The 'Gospel' Between Emperor and Temple in the Gospel of Mark: A Story of Epoch-Making Proximity to the Divine Through Victory and Cult 9783161618581, 3161618580, 9783161618598

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Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Herausgeber/Editor Jörg Frey (Zürich) Mitherausgeber/Associate Editors Markus Bockmuehl (Oxford) ∙ James A. Kelhoffer (Uppsala) Tobias Nicklas (Regensburg) ∙ Janet Spittler (Charlottesville, VA) J. Ross Wagner (Durham, NC)

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Morten Hørning Jensen

The ‘Gospel’ between Emperor and Temple in the Gospel of Mark A Story of Epoch-Making Proximity to the Divine through Victory and Cult

Mohr Siebeck

Morten Hørning Jensen, born 1972; 2005 PhD, University of Aarhus, Denmark; 2009–2019 associate professor at Menighedsfakultetet, the Lutheran School of Theology, Aarhus, Denmark; since 2013 professor II at the Norwegian School of Theology and Religion, Oslo, Norway; since 2017 Research Fellow at the Department of Biblical and Ancient Studies, University of South Africa; 2019–2022 associate professor at Fjellhaug International University College, Aarhus, Denmark; since 2022 professor at Fjellhaug International University College, Aarhus, Denmark orcid.org/0000-0001-8243-7449

ISBN 978-3-16-161858-1/ eISBN 978-3-16-161859-8 DOI 10.1628/978-3-16-161859-8 ISSN 0512-1604 / eISSN 2568-7476 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament) The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2023 Mohr Siebeck Tübingen. www.mohrsiebeck.com This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was printed by Gulde Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

To my children: Johanne, Benjamin, Oliver, and Jonathan

Preface This study has an element of unforeseen – and undeserved, really – luck to it. Following years of Galilean studies during my PhD and postdoctoral employments, I was looking for a bridge from ‘Galilee’ into Gospel studies when it rather coincidently dawned upon me how profound and significant a discussion ‘the gospel’ had spurred among New Testament scholars. Rather ignorantly, I imagined that this fundamental concept to Christian tradition was probably somewhat unequivocal and beyond discussion. How wrong I was! Instead, in successive rounds, the notion of ‘the gospel’ has been the topic of extremely interesting discussions that in reality prefigures a multiplicity of other important New Testament questions. The vastness of the discussion forced me to eventually burn my ‘Galilean bridges’ into this topic, namely the question of purity and/or imperial propaganda as motivating factors for first-century Galileans, in order to focus solely on the Gospel of Mark and the question that had become my sledgehammer with which to crack the stubborn nut: What does Mark mean to say with his bold opener: “The beginning of the gospel …”? It is the outcome of this question that is entailed in this study which, after a number of preliminary investigations and blind alleys, was finally begun in its present form in the spring of 2019 – also rather coincidently at the time when the covid lockdowns hit us all, leaving one with little else to do than to take a deep dive into the ocean of eminent scholarship on the topic. Though the bulk of the work was thus done in conditions approximating solitary confinement, there are quite a number of people I wish to thank for their instrumental help during the process. First in mind are the students and classes who have followed me along my path of discoveries, often being subjected to preliminary and half-baked ideas in the classrooms at the Lutheran School of Theology in Aarhus and during excursions to Israel. Thanks for the fun and encouraging questions along the way! Second, I wish to thank the number of highly regarded experts on the Gospel of Mark, of whom I have had the opportunity to ask for help and advice during the process of getting acquainted with a new research area, as well as experts in other related fields: Joel Marcus, Adela Collins, Max Botner, Elizabeth Shively, Eve-Marie Becker, David Moffitt, Kelli O’Brien, Craig A. Evans, Andrew Abernethy, Jörg Frey, Joel Williams, Steve Mason, David Hendin, John VanMaaren, and more. Likewise, I wish to thank the organizers of the SBL Mark Passion Narrative Seminar and

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Preface

the SBL Gospel of Mark session for accepting papers based on the present investigations. In the same manner, a huge thanks goes to the Nordic-based research seminar, Tekst møter tekst (Text meeting text), for reading through long stretches of the manuscript. Finally, a warm and heartfelt thank you is offered for the support I have been given by the Lutheran School of Theology/Fjellhaug International University College in Aarhus: to its leadership and board of directors for providing funding and time for this type of research, to director of our library, Karin Christensen, and specifically to my colleges Peter V. Legarth, Asger Højlund, and Carsten Vang for reading through the manuscript in its entirety, spotting an incalculable number of errors. To this I must add the help provided by Jørgen Bækgaard Thomsen, who has proof checked each and every scriptural reference, and not least the assistance provided by Kasper Bergholt, who by his eminent knowledge of language and style as well as the antique texts has provided help far beyond his title of ‘research assistant.’ When the book finally began to take shape, and the hopes for seeing it completed were on the rise, I was in no doubt that I would ask Jörg Frey whether it could be considered for publication in the WUNT series. The solidity of Mohr Siebeck’s publications speaks for itself, and I have throughout this process been extremely impressed by the competence, turnover time, and accuracy of Henning Ziebritzki and the editorial staff of Mohr Siebeck. Besides the research funding provided by the Lutheran School of Theology, Aarhus, I also wish to express my gratitude to the research funding I have been given by MF Norwegian School of Theology, Religion and Society, the University of South Africa, the Jens og Karin Trollér Mikkelsens Fond, and the Jubilæumsfonden. I wish to dedicate this book to my four children: Johanne, Benjamin, Oliver, and Jonathan. The gospel is the greatest gift of the Christian faith. As much as, according the New Testament scriptures, it is singular and determined, it is also as comprehensive as life itself and one to unfold afresh and re-develop through each generation. If you ever read this book or not, I hope that you will find joy in living in the gospel. Aarhus, December 2022

Morten Hørning Jensen

Table of Contents

Table of Contents Preface ............................................................................................................ V Abbreviations and Preliminary Remarks ..................................................... XV List of Tables ............................................................................................ XXI

Chapter 1: The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross ............................................................................................................. 1 1.1 The Question Never Envisioned .............................................................. 1 1.2 Thesis of Investigation ............................................................................ 4 1.2.1 Research Question ....................................................................... 4 1.2.2 Working Hypothesis .................................................................... 4 1.2.3 Investigation Outline ................................................................... 6 1.3 Method and Presuppositions .................................................................. 8 1.3.1 Blueprint for Reading Mark ......................................................... 8 1.3.2 A Note on Modern Concepts for Ancient Texts..........................19 1.3.3 Scope and Demarcations .............................................................24

Chapter 2: Mark and his Εὐαγγέλιον – Status Quaestionis...........27 2.1 Introduction ...........................................................................................27 2.2 Mind the Gap: The Root of τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον .............................................28 2.2.1 2.2.2 2.2.3 2.2.4 2.2.5

A Problematic Pedigree ..............................................................28 The Surprising Discoveries of 1898 and 1899 ............................30 Judean Explanations ...................................................................35 Hellenistic/Roman Explanations .................................................39 Τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον as a Composite Notion (I) ...................................46

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2.3 Kingdom or Christ? The Content of Mark’s Εὐαγγέλιον ....................... 49 2.3.1 Harnack and the Question of ‘das doppelte Evangelium’ ........... 49 2.3.2 Gospel Understanding in Ensuing Research ............................... 53 2.3.3 Τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον as a Composite Notion (II) ................................. 57 2.4 Mark and the Empire: Postcolonial and/or Anti-Imperial Readings ..... 58 2.4.1 2.4.2 2.4.3 2.4.4 2.4.5 2.4.6

From Belege to Hermeneutics … and Preaching ........................ 58 Early Political Studies of Mark................................................... 65 Richard A. Horsley and Anti-Empire ......................................... 67 Vespasian or Jesus ...................................................................... 72 Postcolonial Ambivalence .......................................................... 79 Discussion .................................................................................. 85

2.5 Provenance and Gospel Purpose ........................................................... 87 2.5.1 2.5.2 2.5.3 2.5.4 2.5.5

From Gospel Problems to Provenance Problems ........................ 87 From Galilee to Capernaum........................................................ 89 From Syria to Sectarianism ........................................................ 91 From Rome to Vespasian............................................................ 93 Evaluation of the Current Provenance Discussion ...................... 96

2.6 Partial Conclusion .............................................................................. 100

Chapter 3: Epoch-Making ‘Gospel’ Proclamations before Mark........................................................................................................... 105 3.1 Introduction and Research Questions.................................................. 105 3.2 The ‘Gospel’ as an Epoch-Making Proclamation ............................... 107 3.2.1 Epoch-Making ‘Gospels’ in the Hebrew Bible ......................... 107 3.2.2 Epoch-Making ‘Gospels’ in the LXX ....................................... 118 3.2.3 Epoch-Making ‘Gospels’ in Greek and Roman Texts .............. 125 3.3 The Epoch-Making ‘Gospel’ Vision of Isaiah 40–66 ........................... 134 3.3.1 The Isaianic ‘Gospel’ as a ‘New Exodus’? ............................... 134 3.3.2 The Epoch-Making Vision of Proximity to the Divine … ........ 141 3.3.3 … Through Kingly Victory and Cultic Atonement................... 148 3.4 Isaianic Restoration in the Late Second Temple Period ...................... 159

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3.4.1 Isaianic ‘Gospel’ Proclamation in Late Second Temple Jewish Texts .............................................................................159 3.4.2 Isaiah and the Sectarian Quest for the ‘Place of Fulfilment’.....165 3.4.3 Paul as Priest, Prophet, and Proclaimer of the Isaianic Gospel .175 3.5 Partial Conclusion...............................................................................189

Chapter 4: Mark’s Prologue between Promise and Proximity ...195 4.1 Introduction and Research Questions ..................................................195 4.2 Structure and Outline of Mark’s Prologue ..........................................197 4.2.1 4.2.2 4.2.3 4.2.4

Can a Convincing Structure of Mark be Established? ..............197 Is Mark’s ‘Prologue’ a Prologue? .............................................200 How Long is Mark’s Prologue? ................................................203 How Does 1:1 Function in Mark’s Introduction? .....................207

4.3 Mark’s Epoch-Making Use of Isaiah’s ‘Gospel’ .................................213 4.3.1 Research Overview ...................................................................213 4.3.2 Mark 1:2–3: Analysis ...............................................................216 4.3.3 A ‘New Exodus’ in Mark? ........................................................218 4.4 Proximity Begun, Prepared, Received, Tested .....................................219 4.4.1 4.4.2 4.4.3 4.4.4

Epoch-Making Proximity Begun: Ἀρχή (1:1) ...........................219 Epoch-Making Proximity Prepared (1:4–8) ..............................222 Epoch-Making Proximity Received (1:9–11) ...........................234 Epoch-Making Proximity Tested (1:12–13) .............................246

4.5 Proximity Proclaimed ..........................................................................252 4.5.1 The Gospel of Genitives ...........................................................252 4.5.2 The ‘Gospel,’ God, Jesus, and the Kingdom (1:14–15) ............254 4.5.3 The ‘Gospel’ and Jesus the Messiah (1:1) ................................262 4.6 Partial Conclusion...............................................................................265

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Chapter 5: The Galilean ‘Gospel’ of Victory and Proximity ..... 271 5.1 Introduction and Research Questions.................................................. 271 5.2 The Newness and Potency of the Gospel-Bringer ................................ 273 5.2.1 Subversive Eschatological Newness ......................................... 273 5.2.2 Eschatological and Heavenly Derived Potency ........................ 277 5.3 Galilean ‘Gospel’ Victory ................................................................... 281 5.3.1 5.3.2 5.3.3 5.3.4 5.3.5

Conflict in Calling: Family and/or Discipleship? ..................... 281 Controversies with Jewish Authorities ..................................... 287 Subversion of Demons and Death............................................. 294 Subversion of Gentile Borderland ............................................ 299 Subversion of Roman Powers? ................................................. 307

5.4 The Temple ‘Before the Temple’ in Galilee ......................................... 317 5.4.1 5.4.2 5.4.3 5.4.4 5.4.5 5.4.6 5.4.7

The Elusiveness of the Temple ‘Before the Temple’ ................ 317 Jesus in Galilee and the Temple in Jerusalem........................... 319 Forgiveness and the Temple ..................................................... 321 Holiness and the Temple .......................................................... 325 Purity and the Temple............................................................... 328 The Mountain and the Temple .................................................. 334 The Λύτρον of the Son of Man and the Temple ........................ 338

5.5 Partial Conclusion .............................................................................. 340

Chapter 6: King, Cross, and Temple in Jerusalem ........................ 345 6.1 Introduction and Research Questions.................................................. 345 6.1.1 A King’s Death ......................................................................... 345 6.1.2 To Which End? ......................................................................... 346 6.1.3 Research Questions .................................................................. 348 6.2 Jerusalem and the King’s Victory........................................................ 349 6.2.1 Introduction: Is Jesus Crowned as King in Mark’s Passion Story? ....................................................................................... 349 6.2.2 The Arrival of an Appropriated King ....................................... 352 6.2.3 The Εὐαγγέλιον of a King’s Death Recognized and Prophesized .............................................................................. 359 6.2.4 The Cross of Coronation........................................................... 365

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6.2.5 Resurrection and the Triumph of the Empty Grave ..................378 6.2.6 Resurrection and the Triumph of the Εὐαγγέλιον .....................386 6.3 The Temple and Jesus’s Death and Resurrection ................................388 6.3.1 6.3.2 6.3.3 6.3.4 6.3.5

Introduction: What is the ‘Key Question’? ...............................388 The Role of the Temple in Mark 11–16 ....................................394 Covenant Inaugurated (Mark 14:24) .........................................398 Proximity Enabled (Mark 15:38) ..............................................404 Through Atonement and Temple Renewal ...............................414

6.4 Partial Conclusion...............................................................................429

Chapter 7: Conclusions .........................................................................435 7.1 From Where We Came.........................................................................435 7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions ......................437 7.2.1 7.2.2 7.2.3 7.2.4 7.2.5

‘Gospel’ Means ‘Epoch-Making’ .............................................437 Mark Means ‘Gospel’ ...............................................................445 ‘Epoch-Making’ Proximity through Victory and Cult ..............448 By Bringing Renewed Covenantal Proximity to the Divine .....456 Mark’s Εὐαγγέλιον as a Composite Solution to Complex Problems ...................................................................................459

7.3 So: Mark’s Εὐαγγέλιον in a Box ..........................................................462 Bibliography ..............................................................................................463 Index of Ancient Sources .............................................................................495 Index of Modern Authors ............................................................................521 Index of Subjects .........................................................................................527 dex of Referencesdex of Modern Authors ...................................................... * Index of Subjects ............................................................................................ *

Abbreviations and Preliminary Remarks

Abbreviations and Preliminary Remarks All translations of written texts and epigraphic material are provided by the author unless otherwise noted. The Greek text of the New Testament is adopted from Nestle-Aland, 28th edition. The Hebrew text of the Hebrew Bible is adopted from Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia (1997). Greek and Latin texts are adopted from the Perseus Digital Library. Throughout, the manuscript is formatted after The SBL Handbook of Style, 2nd edition (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014), including abbreviations of ancient works, ordinary abbreviations, capitalization of concepts, etc. In cases not treated by the SBLHS, I have followed the prescriptions of The Chicago Manual of Style, 17th edition (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2017). Concerning abbreviations of modern works, journals, etc., the SBLHS has been supplemented by Internationales Abkürzungsverzeichnis für Theologie und Grenzgebiete, 3rd edition (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014). For the sake of convenience, all abbreviations are listed below. AASFDHL AB ABD ABR ABRL AGJU AJEC AnBib ANRW

ANVAO AR ArBib ATA AUCTh BA BAR BASOR BBR

Annales Academiae Scientiarum Fennicae. Dissertationes Humanarum Litterarum Anchor Bible (Commentary) D. N. Freedman (ed.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary. 6 vols. New York: Doubleday, 1992 Australian Biblical Review Anchor Bible Reference Library Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity Analecta biblica Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt: Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung. Part 2, Principat. Edited by Hildegard Temporind and Wolfgang Haase. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1972 Avhandlinger i Norske Videnskaps-Akademi i Oslo Archiv für Religionswissenschaft The Aramaic Bible Altestamentliche Abhandlungen AUC Theologica Biblical Archaeologist Biblical Archaeology Review Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bulletin for Biblical Research

XVI BDAG

BDF

BDR

BECNT BETL BEvT BHGNT Bib BibInt BibInt BibSem BJRL BN BNTC BP BR BTB BThSt BU BZ BZNW BZSup CBQ CBQMS CBW CGTC Colloq ConBNT ConcC CSCO CTQ CurBS DCH DCLS DSSSE EC ECRW EJL EKKNT ErIsr ET

