Bible Junkies Podcast 3: Dr. Adele Reinhartz

A new podcast with Adele Reinhartz has been posted. I spoke with Professor Reinhartz for the third Bible Junkies podcast on March 26, 2012. Dr. Reinhartz is a scholar of the New Testament and Judaism in the Hellenistic period and Professor in the Department of Classics and Religious Studies at the University of Ottawa in Canada. She taught previously at the University of Toronto and at McMaster University. Her main areas of research are the Gospel of John, early Jewish-Christian relations, feminist criticism, and, most recently, the Bible and Film.

She has written several books, including "Why Ask My Name?" Anonymity and Identity in Biblical Narrative (Oxford, 1998), Befriending the Beloved Disciple: A Jewish Reading of the Gospel of John (Continuum, 2001), and Scripture on the Silver Screen (Westminster John Knox, 2003) and Jesus of Hollywood (Oxford, 2007). Her most recent book is on Caiaphas the High Priest, published in 2011 and she introduced and annotated the Gospel of John in the in the Jewish Annotated New Testament project. Adele was also inducted into the Royal Society of Canada in 2005.

As a Jewish scholar, Adele brings a unique perspective to the study of the New Testament and a sensitivity to the Jewish contexts of early Christianity and anti-Judaism in the New Testament texts. Most significantly, as a former student of hers at both the undergraduate and graduate levels, I can attest to her ability to open up the world of both Judaism and Christianity and make it come alive in the classroom. Please enjoy the discussion and feel free to leave comments.

John W. Martens

Follow me on Twitter @johnwmartens

Gospel of Mark Commentary Act 2. Scene 3

This is the tenth installment, comprising Act 2. Scene 3, in the online commentary on the Gospel of Mark, which I will blog on throughout the liturgical year. Please see the ninth installment here which contains links to the previous installment and from there you can link to all of them.

This is my division of the Gospel:

Prologue,  1:1-13;

Act  1, 1:14-3:6;

Act 2, 3:7-6:6;

Act 3, 6:7-8:26;

Act 4, 8:27-10:52;

Act 5, 11:1-13:37;

Act 6, 14:1-16:8(20).

Scene 3:

Mark 4:1-34:

1 Again he began to teach beside the sea. Such a very large crowd gathered around him that he got into a boat on the sea and sat there, while the whole crowd was beside the sea on the land. 2 He began to teach them many things in parables, and in his teaching he said to them: 3 "Listen! A sower went out to sow. 4 And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and the birds came and ate it up. 5 Other seed fell on rocky ground, where it did not have much soil, and it sprang up quickly, since it had no depth of soil. 6 And when the sun rose, it was scorched; and since it had no root, it withered away. 7 Other seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no grain. 8 Other seed fell into good soil and brought forth grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirty and sixty and a hundredfold." 9 And he said, "Let anyone with ears to hear listen!" 10 When he was alone, those who were around him along with the twelve asked him about the parables. 11 And he said to them, "To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside, everything comes in parables; 12 in order that "they may indeed look, but not perceive, and may indeed listen, but not understand; so that they may not turn again and be forgiven.' " 13 And he said to them, "Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand all the parables? 14 The sower sows the word. 15 These are the ones on the path where the word is sown: when they hear, Satan immediately comes and takes away the word that is sown in them. 16 And these are the ones sown on rocky ground: when they hear the word, they immediately receive it with joy. 17 But they have no root, and endure only for a while; then, when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately they fall away. 18 And others are those sown among the thorns: these are the ones who hear the word, 19 but the cares of the world, and the lure of wealth, and the desire for other things come in and choke the word, and it yields nothing. 20 And these are the ones sown on the good soil: they hear the word and accept it and bear fruit, thirty and sixty and a hundredfold." 21 He said to them, "Is a lamp brought in to be put under the bushel basket, or under the bed, and not on the lampstand? 22 For there is nothing hidden, except to be disclosed; nor is anything secret, except to come to light. 23 Let anyone with ears to hear listen!" 24 And he said to them, "Pay attention to what you hear; the measure you give will be the measure you get, and still more will be given you. 25 For to those who have, more will be given; and from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away." 26 He also said, "The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, 27 and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. 28 The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. 29 But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come." 30 He also said, "With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? 31 It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; 32 yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade." 33 With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; 34 he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples. (NRSV)

This is the longest scene thus far in the Gospel of Mark, and though initially similar to other scenes (“Such a very large crowd gathered around him,” 4:1), it is the first time we are witness to Jesus teaching for an extended period. Jesus has taught  in the context of conflicts and challenges to his authority (2:1-12; 3:4), but this is the first time that the word “teach”  or “teaching” has been used in the Gospel  -it appears three times in the first two verses (didasko; didache)-  and the first time Jesus’ teaching has been devoted to the education of his followers directly. Mark is giving us insight into the teacher himself and the nature of the education by allowing us to eavesdrop on the lesson.

Jesus teaches in parables, which are short stories or comparisons of two things alongside one another by which a religious or spiritual lesson or moral is to be derived or something unclear is put in greater light. Jesus’ teaching in this whole scene is by parable. In 4:4-9, Jesus tells the story of a sower who went out to sow and whose seed, scattered by broadcast method, fell on various types of soil and grew in varying degrees of success. Jesus ends the parable by proclaiming, "Let anyone with ears to hear listen!" This parable was told to the whole crowd which had gathered around Jesus, for Mark tells us in 4:2 that “he got into a boat on the sea and sat there, while the whole crowd was beside the sea on the land.” It seems, though, that not everyone who heard the parables had “ears to hear.”

This lack of comprehension is noted immediately after the parable, for when Jesus “was alone, those who were around him along with the twelve asked him about the parables” (4:10). It is not simply that the crowd has not understood the parables, what the stories were driving at, what point Jesus was trying to make, but that the crowds have gone and even those who are left, the twelve and the others who have remained, do not understand them. It is not just the “outer circle" which does not understand, but the “inner circle.” The inner circle is different only in this regard: they want to have “ears to hear.” Being there is half the battle; hanging in there is the other half.

