35; 6:31-32), though the crowds will usually manage to find him even there (1:45; 6:33-34). On one memorable occasion he will take three disciples with him onto a lonely hilltop (9:2-13), and there alone in the rest of the gospel will occur a revelation parallel to the one which takes place in the wilderness in 1:10-11. But that will be only a temporary interlude. Here in the prologue, however, Jesus’ public activity has not yet begun, and the wilderness represents a separation from ordinary life. With v. 14 the scene will change, and Jesus will be thrust into a ceaseless round of activity among the villages of Galilee; but for the moment, in this remote location, we can focus on Jesus himself as he faces alone the task which lies ahead.

But ἡ ἔρημος has a much more positive significance than merely a withdrawal from ordinary life. It is Isaiah’s prophecy of the voice ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ which provides the cue for Mark’s emphasis on this location, and Mark was not the first to notice these words of Isaiah. It was this same text which provided the rationale for the foundation of the Essene community at Qumran, in that same wilderness of Judaea: ‘They shall separate from the habitation of ungodly men and shall go into the wilderness to prepare the way of Him; as it is written, Prepare in the wilderness the way of…, make straight in the desert a path for our God.’¹² Thus it was specifically ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ that the men of Qumran expected God to appear and vindicate their stand against the apostasy of the official priesthood in Jerusalem. It was the theologically correct location.

For the wilderness was a place of hope, of new beginnings.¹³ It was in the wilderness that Yahweh had met with Israel and made them into his people when they came out of Egypt. That had been the honeymoon period, before the relationship became strained. ‘I remember the devotion of your youth, your love as a bride, how you followed me in the wilderness, in a land not sown. Israel was holy to Yahweh, the first fruits of his harvest’ (Je. 2:2-3). In the wilderness Israel experienced privation and danger, and learned through this testing period to trust in the provision and protection of their God; this is the message of Moses’ great exhortation to Israel in the early chapters of Deuteronomy, summed up in Dt. 8 (and used as a model for Jesus’ own wilderness experience in the Q temptation narrative). So as the prophets looked back to the comparative purity of Israel’s wilderness beginnings, the hope grew that in the wilderness God’s people would again find their true destiny. ‘Behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her…. And there she shall answer as in the days of her youth, as at the time when she came out of the land of Egypt’ (Ho. 2:14-15; cf. Ezk. 20:35-38). The voice in the wilderness (Is. 40:3-5) which introduces Deutero-Isaiah’s great vision of restoration, is followed by the recurrent theme of a new Exodus, a new beginning in a wilderness transformed by the renewing power of Israel’s God (Is. 41:18-19; 43:19-21; 44:3-4, etc.).¹⁴

It was this wilderness hope which inspired not only the men of Qumran to go out into the wilderness to wait for God’s coming in power, but also several less otherworldly would-be leaders of Israel in the troubled days of the Roman occupation. Theudas, who appears in Acts 5:36, led his followers down to the Jordan (i.e., that same ‘wilderness’ area where John had baptised), where they were attacked and routed by the procurator Fadus (Josephus, Ant. 20.97-98). Later, under Felix, an Egyptian ‘prophet’ collected a band of freedom fighters around him in the wilderness before leading them in an ill-fated assault on Jerusalem (Josephus, War 2.261-63; Ant. 20.169-72; Acts 21:38). In introducing this latter story Josephus makes a more general reference to ‘impostors and deceivers’ in this period who ‘persuaded the crowd to follow them into the wilderness,’ with the promise of divine wonders as a token of coming deliverance (War 2.258-60; Ant. 20.167-68).¹⁵ No doubt strategic considerations contributed to the choice of a remote location for such movements, but at least as important probably was the conviction that the ἔρημος was, theologically speaking, the right place to expect a new beginning for the people of

Reviews for The Gospel of Mark

[brianghedges · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is an excellent commentary, one of the best, in fact, I've ever seen, and definitely THE best on the Gospel of Mark (out of the eighteen or twenty that I'm regularly dipping into). It is a commentary on the Greek text, and the Greek is not transliterated or translated, but it is still amazingly readable, lucid, and engaging. France's introduction to the Gospel of Mark is the best intro I've read, and alone worth the price of the book. He views Mark's gospel as a narrative - a drama in three acts; yet he resists imposing superficial structures on the book. He writes with a desire to hear Mark's text afresh, and tends to focus in his comments on the unfolding theological narrative itself. Yet he is obviously well-read and conversant with both the primary ancient documents themselves and the relevant literature on Mark (commentaries, monographs, essays in journals, etc.) and engages them frequently when helpful. His theology is generally conservative, with a high Christology. He is cautious with overly novel interpretations. He articulates a partial-preterist position on Mark 13. France would probably be a bit too technical for the purposes of a lay-person, but preachers can hardly afford to be without him. I would recommend reading him along side the commentaries by James Edwards (Pillar), William Lane (NICNT), and David Garland (NIVAC). Excellent!