Abbreviations and Preliminary Remarks Danker, Frederick W., Walter Bauer, William F. Arndt, and F. Wilbur Gingrich. Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 3rd ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000 Blass, Friedrich, Albert Debrunner, and Robert W. Funk. A Greek Grammar of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961 Blass, Friedrich, Albert Debrunner, and Friedrich Rehkopf. Grammatik des neutestamentlichen Griechisch. 14nd ed. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1975 Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovaniensium Beiträge zur evangelischen Theologie Baylor Handbook on the Greek New Testament Biblica Biblical Interpretation Series Biblical Interpretation The Biblical Seminar Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester Biblische Notizen Black’s New Testament Commentary The Bible and Postcolonialism Biblical Research Biblical Theology Bulletin Biblisch-theologische Studien Biblische Untersuchungen Biblische Zeitschrift Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft Biblische Zeitschrift Supplements Catholic Biblical Quarterly Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series Conversations with the Biblical World Cambridge Greek Testament Commentaries Colloquium Coniectanea Biblica: New Testament Series Concordia Commentary Corpus scriptorum christianorum orientalium Concordia Theological Quarterly Currents in Research: Biblical Studies Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. Edited by David J. A. Clines. 9 vols. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 1993–2016 Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature Studies The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition. Edited by Florentino García Martínez and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar. 2 vols. Leiden: Brill, 1997 Early Christianity Early Christianity in the Roman World Early Judaism and Its Literature Evangelisch-katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament Eretz-Israel English translation

Abbreviations and Preliminary Remarks EvT EWNT ExpTim FAT FN FRLANT FTS Gesenius GRBS HAL

HALOT

HBM HBS HBT HeyJ HNT HThKNT HTR INJ JAJ JBL JETS JGAR JGRChJ JJMJS JNES JR JRH JSHJ JSJ JSJSup JSNT JSNTSup JSSMS JTI JTS JTSA JAAR KEK LAI LCL LHJS

XVII

Evangelische Theologie Exegetisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament Expository Times Forschungen zum Alten Testament Filologia Neotestamentaria Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Frankfurter theologische Studien Gesenius, W., Hebräisches und Aramäisches Handwörterbuch über das Alte Testament. 18nd ed. Heidelberg: Springer, 2013. Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies Hebräisches und aramäisches Lexikon zum Alten Testament. Ludwig Koehler, Walter Baumgartner, and Johann J. Stamm. 3rd ed. Leiden: Brill, 1995, 2004 The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. Ludwig Koehler, Walter Baumgartner, and Johann J. Stamm. Translated and edited under the supervision of Melvyn E. J. Richardson. 4 vols. Leiden: Brill, 1994–1999 Hebrew Bible Monographs Herders biblische Studien Horizons in Biblical Theology Heythrop Journal Handbuch zum Neuen Testament Herders theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament Harvard Theological Review Israel Numismatics Journal Journal of Ancient Judaism Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Journal of the Gospel and Acts Research Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism Journal of the Jesus Movement in its Jewish Setting Journal of Near Eastern Studies Journal of Religion Journal of Religious History Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Period Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Period Journal for the Study of the New Testament Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series Journal of Semitic Studies Monograph Series Journal for Theological Interpretation Journal of Theological Studies Journal of Theology for Southern Africa Journal of the American Academy of Religion Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament Library of Ancient Israel Loeb Classical Library Library of Historical Jesus Studies

XVIII LNTS LSJ MiJT NA25 Neot NETS NewDocs NICOT NIDNTTE NIDOTTE NIGTC NLC NovT NovTSup NSBT NTAbh NTD NTL NTOA NTS NTTS OBO OGIS OTL OTM P.Oxy. PaThSt PilNTC PNTC PractInt PRSt RB RBL RBS RevQ SANT SBB SBJT SBLDS SBLGNT SBLSP SBS SBT SemeiaSt SEPT

Abbreviations and Preliminary Remarks Library of New Testament Studies Liddell, Scott, Jones, Greek-English Lexicon Midwestern Journal of Theology Novum Testamentum Graece, Nestle-Aland, 25th ed. Neotestamentica New English Translation of the Septuagint New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity. Edited by G. H. R. Horsley. New South Wales: Macquarie University, 1976–1989 New International Commentary on the Old Testament New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology and Exegesis. Edited by Moisés Silva. 2nd ed. 5 vols. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2014 New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis. Edited by Willem VanGemeren. 5 vols. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997 New International Greek Testament Commentary New London Commentaries on the New Testament Novum Testamentum Novum Tetamentum, Supplements New Studies in Biblical Theology Neutestamentliche Abhandlungen Das Neue Testament Deutsch New Testament Library Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus New Testament Studies New Testament Tools and Studies Orbis biblicus et orientalis W. Dittenberger, Orientis graeci inscriptiones selectae I–II Old Testament Library Old Testament Message The Oxyrhynchus Papyri. Edited by Bernard P. Grenfell, et. al. London: Egypt Exploration Fund, 1898 Paderborner Theologische Studien The Pillar New Testament Commentary Pelican New Testament Commentaries Practice Interpretation Perspectives in Religious Studies Revue biblique Review of Biblical Literature Resources for Biblical Study Revue de Qumran Studien zum Alten und Neuen Testament Stuttgarter biblische Beiträge The Southern Baptist Journal of Theology Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series The Greek New Testament: SBL ed. Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers Stuttgarter Bibelstudien Studies in Biblical Theology Semeia Studies Septuagint Commentary Series

Abbreviations and Preliminary Remarks SESJ SIDA SJ(L) SJOT SKI SNT SNTSMS SNTW SP ST STDJ StLi Str-B SVigChr SVTP TENTS ThAM THKNT ThWAT TLG

TLZ TR TSK TTCJCTS TWNT TWOT

TWQ TynBul UBSHS USQR VT VTSup WBC WGRWSup WH WMANT WUNT ZNW ZNWKU ZTK

XIX

Suomen Eksegeettisen Seuran Julkaisuja. Publications of the Finish Exegetical Society Scripta Instituti Donneriani Aboensis Studies in Judaism. Lanham, MD Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament Studien zu Kirche und Israel Studien zum Neuen Testament Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series Studies of the New Testament and Its World Sacra Pagina Studia theologica Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah Studia Liturgica Strack, H. L. and P. Billerbeck. Kommentar zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrasch. 6 vols. Munich: Beck, 1922–1961 Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae Studia in veteris testamenti pseudepigrapha Texts and Editions for New Testament Study Theology and Medicine Theologischer Handkommentar zum Neuen Testament Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament. Edited by G. Johannes Botterweck and Helfer Ringern. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1970 Thesaurus Linguae Graecae: Canon of Greek Authors and Works. Edited by Luci Berkowitz and Karl A. Squatter. 3rd ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 1990 Theologische Literaturzeitung Textus Receptus Theologische Studien und Kritiken T&T Clark Jewish and Christian Text Series Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament. Edited by Gerhard Kittel and Gerhard Friedrich. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1932–1979 Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament. Edited by R. Laird Harris, Gleason L. Archer Jr., and Bruce K. Waltke. 2 vols. Chicago: Moody Press, 1980 Theologisches Wörterbuch zu den Qumrantexten Tyndale Bulletin UBS Handbook Series Union Seminary Quarterly Review Vetus Testamentum Vetus Testamentum, Supplements Word Biblical Commentary Writings from the Greco-Roman World Supplement Series The Westcott-Hort edition of the Greek New Testament Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde des Urchristentums Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

XX

Abbreviations and Preliminary Remarks

List of Tables

List of Tables Table 1: Similarities between five rebel leaders in Josephus .......................168 Table 2: Mark’s citation of Isa 40:3 compared to Q ....................................212 Table 3: Similarity, superiority, and succession between John and Jesus ....233 Table 4: The parallel construction of the New Patch and the New Wine .....274 Table 5: The fate and role of the καρδία ......................................................289 Table 6: Mark’s temple theme foreshadowed and enacted ..........................343

1

The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross Chapter 1

The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross 1.1 The Question Never Envisioned This study is, I can fairly say, provoked by a question I did not envision the importance of just a few years back. While doing research on the concepts of ‘kingdom’ and ‘cross’ in the Gospel of Mark, I noticed how new readings of first-century Christian writings in the light of postcolonial and/or anti-imperial reading strategies have pinpointed a related yet more profound question which in reality prefigures the one I was belabouring: What does τὸ εὐαγγέλιον mean? Traditionally, the εὐαγγελ- nomenclature of the New Testament writings has been understood to derive from the Hebrew Bible and especially from the socalled ‘religious use’ of the notion of the ‘messenger on the mountain’ in Isa 40:9 and 52:7. In turn, this Isaianic link made it possible to connect the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον to the death of the servant of Yahweh described as a guilt (‫ )ָאָשׁם‬or sin sacrifice (περὶ ἁµαρτίας) in the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint to Isa 53:10, respectively.1 This secured an understanding of εὐαγγέλιον as a promise-fulfilment message of salvation through forgiveness of sin. I soon discovered that a monumental challenge to the traditional understanding of the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον had been mounted well before the recent surge of studies from postcolonial and/or anti-imperial perspectives. In particular, the publication of the so-called Priene Inscription by Theodor Mommsen and Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorf in 1899 nearly shell-shocked the scholarly New Testament community. After a prolonged discussion of the minute details of the discovered inscription, they ultimately conclude that this new discovery “keine geringe Bedeutung haben [dürfte].”2 Considering the genre of German scholarly reports of this era, their somewhat guarded last sentence emerges wonderfully emphatic, and one senses that they were aware of the landslide their discovery was about to give rise to. From the heyday of Augustus’s imperial hegemony, an inscription authored by the koinon or Assembly of the ––––––––––––––––– 1 See in particular William Horbury, “‘Gospel’ in Herodian Judaea,” in The Written Gospel, ed. Markus Bockmuehl and Donald A. Hagner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 7–30. 2 Theodor Mommsen and Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, “Die Einführung des asianischen Kalenders,” Mitteilungen des kaiserlich deutschen archaeologischen Instituts, athenische Abteilung 24 (1899): 293.

2

Chapter 1: The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross

Roman province in Asia Minor surfaced, labelling the emperor in Rome a god and announcing his birthday the beginning of “good news” (τῶν … εὐανγελί[ων) to the world. This discovery prompted a decade-long quest for finding die Wurzel of the εὐαγγελ-, which largely trenched itself into an opposition between those defending its Isaianic pedigree, and those arguing it to be a distinct Christian invention to counter imperial pressure.3 While the intense debate – or to be precise, the first round thereof – eventually died out, the level of detail in the studies produced exposed a surprising number of peculiar features in the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον. One such is the highly uneven distribution across the books of the New Testament, with Paul and Mark as the two main users hereof;4 another is the lack of the articulated, neuter, singular form τὸ εὐαγγέλιον outside Christian literature, which produces the enigma of the ‘lost root’ of the New Testament gospel.5 In particular, Mark’s prefixed gospel-formula – ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ [υἱοῦ θεοῦ] – may in this light readily be understood as a tailored response to the emperor’s claim of fame. If further applying postcolonial or antiimperial hermeneutics, we are seemingly enabled anew to notice encoded and covert messages throughout Mark’s narrative that would be evident to readers living in the shade of the empire. Not only will such a reading strategy explain Jesus’s continuous ‘kingdom clashes’ with hostile entities as ultimately a clash with the imperial hegemony as revealed by the peculiar naming of the number of demons in Decapolis as λεγιών (5:9), it will also disclose how the crucifixion scene is in reality the climactic event in the power battle between Rome and Jesus, with the Roman centurion’s proclamation of Jesus as “the/a son of God” (ὁ ἄνθρωπος υἱὸς θεοῦ ἦν, 15:39) finally demasking how it was Mark’s intention all along to dethrone the divi filius in Rome. In this way, a new understanding of Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death becomes evident, one that highlights Roman crucifixion as the “material density”6 of the imperial oppression that had “nothing to do with sacrifice,” but instead was “the most shameful means of political execution, reserved for slaves and lower class rebels. It had no connection to religious ritual.”7 At the very same time, the discussion soon disclosed how in other ways our understanding of εὐαγγέλιον has a prefiguring effect on our understanding of the concept of ‘kingdom.’ One of the most important contributors in the first round of debate of the New Testament gospel, Adolf von Harnack, pinpointed an important question which, alongside the issue of the root of the term ––––––––––––––––– See the research overview in Section 2.2. This will be outlined in detail in Section 2.2.1. 5 This will be discussed in Section 3.2.3. 6 Hans Leander, Discourses of Empire: The Gospel of Mark from a Postcolonial Perspective, SemeiaSt 71 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013), 246, emphasis original. 7 Joanna Dewey, “Sacrifice No More,” BTB 41.2 (2011): 71, emphasis original. 3 4

1.1 The Question Never Envisioned

3

‘gospel,’ echoed for generations in German protestant scholarship: Is τὸ εὐαγγέλιον Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ the gospel preached by Jesus the Messiah or the gospel of Jesus Christ? In other words, should the genitive be given subjective force as the action of Jesus or objective force denoting the inner content of the gospel as Christ? If, as Harnack argued, the summary of Jesus’s preaching in Mark 1:14–15 is to be given precedence, Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον clearly becomes the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία preached by Jesus. If, as Julius Wellhausen argued, precedence is to be given to the later notions in Mark of the post-resurrectional preaching of the εὐαγγέλιον, Jesus rather becomes the content of the gospel announced in Mark’s first line.8 On top of this comes the question of how well integrated a traditional understanding of Jesus’s death as atoning for sin really is in Mark, apart from our understanding of his εὐαγγέλιον. This issue primarily concerns the lack of literal correspondence between Mark’s two main interpretative statements in 10:45 and 14:24 describing Jesus’s death as λύτρον and τὸ αἷµά µου τῆς διαθήκης τὸ ἐκχυννόµενον respectively and thus using technical language not present in Isaiah 53 LXX.9 Even further, the early textual transmission of Mark may display a certain wish to strengthen the Isaianic evocation in Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death. On the one hand, accepting Markan priority, Matthew found it necessary to add εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁµαρτιῶν to Mark 14:24, aligning neatly to the language of Isaiah 53 LXX, which uses ἁµαρτία seven times in total.10 On the other hand, many later manuscripts add καὶ ἐπληρώθη ἡ γραφὴ ἡ λέγουσα, καὶ µετὰ ἀνόµων ἐλογίσθη to Mark 15:27 as an overt interpretation of Jesus’s crucifixion through a quotation of Isa 53:12. While this became the preferred text in the Byzantine tradition, it is lacking in the best manuscripts and is clearly not part of the original text. Turning the tables, the reading of Mark in the light of Isaiah as interpretative key has likewise witnessed a surge in recent research.11 While there is no agreement on the pertinence of the label ‘new exodus,’ the widespread application of the Isaianic visions of a paradisiac reversal of the fortunes of Israel and Zion in late Second Temple Jewish texts, including those made available to us by the discovery of the Qumran scrolls and rebel coinage from the Jewish War against Rome, testify to the potency of Mark’s immediate explanation of his εὐαγγέλιον as an entity in accordance with καθὼς γέγραπται ἐν τῷ Ἠσαΐᾳ τῷ προφήτῃ. As opposed to the sway of anti-imperial and/or postcolonial readings with their tendency to present Mark in political terms focussed on negotiating, subverting if not overthrowing Roman power, some of the readings in the light of Isaiah seek to situate Mark within inner Jewish factionalism, as a sectarian ––––––––––––––––– For references and discussion of this issue, see Section 2.3. These issues will be discussed below in Sections 5.4.7, 6.1.2, 6.2.4, 6.3.1, and 6.3.5. 10 See the discussion in Section 3.3.3. 11 See the discussion in Section 4.3. 8 9

4

Chapter 1: The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross

writing of the early postwar period during which the battle of legitimacy and birthright to Jewish prophecy was raging. Precisely in such a proposed context, the right to control the Isaianic ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- notion would prove to be a potent force.12 Further, this approach comes with a high sensitivity towards an issue of obvious importance to Mark that has proven to be difficult to incorporate into the postcolonial and/or anti-imperial readings, namely the theme of the temple, by situating Mark within a ‘religious’ inner-Jewish scriptural battle for the birthright to prophecy. In short, despite more than a century of intense scholarly discussion, the boldness with which Mark declares his narrative of Jesus to be εὐαγγέλιον has not translated itself into scholarly consensus or clarity of its meaning or implication. Instead, it rather seems that this concept comes with a high amount of plasticity. As pointedly stated by Harnack, writing some ten years after the discovery of the Priene inscription: “Vielleicht gibt es kein zweites Wort unter den großen christlichen Hauptbegriffen, welches eine so mannigfaltige und reiche Geschichte in der Christenheit erlebt hat, wie das Wort ‘Evangelium.’”13 With even more laconic irony, Millar Burrows declared after another decade of vividly defended gospel perceptions that “the ‘gospel’ is the message of Christianity; it means whatever the person who uses it understands the message of Christianity to be.”14 In other words, show me your gospel, and I will tell you your Christianity.