"To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside, everything comes in parables; in order that "they may indeed look, but not perceive, and may indeed listen, but not understand; so that they may not turn again and be forgiven' " (4:11-12). Jesus says that those who are around him do have the secret (Greek: mysterion), even if their comprehension is dull, because they want to hear and understand and have stayed to ask the question and hear the explanation. But what about for those who are “outside,” who seem to be consigned to a lack of understanding, a lack of repentance, a lack of forgiveness? Why do they “look, but not perceive”? There is no question that some have been “chosen,” the Twelve, but they still must respond to the call. There are others, though, who remain with Jesus, listening to his explanations, and whether they were called and appointed individually, the fact that they have chosen to remain makes them insiders too. They will hear the same explanations as the Twelve. To be on the “inside” and not on the “outside” demands only that you decide to stay and listen. It is also a profound dramatic trick Mark has managed: because we are reading, listening, participating, we, too, become a part of the inner circle, privy to the same explanations that the Twelve and the other disciples (“those who were around him along with the twelve”) will hear. The attentive reader sits with Jesus.

And because they, and we, stay, Jesus explains the parable to us, after a final challenge: "Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand all the parables?” (4:13). In 4:14-20, Jesus unpacks the parable, metaphor by metaphor, explaining that the seed is “the word” sown by “the sower.”  Though Jesus does not directly identify the sower, by identifying the one who eats the seeds which fall on the path as Satan, it is clear that God is the sower of the seed, the speaker of the word. Jesus then goes on to identify all three of the other persons in this scenario: those who hear God’s word with joy, but abandon it when troubles begin; those who receive the word, but desire worldly things ultimately; and those who hear the word, receive it and produce abundantly.  So, Jesus has explained the parable, but what does it mean? Is Jesus sowing God’s word?  Does it mean to be attentive to Jesus? Is it a general warning not to be hard, rocky and thorny soil? Is it a choice as to what kind of soil one is when the seed falls on it? How do you prepare yourself?

Jesus is not done with parables and immediately after interpreting the first parable, he begins to tell another. Hopefully, the explanation of one parable might give us clues as to how to interpret other parables, might be the key that unlocks them all, at least in a general way, but we cannot be certain. We need to listen and hear. We are reminded of it once again when we are given this short parable – “He said to them, "Is a lamp brought in to be put under the bushel basket, or under the bed, and not on the lampstand? For there is nothing hidden, except to be disclosed; nor is anything secret, except to come to light” (4:21-22) – and then the same warning: “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!” (4:23). What should we hear?  To what should we listen? Is the lamp like the word? Is Jesus the lamp? Is God? Or is the lamp just a lamp? The lamp must stand for something. The focus in the second half of the short parable is that the light discloses what is hidden, our secrets.  Is the lamp God’s judgment?

Another parable comes:  “Pay attention to what you hear; the measure you give will be the measure you get, and still more will be given you. For to those who have, more will be given; and from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away” (4:24-25). What does it mean? The parables seem always concerned with God, but will we be given more of God? More knowledge of God? More things of God? Or just more things? At least, for those who are given: others will have it all taken away.

And another parable comes:  “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come” (4:26-29). The Kingdom of God comes with the judgment of God, the reaping, the harvest, his listeners would know that, we know that. Is this the Kingdom of God now? Is it growing silently, unaware? Where? Here? When will I see it?

Still another parable: “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade” (4:3-32). A mustard seed? The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed? It grows into a great shrub? Not a mighty cedar? Who are these birds who nest in it? His hearers might have known of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, when his kingdom was “a tree at the center of the earth, and its height was great. The tree grew great and strong, its top reached to heaven, and it was visible to the ends of the whole earth. Its foliage was beautiful, its fruit abundant, and it provided food for all. The animals of the field found shade under it, the birds of the air nested in its branches, and from it all living beings were fed” (Daniel 4:9-10-12). That was a kingdom and the birds were all the people of his kingdom. Can a shrub be a mighty kingdom? Can the birds be all people? Even the gentiles, as in Nebuchadnezzar's dream?

There were more parables, for “with many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples” (4:33-34). They must have been enthralled and exhausted and wondering, do we have it all? Do we understand it all? What does it all mean?  How can I know this? Because Mark has brought me there, has brought you there, and these are my questions after listening to Jesus’ parables. But did we get it all? “He explained everything in private to his disciples,” but have we been recipients of every private teaching? Have we missed something? And if so, how do we get it?

John W. Martens

Follow me on Twitter @johnwmartens

Francis X. Clooney, John 3:16 and Hindus

There is a terrific piece by Francis Clooney, S.J. on interfaith dialogue at America Magazine dealing with how he is understood in the Hindu world by some interpreters and what his task in interfaith relations is (or ought to be?) in his mind and the minds of others. Here is how he has been described by one commentator:

You may not know, however, that I am also, with some regularity, pilloried in the conservative Hindu blogosphere, by journalists concerned about Christian aggression against Hindus.
I have been described as a famed evangelist or, considering how positive my writings about Hinduism often seem to be, as a tricky Jesuit wolf in sheep’s clothing, covertly dedicated to the conversion of Hindus by the strategy of saying nice things about them. Consider for example a January 2012 post by Mr. Sandhya Jain. It sums me up in a brief statement: “Of course, [Clooney’s] priority is the conversion of pagan Hindus to Catholicism. To this end, he has steeped himself in the process of inculturation and drawn many intellectual Hindus into his interfaith orbit.” But read the whole item yourself.

Clooney does not dismiss this issue outright, though he rejects the categorizations given of him, and says:

While I think such comments are inaccurate, and wide of the mark, they do raise for me an inelegant question: After 40 years of studying Hinduism, learning from wise Hindu teachers, becoming friends with many a Hindu in India and the West – do I intend to convert Hindus? Mr Jain and others like him are good to raise the question: If you are a Christian and never preach the Gospel, what kind of Christian are you? So what have I done with the Christian imperative to evangelize?

He then goes on to consider the question of evangelization in the context of John 3 and John 3:16 particularly. I think he offers a compelling reading of John 3:16 in his own work and scholarship, and for Christians in general, so make certain to read the whole piece here.

John W. Martens

Follow me on Twitter @johnwmartens

Gospel of Mark Commentary Act 2. Scene 2

This is the ninth installment, comprising Act 2. Scene 2, in the online commentary on the Gospel of Mark, which I will blog on throughout the liturgical year. Please see the eighth installment here which contains links to the previous installment and from there you can link to all of them.

This is my division of the Gospel:

Prologue,  1:1-13;

Act  1, 1:14-3:6;

Act 2, 3:7-6:6;

Act 3, 6:7-8:26;

Act 4, 8:27-10:52;

Act 5, 11:1-13:37;

Act 6, 14:1-16:8(20).

