One of the most rewarding parts of personal Bible study can be our own inductive work with the text, even before we consult reference tools or see how scholars have outlined books…[1]

 Introduction

We love stories! Whether it’s the epic world of J.R.R Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings or the personal memoirs of war veterans and former presidents, stories have the power to captivate us. We imagine ourselves walking with Sam and Frodo along the dark, lonely path to Mordor. We celebrate with Harry, Ron, and Hermione when Voldemort falls. We are driven to follow the characters, to find out what will happen next, to see how it all ends. In the process, stories can and often do change us.

Scripture is filled with narratives and these narratives contain heroes and dark villains, ironic plot twists, and conflicts and their resolutions. Because of its power to communicate truth, narrative became an important part of the biblical record. Within the New Testament, the four Gospels and Acts represent the genre of narrative.

Because it is a narrative rather than a letter or a sermon, Mark has all the characteristics of a story. The Gospel has: 1) narrator who tells the story to an implied reader, 2) characters who interact with one another, and 3) events that cover a span of time and form a coherent and intelligible plot. The Gospel is also based on the history of Jesus’ life and is set within a particular social, cultural, and historical context. Typically, biblical commentaries explore questions related to the historical reliability of Mark’s text (especially those of a more academic, secular persuasion) and the written or oral sources underlying the composition of the Gospel. Historical criticism attempts to understand the events within the gospel as they take place in a world much different than our own. It seeks to understand Scripture within the conceptual context in which it was written. For example, how does knowledge of 1st-century Judaism explain Jesus’ parables? What does the word “gospel” mean within the larger ancient Mediterranean, dominated as it was by the might and rule of Rome? What can evidence from the Jewish historian Josephus tell us about John the Baptist?

There is much we can learn from reading Mark within its historical context, but the focus of this essay, however, is on the text of Mark itself.  Though historical questions are necessary and informing,[2]  here we are focusing in on the actual narrative of the gospel. Our basic premise will be that narrative texts are capable of creating their own worlds.[3] It is important to remember that we are not trying to ignore historical information! We are assuming, however, that Mark wonderfully arranged his gospel in such a way that it would have meaning on its own, in its final form as a literary product. Simply put, the Gospel of Mark was written the way it was for a reason. Therefore, it is helpful to focus on the settings, plot, literary patterns, and the functions of the characters we find in Mark. Carefully and slowly reading the text will lead the reader to see that many passages, motifs, and terms are part of much larger patterns within the Gospel. A narrative reading will “point out those patterns, connect references, and trace themes so that the reader is continually reading each passage in the context of its setting and function within the Gospel as a whole.”[4] As we read Mark, we want to ask ourselves: What is the plot? How are characters introduced and developed? Which characters are more fully developed, and which characters simply appear in the background? Where does the action happen, and how do the settings give meaning to the narrative? Is there theological significance to events happening in Galilee and Jerusalem? How does the Jordan River function? The Wilderness?

With all of these aspects in mind, let us look at three specific literary techniques used by Mark.[5]

 Vivid and Detailed Narratives

Mark writes with a very descriptive style that “often conveys a you are there quality.”[6] A prominent example of this is Jesus’ encounter with the demon possessed man (Mk 5:1-20). The narrative vividly describes the failed attempts to bind the demon with chains and shackles and tells of his painful plight. He wanders all through the night among the tombs, wailing incessantly, “crying out and bruising himself with stones” (v.5).

In the episode with the epileptic (Mk 9:14-29), the narrative describes in stark realism the convulsions and foaming at the mouth of the young boy. The boy is seized and slammed to the ground as he stiffens and grinds his teeth. Additionally, the narrative records the dramatic cry of the father, “I believe; help my unbelief.”

These vivid descriptions are unique to Mark, as they are often toned down or absent from both Matthew and Luke. In the Passion narratives, where the synoptic gospels most closely align, Matthew does not include Mark’s description of the upper room (Mk 14:13), the description of Barabbas (Mk 15:5), and the mocking of Jesus as a royal figure (Mk 15:20). Luke softens the beating and mocking Jesus suffers at the hands of Pilate’s soldiers (Mk 15:15-20) and does not contain Jesus’ cry on the cross (Mk 15:24).

Mark also records, in rather embarrassing terms, the failures of the disciples and Jesus’ closest followers. They think Jesus is mad and try to seize him (3:21), Jesus questions their faith (4:40), their hearts are hardened (6:52), and they have some problems hearing and seeing things rightly (8:18-19). In contrast to Mark, both Matthew and Luke do not highlight the disciples’ shortcomings and failures. When reading the gospel, one must ask why Mark chooses to narrate with such vivid and descriptive details? What does this achieve?