1.2 Thesis of Investigation 1.2.1 Research Question In the light of this complex, trenched, and deadlocked situation, the fundamental research question of the following investigation is: How does the author of Mark present his narrative of Jesus as τὸ εὐαγγέλιον? While any further specification of this wide-ranging question runs the risk of delimiting the polymorphous nature of this concept, the research aim is further to clarify how Mark’s understanding of his εὐαγγέλιον informs his presentation of Jesus’s kingdom ministry and death by crucifixion. 1.2.2 Working Hypothesis Specifically, the hypothesis to be pursued and tested is that Mark, through his initial rooting of his εὐαγγέλιον in the Isaianic visions, taps into a widespread ––––––––––––––––– The provenance of Mark will be examined in Section 2.5. Adolf von Harnack, “Das doppelte Evangelium im Neuen Testament,” in Aus Wissenschaft und Leben, vol. 2 (Giessen: Töpelmann, 1911), 213. 14 Millar Burrows, “The Origin of the Term ‘Gospel,’” JBL 44.1/2 (1925): 32. 12 13

1.2 Thesis of Investigation

5

trajectory for understanding the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- as an epoch-making proclamation of (kingly) victory, leading to cultic renewal or thanksgiving. On the basis of the investigation of various sources in Chapter 3, I will suggest an understanding of the gospel nomenclature as an epoch-making proclamation of kingly victory and cultic renewal as a uniting factor for the disparate use of this notion in pre-Christian scriptural and non-scriptural texts. Further, through the initial quotation of Isa 40:3, Mark encodes his narrative with the particular Isaianic edition hereof, focusing on how the decisive goal of Yahweh’s kingly battle and festive pilgrimage towards Zion is set to produce renewed proximity to Yahweh’s presence. Thus, in the light of the use of the gospel nomenclature in general and in Isaiah specifically, the hypothesis to be tested is whether Mark indeed presents his εὐαγγέλιον as an intertwined, composite notion of kingly victory and cultic renewal by way of which God’s presence is made available through Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection – in other words: through the interplay between kingdom and cross. On the basis of the scholarly consensus of Markan priority, various researchers have from time to time engaged in hypothesizing about what Mark’s achievement really was in funnelling the disparate material available to him into a coherent, written narrative on the life of Jesus. While perhaps being a Sinnbild of the schism in German scholarship between the liberal Gottesreich and the kerygmatic Kreuzestod, Willi Marxsen suggested that Mark’s achievement was precisely to merge “zwei Ströme, die durch die Verkündigung der Urchristenheit gehen,” for which reason Jesus in Mark is both “Subjekt und Objekt des Evangeliums.”15 Along the same lines, Eduard Schweizer claimed that die Leistung des Markus is to be found in the way he wrote together the free-floating kerygmatic tradition of Jesus with a historical perspective of his life and death.16 According to Rudolf Schnackenburg, this was an extremely noteworthy contribution since “erst Markus die theologische Relevanz des geschichtlichen Auftretens Jesu in aller Klarheit erkannt und dessen inneren Zusammenhang mit Kreuz und Auferstehung aufgedeckt [hat].”17 Without engaging the redaction-critical presuppositions and historical reconstructions of these scho––––––––––––––––– 15 Willi Marxsen, Der Evangelist Markus: Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Evangeliums, FRLANT 67 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1959), 99. 16 See Eduard Schweizer, “Die theologische Leistung des Markus,” EvT 24.7 (1965): 337–55; Eduard Schweizer, “Mark’s Contribution to the Quest for the Historical Jesus,” NTS 10 (1964): 421–32; Eduard Schweizer, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 17th ed., NTD 1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989), 211–13. 17 Rudolf Schnackenburg, “‘Das Evangelium’ im Verständnis des ältesten Evangelisten,” in Orientierung an Jesus: Zur Theologie der Synoptiker, für Josef Schmid, ed. Paul Hoffmann (Freiburg: Herder, 1973), 323. See also Georg Strecker, who claimed that “die Historisierung” of the εὐαγγέλιον was precisely “die theologische Leistung des Markus” (Georg Strecker, “Das Evangelium Jesu Christi,” in Jesus Christus in Historie und Theologie, ed. Georg Strecker [Tübingen: Mohr, 1975], 535).

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Chapter 1: The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross

lars, the thesis to be investigated in the following aligns itself to their reading of Mark by suggesting that the burden of proof to Mark, and in reality his pivotal achievement, his Leistung, is the unapologetic intertwinement of kingdom and cross as εὐαγγέλιον. This means that it is accepted that Mark’s keyword, τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, is a composite notion. It also means that, if the investigation of the hypothesis turns out to be successful, it will be demonstrated that εὐαγγέλιον is to Mark neither particularly designed to counter the reigning emperor in Rome nor pointedly presenting Jesus as a sacrifice for sin, though it remains to be seen how traits of both are part of the overall picture. 1.2.3 Investigation Outline This hypothesis is projected on the basis of two initial chapters of field mapping. In Chapter 2, four areas of research discussion that have occupied previous research on the εὐαγγέλιον notion or are highly pertinent to our investigation of the Gospel of Mark are outlined. In each instance, impasses that call for a re-orientation of the discussion are identified: (1) This is the case with the discussion of the root of the εὐαγγελ- terminology, where the intense debate has produced detailed defences for the affinity of the Markan and Pauline keyword τὸ εὐαγγέλιον to Isaiah’s ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/‫ ְמַבֶשּׂ ֶרת‬as well as to the Roman imperial εὐαγγέλια, though in each case without securing an unproblematic pedigree. (2) In the case of Mark’s theological or christological use of εὐαγγέλιον in either an objective or subjective manner, the only point of agreement is how this issue is one of such importance that in reality it encapsulates “den Grundvorgang neutestamentlicher Theologie.”18 (3) Turning to the studies of Mark from a postcolonial and/or anti-imperial reading perspective, two invalidating deficits are identified. On the one hand, the review presented makes it obvious how readings on the basis of comparable methodology arrive not only at different conclusions but mutually exclusive readings. On the other hand, a remarkable amount of prejudiced interest in certain texts and themes of Mark is detected, leading to a lack of explanatory power in terms of a comprehensive presentation of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον. (4) Finally, in the case of the discussion of Mark’s provenance, it is disclosed how a number of recent readings of Mark run the risk of circular reasoning by building a case for Mark’s provenance on internal evidence, which is afterwards applied as the hermeneutical key to the interpretation of Mark’s purpose. ––––––––––––––––– 18 Hans Weder, “‘Evangelium Jesu Christi’ (Mk 1,1) und ‘Evangelium Gottes’ (Mk 1,14),” in Die Mitte des Neuen Testaments, ed. Ulrich Luz and Hans Weder (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1983), 399.

1.2 Thesis of Investigation

7

In combination, the impetus produced by this ground-mapping overview is towards an appreciation of the polysemy of the notion of εὐαγγέλιον, to borrow a term from Petr Pokorný.19 It would be too reductionist to build a reading of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as anti-imperialist, provoked by imperial propaganda for the new Flavian regime, putting pressure upon the congregation in Rome in the fall of 71 CE, to single out one approach, or to build a case for Mark as a sectarian writing produced under the pressure of rebel readings or utilization of Isaianic prophecy in the heat of the Jewish War against Rome, to single out another. Instead, it is concluded that with his bold notion of εὐαγγέλιον Mark is engaging a composite issue with deep roots in the Jewish tradition traversing entities we would label ‘politics’ and ‘religion.’20 This paves the way for the second field mapping presented in Chapter 3, consisting of two connected investigations: (1) Firstly, the use of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- word group in the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint, and in Greek and Roman texts before the Christian era is traced and discussed. This investigation suggests that the gospel nomenclature was reserved for messages of epoch-making proportions, denoting decisive victories with a clear before and after with cultic thanksgiving as an intrinsic marker. It will be argued that an epoch-making connotation is likewise present in the few examples of a more mundane, everyday use known to us, which seemingly disproves my thesis. (2) Secondly, the use of the word group in Isaiah 40–66 will be given a particular focus, discussing how Yahweh’s kingly victory on the battlefield is intrinsically connected with his pilgrimage towards Zion, locked on renewing his cultic presence there for the people. Precisely, as outlined as well, this notion of God’s renewed presence through his epoch-making victory and temple re-inauguration continued in the Jewish tradition of the late Second Temple period, showing its potential as a vehicle for the aspirations of various factions due to its composite and flexible nature. Similar to the discussion of Mark’s provenance in Chapter 2, the discussion in Chapter 3 in this manner suggests that as no particular provenance is needed to explain Mark’s engagement with Roman and Jewish traditions, no uninterrupted pedigree or precise reproduction of Isaiah’s wording is needed to evoke the composite Isaianic visions of eschatological renewal, which were strongly at play at the time of Mark’s writing. In combination, the investigations and research overviews provided in Chapters 2 and 3 serve a dual purpose. On the one hand, they provide the argumentation for the hypothesis of the εὐαγγέλιον concept as the epoch-making ––––––––––––––––– 19 See Petr Pokorný, From the Gospel to the Gospels: History, Theology and Impact of the Biblical Term Euangelion, BZNW 195 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2013), 3. 20 For the appropriateness of the terminology ‘politics’ and ‘religion’ as well as ‘Jewish’ or ‘Judean,’ see Section 1.3.2.

8

Chapter 1: The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross

notion of renewed proximity to the divine through kingly victory and cultic renewal, shortly presented above. On the other hand, they provide the fundamental research question for the ensuing reading of Mark presented in Chapters 4–6, in which it is tested to which extent a reading of Mark’s presentation of his εὐαγγέλιον concept may be comprehensively understood as a composite notion of kingly victory and cultic renewal. Along with the probing of my hypothesis, it will also be discussed how this approach agrees with and differs from various previous readings of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as an anti-Roman statement or a sacrifice for sin, broadly speaking. Chapter 4 is devoted to Mark’s important introduction or prologue, where a number of important issues pertinent to our overarching research question will be discussed, such as the role of the initial line, the grammatical construction of the first four verses, the role of the composite citation in 1:2–3, the role of John the Baptist (1:4–8), the baptism (1:9–11), the temptation (1:12–13), and finally the summary of Jesus’s first public preaching (1:14–15). The profound way in which Mark casts his narrative in the Isaianic mould of proximity to the divine through kingly victory and cultic renewal will be stressed. This survey again forms the basis for the two following chapters surveying Mark’s Galilee section and Jerusalem section, respectively. In order to detect to what extent Mark presents his narrative of Jesus as an Isaianic epoch-making impact, both will be arranged with subsections discussing the kingly and cultic themes.

1.3 Method and Presuppositions 1.3.1 Blueprint for Reading Mark The present study shares its method of approach with a current trend within New Testament research favouring a combined methodological approach, utilizing historical as well as literary criticism.21 On the one hand, it is presupposed that Mark’s text is a cohesive narrative with an internal progresssion that necessitates and rewards an understanding of the text as a literary unit. On the other hand, it is also presupposed that an apt and in essence humble approach to an ancient text demands an in-depth knowledge of the text’s historical circumstances and awareness of how these differ from our own histori-

––––––––––––––––– 21 See A. Winn, who aptly labels such an approach “historical-narratival” (Adam Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology under Caesar: Jesus the Messiah and Roman Imperial Ideology [Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2018], 24) or B. Cho, who labels it an “eclectic method that uses literary criticism as a subset of historical criticism” (Bernardo Cho, Royal Messianism and the Jerusalem Priesthood in the Gospel of Mark, LNTS 607 [London: T&T Clark, 2019], 16).

1.3 Method and Presuppositions

9

cal and cultural presuppositions.22 To pinpoint this further, Stefan Alkier’s suggestion of interacting with the New Testament text from three angles is helpful. Alkier differentiates between “three realms of investigation for the discipline of biblical studies: the intratextual, the intertextual, and the extratextual,”23 by which he refers to the text as a literary unit, its own cited or alluded textual relationships to other (inter)texts, and finally the historical context of the text. Applying this specifically to the Gospel of Mark, while slightly rephrasing Alkier’s language and reversing the order, the approach and the presuppositions entailed may be discussed under the headings of Mark as a ‘historical narrative,’ a ‘scriptural narrative,’ and a ‘literary narrative’: (1) Concerning Mark as a ‘historical narrative,’ three issues are of special concern: (a) Alkier’s reference to Umberto Eco’s notion of cultural encyclopedia24 has great heuristic value in that it highlights the way a given historical text works within its historical setting and its given meaning, semiosis, through a complex process that involves “contextual and circumstantial selections.”25 As explained by Paolo Desogus, “the encyclopedia is a multidimensional space of semiosis.” It is, in other words, the very system of shared knowledge of a given historical context that “governs the production and interpretation of signs inside communicative contexts.”26 Eco’s theory thus necessitates the study of the cultural unit, its codes and sign-functions,27 in order to participate in the semiotic potential of the text. A good example of such an approach may be found in Matthew V. Novenson’s suggestion of the grammar of messianism. Novenson discards earlier approaches for seeking to establish one-dimensional equi––––––––––––––––– 22 See, e.g., Stephen P. Ahearne-Kroll, “‘Who Are My Mother and My Brothers?’ Family Relations and Family Language in the Gospel of Mark,” JR 81.1 (2001): 25. 23 See Stefan Alkier, “Intertextuality and the Semiotics of Biblical Texts,” in Reading the Bible Intertextually, ed. Richard B. Hays, Stefan Alkier, and Leroy A. Huizenga (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2009), 8. For an application of this approach to Mark, see Paul T. Sloan, Mark 13 and the Return of the Shepherd: The Narrative Logic of Zechariah in Mark, LNTS 604 (London: T&T Clark, 2019), 12–15; see also, albeit with different nomenclature, Cho, Royal Messianism, 17–19. 24 See Stefan Alkier, Wunder und Wirklichkeit in den Briefen des Apostels Paulus: Ein Beitrag zu einem Wunderverständnis jenseits von Entmythologisierung und Rehistorisierung, WUNT 134 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 72–74. For other New Testament researchers who refer to Eco’s theory of cultural encyclopedia, see, e.g., Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Gospels (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2016), 390 n. 157; Sloan, Mark 13, 6–12; Max Botner, Jesus Christ as the Son of David in the Gospel of Mark, SNTSMS 174 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019), 27–28. 25 Umberto Eco, Semiotics and the Philosophy of Language (London: MacMillan, 1984), 69, emphasis original. 26 Paola Desogus, “The Encyclopedia in Umberto Eco’s Semiotics,” Semiotica 192 (2012): 501. 27 See Desogus, “Encyclopedia,” 502.

10

Chapter 1: The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross

valents in terms of messianic titles or pre-defined concepts of ‘messiah’ instead of approaching the ancient texts as messianic scripts that took part in a ‘messianic language game.’ Rather than looking for certain keywords, we should ask more broadly and fundamentally: “How do ancient writers actually use the word messiah and its attendant concepts?”28 Following this trajectory, an acknowledgement of the historical setting of Mark as being a member of a “great ancient Mediterranean language game”29 or cultural pool provides reasons for the need of the broad investigation of the εὐαγγελ- word group undertaken in Chapter 3, just as it eases the necessity for establishing a minute one-to-one parallel presupposed in the earlier quest for understanding the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον. (b) Mark’s provenance is singled out for detailed discussion below in Section 2.5, where detailed substantiation for the approach taken in this investigation is presented. While the patristic evidence for a Roman provenance is concurrent and should not be dismissed out of hand, it is open for serious questioning,30 leaving the matter of Mark’s provenance to a debate of internal evidence. The discussion hereof in recent decades amply exemplifies how difficult it is to establish a convincing case based on internal evidence. Further, the research overview presented below exposes how easily a certain provenance and at times a certain date within months of a given year is utilized as the hermeneutical key with which to unlock the purpose of Mark’s Gospel. To avoid this pitfall, and in sync with the understanding of Mark’s historical context as a broad base from within the cultural encyclopedia of late Second Temple Jewish texts of the early imperial Roman era, no specific provenance is presupposed. While the Markan narrative may have worked or ‘preached’ in a certain way in Rome in the autumn of 71 CE, where the Roman congregation may have felt the imperial pressure from the new regime hitting hard,31 it is presupposed that Mark’s narrative engages fundamental issues for Jewish factions or communities, at least from the Hasmonean era to the late first century CE, reducing the question of provenance to a historical rather than a hermeneutic issue. (c) Finally, when discussing Mark as a historical narrative, it should be emphasized that ‘Mark’ and ‘Markan’ are used throughout without implying a specific and known author. While I am sympathetic to Papias’s designation of ‘Mark’ as ἑρµηνευτὴς Πέτρου,32 it follows from the approach to Mark’s prove––––––––––––––––– 28 Matthew V. Novenson, The Grammar of Messianism: An Ancient Jewish Political Idiom and Its Users (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 33; see also Botner, Son of David, 29–32. 29 Novenson, Grammar of Messianism, 14. 30 See, e.g., Clifton Black, “Was Mark a Roman Gospel?,” ExpTim 105 (1993–1994): 36– 40; Adela Yarbro Collins, Mark: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 7–10. 31 See the discussion in Section 2.5.4. 32 Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. 3.39.15.