Scene 2:

Mark 3:20-35:

Then he went home; 20 and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat. 21 When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, "He has gone out of his mind." 22 And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, "He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons." 23 And he called them to him, and spoke to them in parables, "How can Satan cast out Satan? 24 If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. 25 And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. 26 And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come. 27 But no one can enter a strong man's house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered. 28 "Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; 29 but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin"— 30 for they had said, "He has an unclean spirit." 31 Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. 32 A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, "Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you." 33 And he replied, "Who are my mother and my brothers?" 34 And looking at those who sat around him, he said, "Here are my mother and my brothers! 35 Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother." (NRSV)

With Act 2. Scene 2 Mark pushes us to consider, at least for a moment,  that perhaps the Herodians and Pharisees were on to something, challenging us to reconsider our immediate and current notions of who Jesus is and whether we have properly understood him and made sense of Jesus and his mission. The good man, the teacher, the healer, the exorcist – is he perhaps the Messiah, the King? The crowds think so, for after Jesus returns from appointing his 12 envoys, representatives of an exiled Kingdom, or tribes in waiting, the people crush him and his followers “so that they could not even eat” (3:20).  What about the religious officials and Jesus' family? What do they think?

We are introduced to the most curious reading of Jesus’ actions and behavior thus far in Mark, as Jesus’ family “went out to restrain him” since members of the crowd “were saying, ‘He has gone out of his mind’” (3:21). The verb used here “gone out of his mind,” existemi, does mean to be “displaced” or “out of one’s senses,” but there is no sense of why this claim is being made regarding Jesus or what he supposedly has done. The situation itself is left vague, although his family goes to restrain him. Is the family's move in response to Jesus’ actual behavior, though, or is it in response to a report about his behavior? The two are not the same thing and subsequently the Scribes from Jerusalem, not local, Galilean Scribes, ratchet up the charges by claiming that Jesus’ authority comes from Beelzebul, the ruler of the demons - a form of the original name of a Philistine god - and not from God.

This charge is a natural and essential move for Jesus’ opponents because if they do not believe that Jesus’ teaching, healings or exorcisms derive from God’s power and authority, there is clearly some authority present as the reality of the deeds, as Mark has presented them, cannot be denied. How will his opponents explain his acts and mission? Jesus acts, they say, through the power of Satan. Later, in 3:30, Jesus is accused of having “an unclean spirit.”

“How can Satan cast out Satan?” is Jesus’ initial question. It is a question that Jesus appears to ask of the Scribes specifically, though it might include the whole crowd, but as he continues with his explanation he clearly shows that if he has cast out demons, he cannot represent the power of evil or, if he did, it indicates the end of evil. Moreover, Jesus  says, to conquer a “strong man,” presumed here to be Satan, you have to tie him up before you could plunder his house, that is, cast out his minions and representatives, the unclean spirits. Jesus' actions indicate a power greater than evil and opposed to, not in league with, Satan.

Jesus moves from an explanation of the genuine source of his power, by a process of elimination, to a defense of his ministry and a challenge to his opponents to discern correctly what is taking place in their midst. In his defense he proposes that the stakes are high for judging well: “whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin” (3:29). What is meant by this? Is the claim that Jesus has an unclean spirit blasphemy against the Holy Spirit? Is a negative response to Jesus an eternal sin? Why? Does it indicate a general inability to discern the will or presence of God? Or is it the unwillingness to see God at work, doing something new, in Jesus? Granted all of that: why is it “eternal”?  Mark has juggled many dramatic motifs as he has introduced Jesus and his mission, but even more than the initial conflicts over Torah interpretation, this event has make known to us the depth and roots of the conflict: Is Jesus from God?  If not, who does he represent? If so, what does it mean to reject his mission?

Just then Jesus’ family, announced at the beginning of the Scene, finally arrives – and one can see them pushing through the crowds, the Scribes and the Apostles to get to Jesus, in order to rescue or support or protect their family member, as he is engaged in his clash with the Jerusalem Scribes. Jesus’ mother and brothers cannot get to Jesus directly, so they send a message to him. But when the message is passed on - "Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you” – Jesus appears to blow off his family and draw the crowd who surround and clamor for him ever closer emotionally and spiritually. “And he replied, "Who are my mother and my brothers?"  And looking at those who sat around him, he said, "Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother” (3:33-35).

Authority belongs to God; those who follow God are Jesus’ family. Not only does Jesus reject the Jerusalem Scribes and their authority, now he rejects the authority of his family. The challenge of Jesus’ call is becoming more apparent: the religious authorities reject him; his blood family is considered ephemeral; will you give up everything to follow him?

John W. Martens

Follow me on Twitter @johnwmartens

Who Can Interpret the Bible?

Who can interpret the Bible? Easy answer, right? Anyone with enough money to buy a Bible or borrow one from the library, or steal one I suppose, and who is able to read, can interpret the Bible, even if they do it poorly. Many professionals interpret the Bible poorly, so there is no reason to let that stand in anyone's way. That is all true enough, but there is a deeper level (or levels) to this question, which my New Testament class at St. Paul Seminary School of Divinity has been exploring.

We are exploring this question with the help of Ben F. Meyer's Reality and Illusion in New Testament Scholarship and Peter Williamson's Catholic Principles for Interpreting Scripture, which unpacks the Pontifical Commission's "Interpretation of the Bible in the Church." In these books, the claim is made that one needs more than reason to interpret the Bible, though this is clearly essential and interpretation cannot be carried out without human reason, including the tools of history, philology, textual studies and literary insights. Meyer talks about the need for "conversion" to read the Bible well and Williamson speaks of the "hermeneutic of faith" and states that "reason alone is insufficient to understand the Bible and its message" (97).

The Church has always privileged as interpreters those who belong to the Church, especially the poor and, at a formal level, those who represent the Church, such as Bishops and the Magisterium, and the Tradition of the Church. This makes sense, the Church, as with any religious organization, ought to be able to interpret and define, as it were, itself. But questions still emerge and these are a few that have been raised by the readings, by the class or by me:

 

1) If only Christians can properly interpret the Bible, how does one who is not a Christian encounter it? Are they always only reading on the surface? Can they not have genuine insights? What breaks through this closed circle?