Rapid Movements, Scene Changes, and Time

Mark characteristically joins sentences and story units with a simple conjunction (“And…”). Besides making English teachers everywhere cringe, such a technique was incredibly common when popular stories were told in the ancient Mediterranean. We see this in Homer’s works, as well as in some of the historical books of the Old Testament. Mark also uses the Greek word euthys (“immediately”) to join sections and transition from one scene to the next. He does this 42 times! This abrupt style effectively creates a sense of urgency in the narrative. Jesus appears in a hurry, rapidly moving from one place to the next. In the process, he powerfully affects the human world- calling disciples, healing diseases, and conquering demonic powers. He also demonstrates full power and authority over the natural world- calming stormy seas and miraculously producing food. From a literary perspective, it is as if Jesus is beyond time! In fact, the temporal markers during the bulk of his Galilean ministry (chapters 1-10) are vague enough to support this concept.[7] The time designations are very general- “in those days”, “after some days”- or they simply designate that something happened in the morning or evening.

Interestingly, the pace of the gospel starts to slow down as the Passion approaches. In Jerusalem, as opposition to Jesus grows, Mark presents Jesus as unable to move from place to place. He willingly accepts his fate, and as his life approaches the end, time becomes carefully marked. This is a beautiful, dynamic contrast that underscores Mark’s brilliance as an inspired author of Scripture. When we let the narrative naturally unfold, when we read it as a story in its entirety, we can see theology being done. We first see a Jesus full of power and authority and then we see a Jesus mocked and beaten, scourged for the sake of humanity.

Sandwich Technique[8] 

Frequently, Mark begins one story, introduces a second story, and then returns back in order to finish the first story he started. An example of this technique occurs in Mark chapter 5. There, we are introduced to a ruler of the synagogue named Jairus who pleads for Jesus to intervene and heal his daughter (vv. 21-24). On the way to Jairus’ home, a woman suffering from a hemorrhage interrupts Jesus so that he will heal her (vv. 25-34). Mark records the healing of the woman and then resumes his narration of the story of Jairus’ daughter, who has since died in the meantime (vv. 35-43).

Altogether, this technique occurs nine times in Mark’s gospel. The technique creates suspense and also serves to contrast one narrative with another (as in the trials of Jesus and Peter in 14:54-72).[9] Typically, however, the technique is used because the middle story provides the key to interpreting the theological purpose of the story around it. Jairus and the woman have nothing in common other than sharing in desperate circumstances. Jairus is a synagogue ruler, a man of prestige and measurable importance. The woman is unknown, and she has no status in society. Whereas Jairus approaches Jesus face-to-face, the woman approaches Jesus from behind.[10] Seemingly, Jairus holds every advantage over the anonymous woman. However, Mark ironically reverses their roles, for it is the woman who shows greater faith. Despite her condition, she works her way through the mob and grabs the back of Jesus’ garment. She refused to let anything prevent her from Jesus, and as a result, Jesus says “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace and be healed of your disease” (v.34).

As the woman is being healed, Jairus’ daughter dies. His servants rush on to the scene and tell him not to bother Jesus any further. After all, what hope is left? Jesus hears the servants and tells Jairus not to fear, but to believe (v.36). Jairus must have the kind of faith that perseveres when all hope appears to be gone. Quite simply, he must have the kind of faith the woman had! Thus, the story of the woman is placed within the Jairus story so that Mark can show “how faith in Jesus can transform fear and despair into hope and salvation.”[11] Her story is a powerful lesson both for Jairus and for readers of the Gospel.

It is important to remember that Mark was not primarily concerned with recording the deeds of Jesus in strict chronological order. He was, however, concerned with accuracy and with displaying the full theological significance of Jesus’ life. To this end, he used the sandwich technique to “emphasize the major motifs of the Gospel, especially the meaning of faith, discipleship, bearing witness, and the dangers of apostasy.”[12]

Conclusion

The story of Jesus—of his birth, life, death, and resurrection—has the power to transform as no other.  More than just an entertaining read, and certainly more than just the sum of its narrative elements, the Gospel of Mark powerfully tells the Truth of the ultimate story. 

 

NOTES


[1] Blomberg, Craig, A Handbook of New Testament Exegesis, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Publishing, 2010), 97.

[2] Narrative criticism needs knowledge of social and historical circumstances assumed by the narrator to be effective! However, the process of narrative criticism involves getting deeply absorbed into the thought world of the text, in this case the Gospel of Mark. The text gets to serve as its own context, and the goal of the reading process is to reflect upon what each element of the story means in relation to the larger whole; cf. Mark Allan Powell, What is Narrative Criticism? (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1990), 85-86.

[3] For a very helpful non-specialists introduction to narrative criticism, see David Rhoads and Donald Michie, Mark as Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1982). Other helpful resources include: Scot McKnight, Interpreting the Synoptic Gospels (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Publishing, 1988) and James L. Resseguie, Narrative Criticism of the New Testament: An Introduction (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Publishing, 2005).

[4] Culpepper, R. Alan, Mark (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys Publishing, 2007), 3.

[5] These characteristics are taken from Donahue, John R. The Gospel of Mark (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press), 16-20.

[6] Ibid., 16.

[7] Ibid, 18.

[8] The best introduction and summary of this technique can be found in J.R. Edwards, “Markan Sandwiches: The Significance of Interpolations in Markan Narratives,” Novum Testamentum 31 (1989) 193-216.

[9] Donahue, 18.

[10] Edwards, 204-205.

[11] Ibid., 205.

[12] Ibid., 197.