1.3 Method and Presuppositions

11

nance that precise knowledge of the author of ‘Mark’ remains unknown to us since he does not reveal himself in the narrative and since ΚΑΤΑ ΜΑΡΚΟΝ is by general consensus of a later date.33 For reasons to be substantiated below, I do, however, refer to ‘Mark’ as a single narrative with a unified authorship, which may appropriately be referred to in the masculine from the common fact that most antique authors and certainly most of the early Christian authors were male.34 (2) Concerning Mark as a ‘scriptural narrative,’ it is presupposed that from the first line and throughout Mark is preoccupied with and thoroughly marked by what may be labelled ‘scripturalization,’35 denoting the ways in which Mark’s narrative overtly as well as in various subtle ways quotes, alludes to, and evokes Israelite and Jewish scripture and tradition.36 Precisely how, though, is debated in several ways: (a) As to be discussed further below,37 Alfred Suhl’s suggestion of Mark’s alleged Schriftgemäßheit does not hold up to scrutiny. According to Suhl, Mark was disinterested in establishing a Schriftbeweis in the same manner as Matthew and Luke who, by contrast, were operating “im Schema von Weissagung und Erfüllung.”38 Instead, Mark sought to ‘scripturally adapt’ his narrative, showing only a secondary interest in Jewish Scripture as a colourful tapestry for his narrative, which Suhl labels as Mark’s “Schriftgemäßheit.”39 Contrary to Suhl, in this investigation I will follow the majority of researchers, acknowledging a deep-seated interest on Mark’s side in proving his narrative scriptural––––––––––––––––– 33 See, e.g., Joel Marcus, Mark 1–8, AB 27 (Garden City, NY; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 17, and the overview in David E. Aune, “The Meaning of εὐαγγέλιον in the Inscriptiones of the Canonical Gospels,” in A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam, ed. Eric F. Mason, JSJSup 153/2 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 870–76. 34 See, e.g., Holly J. Carey, Jesus’ Cry from the Cross: Towards a First-Century Understanding of the Intertextual Relationship Between Psalm 22 and the Narrative of Mark’s Gospel, LNTS 398 (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 28. 35 See Mark Goodacre, “Scripturalization in Mark’s Crucifixion Narrative,” in The Trial and Death of Jesus: Essays on the Passion Narrative in Mark, ed. Geert Van Oyen and Tom Shepherd (Leuven: Peeters, 2006), 33–47. 36 In general, acknowledging a certain amount of fluidity at the time of Mark’s writing, I use ‘Scripture,’ ‘Israel’s Scripture,’ or ‘Jewish scriptures’ indistinguishably to refer to the books in what is today known as the Hebrew Bible or the Septuagint, and ‘late Second Temple Jewish texts’ to refer to the various and uneven groups of texts from roughly the Hasmonean and Herodian periods to the end of the Second Temple period, including Old Testament Pseudepigrapha and the Qumran texts. 37 See Sections 4.3.1 and 6.2.3. 38 Alfred Suhl, Die Funktion der alttestamentlichen Zitate und Anspielungen im Markusevangelium (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1965), 42. 39 Suhl, Zitate, 38. A similar approach has in recent times been advocated by Richard A. Horsley, Hearing the Whole Story: The Politics of Plot in Mark’s Gospel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 231–35. For a specific critique hereof, see Hays, Gospels, 98.

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Chapter 1: The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross

ly. For instance, C. H. Dodd suggested that references to Scripture form a common “substructure”40 in the New Testament kerygma, which was fed by early, circulating messianic testimonia consisting of proof-texts from the Hebrew Bible.41 In more recent times, Donald Juel has coined the term ‘messianic exegesis,’ arguing that “acknowledging the scriptural roots of christological language provides greater control over scholarly imagination.”42 While the latter assumption probably remains wishful thinking, the sheer amount of studies dedicated to the investigation of different aspects of Mark’s reliance on the Hebrew Bible highlights the reason behind the presupposition of the present study, that in order to understand Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον we need to acknowledge Mark as a scriptural narrative. (b) The mode of operation in Mark’s scripturalization, however, has been intensively discussed, leading to different systems of classifications and understandings of categories such as quotations, allusions, echoes, evocation, and biblical language. Probably most cited and relied upon is Richard Hays’s seminal study, Echoes of Scripture in Paul, in which he advocates a seven-step process for establishing the plausibility of a suggested intertextual echo to Jewish scriptures without applying this as a rigid process for each and every case.43 In terms of classifying the nature of a verified reference, Hays further distinguishes between quotations, allusions, and echoes to designate “approximate markers on the spectrum of intertextual linkage, moving from the most to the least explicit forms of reference.”44 Specifically, when applying this to ––––––––––––––––– C. H. Dodd, According to the Scriptures (London: Nisbet & Co., 1952), 13–14. For a critique of the particular theory of testimonia, see Albert C. Sundberg, “On Testimonies,” NovT 3.4 (1959): 268–81. 42 Donald Juel, Messianic Exegesis: Christological Interpretation of the Old Testament in Early Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988), 23. 43 See Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), 29–32. For a review of the influence of Hays’s work, see David A. Shaw, “Converted Imaginations? The Reception of Richard Hays’s Intertextual Method,” CurBS 11.2 (2013): 234–45. It should be noted that Hays’s distinction between quotations, allusions, and echoes is only one of several when trying to define ‘intertextuality.’ For a review of various scholars, see Samuel Emadi, “Intertextuality in New Testament Scholarship: Significance, Criteria, and the Art of Intertextual Reading,” CurBS 14.1 (2015): 8–23; see also David I. Yoon, “The Ideological Inception of Intertextuality and its Dissonance in Current Biblical Studies,” CurBS 12.1 (2013): 58–76; Elizabeth E. Shively, “The Servant(s) in the Gospel of Mark and the Textual Formation of Early Christian Identity,” in Isaiah’s Servants in Early Judaism and Christianity: The Isaian Servant and the Exegetical Formation of Community Identity, ed. Michael A. Lyons and Jacob Stromberg, WUNT 2/554 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021), 156–59. 44 Hays, Gospels, 10. For another and more detailed classification system, see G. Häfner who distinguishes between Zitate, Anspielungen, Paraphrasen, Aussagen über die Schrift, and biblische Sprache, see Gerd Häfner, ‘Nützlich zur Belehrung’ (2 Tim 3,16): Die Rolle der Schrift in den Pastoralbriefen im Rahmen der Paulusrezeption, HbS 25 (Freiburg: Herder, 2000), 43–63. 40 41

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Mark, Hays concludes that Mark’s way of referring to Israel’s Scriptures is “indirect and allusive,”45 likening it to his progressive revelation of Jesus’s messianic.46 In this way, Mark relies on the encyclopedia of his listeners to a greater extent than the later gospels when clothing his scripturalization in “the poetics of allusion.”47 Perhaps due to such a creative approach from the side of Mark, perhaps due to ‘scholarly imagination’ after all, it must be admitted that studies of Mark’s use of Israel’s Scriptures have produced anything but a uniform picture hereof. For instance, in a thorough investigation of Mark’s use of Scripture in the passion narrative, Kelli O’Brien outlines how as many as 270 references of various types have been suggested in studies of Mark 14–15 alone – more than two for each verse – testifying to the amount of flexibility involved in the process.48 Some time ago, Samuel Sandmel criticized what he termed “parallelomania” among biblical scholars, defined as the “extravagance among scholars which first overdoes the supposed similarity in passages and then proceeds to describe source and derivation as if implying literary connection flowing in an inevitable or predetermined direction.”49 In a similar vein, Paul Foster has recently cautioned against a trend in biblical studies indebted to Hays’s approach and concept of ‘echoes,’ which he thinks in many cases has overlooked the cautions appealed to by Hays, lapsing into some kind of “a radical form of modern reader-response.” For this reason, Foster raises a yellow flag, calling for “a more controlled methodology” that finds “a way of excluding the more fanciful suggestions” by stressing “questions of plausibility” and demanding “shared verbal affinities.”50 It must be admitted that Sandmel’s and Foster’s objections are valid at the very same time as there is no alternative to entering into the ‘art’ – to borrow a term from Foster – of discussing echoes and resonances of a ‘scripturalized’ text such as Mark. Tellingly, Foster does not provide a detailed outline of a sound approach. Hays have argued that such an approach would in reality also be counter-productive, especially in the case of Mark, which is indirect and allusive. In essence, the cultural encyclopedia within which Mark operates is thoroughly saturated with Israel’s Scriptures and Jewish tradition. For this reason, it is a mandatory task ––––––––––––––––– Hays, Gospels, 98. Hays exemplifies this with Mark’s mere allusion to Zech 9:9 in Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem, which is reworked into a quotation by Matthew, see Hays, Gospels, 99. 47 Richard B. Hays, Reading Backwards: Figural Christology and the Fourfold Gospel Witness (London: SPCK, 2015), 28, emphasis original. For Hays’s reference to Eco’s concept of cultural encyclopedia, see Hays, Gospels, 99. 48 See Kelli S. O’Brien, The Use of Scripture in the Markan Passion Narrative, LNTS 384 (London: T&T Clark, 2010), 67. 49 Samuel Sandmel, “Parallelomania,” JBL 81.1 (1962): 1. 50 Paul Foster, “Echoes Without Resonance: Critiquing Certain Aspects of Recent Scholarly Trends in the Study of the Jewish Scriptures in the New Testament,” JSNT 38.1 (2015): 109. 45 46

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to discuss these links throughout. However, since Mark rather evokes than quotes, the art of establishing intertextual references is an inferential process that needs to be performed with caution and willingness to seek the plausible middle ground. It also means that it is the assumption of the present investigation that focus should be intensified in those places where Mark does provide an overt scriptural reference, as is the case with the initial καθὼς γέγραπται ἐν τῷ Ἠσαΐᾳ τῷ προφήτῃ, which, as argued below,51 is best understood as Mark’s scriptural key to his entire narrative. (3) Concerning Mark as a ‘literary narrative,’ the present investigation will adopt the position that the Gospel of Mark from 1:1 to 16:8 is a narrative unity from which one can expect cohesion and progression from beginning to end.52 This understanding of Mark was one of the basic assumptions that led to the introduction of literary or narrative criticism in Markan studies.53 Needless to say, this terminology is a wide umbrella indeed, encompasing, for example, structuralist approaches focussing on the text and post-structuralist approaches focussing on the reader.54 Rather than applying a specific approach or theory, I use the term ‘literary narrative’ in a down-scaled manner as a way of describing the text of Mark as a coherent unity that makes use of a number of discernible literary techniques and that belongs to a certain class of ancient ––––––––––––––––– See Section 4.3.1. For a recent defence of this position, see Elizabeth E. Shively, “The Eclipse of the Markan Narrative: On the (Re)Cognition of a Coherent Story and Implications for Genre,” EC 12.3 (2021): 369–87. Shively specifically targets Matthew Larsen’s reversal to a position akin to form criticism in arguing that Mark is a loose collection of unfinished notes (hypomnēmata), see Matthew D. C. Larsen, Gospels Before the Book (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018). It should be noted, in fairness, that while Larsen does not understand Mark as a ‘narrative’ in the proper sense, he does allow for five sets of unfinished notes that in reality encapsulate the entire ‘narrative’ and thus to a certain extent takes the force out of Larsen’s hypothesis of Mark as a non-narrative (see Larsen, Gospels Before, 129, for a table outlining the structure of Mark). 53 See David M. Rhoads, Joanna Dewey, and Donald Michie, Mark as Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), 3–4. 54 See, e.g., the different understandings of the relationship between text and reader represented by Malbon’s narrative criticism and Fowler’s reader-response criticism (Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “Narrative Criticism: How Does the Story Mean?,” in Mark and Method: New Approaches in Biblical Studies, ed. Janice Cape Anderson and Stephen D. Moore, 2nd ed. [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008], 29–57; Robert M. Fowler, Let the Reader Understand: Reader-Response Criticism and the Gospel of Mark [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991]). For an introduction to the emergence of narrative criticism in New Testament studies, see, e.g., Mark Allan Powell, “Narrative Criticism: The Emergence of a Prominent Reading Strategy,” in Mark as Story: Retrospect and Prospect, ed. Kelly R. Iverson and Christopher W. Skinner, RBS 65 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), 19–42. For a recent example of a fully-fledged narrative reading of Mark, see Kirsten Marie Hartvigsen, Prepare the Way of the Lord: Towards a Cognitive Poetic Analysis of Audience Involvement with Characters and Events in the Markan World, BZNW 180 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012). 51 52

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texts, both being assumptions that should be applied as heuristic tools rather than hermeneutic straitjackets. To unfold this further: (a) The intense interest in Mark as a coherent narrative has produced a number of suggestions as to which literary techniques the author of Mark made use of at a discourse level.55 One such is intercalations or the so-called sandwich technique, which refers to Mark’s habit of sandwiching or intercalating a story within a frame of another broken and resumed story. As argued by James R. Edwards, this is an example of a literary technique with a discernible theological purpose since “the middle story nearly always provides the key to the theological purpose of the sandwich.”56 Another is the so-called foreshadowing technique through which important themes are introduced at an early point in the story only to be resumed and fully explained later. It is at times also labelled the ‘echo principle,’ and is suggested to be a way of creating suspension and highlighting important themes in a story intended to be performed orally.57 The highlighting of this literary device helps in particularly in the appreciation of the importance of Mark’s ‘prologue’ or ‘introduction,’ in which the key-themes of his story are presented.58 Among the other literary techniques or characteristics of Mark to be discussed along the way, I will finally mention the suggestion of the ‘hinge technique,’ referring to the way in which Mark often finalizes a section with a story that introduces the next.59 Once again, this device serves to highlight the coherence and progression of Mark’s narrative. It should be noted that I am not, in adopting this approach, ascribing to a view of Mark as ––––––––––––––––– 55 It should rightfully be noted that such a down-scaled interest in Mark as a coherent narrative is a topic of interest that narrative criticism took over from redaction criticism, calling it, e.g., ‘composition criticism,’ see, e.g., John R. Donahue, Are You the Christ?, SBLDS 10 (Missoula, MT: Society of Biblical Literature, 1973), 41. 56 James R. Edwards, “Markan Sandwiches: The Significance of Interpolations in Markan Narratives,” NovT 31.3 (1989): 196, emphasis original. See further, e.g., Donahue, Christ, 42–43; Tom Shepherd, “The Narrative Function of Markan Intercalation,” NTS 41.4 (1995): 522–40; Ardel B. Caneday, “Christ’s Baptism and Crucifixion,” SBJT 8.3 (2004): 74–76. 57 See, e.g., Joanna Dewey, “Mark as Interwoven Tapestry: Forecasts and Echoes for a Listening Audience,” CBQ 53.2 (1991): 221–36; Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “Echoes and Foreshadowing in Mark 4–8: Reading and Rereading,” JBL 112.2 (1993): 211–30; Alberto de Mingo Kaminouchi, ‘But It Is Not So among You’: Echoes of Power in Mark 10.32–45, JSNTSup 249 (London: T&T Clark, 2003), 42–71; Joel Williams, “Foreshadowing, Echoes, and the Blasphemy at the Cross (Mark 15:29),” JBL 132.4 (2013): 913–33. 58 For the narrative and theological importance of Mark’s prologue, see the discussion in Section 4.2. 59 Bas van Iersel defines a ‘hinge’ as a paragraph that “is different from the preceding verses, but is at the same time clearly connected” to it (Bas M. F. van Iersel, Mark: A ReaderResponse Commentary, trans. W. H. Bisscheroux [London: T&T Clark, 2004], 83). See also Augustine Stock, “Hinge Transitions in Mark’s Gospel,” BTB 15 (1985): 27–31; M. Eugene Boring, “Mark 1:1–15 and the Beginning of the Gospel,” Semeia 52 (1990): 55; Collins, Mark, 90–91.