2) What about the Jewish people? Can they not interpret their own texts which comprise the Christian Old Testament? Is this not a claim of hubris? Or supercessionism?

3) If one is "open" to hearing the text, is this sufficient for interpretation? That is, even if one ultimately did not adopt the position of the New Testament, would openness or willingness to hear count for genuine encounter with the text and thus ground for interpretation?

4) If this is the case with the New Testament, does it not follow that I cannot interpret the texts of other religions either if I do not share their understanding of, for instance, The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch? If I adopt the Church's position regarding the Bible, is not a Christian a)  incapable of reading a Buddhist text or an Islamic text unless it is read in faith? or b) can a Christian take the position of the Buddhist or Islamic text, in an act of openness or goodwill, and interpret the text of the "other" religion well?

5) What is the role of the Holy Spirit in all of this? Would an encounter with the Holy Spirit necessitate a reading of the Bible in light of Christian faith?

6) Does any of this apply to technical skill and ability? Are such claims only made to indicate the ecclesial or traditional understanding of Scripture adopted by Christian interpreters and the Church? Does it have any impact on an individual interpreter's "knowledge" or "understanding"?

Any other questions?

John W. Martens

Follow Me On Twitter @johnwmartens

Lent 5: "I hate all virgins, who shun human feeling"

In preparation for a paper on the Christian response to late antique views of sexuality, I have been reading a number of books and articles, some of which I have read previously, that deal with celibacy, sexuality, and asceticism. One of the Church Fathers whose position on sex has generally, and properly, been considered highly negative is John Chrysostom, an intense, gifted and popular priest from Antioch in the late 4th century CE, who later had an unhappy tenure as Patriarch of Constantiniple. Chrysostom, in his text On Vainglory, or the Right Way to Raise Children 19, states that he would prefer all children to be celibate, but since he knows this is not possible, they ought to be engaged and married as soon as possible. But Chrysostom was more than just a representative of celibacy - he wrote, unfortunately, many vicious homilies against the Jews in Antioch. There are historical contexts for these homilies, but none of these contexts excuse his content or tone.

Like all people, though, he was complex. Chrysostom had a genuine love for the poor and was constantly reaching out to them. "He founded a leper colony on the edge of a fashionable suburb" of Constantinople, which was no more a popular move then than it would be today; ancient NIMBY studies await (Peter Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity, 318).  Peter Brown says that from themes directly borrowed from Chrysostom's writing, the Church composer Romanos Melodes wrote a hymn that summed up Chrysostom's view of the necessity of care for the poor and contrasts it with his deeply held view of virginity, by which is meant here the specific view of consecrated virginity or celibacy chosen on behalf of the Church (321). Peter Brown writes about this in his chapter on John Chrysostom, "Sexuality and the City" in The Body and Society: Men, Women and Sexual renunciation in Early Christianity:

Chanted in the urban churches at great festivals, the solemn music of kontakia maintained, for early Byzantines, a language of compassion that had first been carried by the voice of Chrysostom. Echoing a sermon of Chrysostom, Romanos insisted, in his great hymn On The Ten Virgins, that Christ regarded compassion for the poor, and not their virginity, as the rich oil with which the virgins must prime their lamps for His coming:

I renounce the fasts     of those who show no mercy.
I accept the prayers    of those who eat with kindness.
I hate all virgins           who shun human feeling.
I love the married        who love their fellow-creatures.
[and Romanos added, speaking of himself]
I do not do what I now say, and what I urge the people.
For this reason, I fall down. Oh Savior, give me tears,
Contrition in my heart, and in all those who hear me.(321-22)

So often today we contrast fellow Christians, I believe technically these gangs are known as "the Sharks" and "the Jets," as either those who focus on ethical matters dealing with sexuality or those who care for the poor. Chrysostom, for all of his own limitations, focused on both, but it is interesting to see emerging out of the ancient Byzantine Church this focus on the compassion for the poor as the rich oil necessary to prepare for the coming of Christ and not their sexual stance: "I hate all virgins who shun human feeling;
I love the married who love their fellow-creatures." Now, like Romanos, I just need to do what I say.

John W. Martens

Follow me on Twitter @biblejunkies
 .

International Theological Commission and the Bible

For those who have not seen the International Theological Commission’s new document , Theology Today: Perspectives, Principles And Criteria, it is well worth reading (or at least beginning the process). It is especially interesting with respect to its view of the Bible in Theology, as you might expect a Bible Junky to say, though much of what it says about the theological use of the Bible is based upon Dei Verbum and other previous documents. I will have to read it more closely to determine how much it goes beyond or advances the claims of previous documents dealing with the Bible - I could not see a discussion of inerrancy anywhere! Nevertheless, the focus on the Bible as the heart or core of theology is always welcome. I hope to comment on some sections of this document after I have read it more carefully and digested it fully, but here is a snippet, paragraph 23 (I have maintained the footnotes found in the original document):

23. In saying that the study of sacred Scripture is the ‘soul’ of theology, Dei Verbum has in mind all of the theological disciplines. This foundation in the revealed Word of God, as testified by Scripture and Tradition, is essential for theology. Its primary task is to interpret God’s truth as saving truth. Urged on by Vatican II, Catholic theology seeks to attend to the Word of God and thereby to the witness of Scripture in all its work.[41] Thus it is that in theological expositions ‘biblical themes should have first place’, before anything else.[42] This approach corresponds anew to that of the Fathers of the Church, who were ‘primarily and essentially “commentators on sacred Scripture”’,[43] and it opens up the possibility of ecumenical collaboration: ‘shared listening to the Scriptures … spurs us on towards the dialogue of charity and enables growth in the dialogue of truth’.[44]

I like in particular the stress in this paragraph on the Bible’s foundational role for all of theology – "In saying that the study of sacred Scripture is the ‘soul’ of theology, Dei Verbum has in mind all of the theological disciplines” – and the fact that a focus on the Bible opens up Catholic theology to “ecumenical collaboration.”