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the product of a highly educated, skilled writer – only that Mark as a writer was capable of producing a coherent narrative, using certain literary devices.60 (b) Another issue of importance and dispute is the question of Mark’s genre. Here, the pendulum has taken a full swing from the characterization of the synoptic gospels as modelled on the Greek and Roman biographical genre in the so-called ‘Life of Jesus’ studies from the 18th and 19th centuries to a characterization of the gospels as dogmatic preaching not interested in history in the Bultmannian era, and finally in recent decades back to a renewed understanding of the synoptic gospels as bioi.61 While other ancient genres have also been championed,62 the understanding of Mark as bios seems to have convinced the better part of the guild.63 So much so that Richard A. Burridge in his third edition of What Are the Gospels?, in the appended chapter surveying the reactions since its initial publication, concludes that his understanding of the gospels as “a form of Graeco-Roman biography” has been “more than amply demonstrated over the decade since the book’s first publication.”64 Building on this assumption, Helen K. Bond seeks in her recent book, The First Biography of Jesus, to move on from the discussion of Mark’s genre to the interpretative potential hereof in order to “capitalize on this important discovery.”65 Shortly stated, the characterization of Mark as a bios rests upon the dominant focus on Jesus as the protagonist of the story, the focus on his deeds as proof of his character, and upon the explicit mimetic purpose of the presentation. Further, the pejorative, form-critical designation of the gospels as Kleinliteratur did not survive the current appreciation of the gospels as narratives, making it a viable option that, for instance, the author of Mark intentionally or unintentionally made use of a common genre to communicate his message.66 Following Burridge, the hermeneutical implication of this understanding is an emphasis “on the centrality of the person of Jesus,” ––––––––––––––––– 60 See similarly Brian K. Gamel, Mark 15:39 as a Markan Theology of Revelation: The Centurion’s Confession as Apocalyptic Unveiling, LNTS 574 (London: T&T Clark, 2017), 99–101. 61 For research overviews, see Collins, Mark, 15–42; Richard A. Burridge, What Are the Gospels? A Comparison with Graeco-Roman Biography, 3rd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992; repr., Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2018), 3–24; Helen K. Bond, The First Biography of Jesus: Genre and Meaning in Mark’s Gospel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2020), 15–37; Judith A. Diehl, “What Is a ‘Gospel’? Recent Studies in the Gospel Genre,” CurBS 9.2 (2011): 171–99; Steve Walton, “What Are the Gospels? Richard Burridge’s Impact on Scholarly Understanding of the Genre of the Gospels,” CurBS 14.1 (2015): 81–93. 62 E.g., Mark as a ‘novel,’ ‘apocalyptic history,’ a Greek drama, or a dogmatic ‘kerygma,’ see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 64–65; Bond, First Biography, 33–34. 63 See Bond, First Biography, 33–34. 64 Burridge, What Are the Gospels?, 306. 65 Bond, First Biography, 2. 66 See Bond, First Biography, 4.

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including his “earthly life,”67 stated with reference to the Bultmannian neglect of the historical Jesus and emphasis on ecclesiology rather than Christology. While Bond surely acknowledges the emphasis on history and Christology as a consequence of the bios genre, her emphasis is rather on the mimetic function. That Jesus is not only “the content of Christian proclamation but also the model of Christian discipleship”68 is a hermeneutical emphasis drawn from the bios genre’s inherent moralistic nature. Bond pointedly concludes that “one of Mark’s primary reasons for writing a bios was to incorporate the life and mission of Jesus into the term ‘gospel.’”69 In other words, to Bond the biographical genre highlights Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as a discipleship model. There are, however, weighty arguments against a genre designation of Mark as a bios. First of all, genres are fluid and flexible, an inherent problem admitted by both Burridge and Bond.70 Burridge rightfully admits that this leads to a less specific genre definition that in turn produces a less helpful result.71 Further, as often pointed out, Mark specifically lacks a focus on Jesus’s childhood as well as the typical focus on the protagonist’s psychological development.72 While Bond tries to counter this argument with reference to the addition of childhood stories in Matthew and Luke, making it viable that at least they understood Mark as a bios,73 Adela Yarbro Collins’s pinpointing of these writings’ self-definition as βίβλος and διήγησις, respectively, rather than βίος, weakens the possibility that this enhancement of Mark was forced by Greco-Roman genre conventions. Moreover, and most problematic, the focus on Mark as a bios has problems with incorporating the role of scriptural fulfilment in Mark and possibly overlooks scriptural precedents for the biographical traits in Mark.74 Most pointed is the question of whether Mark’s opening ἀρχή formula, in combination with the εὐαγγέλιον formula and the Isaianic scriptural setting of the story, should be understood as a historical eschatological marker of an aeonic inbreak. Considering this, Collins’s genre designation for Mark as an “eschatological historical monograph”75 or Eve-Marie Becker’s designation ––––––––––––––––– Burridge, What Are the Gospels?, 249. Bond, First Biography, 166. 69 Bond, First Biography, 252; see also Collins, Mark, 18. 70 Burridge labels the bios genre as “flexible and diverse” (Burridge, What Are the Gospels?, 250), just as Bond admits that as it is “nestled in the intersection between ‘history, encomium and moral philosophy,’ … [it] might easily take on features from any of these complementary genres” (Bond, First Biography, 33). 71 See further the critique in Norman R. Petersen, “Can One Speak of a Gospel Genre?,” Neot 28.3 (1994): 146; Adela Yarbro Collins, “Genre and Gospels,” JR 75.2 (1995): 245– 46. 72 See, e.g., Collins, Mark, 25. 73 See Bond, First Biography, 18. 74 See Collins, Mark, 29, with reference to 1–2 Samuel and 1–2 Kings. 75 See Collins, Mark, 42–43. See also Collins, “Genre.” 67 68

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of Mark’s genre simply as “Evangelium”76 are more fitting, rather than a traditional, Greco-Roman biography.77 Peter Stuhlmacher argues along the same lines when he states that to Mark “Evangelium ist folglich, in antiken Kategorien gesprochen, ein äonenhaftes Gebilde, in welchem der neue Äon mit seiner eschatologischen Wirklichkeit schon worthaft Gegenwart wird und ist.”78 All in all, with a broad definition of the bios genre it is likely that Mark’s narrative created a “contract”79 with its first readers that was to a degree shaped by Greco-Roman bios traditions due to the focus on Jesus’s deeds and sayings in combination with the obvious mimetic purpose throughout.80 However, emphasizing the scriptural clothing of Mark in combination with the sense of a tidal shift in history, points at the same time towards a genre of Mark likewise akin to ancient historiography. This duality which, if anything, could be enhanced with detections of other genre conventions, warns against using a specific genre designation as the hermeneutical key to Mark.81 In this situation, two options seem at hand. One would be to understand Mark’s genre as composite, as, for instance, recently argued by Elizabeth E. Shively, who states that Mark purposefully blended “a variety [of] genres (e.g., history, biography, apocalypse, prophecy, drama) to narrate a scriptural, apocalyptic-eschatological history ––––––––––––––––– 76 See Eve-Marie Becker, Das Markus-Evangelium im Rahmen antiker Historiographie, WUNT 194 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 410–12. Becker understands the ancient biography as a sub-genre of ancient historiography. Confronted with Mark’s bold opening, ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, both fall short. While the biography, with its focus on establishing an ethical exemplum is “eine Beschränkung” (Becker, Markus-Evangelium, 43), in the end ancient historiography is also “inkommensurabel” with Mark’s eschatological focus, for which reason Mark in reality presents “einen eigenen Typus” (Becker, Markus-Evangelium, 410). 77 Bond seeks to avoid this critique by classifying Mark’s interest in Israel’s Scriptures as ‘content’ rather than ‘genre’ (see Bond, First Biography, 25–29), but as rightly pinpointed by Elizabeth Shively in her review of Bond’s book, the entire Isaianic clothing of Mark and not least the pivotal role of Mark 1:1–8 for the ‘genre contract’ which he negotiates with his readers, become obsolete and are overlooked in Bond’s rather one-sided reading of Mark (see Elizabeth E. Shively, review of The First Biography of Jesus: Genre and Meaning in Mark’s Gospel, by Helen K. Bond, RBL 7 (2021). 78 Peter Stuhlmacher, Das paulinische Evangelium: Vorgeschichte, FRLANT 95 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1968), 107. 79 See Burridge, What Are the Gospels?, 247. 80 For arguments that this genre was widely known beyond the elite circles, see Bond, First Biography, 78–120. 81 In response to the criticism of overlooking the historiographical genre potential of the canonical gospels, Burridge tries to minimize the distance between the two genres, calling them genera proxima (Burridge, What Are the Gospels?, I.83). As mentioned, Bond tries to incorporate room for Mark’s scriptural gravity by distinguishing between form and content, claiming that Jewish Scriptures “exerted a profound influence on the content of the Jesus story,” whereas Mark in his “selection of an appropriate literary genre … turned his sights towards the wider Greco-Roman world” (Bond, First Biography, 29, emphasis original).

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which he has framed as ‘good news.’”82 According to Shively, εὐαγγέλιον as such becomes the genre of Mark, understood as “a scriptural, apocalypticeschatological (hi)story.”83 Another option would be to accept that the question of Mark’s genre shares a destiny with the question of Mark’s provenance (to be treated in detail in Section 2.5) in that the inconclusiveness of Mark’s text all too easily introduces circular reasoning if genre is made the hermeneutical key to Mark’s Gospel.84 While I find the positions of Becker, Collins, and Shively most attractive, I will, faced with the inconclusiveness of the matter and the risk of circular reasoning, not rely upon or make explicit reference to a certain genre as the hermeneutical starting point for interpreting Mark. 1.3.2 A Note on Modern Concepts for Ancient Texts A further clarification is in order in connection with the approach taken by the present investigation with its focus on the interplay and tension between ‘politics’ and ‘religion,’ namely a note on the need to distinguish between insider and observer perspectives when describing a foreign culture. This necessity has for a long time been recognized by anthropological and sociological studies and has aptly been labelled an emic versus an etic approach. It has further often been observed that the division of life into different, partly autonomous compartments is a hallmark of post-enlightenment Western civili––––––––––––––––– Shively, “Markan Narrative,” 386. Shively further suggests that the most promising approach to the question of Mark’s genre is by an adaptation of ‘conceptual blending theory’ that suggests “that an audience selectively recruits and integrates elements from key inputs/schemata in order to conceptualize the whole gospel” (Elizabeth E. Shively, “A Critique of Richard Burridge’s Genre Theory: From a One-Dimensional to a Multi-Dimensional Approach to Gospel Genre,” in Modern and Ancient Literary Criticism of the Gospels: Continuing the Debate on Gospel Genre(s), ed. Robert Matthew Calhoun, Robert P. Moessner, and Tobias Nicklas, WUNT 451 [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020], 110). In reality, while Mark did not compose a genre ex nihilo, he nevertheless used the known options at hand in such a creative way that his blending of genre-specific elements deserves to be labelled sui generis (Shively, “Critique,” 112). For another researcher who points to the ‘dynamic’ and ‘transformative’ use of genre in Mark, see David E. Aune, “Genre Theory and the Genre-Function of Mark and Matthew,” in Mark and Matthew, Texts and Contexts 1: Understanding the First Gospels in Their First Century Settings, ed. Eve-Marie Becker and Anders Runesson, WUNT 271 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 145–75. 83 Shively, “Markan Narrative,” 387. 84 As a response to the growing consensus of the gospels as bioi, Norman Petersen stated some time ago that “there is no intrinsic reason to believe that finding a generic analogue for these Gospels would tell us anything significantly new, or hermeneutically significant, about them” (Petersen, “Gospel Genre,” 149). Also, if the primary hermeneutical outcome of understanding Mark as an ancient biography is a focus on Jesus and discipleship, Petersen’s rather sweeping claim that the various genre classifications “tell us absolutely nothing about these texts that we cannot learn from reading them individually, without comparative reference to other texts” (Petersen, “Gospel Genre,” 147) might contain some truth. 82

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zation, which provides us with strong concepts of politics, religion, culture, economy, and the like. The problem confronting us is that such a conceptualization of life was not part of the antique world-view, heightening the tension between emic and etic perspectives in our case. Richard A. Horsley can serve as an example of one who has opinionated strongly against the conceptualization in “biblical studies” with “essentialist dichotomies” producing a “depoliticized” approach to biblical books interpreted through another construct, the ancient “religion ‘Judaism.’”85 According to Horsley, we have “domesticated” Jesus to fit the people of a “modern individualist culture,” leaving us out of sync with the world of Jesus, which “did not separate religion from politicaleconomic life in this way.”86 Only if we “cut through such synthetic and often essentialist scholarly constructs”87 will we be able to observe the inseparability of the “political-religious”88 nature of the antique world-view. The problem at hand is deeper yet. In a recent and influential article, Steve Mason entered into a century-long discussion of how to understand and translate the most commonly used designation for ‘Jews’ in late Second Temple ‘Judaism,’ Ἰουδαῖος, and its cognates (Ἰουδαϊσµός, ἰουδαΐζειν, etc.), just as he reasserted the observation of Wilfred Cantwell Smith that we search in vain in antique texts after a concept that mirrors our understanding of ‘religion.’89 Beginning with the last issue, in claiming that the concept of ‘religion’ “lacked a taxonomical counterpart in antiquity,”90 Mason is not saying that people in antiquity were not religious. On the contrary: “What we would recognize as ‘religious’ activities were everywhere, but there was no phenomenon understood as ‘religion.’”91 While we as “modern westerners recognize a category of life called ‘religion,’” ancients lived with ‘religious’ activities as an integral part of being a certain people, including national cult, prevailing philosophies, rites of passage, voluntary associations, astrology, magic, public entertainments, and more.92 This observation directly influences the question of how to translate Ἰουδαῖος since ‘Jews’ comes with an attached ––––––––––––––––– 85 Richard A. Horsley, “Submerged Biblical Histories and Imperial Biblical Studies,” in The Postcolonial Bible, ed. Rasiah S. Sugirtharajah, BP 1 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1998), 154. 86 Richard A. Horsley, The Prophet Jesus and the Renewal of Israel: Moving Beyond a Diversionary Debate (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 4. 87 Horsley, Prophet Jesus, 153. 88 Richard A. Horsley, “Jesus and the Politics of Roman Palestine,” JSHJ 8.2 (2010): 101. 89 Steve Mason, “Jews, Judaeans, Judaizing, Judaism: Problems of Categorization in Ancient History,” JSJ 38 (2007): 457–512; Wilfred Cantwell Smith, The Meaning and End of Religion: A New Approach to Religious Traditions of Mankind (New York: Macmillan, 1963). 90 Mason, “Jews, Judaeans,” 480. 91 Mason, “Jews, Judaeans,” 488. 92 Mason, “Jews, Judaeans,” 482–88.

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21

sense of religion, as opposed to ‘Judeans.’ Mason argues that it was not until the Christian writers of the third to the fifth centuries that Ἰουδαῖος began to take on this meaning and not the post-enlightenment period.93 In the Second Temple period, Ἰουδαῖος was solely an ethnic term describing a people and a person of or connected to Judea,94 and is also the editorial decision for the new Brill translation of the works of Josephus, of which Mason is editor. In this, Mason follows the suggestion in the third and latest English edition of Bauer’s Greek-English Lexicon, edited by Frederick Danker, in which it is suggested that Ἰουδαῖος should be translated as “Judean.” This suggestion is reasoned in an unusually outspoken style for a lexicon: Incalculable harm has been caused by simply glossing Ἰουδαῖος with ‘Jew’, for many readers or auditors of Bible translations do not practice the historical judgment necessary to distinguish between circumstances and events of an ancient time and contemporary ethnicreligious-social realities, with the result that anti-Judaism in the modern sense of the term is needlessly fostered through biblical texts.95

However, the opposite can also be argued, as is done by the Jewish scholar Amy-Jill Levine, who contends that dislodging “Jew” from ancient texts will only promote what Danker seeks to avoid, an anti-Semitic use of ancient texts now translated in a judenrein fashion.96 In his thorough and immensely helpful article in three parts, David M. Miller outlines how divisive the translation of Ἰουδαῖος has become in recent research, functioning almost as a new Shibboleth test.97 On the one hand, Miller shows how the concept of ‘ethnicity’ has become central to the understanding of Ἰουδαῖος in the post-holocaust period as an ––––––––––––––––– Mason, “Jews, Judaeans,” 471, 512. Mason, “Jews, Judaeans,” 511. 95 BDAG, s.v. “Ἰουδαῖος” (“Jewish” is kept as a secondary option in parentheses). Looking at its cognates, BDAG suggests ἰουδαΐζειν to be translated as “live in Judean or Jewish fashion”; Ἰουδαϊκός as “Judean (Jewish)”; Ἰουδαϊσµός as “Judeanism/Judaism.” In comparison, the sixth German edition translates “jüdisch,” “Judentum,” “nach jüdischer Sitte leben,” and the like. 96 Amy-Jill Levine, The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2006), 160. Levine refers to the way in which W. Grundmann under the influence of Nazi ideology made the historical argument that Galileans were newly converted Itureans, for which reason “Jesus kein Jude war” (Walter Grundmann, Jesus der Galiläer und das Judentum [Leipzig: Wigand, 1940], 166–75). See further Roland Deines, Jüdische Steingefäße und pharisäische Frömmigkeit: Ein archäologisch-historischer Beitrag zum Verständnis von Johannes 2,6 und der jüdischen Reinheitshalacha zur Zeit Jesu, WUNT 2/52 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993), 14–15. 97 See David M. Miller, “The Meaning of Ioudaios and its Relationship to Other Group Labels in Ancient ‘Judaism,’” CurBS 9.1 (2010): 98–126; David M. Miller, “Ethnicity Comes of Age: An Overview of Twentieth-Century Terms for Ioudaios,” CurBS 10.2 (2012): 293–311; David M. Miller, “Ethnicity, Religion and the Meaning of Ioudaios in Ancient ‘Judaism,’” CurBS 12.2 (2014): 216–65. 93 94

22

Chapter 1: The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross

alternative ‘race’ with its biological implications.98 On the other hand, Miller tracks at which point in time different researchers have allowed the term to additionally attract a religious sense. While Mason constitutes the one end of the spectrum (together with Daniel Boyarin), by postponing this to at least third century Christian polemics, other researchers advocate that this process took place in the Second Temple period under the influence of the spread of Hellenism and the ‘invention’ of conversionism to Judaism.99 Another group postpones this to after the Jewish wars and the loss of the temple and homeland,100 while still others argue that Ἰουδαῖος has always had a dual sense of ethnicity and religion.101 Upon evaluation of each group, Miller calls for a middle ground, arguing that “by the end of the Second Temple period a religious meaning was in the process of emerging.”102 Accepting Mason’s basic point that Ἰουδαῖος should basically be understood as an ethnic category, he refines it in several ways by rejecting that we can only describe antiquity in an emic manner, limited to ancient terminology.103 Instead, we should understand ‘religion’ in a broad sense as a concept that in this period was “emerging as a category,”104 much in the same way as Denise Kimber Buell defines ‘religion’ in the loose sense of “appropriate practices and the appropriate understanding of the object of worship.”105 In the same way, Seth Schwartz allows for an emerging religious sense of Ἰουδαῖος actually in competition with its ancestral and ethnic definition as witnessed by texts from this period, describing the growing relationship ––––––––––––––––– 98 See Miller, “Ethnicity Comes of Age,” 294; Miller, “Ethnicity, Religion and the Meaning,” 234. 99 Most prolific in this group is Shaye Cohen, who argues that the first attestation of a religious use of Ἰουδαῖος is found in the story of Antiochus’s conversion to Judaism on his deathbed in 2 Macc 9:17 (see also 6:6 and the use of Ἰουδαϊσµός in 2:21; 8:1; 14:38), which serves as a primer for many other instances in texts from this period and onwards, see Shaye J. D. Cohen, The Beginnings of Jewishness: Boundaries, Varieties, Uncertainties (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 104–6. 100 For instance, Martin Goodman argues that a strict religious sense occurred for the first time in 96 CE with Nerva’s restriction of the fiscus Judaicus to only those who practiced a ‘Jewish’ way of living: “By removing such people from the list of those liable to the Jewish tax, Nerva may unwittingly have taken a significant step towards the treatment of Jews in late antiquity more as a religion than as a nation” (Martin Goodman, “Nerva, the Fiscus Judaicus and Jewish Identity,” JRS 79 [1989]: 40). 101 Miller refers to Denise Kimber Buell, Why This New Race: Ethnic Reasoning in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, 2005), and Seth Schwartz, Were the Jews a Mediterranean Society? Reciprocity and Solidarity in Ancient Judaism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011). 102 Miller, “Ethnicity, Religion and the Meaning,” 218. 103 Miller, “Ethnicity, Religion and the Meaning,” 241. 104 Miller, “Ethnicity, Religion and the Meaning,” 242. 105 Buell, New Race, 30.

1.3 Method and Presuppositions

23

between being Ἰουδαῖος and acting as such through observation of purity regulations.106 Thus ‘religion’ was in the process of emerging as a distinct concept for the Ἰουδαῖοι of the late Second Temple period. Whether this was due to a reaction against the growing influence of Hellenistic culture and ‘religion,’ or rather a growing attraction to Judaism by pagans, or something else entirely, is secondary. The important point is the transformation of the term Ἰουδαῖος from something solely related to the ethnic Judean people to something related to religious practices as well. Two important conclusions stand out from this short review of a huge and at times intense discussion. First, concerning the integrated nature of realms of life in antiquity, it must be granted that Horsley is correct in stressing the integral connection of concepts like politics, religion, and economy. As a matter of fact, it is hard to find anyone who disputes Mason’s claim that while religious activities were omnipresent in antiquity, no distinguishable concept of ‘religion’ existed. For this reason, it is wise to use a compound nomenclature such as ‘socio-religious,’ ‘politico-religious,’ ‘socio-economic,’ and the like.107 Wherever not done in this book, it should nonetheless still be understood in such a compound way. At the same time, this acknowledgement should not be used as a pretext for downplaying ‘religious’ sentiments and religious motivation in this period, which Horsley’s approach is prone to do, as already outlined above.108 Second, there is the question of how to translate Ἰουδαῖος and its cognates. Mason follows Danker in using ‘Judean’ while he allows the familiar terms to be used in more popular settings.109 An even more spirited rejection of the use of ‘Jews’ and ‘Judaism’ in connection with the Second Temple period is represented by Philip F. Esler, who views the translation of Ἰουδαῖος with ‘Jew’ as “intellectually indefensible” and “morally questionable” when it comes to the Second Temple period.110 While there is currently a move towards ‘Judean’ and even ‘Judeanism,’ strong objections can be raised against abandoning ‘Jew’ and ‘Judaism.’ One is the way in which a religious sense of Ἰουδαῖος and its cognates was emerging in this period, making an ethnic translation difficult ––––––––––––––––– 106 Schwartz points to 2 Macc 8:1 referring to Jews who had remained ἐν τῷ Ιουδαϊσµῷ, which in this context refers to having observed Jewish purity practices, and to 4 Macc 4:26, doing the same, see Seth Schwartz, “How Many Judaisms Were There? A Critique of Neusner and Smith on Definition and Mason and Boyarin on Categorization,” JAJ 2.2 (2011): 225. 107 See also Horsley, “Jesus and the Politics,” 101. 108 See also the treatment of Horsley’s anti-imperial readings in Section 2.4.3. 109 Mason, “Jews, Judaeans,” 511. 110 Philip F. Esler, Conflict and Identity in Romans: The Social Setting of Paul’s Letter (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 68; see also John H. Elliott, “Jesus the Israelite Was Neither a ‘Jew’ nor a ‘Christian’: On Correcting Misleading Nomenclature,” JSHJ 5.2 (2007): 150, 153.

24

Chapter 1: The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross

to justify in all cases.111 Another is the non-ethnic use of Ἰουδαῖος clearly observable in a variety of texts in which people call themselves or are labelled Ἰουδαῖοι while at the same time they are identified as part of another region or people.112 Specifically, the term Γαλιλαῖος constitutes a problem to the translation ‘Judean’ since its geographical connotation will unavoidably obscure the common ‘Jewishness’ of Judeans and Galileans alike in the post-Hasmonean period.113 Still another objection is the way in which ‘Judean’ would introduce a new binarism and “a false dichotomy between ancient and modern emic (Jewish) understandings of what it means to belong among the Ioudaioi,” to quote Anders Runesson.114 All differences apart, there is “an essential historical continuity”115 over the centuries. Last but not least, as carefully warned by Levine, despite Danker and others’ intention to counter centuries of antiSemitism, the detachment of Ἰουδαῖος from ‘Jewish’ risks repeating the detachment of Jesus der Galiläer from his Jewish contemporaries, which was precisely what led to the conclusion that Jesus was not a Jew. To sum up, I find it reasonable and even necessary to continue to use ‘religious’ in the integral, non-modern sense sketched above and to uphold the use of ‘Jew,’ ‘Jewish,’ and even ‘Judaism,’ likewise in an integral sense, combining ethnic and religious sentiments. 1.3.3 Scope and Demarcations Finally, I will briefly highlight four important demarcations necessitated by the scope of the present investigation: (1) This is not an investigation at the level of the historical Jesus. It has been vividly discussed whether Jesus himself preached the gospel, prompted ––––––––––––––––– 111 For instance, the recent 2014 LXX translation, NETS, translates Ἰουδαϊσµός as “Judean faith” in 2 Macc 8:1 but as “Judaism” in 2 Macc 2:21; 14:38; 4 Macc 4:26. 112 Runesson refers to Acts 2:5–11, which constitutes a clear example (consider: Ἰουδαῖοι … ἀπὸ παντὸς ἔθνους, 2:5, see Anders Runesson, “Inventing Christian Identity: Paul, Ignatius, and Theodosius I,” in Exploring Early Christian Identity, ed. Bengt Holmberg, WUNT 226 [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008], 67). Josephus likewise uses Ἰουδαῖος for people who are otherwise called “Cyprian” (Ant. 20.142) or “Alexandrians” (C. Ap. 2.38). If Ἰουδαῖος in these and other instances is to be understood as an ethnic category, the concept of ethnicity would have to be drastically redefined as a fluid concept. See further the discussion in Miller, “Ethnicity, Religion and the Meaning,” 226–27. 113 Recent archaeological research in Galilee points towards a close link between the Judeans and the Galileans, who were most likely Judean settlers in the wake of the Hasmonean conquest by Aristobulus I (104–103 BCE) and not old Israelites or forcefully converted Itureans. For an introduction to this discussion, see Morten Hørning Jensen, “The Political History in Galilee from the 1st Century BCE to the End of the 2nd Century CE,” in Galilee in the Late Second Temple and Mishnaic Periods, 100 BCE–200 CE, ed. David A. Fiensey and James R. Strange (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), 52–57. 114 Runesson, “Inventing Christian Identity,” 65. 115 Runesson, “Inventing Christian Identity,” 66.

1.3 Method and Presuppositions

25

by Gustaf Dalman’s claim in his book from 1898, Die Worte Jesu, in which he argues that τὸ εὐαγγέλιον was an invention of the church and that Jesus only preached the kingdom.116 In the research overview provided in Chapter 2, I will at times refer to this discussion. However, since the scope of the study is on Mark’s presentation of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, any further discussion hereof is outside my focus. (2) This is also not an investigation of the redaction of Mark’s Gospel or the congregational situation that prompted its production. With Marxsen’s dissertation from 1959, Der Evangelist Markus, in which a chapter is devoted to the use of εὐαγγέλιον in Mark,117 this question moved into the centre of the debate for the next few of decades. However, due to the focus on Mark as a ‘literary narrative’ and due to the rejection of our ability to reconstruct the historical setting of Mark’s provenance arrived at in Chapter 2.5, the focus in this study is on Mark as a narrative, not Mark’s historical situation or recipients. (3) Despite the revived discussion of a Pauline influence on the Gospel of Mark, this is not an investigation of the traditio-historical relationship between the Pauline and the Markan use of the gospel word group. As evident from the discussion in Section 3.4.3, the different evaluations thereof are in essence theologically motivated, thus becoming circular in the sense that the researchher’s theological interpretation of the usage becomes the norm for the historical reconstruction. While the overview over the Pauline usage in this section reveals, in my opinion, considerably overlap, the ensuing investigation of the Markan usage will therefore not appeal to Paul’s as proof for a certain reading. Instead, the overview in Section 3.4.3 over the densest use of our word group in any late Second Temple Jewish text group provides an apt test case for the argued understanding of the εὐαγγελ- nomenclature in Chapter 3. (4) Finally, this is not a study of Mark’s atonement theology per se. With the publication of Morna D. Hooker’s investigation in 1959, Jesus and the Servant,118 the question of Mark’s understanding of Jesus’s death became a hotbed of discussion, particularly revolving around the question of the role of Isaiah 53 in Mark’s passion story. As already noted above, the question of how we understand Mark’s use of the term εὐαγγέλιον is closely connected to the question of our understanding of Mark’s atonement theology. For this reason, there will be several occasions during the discussions below to enter this de-

––––––––––––––––– 116 See Gustaf Dalman, Die Worte Jesu, 2nd ed. (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1898; repr., 1930), 84; see also the discussion in Section 2.2.2. 117 See Marxsen, Markus, see further the discussion in Section 2.3.2. 118 See Morna D. Hooker, Jesus and the Servant (London: SPCK, 1959).

26

Chapter 1: The Εὐαγγέλιον of Mark between Kingdom and Cross

bate.119 However, since the focus of this study is locked on Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον, his atonement theology will only be treated when pertinent to this focus.120

––––––––––––––––– See in particular Section 6.1.2. For a contribution to this matter, see Morten Hørning Jensen, “Atonement Theology in the Gospel of Mark as Proximity to the Divine,” Bib 100.1 (2019): 84–104, and Morten Hørning Jensen, “The Gospel of Reconciliation in the Gospel of Mark,” in Reconciliation: Christian Perspectives – Interdisciplinary Approaches, ed. Johannes Reimar, Interdisziplinäre und theologische Studien 3 (Berlin: LIT-Verlag, 2020), 23–44. 119 120

2

Mark and his Εὐαγγέλιον – Status Quaestionis Chapter 2

Mark and his Εὐαγγέλιον – Status Quaestionis 2.1 Introduction From the preceding introduction, it is clear that the εὐαγγέλιον Mark boldly proclaims by way of introduction is in no way a straightforward notion. As a result, for more than 120 years, a vivid discussion has taken place in New Testament research to clarify this notion in general as well as in the Gospel of Mark in particular. This discussion can be broken down into four central issues that combined provide the status quaestionis for our guiding research question on how the author of Mark presents his narrative of Jesus as τὸ εὐαγγέλιον: (1) The root and pedigree of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, that is, the specific singular, neuter, and articulated form (sometimes labelled die religionsgeschichtliche or außerneutestamenliche Traditionsgeschichte).1 Since this particular form is not attested before Paul,2 the question is from where Paul and Mark drew this notion and why. (2) The Markan use of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον. Since there is an uneven use of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον among New Testament authors, what it means to the different writers is a point of dispute (sometimes labelled die neutestamentliche Traditionsgeschichte). Specifically concerning Mark, the discussion concerns the question of whether the gospel proclaimed by Jesus is self-referential, thus attaining an objective sense. (3) The introduction of new methodologies in terms of anti-imperial (or anti-empire3) and postcolonial reading strategies. While the polemical potency of the gospel nomenclature was already noticed by Harnack and Deissmann, new reading strategies within the last three decades have energized the cases ––––––––––––––––– 1 See, e.g., Hubert Frankemölle, “Evangelium als theologischer Begriff und sein Bezug zur literarischen Gattung ‘Evangelium,’” ANRW 25.2:1635–1704. 2 See Steve Mason, Josephus, Judea, and Christian Origins: Methods and Categories (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009), 287, and the discussion in Section 3.2. 3 There is no consensus on what to name this approach to biblical books. Recently, Warren Carter has opted for “imperial-critical” rather than “anti-empire” so as to align this approach to the New Testament with other methodologies such as historical-critical (see Warren Carter, “Christian Origins and Imperial-Critical Studies of the New Testament Gospels,” in Christian Origins and the Establishment of the Early Jesus Movement, ed. Stanley E. Porter and Andrew W. Pitts, TENTS 12 (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 275–76). I will mainly be using “anti-imperial” and occasionally “anti-empire” with no distinction.

28

Chapter 2: Mark and his Εὐαγγέλιον – Status Quaestionis

for Mark as a script against or in interaction with the Roman Empire. To which extent should these new reading strategies or methodologies direct our understanding of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον substituting or complementing readings focussed on Mark’s scripturalization? (4) The question of Mark’s provenance and date. Increasingly, the question of Mark’s setting has become the cornerstone in the hermeneutical approach to Mark’s purpose and thus in extension to his εὐαγγέλιον.