Paragraph 68 also jumped out at me, a paragraph which comes in a historical survey of theology, particularly as it speaks of the distancing of theology from the Bible at the end of the middle ages, one of the key criticisms of the Anabaptists and Reformers  of the Catholic Church:

68. Towards the end of the middle ages, the unified structure of Christian wisdom, of which theology was the keystone, began to break up. Philosophy and other secular disciplines increasingly separated themselves from theology, and theology itself fragmented into specialisations which sometimes lost sight of their deep connection. There was a tendency of theology to distance itself from the Word of God, so that on occasion it became a purely philosophical reflection applied to religious questions. At the same time, perhaps because of this neglect of Scripture, its theo-logical dimension and spiritual finality slipped from view, and the spiritual life began to develop aside from a rationalising university theology, and even in opposition to the latter.[127] Theology, thus fragmented, became more and more cut off from the actual life of the Christian people and ill equipped to face the challenges of modernity.

Frankly, I still see this as a present reality in many cases  - “There was a tendency of theology to distance itself from the Word of God, so that on occasion it became a purely philosophical reflection applied to religious questions” -  and it will lead (or has led?) once again in our historical context to the result that ends this paragraph: “Theology, thus fragmented, became more and more cut off from the actual life of the Christian people and ill equipped to face the challenges of modernity.”

Read the whole of the document  here and make sure to check back with comments.

John W. Martens

Follow me on Twitter @johnwmartens

Gospel of Mark Commentary Act 2. Scene 1

Introduction to the Series:

I think that the Gospel of Mark is a dramatic narrative, by which I mean not simply that the content is dramatic, which it is, but that Mark has constructed a Gospel which is in essence a play, a drama, albeit divine and cosmic in its implications. This does not mean that I think that Mark is ahistorical, only that each Gospel author had to make choices in how their Gospels were constructed and Mark functions as a natural dramatist in how he presents material and how he structures the events in Jesus’ life. As the first written Gospel, and with the oral tradition more apparent on the surface, Mark is sometimes seen as simplistic and even shapeless, but I will argue that the Gospel of Mark is formed with great care, shaped by a series of six Acts, with many scenes, naturally, comprising each Act. Each Act is at the service of Mark’s overall purpose, to explain and unfold not only the identity of the Messiah, but the destiny of the Messiah and his followers. Mark draws the reader into his narrative, so that the reader himself becomes one of the disciples following along the journey with Jesus, a point that will become more apparent as we move deeper into the Gospel.  

This is my division of the Gospel:

Prologue,  1:1-13;

Act  1, 1:14-3:6;

Act 2, 3:7-6:6;

Act 3, 6:7-8:26;

Act 4, 8:27-10:52;

Act 5, 11:1-13:37;

Act 6, 14:1-16:8(20).

This is the eighth installment, comprising Act 2. Scene 1, in the online commentary on the Gospel of Mark, which I will blog on throughout the liturgical year. Please see the seventh installment here which contains links to the previous installment and from there you can link to all of them.

Scene 1:

Mark 3:7-19:

7 Jesus departed with his disciples to the sea, and a great multitude from Galilee followed him; 8 hearing all that he was doing, they came to him in great numbers from Judea, Jerusalem, Idumea, beyond the Jordan, and the region around Tyre and Sidon. 9 He told his disciples to have a boat ready for him because of the crowd, so that they would not crush him; 10 for he had cured many, so that all who had diseases pressed upon him to touch him. 11 Whenever the unclean spirits saw him, they fell down before him and shouted, "You are the Son of God!" 12 But he sternly ordered them not to make him known. 13 He went up the mountain and called to him those whom he wanted, and they came to him. 14 And he appointed twelve, whom he also named apostles, to be with him, and to be sent out to proclaim the message, 15 and to have authority to cast out demons. 16 So he appointed the twelve: Simon (to whom he gave the name Peter); 17 James son of Zebedee and John the brother of James (to whom he gave the name Boanerges, that is, Sons of Thunder); 18 and Andrew, and Philip, and Bartholomew, and Matthew, and Thomas, and James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus, and Simon the Cananaean, 19 and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him. Then he went home. (NRSV)

Jesus’ death is foreshadowed directly and clearly in Mark 3:6, in which the Pharisees and Herodians plot Jesus’ death, the scene which ends Act 1. Yet, as Act 2 begins, there is no overt sense of danger; it is as if no threat has been made. And, in a sense, no threat has been made to Jesus or his disciples. He is aware of the opposition of some of the religious and political leaders, but that has been clear since Act 1. Scene 6 (Mark 2:1-12). It is the reader, or viewer, who witnesses the plot, but there is no obvious change in how Jesus’ carries out his ministry or how people respond to him.

Jesus calls his disciples to come with him, to leave the synagogue and follow, but even as he begins, Mark lists all of the people who are following him in addition: people from Galilee, Judea, Jerusalem, Idumea, beyond the Jordan, and the region around Tyre and Sidon. Not only, Mark alerts us, does Jesus have crowds following  from the north in Galilee, Jesus’ own region, but his reputation and fame has spread throughout Judea and even to Gentile regions (Idumea, “beyond the Jordan,” and Tyre and Sidon all qualify). With a few phrases, Mark has told us that Jesus’ ministry not only continues, but is quickly becoming international in scope.

Mark does not want to dwell on the specifics of this scene, or scenes, of crushing crowds, yearning for healing, exorcism and hope, so he gives us a précis or summary of Act 1 in three verses: in Mark 3:10-12, Jesus heals diseases, casts out demons and tells them to say nothing about him. All of this we have witnessed in far more detail. Mark does not want to linger on these powers and deeds, already established in the previous Act; he only, I believe, wants to indicate that however and whatever plot is coming to be formed, it will not frustrate Jesus’ mission. It will continue.

There is another, more intimate picture, however, that Mark wants to create. We move from impersonal crowds from all around ancient Palestine, and the neighboring regions and cities, people who press in namelessly on Jesus, to a quiet scene on a mountainside in which Jesus calls “those whom he wanted” (3:13). He chooses some directly and personally “to be with him” (3:14). This is, to my mind, the climax of the mission thus far – not that healings, exorcisms, teachings and conflicts are insignificant – only that it acknowledges the creation of a formal ministry, shared with others, shared with friends. If you announce a kingdom (1:15), it is to expect that people will hear the call  and respond to the call and enter the Kingdom, however ill-defined it is to the initial hearers of the word,” as I wrote in Act 1. Scene 1. But a Kingdom also needs, well, a King: does Jesus announce his own Kingship by choosing friends to be with him? By creating an inner circle? They are confidantes, they are “to be with him,” they are his friends. Yet, they also have formal tasks, which they share with Jesus. Yet, his task surpasses theirs without question, so what, exactly, is Jesus’ formal task?