2.2 Mind the Gap: The Root of τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον 2.2.1 A Problematic Pedigree As already noted by Ernst von Dobschütz, “the gospel” is according to modern conception the closest we get to a single, technical term for the Christian message, it is “Grundlage und Inhalt aller christlichen Verkündigung.”4 However, the uneven distribution and the comparably restricted use of the εὐαγγελ- word group in the New Testament writings reveal that this has not always been the assumption. The noun εὐαγγέλιον occurs seventy-six times, of which sixty are found in letters attributed to Paul. In the Gospels, Mark accounts for seven (not including 16:15) and Matthew four, while Luke and John avoid the term altogether, leaving two for Acts, one for 1 Peter, and one for Revelation. If we consider its verbal form, εὐαγγελίζειν, we encounter fifty-four occurrences. Again, Paul takes the lion’s share (21), followed by Acts (15) and Luke (10), while Matthew only uses it once, and Mark and John never, leaving seven for the rest of the New Testament.5 Comparably, should we look for a common denominator for the writing of the New Testament, Χριστός, with 529 occurrences covering the entire range of writings, with the exception of 3 John, would be our best choice. Further, to add to the puzzling situation, of the seventy-six occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον in the New Testament, all are the neuter form of the word, as well as singular, seventy-two are articulated,6 and roughly half of these are used in an absolute sense not further defined by a genitive such as τῆς βασιλείας, Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, τοῦ θεοῦ, τῆς χάριτος, or τοῦ υἱοῦ. The

––––––––––––––––– 4 Ernst von Dobschütz, “Gibt es ein doppeltes Evangelium im Neuen Testament?,” TSK 85 (1912): 331; see also Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 503; Graham Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 9–10. 5 Besides these two forms of the εὐαγγελ- word group, we find εὐαγγελιστής used in three places: Acts 21:8; Eph 4:11; 2 Tim 4:5. 6 The four unarticulated occurrences are Rom 1:1; 2 Cor 11:4; Gal 1:6; Rev 14:6.

2.2 Mind the Gap: The Root of τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον

29

absolute use is especially common in Mark7 and letters attributed to Paul,8 producing what has been labelled the specific Pauline and Markan Stichwort, τὸ εὐαγγέλιον. The remarkable force of this phrase is stressed by a comparison to Greek and Jewish texts. This exact form is not found in the Septuagint nor in any Greek text before Plutarch (ca. 50–120 CE), who uses it once (Demetr. 17.6). If we consider the anarthrous neuter singular, εὐαγγέλιον, two places are attested in Homer (Od. 14.152, 166), one in Josephus (J.W. 2.420), and three in Plutarch (Ages. 33.4; Glor. Ath. 3 [347D; 2x]).9 Concerning the feminine form, εὐαγγελία, the Septuagint contains five occurrences following the common text-critical editions,10 all anarthrous, singular (2 Kgdms 18:20, 22, 25, 27; 4 Kgdms 7:9, see also Josephus, Ant. 18.229). Only when we shift to the anarthrous, neuter plural does the picture change slightly. The Septuagint still only contains one (2 Kgdms 4:10), but a handful of occurrences are to be found in Greek pre-Christian writers11 as well as in contemporary inscriptions and writings.12 Still, the paucity of the anarthrous, plural neuter version, the next to rarely used anarthrous, singular version, and the completely unused articulated, singular neuter form, τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, call for an explanation. A final remarkable feature of the root of the gospel notion is found in its semantic domain. In the Hebrew Bible and in the Septuagint, ‫ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬/εὐαγγελία, as well as ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελίζεσθαι, is connected to war imagery. It denotes the message brought from the battlefield to the king or another ruler, or, at times, it seems to reflect the reward given to the messenger (2 Sam 4:10; 18:22). For instance, 2 Samuel 18 describes the final stages of the war between David and his son Absalom. In the verses describing the messages brought to David of his army’s victory, ‫ ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬is used four times, along with five uses of its verbal cognate, ‫בשׂר‬. Another moving story is told in 2 Kings 7 describing how four lepers discover the deserted Aramean camp full of food during the siege of Samaria, and how they realize that they need to bring news from the battlefront to the ––––––––––––––––– 7 All occurrences in Mark are, besides absolute, not defined by a genitive, except 1:1 (Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ [υἱοῦ θεοῦ]) and 1:14 (τοῦ θεοῦ). 8 Outside Mark and letters attributed to Paul, a non-defined use is found only in Matt 26:13; Acts 15:7; 1 Pet 4:17; Rev 14:6. 9 For a treatment of the occurrences in Greek texts, see Section 3.2.3; see also Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel; Horbury, “Gospel,” 7–30; Mason, Josephus, Judea; John P. Dickson, “Gospel as News: Εὐαγγελ- from Aristophanes to the Apostle Paul,” NTS 51 (2005): 212– 30; Graham H. Twelftree, The Gospel According to Paul: A Repraisal (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2019), 27–36. 10 Variant readings will be discussed in Section 3.2.2. 11 See Mason, Josephus, Judea, 286. 12 See, e.g., Plutarch, Sert. 11.4; Pomp. 41.3, and Josephus, J.W. 4.618, 656. To this may be added the use of the verbal form, which is attested twenty-two times in the Septuagint, eleven times in Philo (in medium), twelve times in Josephus (in medium), and once in Plutarch (in medium), besides also in inscriptions.

30

Chapter 2: Mark and his Εὐαγγέλιον – Status Quaestionis

starving besieged since this is “a day of good news” (‫יוֹם־ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬, v. 9). The connection to war news, reward for bringing good news, and even sacrifice on behalf of good news is also the dominating semantic meaning in Greek literature before Christianity.13 In many of the older investigations, the war imagery entailed in the ‫ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬/εὐαγγελία of the Hebrew Bible was judged to be without connection to the New Testament ditto, semantically speaking. Millar Burrows, for instance, found it “quite evident that the Christian use of the noun εὐαγγέλιον is not derived from the Greek Old Testament,”14 and it became standard in the investigations of, for example, Julius Schniewind, Gerhard Friedrich, and Otto Schilling15 to distinguish between “der nicht-theologische Gebrauch” and “die theologisch-religiöse Bedeutung.”16 According to this tradition, the ‘religious meaning’ is to be found only at certain locations in the Psalms and prophets where the participle ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος becomes a personified messenger, heralding the apocalyptic victory of Yahweh.17 However, as will become clear in our discussion of the places with a so-called ‘religious meaning’ in Sections 3.2 and 3.3, these places are likewise solidly loaded with the notion of Yahweh’s victories, which is especially evident in Isa 40:9 and 52:7, envisioning the final war and victory of Yahweh himself. In other words, this initial review of the εὐαγγελ- word group reveals three interesting things: Εὐαγγέλιον is not joint property of all New Testament writings. It is, not least in its absolute form, a Pauline and Markan keyword. Further, the specific notion τὸ εὐαγγέλιον has no direct precursor in the Hebrew Bible or the Septuagint. Finally, the semantic domain of εὐαγγέλιον connects it solidly to imagery of war victory. 2.2.2 The Surprising Discoveries of 1898 and 1899 While the link between ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος and the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον was for centuries viewed as unproblematic,18 something happened around ––––––––––––––––– 13 According to Horbury, this standard tripartition was first suggested by Matthew Poole in the seventeenth century and later became incorporated in, for example, Liddell, Scott, and Jones’s Greek lexicon (see Horbury, “Gospel,” 9). 14 Burrows, “Gospel,” 22. 15 See Julius Schniewind, Euangelion: Ursprung und erste Gestalt des Begriffs Evangelium (Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1927–1931; repr., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1970); Gerhard Friedrich, “εὐαγγελίζοµαι, εὐαγγέλιον, κτλ,” TWNT 2:705–735; Otto Schilling, “ ‫בשׂר‬, ‫ְבּ שׂוֹ ָרה‬,” TWAT 1:845–849. 16 Schilling, ThWAT 1:847. 17 See Isa 40:9; 41:27 (only MT); 52:7; 61:1 besides also Nah 2:1 LXX (1:15 ET); Ps 39:10 LXX (40:10 MT, 40:9 ET); 67:12 LXX (68:12 MT, 68:11 ET); Joel 3:5 LXX (2:32 ET). 18 Cremer’s entry on εὐαγγέλιον may serve as an example of the unproblematic relationship between Isaiah and the New Testament (see Hermann Cremer, Biblisch-theologisches Wörterbuch der neutestamentlichen Gräcität [Gotha: Berthes, 1895], 31). Horbury refers to

2.2 Mind the Gap: The Root of τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον

31

the break of the twentieth century that problematized the frictionless connection to Second Isaiah, and, as noted by Peter Stuhlmacher, when “der Damm einmal gebrochen ist,”19 it cannot be repaired. From this point onward, the root for the specific Pauline and Markan formula was pursued with vigorous energy. According to Hubert Frankemölle, the troublemakers destroying the peace of old, sending shockwaves through the scholarly community, consisted of two things.20 One was Gustav Dalman’s publication in 1898 of the first part of his Die Worte Jesu, in which he argued on the basis of Hebrew and Aramaic word investigations that it was in the Christian communities that τὸ εὐαγγέλιον and εὐαγγελίζεσθαι became a distinctive “Terminus.”21 Jesus preached “die Gottesherrschaft,” which according to Dalman was the original content of the gospel notion in the Hebrew and Aramaic sources. Only later did τὸ εὐαγγέλιον become a defined, technical term in no need of further definition. This raised the question: If Jesus did not preach the gospel, who did, and when and why? As mentioned in Section 1.1, a ground-shaking answer to this question was provided the year thereafter, in 1899, when Mommsen and Wilamowitz-Moellendorf published the discovery of the so-called Priene inscription,22 made during the expedition of the German Institute in Athens to the Western parts of the Roman province Asia. It is a lengthy inscription consisting of three parts.23 The first is the proposal by the proconsul of Asia Minor, Paulus Fabius Maximus, to the Koinon of Asia Minor that the birthday of Augustus should henceforth be recognized as New Year’s day (September 23 in a new solar-based Julian ––––––––––––––––– seventeenth-century studies by Matthew Pole and Hugo Grotius for similar views (see Horbury, “Gospel,” 9). 19 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 7. 20 See Hubert Frankemölle, “Evangelium als theologischer Begriff und sein Bezug zur literarischen Gattung ‘Evangelium’ (Zweiter Teil),” in Principat, ed. Wolfgang Haase, ANRW 25.2 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1984), 1671. 21 Dalman, Worte Jesu, 84. 22 After the initial find of two large parts of the inscription at the marketplace in Priene, smaller fragments of the same text in both Greek and Latin were found in other cities of Asia Minor, such as Apameia, Eumeneia, and Dorylaion, the last in 1954 (see Robert K. Sherk, Roman Documents from the Greek East: Senatus Consulta and Epistulae to the Age of Augustus [Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins, 1969], 328; Claudio Ettl, “Der ‘Anfang der ... Evangelien,’” in Wenn drei das Gleiche sagen: Studien zu den ersten drei Evangelien, ed. Stefan H. Brandenburger and Thomas Hieke, Theologie 14 [Münster: LIT, 1998], 124–26; Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 30). In reality, the inscription is better named “die asiatische Kalenderreform” or “the Calendar inscription,” see Ettl, “Evangelien,” 125; Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 31. 23 For a transcription of the original find, see Mommsen and Wilamowitz, “Asianischen Kalenders,” 275–93. For the most recent scholarly reconstruction of the text, see Sherk, Roman Documents, 328–37. For a recent, complete translation, see Frederich W. Danker, Benefactor: Epigraphic Study of a Greco-Roman and New Testament Semantic Field (St. Louis, MO: Clayton, 1982), 215–22, and Ettl, “Evangelien,” 127–32.

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calendar system) since “the birthday of the most divine Caesar” (ἡ τοῦ θειοτάτου Καίσαρος γενέθλιος ἡµέρα, line 4–5) equates to “the beginning of all things” (τῆι τῶν πάντων ἀρχῆι, line 5).24 The connection between Augustus’s birthday and ἀρχή is restated in line 10. The second and third parts consist of the Asian league’s response to Fabius’s suggestion. In glowing and, from a New Testament perspective, theologically loaded words they respond by hailing Augustus as filled with ἀρετή, a σωτήρ (line 34, emendation), a peace maker, besides also εὐαγγέλια (line 37).25 The crucial statement, however, is found in lines 40–41 reading: “for the birthday of the god marked the beginning of the good news because of him for the world” (ἦρξεν δὲ τῶι κόσµωι τῶν δι’ αὐτὸν εὐανγελί[ων ἡ γενέθλιος ἡµε]ρα τοῦ θεοῦ). In essence, this text combines forms of εὐαγγέλιον with ἀρχή and a θεός-predication that seems to mirror Mark 1:1 in minute detail. Wonderfully, scholarly downplayed, Wilamowitz-Moellendorff ultimately concludes in the initial publication that this discovery of εὐαγγέλια in a Greek setting before the birth of Christ “dürfte keine geringe Bedeutung haben.”26 The shocking effect on the scholarly community shines through in the swift response from Harnack in Christlichen Welt (1899, no. 51 and again 1900, no. 2). After citing the crucial part, he asks: “Von wem wird hier gesprochen? Wer ist der Weltheiland, der hier begrüßt und gefeiert wird? Der römische Kaiser! Wo ist so von ihm geredet worden? In der Provinz Asien! Und wann hat man ihn so verherrlicht? Um das Jahr 9 vor Christi Geburt!”27 Note the exclamation marks! As a matter of fact, Harnack judges the Priene inscription “ungleich wichtiger” than most of the known Christian inscriptions for our understanding of early Christianity, since it catches the Sehnsucht of the era of Paul in the very regions he travelled and preached.28 In short, we are wrong to think of this kind of language as a Christian invention: “Sie ist von dem Griechen geprägt und zuerst auf den Cäsar Augustus gemünzt worden. Das Christentum hat sie einfach übernommen und auf Jesus Christus übertragen. Das konnte geschehen und das durfte geschehen.”29 In a clever move, the first Christians copied the deep longing of their time expressed in the omnipotent imperial cult, applied it to Christ, and thus spiralled their message into a potent Weltreligion. However, ––––––––––––––––– 24 Translation based on the Greek text provided by Sherk, Roman Documents, 328–37, incorporating the most recently discovered fragments. 25 Importantly, the reading of εὐαγγέλια in line 37 is not provided by Mommsen and Wilamowitz, “Asianischen Kalenders,” 289, or Wilhelmus Dittenberger, ed., Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae: Supplementum Sylloges Inscriptionum Graecarum (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1905), 2:54, but occurs in Sherk, Roman Documents, 332, by emendation. 26 Mommsen and Wilamowitz, “Asianischen Kalenders,” 293. For further discussion of the Priene inscription, see Section 3.2.3. 27 Adolf von Harnack, “Als die Zeit erfüllet war,” in Reden und Aufsätze, erster Band (Gieszen: Ricker, 1904), 302. 28 See Harnack, “Zeit erfüllet,” 304. 29 Harnack, “Zeit erfüllet,” 304.