  

The “twelve” whom Jesus appoints, Mark tells us, are “apostles,” those who are “sent out to proclaim the message”  and “to cast out demons” (3:15). They share in Jesus’ work, and also in his authority. The basic meaning of an apostolos in Greek, prior to its Christian usage, might be indicated by one, or some, of these terms: messenger, envoy, delegate, ambassador. They represent Jesus and share in his ministry. Their names are given, which point to their significance to this story; they will not be a part of a faceless crowd, or known as a “paralytic.” Indeed, some of them are given nicknames, true signs of friends and their personalities or characteristics: Simon is Peter (“Rock”); James and John are “Sons of Thunder.” There is one other description of an Apostle, however, which Mark notes for us, and which he leaves hanging: “Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.”

In light of the plot to destroy him, even if such a plot is nothing more than a thought in the imaginations of some, the harsh mention of one “who betrayed him” is not easy to miss. It cements the importance of the plot which ended Act 1. More than that, it signals us that the choosing of the twelve was a strategic choice, in response to the plot, to aid or carry on his mission, or perhaps to protect him from the plot which is coming. While Jesus carried on as if there was no danger or concern, his choosing of the twelve now indicates that he is aware and that he wants his friends to know their mission. That this was the ultimate purpose of this scene is obvious, for when he completes it, “then he went home.”

Before leaving, though, we must note the number of twelve apostles, the number of the tribes of Israel. Since the Assyrian destruction of the Northern Kingdom in the 8^th century BCE, there had been only two tribes remaining, Judah and Benjamin. There was a hope, however, that when the Kingdom of God was established, all twelve tribes would be restored and established.  Listen to Isaiah 27: 13:

And on that day a great trumpet will be blown, and those who were lost in the land of Assyria and those who were driven out to the land of Egypt will come and worship the Lord on the holy mountain at Jerusalem.

Is this what Jesus intends by choosing twelve apostles, a sign of the fulfillment of the hopes of the Messiah who will restore all Israel? We will have to focus carefully on this number throughout Mark’s narrative, but it is the best initial reading.

John W. Martens

Follow me on Twitter @johnwmartens

Richard Bauckham on The Talpiyot Tomb B Inscription

A terrific article by Richard Bauckham on the Talpiyot Tomb B Inscription that has been creating a buzz (for all the wrong reasons?). Bauckham, at the ASOR Blog, argues that it is a fascinating and significant inscription, but that it has nothing to do with early Christianity. Here is Bauckham's conclusion:

I propose the translation:
Belonging to Zeus IAIO.
I, Hagab, exalt (him/you).
I do not think the inscription has anything to do with Jesus or early Christianity, but I do think it is one of the most interesting of ossuary inscriptions and that it has a contribution to make to our understanding of early Judaism.

You will be fascinated by how carefully he reaches his conclusion, even if you disagree with some or all of it. Also take a look at the comments at the end of the article. It would be helpful to know the Greek and Hebrew alphabets, although most, not all, of the words are transliterated, so if you do not make sure to take a look. Please read the whole article here.

John W. Martens

Follow me on Twitter @johnwmartens

Inerrancy: Approaches to Dei Verbum 11

Some time ago I wrote a blog post in which I responded to a post by Alexander Pruss on the relationship between inerrancy and literalism. In a comment which Pruss made on my post, he clarified for me some confusion I had between his use of the word “literalism,” which I thought was directly connected to the “literal sense” of Scripture, but which he explained was used by him to refer to “the literalistic sense”.  This “literalistic sense” does not, for instance, take genre into account in its readings of Scripture. His comments on “literal” sense and “literalistic” sense cleared up these issues of definition for me, at least as he was using these terms, but his last comment on inerrancy required time for reflection on my part.

This is how I had responded in my initial post to his discussion of inerrancy:

He starts with an assumption that a strange marriage exists between biblical inerrancy and biblical literalism, but the first problem is the sloppy definition of inerrancy, “that every proposition asserted by Scripture is true.” One can, of course, assert that, but Catholic interpretation, for instance, does not ask that one accept that “every proposition asserted by Scripture is true,” except in a specific sense:

Therefore, since everything asserted by the inspired authors or sacred writers must be held to be asserted by the Holy Spirit, it follows that the books of Scripture must be acknowledged as teaching solidly, faithfully and without error that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings (5) for the sake of salvation. (Dei Verbum 11).

Inerrancy, as stated in Dei Verbum, is “that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation” (DV, 11). Now, this might be what Pruss means by “oeconomic necessity,” but I read his post on that term a few times and could not determine if that was the case. At any rate, if one defines “inerrancy” not in a broad way, but in a specific, theological manner, the claim is simply that God’s truth, that truth essential for spiritual salvation, is found in the Scriptures.

My basic point, then, was that the Catholic Church’s understanding of inerrancy in Scripture was not so broad as that found in some fundamentalist or evangelical churches, but  Pruss’s comment on my post was significant in that he took on Dei Verbum’s definition of inerrancy directly:

3. As for Vatican II, the text seems to be making the following argument:

A. Everything asserted by the writers of Scripture is asserted by the Holy Spirit.
B. Therefore: Scripture correctly teaches the truth needed for salvation.

In making the argument, the text asserts both A and B. Now, it is true that B concerns the truth as needed for salvation. But there is no such restriction in A. Without any restriction, A tells us that everything the writers of Scripture assert (in Scripture) is asserted by the Holy Spirit. But of course, and uncontroversially, whatever the Holy Spirit asserts is true. So it follows logically that everything asserted by the writers of Scripture is true.

It is also possible that Vatican II is implying that that everything asserted in Scripture is relevant to salvation.

But in any case, everything asserted in Scripture is asserted by the Holy Spirit, and hence is true, since the Holy Spirit knows all truth and never lies.

Pruss's statements above do seem to reflect fairly the description of inerrancy in Dei Verbum 11 and points to a tension in the text:  if everything in Scripture is asserted by the Holy Spirit, everything in Scripture is true. The problem is there are a number of claims made in Scripture which seem not to be true, at least regarding history, science, geography, and the natural world, or claims made that seem to be irrelevant with respect to the truth, and it is difficult to find a Catholic Scripture scholar or a document from the Pontifical Biblical Commission which would accept Pruss's reading of Dei Verbum 11. What is missing, I think, from just looking at a singular claim from DV is the context for Scripture in all of its complexity.

In Peter Williamson’s study of the Pontifical Biblical Commission’s “Interpretation of the Bible in the Church,” he says that “fundamentalism’s crucial flaw is its failure to accept Scripture’s human dimension” (35). This is not only Williamson’s claim, but that of the PBC itself, which takes into account the literary roles of the authors and editors of the biblical books; the historical nature of the process; and the limitations of human authors and editors (35).

This leads to some significant qualifications regarding both the nature of inspiration and, it seems to me, that of inerrancy. A key claim is that “although all Scripture and all of its parts are inspired, not every verse or paragraph is of equal theological value” (36). A second assertion is that elements of the biblical message are “permanent” and others are “contingent,” especially those relating to particular historical realities or institutions which no longer apply or exist (36). Third, the human authors and editors were not able, even though inspired, to transcend the human limitations of memory, historical inaccuracies or mistaken scientific notions common to their own age (37).  All of this adds up, it seems to me, to a notion of inerrancy that does not claim that everything stated in the Bible is “true,” at least not as the word “true” or “truth” is commonly used.

There are, as a result,  three possible approaches to the Catholic notion of inerrancy.

1)      You dump the notion, at least with the use of the word "inerrant" or "without error," and say that not only are there historical, scientific and other mistakes in Scripture, there are theological and moral claims, regarding slavery, women, or the family, for instance, which are unacceptable to people today, though Scripture remains foundational, inspired, and the Word of God;

2)      You read Dei Verbum 11 as Pruss has, in its maximal sense, to indicate that if everything in Scripture is asserted by the Holy Spirit, then everything in Scripture is true. This position is to be maintained (and here I am making a general claim, not asserting that Pruss has said this or intends this) regardless of data in the Bible that seems not to be true – these “apparent contradictions” can be smoothed over in some way or another – or regardless of institutions and realities reflected in the Bible that trouble people morally today – just get over your squeamishness and accept the "truth";

3)      You accept that the phrase in Dei Verbum 11, “that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation,” is limited by the humanity of the authors and the historical time in which Scripture emerged. It is a different claim than proposing  that everything in Scripture is true and it does not assert that everything in Scripture is necessary for our salvation today, even though all Scripture is inspired.

Obviously, many people could and do accept approach 1), but this approach does not arise from an interpretation of Dei Verbum 11, but a jettisoning of it. For approach 1) to be be accepted widely would require a new statement by the Church. I personally accept approach 3) and reject approach 2), but the reality is, as Pruss has shown, that approach 2) is a possible reading of the text of Dei Verbum.

The question for me is this: the issue of inerrancy as stated in Dei Verbum 11 is in need of clarification, so why has it not been clarified? Or is it being left deliberately vague in order not to “solve” these issues in a particular manner? That is, is the statement allowed to stand so that some can say, “this relates only to the theological truth necessary for salvation,” while others can argue, as Pruss clearly demonstrates is possible philosophically, “all Scripture teaches the truth, it contains no error of any kind”? Is it attempting to meet the needs of everyone without satisfying anyone?

John W. Martens

Follow me on Twitter @johnwmartens

Miracles: Part 2, or Miracles Never Cease

For the initial posts on miracles in this discussion, please see my first post here and David Jenkins’ response here.

David,

Thank you for your response to my comments earlier, which did indeed help me to clarify my position. We decided to take a little break from commenting on each other’s posts to let the ideas ruminate and sink in for a while, and perhaps to get on to other things, but I am ready to jump back into the fray, whether my rumination is complete or whether anything has sunk in.

It seems like the basic question, or disagreement, which we have is how God acts in nature or God’s relationship to his creation. At the end of your last post you defined miracle in this way, referring to earlier comments: “an event in the external world brought about by the immediate agency or the simple volition of God.”  This is a straightforward definition, which is helpful. For me it is helpful, because the clarity allows me to think seriously about what I would want to add or detract from such simplicity, or even why I would want to add to it. I did take a long time thinking about the ways in which I agreed with you, but could not shake the sense that disagreements still remained for me.

Let me start with common ground that we share. A strict naturalism would state that there is no God and that everything can be explained by natural forces and laws: there are no supernatural forces present or active in the world; there is no God. Another form of naturalism, a form of Deism perhaps, would say that there is a God, but that natural chains of causality are never broken and that God transcends nature and does not impinge upon its lonely integrity. Both of us reject these views of the natural world, that much is clear from our comments.

The question, then, is how does God act in the natural world and in conjunction with his creation? One way, is through the creation itself and through the laws embedded in creation which people perceive on a daily and regular basis and which, in some cases, scientists perceive only through advanced and specialized study. Nevertheless, most of the time nature adheres to a regular pattern of observation. When events happen which seem to go beyond or break down nature’s regular patterns, how are these explained?

This is where, I believe, I have some disagreement with your definition of miracles: I do think that God is active in miraculous occurrences, but I want to maintain this claim in the context of God’s immanence in, not just transcendence over, nature; and I want to claim a role for human agency, not just divine agency, in miraculous events.  In terms of God’s immanence, “theologically, and even logically, God cannot be completely separate from the created order. If God were “wholly other,” God could not influence the world, nor could the world influence God” (Terry Nichols, The Sacred Cosmos,  194).  I am not suggesting, however, that we are all little bits of God, or that God is nature, a position that could be described as pantheism. God is discontinuous with, greater than, more than, humanity and nature, just not “wholly other.”

The focus on human agency, not simply divine agency, is where there is also a break with your definition of an event brought about “by the immediate agency or the simple volition of God.” At some level your definition is correct and I am not suggesting that we understand completely, I certainly do not, the means by or the reasons why God acts in a miraculous manner, but it seems human beings play some role in this process. I think of the interesting passage in Mark 6:5-6a, “And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief” (NRSV).  I would translate “unbelief,” apistia in Greek, as a “lack of faith,” which indicates “faith” as an essential component of Jesus’ miraculous deeds.  This is often a stated necessity for healings. See Mark 2:5: “When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven."; Mark 5: 34: "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”  So, I do see miracles as supernatural causality working within the context of nature, but “it is not the case that God arbitrarily decides to intervene here and not there, now and then” (Nichols, 195-96). That is what I meant by saying that God does not act capriciously or arbitrarily and that human beings, in relationship with God, have some role to play in miraculous actions.

Miracles are signs of God’s grace perfecting the natural order and our openness to that grace of God. They are also signs of the perfection which is intended for the natural order and for us, as Paul says in Romans 8:22-23:

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.

I do not think that God’s action through miracles violates the laws of nature because it is a perfecting of natural processes and a sign of the transcendence for which human beings long as their true destiny.  Does this fit with your definition? “An event in the external world brought about by the immediate agency or the simple volition of God.”  Yes and no. I disagree with your definition in these ways: if “external world” is meant to indicate God’s general absence from the world into which God now and then deigns to act – I want to stress that God is always present and active; if “immediate agency or the simple volition of God” are meant to indicate that God acts without reference to faith or the relational quality of creation in which human beings also play a part – I want to insist that God is a personal God and even if we cannot understand all of the means or processes by which or for which God acts, God could not act in ways which do not account for the integrity of human relationships with God. That is certainly not cheating, just defining the nature of a miracle. Is that what Archbishop Williams holds? At this point, I must admit, I could not say! It is, however, what I think and if he held this position, he would be right to do so.

John W. Martens

 Follow me on Twitter @johnwmartens

Gospel of Mark Commentary Act 1. Scene 8 and Scene 9

This is the seventh installment, comprising Act 1. Scenes 8 and 9, in the online commentary on the Gospel of Mark, which I will blog on throughout the liturgical year. Please see the sixth installment here  which contains a link to the previous installment and from there you can link to all of them.

Scene 8:

Mark 2:23-28

22 One sabbath he was going through the grainfields; and as they made their way his disciples began to pluck heads of grain. 24 The Pharisees said to him, "Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?" 25 And he said to them, "Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need of food? 26 He entered the house of God, when Abiathar was high priest, and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and he gave some to his companions." 27 Then he said to them, "The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath; 28 so the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath." (NRSV)

Scene 9:

Mark 3:1-6

1 Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. 2 They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. 3 And he said to the man who had the withered hand, "Come forward." 4 Then he said to them, "Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?" But they were silent. 5 He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, "Stretch out your hand." He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. 6 The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him

These two scenes end Act 1. Conflict continues in both Scene 8 and Scene 9, and in both of these scenes the Pharisees are again present as the antagonists and those who challenge the ways of Jesus and his followers (2:24; 3:2). In Scene 8, the challenge of the Pharisees is concerning the way in which Jesus’ disciples follow, or do not follow, the Law of Moses.  This is not, directly, a challenge to Jesus’ authority from the Pharisees. It seems to be a genuine question over the disciples’ understanding and practice of the Torah, that in “plucking” grain they are engaged in work which is forbidden on the Sabbath. Even more, if they process the grain, at even a minimal level, more work will be involved, and unless they are going to eat raw grain, highly unlikely,  still more work will be required. Do the disciples of Jesus not know or do they not care about the Sabbath? What about Jesus himself as their master? What is his view of the Sabbath and, by extrension, the Torah?

In this case, Jesus does not defend his disciples from charges of breaking the Law, except in a roundabout way.  He draws attention to a story concerning King David in which the Law was broken to meet human needs, suggesting that a similar situation has unfolded before them. But why is it similar? Jesus answers by stating that "the sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath; so the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath." The answer or reasoning has two parts: the sabbath is not meant to create hardship for human beings; and the Son of Man, a term Jesus has used earlier in Mark 2:9 to refer to himself, “is lord even of the sabbath.” The first portion of Jesus’ response is based upon an event in Scripture and Jesus is drawing a parallel to it, as anyone, hypothetically, might do, but the fact that the story involves King David might be intended to draw a parallel to Jesus as a new David, who has authority to allow his companions or followers to “break” the Torah at one level to fulfill their human needs.  This might be the intended sense since Mark has at the beginning of the Gospel called Jesus by Messianic, Davidic, and kingly titles.

The second portion of Jesus’ response introduces a strict argument from authority, not with respect to Davidic claims, but beyond David, with respect to the mysterious Son of Man, who Jesus claims is “lord of the sabbath.” This claim involves mastery over the Law, in a sense mastery over the perfection and completion of Creation, but Mark simply allows this reality to hang in the air. One cannot but ask, who is this man and what is he claiming? The conflicts are profound and deep: the question of the Pharisees is a fair question regarding the Law; Jesus answers as if to say, you have no idea the authority I have which permits me to allow this.

The Pharisees do not leave in Scene 9, though they will not be named until 3:6. In this Scene, Jesus is in a Synagogue, supposedly on the same Sabbath as the grain has been plucked, so tension would remain high. The Pharisees are clearly not satisfied with Jesus’ explanation as to why his disciples do not follow the Law of Moses, so they are stalking him, watching “to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him” (3:2). Mark lets us know that their mind has already been determined: they do not believe his biblical interpretation or his claim to divine authority. Jesus in  modern parlance stares them down, daring them to draw the right conclusions concerning him or to act on their understanding.

Jesus heals the man with the withered hand, though it is not clear that this would have been considered as an illegal act on the Sabbath, and challenges the onlookers to decide:  "Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?" (3:4). There is no direct response made, but Mark creates a scene in which one can feel the seething anger rising amongst the Pharisees. Jesus has not only ignored their questions, he has upped the ante, and he has gone all in. What is their response?  After Jesus’ healing of the man with the withered hand, they too go all in, for “the Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him” (3:6).

Whatever the source of Jesus’ authority, whatever claims he is making about himself, the Pharisees do not believe him or accept him. If they represent God and the Law of God, exactly who does Jesus, regardless of his manifest power, represent? How dare he throw his view of the Torah and himself in their faces? Engaging the help of some political allies, the Herodians, the Pharisees plot to kill him.  Through their quick entry into the Scene Mark shocks us to realization: political concerns have been lurking on the fringes of the stage for a while. The decision to "destroy" Jesus is a harsh and shocking response, but it should not be unexpected. Mark has quickly shown us Jesus’ power and authority, over illness, evil, and creation, but the Pharisees do not accept that Jesus’ power and authority is from God.  What else can they do? Should they let him go on? What are Jesus’ aims in all of this? This is the first time that the Herodians have been seen in this Gospel, but they seem to be in tune with the Pharisees: we need to destroy this man. What threat, or threats, does he pose? Mark has demonstrated the opposition, clearly and rapidly, but why must they stop him? And so the first Act ends.

John W. Martens

Follow me on Twitter @johnwmartens