2.2 Mind the Gap: The Root of τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον

33

it is important to note that Harnack does not argue for a deep-felt anti-imperial sentiment among the early writings of the New Testament. Paul, for instance, “nirgendwo” contrasts his preaching of Christ to the Roman emperor.30 In later writings (Luke, John, and the Pastoral Epistles), the use of σωτήρ attests such an opposition to a larger degree. In reality, however, Harnack only views the emperor cult as part of the preparation of the world in the fullness of time by divine providence31 and the Christian preaching in Roman, religious terms as contextualization that proves “die Anpassungskraft des Evangeliums.”32 Emphasis on a polemical edge towards the emperor was to a larger extent argued a few years later by Adolf Deissmann, who in 1908 published the fruit of his many travels and studies of Greek inscriptions and papyri, Licht vom Osten: Das Neue Testament und die neuentdeckten Texte der hellenistischrömischen Welt (second edition, 1909). The main contribution of this work was to falsify the idea that the New Testament was written in a special, holy Greek dialect. On the contrary, Deissmann was able to prove that it was written in “Volksgriechisch” as “ein Volksbuch.”33 This he argued on the basis of comparisons of common Greek terminology and on the basis of the establishment of an overarching understanding of early Christianity’s cultural and religious setting and background, with a particular focus on die Volksfrömmigkeit of the Greek-speaking world of the New Testament. Along this path, he presents a now famous subchapter (IV, §9) titled “Christus und die Caesaren: die Parallelität der technischen Sprache des Christus- und des Caesarenkultes,”34 in which he argues for a distinct “polemischer Parallelismus”35 between these two entities, that according to Deissmann certainly goes beyond the coincidental. The oldest stratum of Christianity, he argues, was at the start politically indifferent. But something happened between “der stillen Würde jenes Jesuswortes und der vulkanischen Glut des Apokalyptikers.”36 What exactly happened in these decades, Deissmann continues, has until now not been intelligible. However, thanks to “die neuen Texte,” it is now possible “die Stimmung wieder ahnen” when Paul and his followers travelled the Roman world, which they did not do “mit geschlossenen Augen.” On the contrary, the New Testament was born within the Roman era of the emperors; it is “ein Buch aus der Kaiserzeit.”37 And this produced the tense situation. When the Christians arrived ––––––––––––––––– See Harnack, “Zeit erfüllet,” 304. See Harnack, “Zeit erfüllet,” 306. 32 Adolf von Harnack, “Der Heiland,” in Reden und Aufsätze, erster Band (Gieszen: Ricker, 1904), 308. 33 Adolf Deissmann, Licht vom Osten: Das Neue Testament und die neuentdeckten Texte der hellenistisch-römischen Welt (Tübingen: Mohr, 1908; repr., Tübingen: Mohr, 1909), 98. 34 Deissmann, Licht, 253–88. 35 Deissmann, Licht, 257. 36 Deissmann, Licht, 255. 37 This and preceding quotes: Deissmann, Licht, 255. 30 31

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in the Roman world with “mitgebrachten Urworte aus den Schatzkammern der Septuagintabibel und des Evangeliums”38 and realized that these words were already in use in the emperor cult, they tried to reserve these words for Christ. Thus collision was bound to happen: “So entsteht ein polemischer Parallelismus zwischen Kaiserkult und Christuskult”39 that brought about the change from the calm dignity of Jesus to the volcanic wrath of the Apocalypse. Deissmann then substantiates his view by outlining the parallels between as much as twenty central words for the two cults, such as θεός, θεοῦ υἱός, θεῖος, κύριος, βασιλεύς, σωτήρ, and εὐαγγέλιον. Taken together, Harnack’s and Deismann’s early responses, especially to the discovery of the Priene inscription, initiated a new approach to understanding the root of the specific τὸ εὐαγγέλιον notion, ascribing this more to the Greco-Roman environment of the early church than to the historical Jesus and the Hebrew Bible. In subsequent research, it has become standard to distinguish between a Judean and a Hellenistic/Roman explanation of the root of the gospel.40 While in the following I maintain such a distinction in order to trace the research discussion, it comes with several noteworthy problems. One is the risk of producing an unwarranted dichotomy between ‘Jewish’ and ‘Hellenistic.’41 Another is the often implicit assumption that a ‘Judean explanation’ of the gospel as Isaianic renders it politically indifferent. This is a topic to be dealt with in the next chapter.42 For now, it must suffice to say that the Isaianic vision of a return of Yahweh to Zion to establish peace anew fits the bill perfectly as a ‘political’ as well as an eschatological vision. Finally, it will soon become evident that most treatments ascribe to a both/and approach, acknowledging a reference to Isaiah as well as the imperial, cultic language one way or another. Nevertheless, for the sake of clarity, I will uphold this century-old dichotomy in the following discussion of the research contributions, which on basis of this introduction is set to focus on the two most pertinent questions of our Markan focus: First, since Mark obviously connects his εὐαγγέλιον to Isaiah, how narrow have pretenders of the ‘Judean explanation’ been able to make die Lücke? Second, since even the most steadfast proponents of an Isaianic connection accept some reference to imperial propaganda, where do the various explanations of the pedigree of the gospel fit on a scale of tension between Harnack’s contextual Anpassungskraft and Deismann’s polemischer Parallelismus? ––––––––––––––––– Deissmann, Licht, 257. Deissmann, Licht, 257. 40 For instance, Stuhlmacher speaks of “der semitische Ableitungsversuch and der hellenistische Ableitungsversuch” (see Stuhlmacher, Evangelium), whereas Frankemölle prefers “jüdische Sprachverwendung” and “hellenistisch-römische Sprachverwendung” (see Frankemölle, “Evangelium”). For examples of this distinction in lexicon articles, see Friedrich, TWNT 2:705–6; Schilling, ThWAT 1:848. 41 See the criticism by Frankemölle, “Evangelium,” 1671, and Leander, Discourses, 188. 42 See Section 3.3. 38 39

2.2 Mind the Gap: The Root of τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον

35

2.2.3 Judean Explanations As noted by Graham Stanton, the challenge to the traditional understanding of “gospel” provided by the discovery of the Priene inscription was felt most acutely among Lutheran theologians due to the theological paradigm of law and gospel.43 At least, the most profound defences for the Judean explanation came to be provided by three Lutheran theologians. First was Schniewind, who from 1927–1931 published a series of essays surveying all relevant sources available at the time. Next, building on his teacher’s work, Friedrich provided the substantial articles on the εὐαγγελ- word group in Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament,44 and finally, a generation later, Stuhlmacher provided an even more profound defence.45 Also in recent times has a Judean explanation been argued, and not solely by Lutheran theologians.46 While all admit that it is not possible to establish a lückenlos connection to the Hebrew Bible, and while some connection or affinity to the imperial cult is accepted as being present as well, the driving impetus behind the Judean explanation is to narrow the gap between the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament usage as much as possible. Beginning with Schniewind and Friedrich, their argument can be summed up in three points: (1) The use of the various forms of the word group in the Hebrew Bible should be clearly divided between “der profane Sprachgebrauch,”47 where the verb as well as the noun designates the message from the battlefield brought to the king, and the distinct evolution in Second Isaiah, where the participle ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬ becomes “ein religiös-technischer Ausdruck.”48 (2) Precisely the “eschatologische Erwartung”49 of Second Isaiah and some of the Psalms provides the bridge to the New Testament usage of εὐαγγέλιον. The proclamation of “the Gospel” in Mark is exactly “eschatologisches Geschehen”50 dependent on the religious development in Second Isaiah. (3) This means that while Schniewind and Friedrich are well aware of the similarity in terminology between the New Testament proclamation and the imperial cult, they ultimately belonged to “zwei verschiedene Welten.”51 Despite this conclusion, they admit quite a number of similarities for which reason “der Gleichklang der Formel schlißt inhaltlich die schärfste Antithese in sich: ––––––––––––––––– See Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 2. Friedrich, TWNT 2:705–35. 45 See Stuhlmacher, Evangelium. 46 See, e.g., Rikki E. Watts, Isaiah’s New Exodus and Mark, WUNT 2/88 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997); Horbury, “Gospel”; Pokorný, Gospel. 47 Schniewind, Euangelion, 27. 48 Schniewind, Euangelion, 44. 49 Friedrich, TWNT 2:707. 50 Friedrich, TWNT 2:726. 51 Friedrich, TWNT 2:726. 43 44

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entweder der souveräne Gott Israels oder der Kaiser in Rom.”52 However, while the New Testament speaks “die Sprache seiner Zeit,”53 and while the singular gospel of the New Testament is formulated entgegen the many “Botschaften” of its day, the core of the matter is that only Second Isaiah provides a direct forerunner for the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον as an “eschatologisches Geschehen.”54 Even Philo and Josephus lack the same “Geshichtsverständnis,” having “keine Heilsgeschichte, keine wahre Eschatologie.”55 That the New Testament gospel is an eschatological event, whereas its use in connection with the imperial cult is not, is a theological judgment open to questioning. Stuhlmacher, for instance, criticizes Schniewind and Friedrich for trying to bridge our “Lücke dogmatisch-sprachphilosophisch and darum noch unbefriedigend.”56 In reality, Schniewind and Friedrich’s investigations show how complex the history of εὐαγγέλιον is and how difficult it is to establish an unequivocal connection to Second Isaiah without becoming dogmatisch. This was nevertheless the objective of Stuhlmacher’s in-depth investigation of the root of the gospel from 1968, subtitled Vorgeschichte.57 In essence, Stuhlmacher provides three arguments to prove a Palestinian provenance of the New Testament gospel: (1) With his critique of Schniewind and Friedrich in mind, it is surprising to see how Stuhlmacher substantiates the theological judgment that the terminology of the New Testament and the imperial cult is “durch Welten getrennt.”58 While the imperial cult is said to be focussed “auf irdische Erfüllung,” the proclamation of Christ, that is, the gospel of the New Testament, is “streng apokalyptisch-proleptisch gedacht.”59 (2) Stuhlmacher, however, expands earlier arguments by providing a broader investigation of the semantic field of the gospel nomenclature, pointing to a flexible use thereof. This is done by providing evidence from the Targums and the Qumran writings of an interchangeable use of ‫ ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬and ‫ְשׁמוָּﬠה‬, the equivalent of ἀκοή,60 and by providing evidence in early Christian material of ––––––––––––––––– 52 Schniewind, Euangelion, 93. See also Friedrich, who phrases this antithesis in a high note: “Caesar und Christus, der Kaiser auf dem Thron in Rom und der verachtete Rabbi am Kreuz in Palästina stehen sich gegenüber” (Friedrich, TWNT 2:722). 53 Friedrich, TWNT 2:722. 54 Friedrich, TWNT 2:723. 55 Friedrich, TWNT 2:712. 56 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 30; see also Frankemölle, “Evangelium,” 1650. 57 Unfortunately, Stuhlmacher’s second part on Paul’s use of gospel nomenclature was never completed. A minor overview was presented in Peter Stuhlmacher, “The Pauline Gospel,” in The Gospel and the Gospels, ed. Peter Stuhlmacher (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991). 58 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 204. 59 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 203–4. 60 See Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 129–35.

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37

a similar, flexible use of words with close affinity to εὐαγγέλιον, such as ἀκοή, ῥῆµα, µαρτυρεῖν, λόγος, and ἀγγελία.61 This is meant to provide other bridges between the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον. (3) Still, Stuhlmacher must admit “daß wir auf eine direkte Analogie zu dem bei Paulus geläufigen, technischen τὸ εὐαγγέλιον bisher nicht gestoßen sind.”62 This leads to his final argument wherein he tries to render probable how this specific notion arose on Palestinian ground and not in response to the imperial cult. In his investigation from 1968, Stuhlmacher is reluctant to ascribe the shift from verb to noun to Jesus himself, calling it “im wesentlichen eine Bildung der Gemeinde.”63 In other words, τὸ εὐαγγέλιον was an innovative formula of the first Christians. It arose in the context of a mission in the Hellenistic world, where the Jewish-particularistic Son of Man Christology was “abgelöst von einer die weltweite Herrscherwürde des Christus.”64 Nonetheless, when this innovation took place, it happened in debt to the Jewish context of the Septuagint and the eschatological impulses in the early church in Jerusalem. Thus, Stuhlmacher concludes: In Anknüpfung an das palästinische Erbe, getragen vom theologischen und sprachlichen Impuls der Septuaginta und angespornt von der wohl schon christologisch reflektierten (Evangeliums-)Verkündigung der Jerusalemer Urgemeinde, prägt das junge Missionschristentum eine eigenständige Terminologie: τὸ εὐαγγέλιον.65

In his later investigation from 1983 (here citing the English translation from 1991), Stuhlmacher changes his mind regarding this point. He now argues that if Jesus saw his calling in the light of the Isaianic ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬sayings, as evidence suggests, “one easily arrives at the possibility that already in his lifetime Jesus’s message of the kingdom of God (now dawning in his works) was designated ‫ ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬or ‫ְשׁמוָּﬠה‬.”66 In sum, while Stuhlmacher does provide new argumentation by pointing to the flexible use of exact wording in Jewish texts at this point, he is forced to admit that the specific New Testament formula τὸ εὐαγγέλιον is “eine eigenständige Terminologie.”67 He also admits that there is a connection to the use of the noun in the imperial cult. For two reasons, ––––––––––––––––– 61 See Peter Stuhlmacher, “The Theme: The Gospel and the Gospels,” in The Gospel and the Gospels, ed. Peter Stuhlmacher (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 24. 62 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 134–35. 63 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 244. 64 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 287. 65 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 287. 66 Stuhlmacher, “The Gospel,” 20, see Stuhlmacher, “Pauline Gospel,” 164. Among the instances that Stuhlmacher cites as evidence is Mark 1:15, where he follows Schlatter’s view that the peculiar πιστεύετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ is best explained as a Semitism and thus “a tradition which definitely could go back to Jesus himself” (Stuhlmacher, “Pauline Gospel,” 164). 67 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 287.

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however, he finds die Lücke towards the Isaianic participle much narrower. One is that the typical plural use in Greek sources “spricht gegen die Möglichkeit, unsere Stelle [i.e., the Priene inscription] zum Wurzelgrund neutestamentlicher, eschatologischer Evangeliumsbotschaft werden zu lassen.”68 Another is the sharp division between the Jewish/Semitic streng apocalyptische worldview, inherited by the New Testament, with the implied this-worldly perspective of the imperial cult. Thus, Schniewind and Friedrich’s theological judgement of the apocalyptical difference between early Christian preaching and the imperial cult is not avoided by Stuhlmacher. In his in-depth research overview from 1984, Frankemölle evaluates that no “wesentlich weiterführenden Erkenntnissen”69 have been offered for a Judean explanation after these three scholars. In my evaluation, this holds true today as well, though two contributions deserve to be mentioned. One is Rikki E. Watts’s dissertation from 1997, Isaiah’s New Exodus in Mark. Strictly speaking, Watts does not bolster the Judean case directly since in the few pages he devotes to the history of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον he confines himself to outlining the argumentation of Stuhlmacher.70 Indirectly, however, he undergirds the Judean explanation by offering a detailed reading of Mark as filled with new exodus typology71 and in this way bolsters the connection between, at the very least, the Markan gospel-notion and the Hebrew Bible. Still, Watts allows for “a polemical edge” towards the Hellenistic use of the noun, though this is secondary to its Isaianic connection.72 The other is William Horbury’s densely packed article from 2005 in which he masterly summarizes the arguments for a Judean origin of the gospel word group as presented in former research as well as adds new argumentation. Regarding the last, as already outlined above, Horbury re-examines the textual evidence of the Septuagint passages that according to scholarly tradition are accentuated as feminine singular, εὐαγγελία (2 Kgdms 18:20, 22, 25, 27; 4 Kgdms 7:9). Interestingly, in two of these cases (2 Kgdms 18:22, 25), a corrector of Codex Vaticanus changed the form from the feminine to the neuter through a different accentuation, turning εὐαγγελία into the neuter, plural εὐαγγέλια. This being the case, “Jews could have discerned in their Greek scriptures a number of instances of euangelion in the plural sense of ‘good news’, as well as widespread use of euangelizesthai.”73 Drawing on Joachim Jeremias, Horbury further argues that the noun was known in a Semitic, Judean setting from royal announcements from earlier Israelite, Syrian, Mesopota––––––––––––––––– Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 201. Frankemölle, “Evangelium,” 1640. 70 Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 96–99. 71 For a discussion of the term, ‘new exodus,’ see Section 3.3.1. 72 See Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 119. 73 Horbury, “Gospel,” 17. 68 69

2.2 Mind the Gap: The Root of τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον

39

mian, and Persian monarchies, who presented news of victories in ways very close to the later Greek or Roman ruler-cultic language. Therefore, “a ‘gospel’ with the publicity of a new reign would have reached Galilean Jews under Antipas not through the Greek idiom of the Augustan cult or its predecessors, but through the Hebrew biblical books”74 or other Near Eastern traditions. In this, Horbury is not negating the influence of Greco-Roman ruler cult traditions in Judea, but rather pointing to “the overlap … between Old and New Testament vocabulary and that associated with ruler-cult,”75 for which reason it should be “recognized, but in convergence with rather than as an alternative to biblical and later Jewish influence.”76 2.2.4 Hellenistic/Roman Explanations When Mommsen and Wilamowitz-Moellendorf first published the Priene inscription and suggested that their discovery of εὐαγγελία in connection with the imperial cult should “keine geringe Bedeutung haben,”77 the ensuing discussion proved them right. According to Schniewind, the ruler cult explanation of εὐαγγέλιον dominated the subsequent research.78 From our point in time, we can add that it only did so until the emergence of the studies of Schniewind and Friedrich that swung the pendulum back towards the Judean understanding of the gospel, possibly helped by the emergence of dialectical theology. Political theology became untidy. A second round of argumentation for a Hellenistic understanding of the gospel was initiated by Georg Strecker in the 1970s, responding to Stuhlmacher’s study. Finally, the present anti-imperial and/or postcolonial readings may be deemed a third round. Concerning the first, the picture is not as uniform as one would expect from Schniewind’s sighing comment. We have already discussed how even in his immediate and spirited response Harnack shies away from labelling the acquisition of the imperial gospel noun as a sign of anti-imperial sentiments in much the same way as Deissmann also saw the initial acquisition of Roman terminology as a sign of contextualization rather than confrontation, though this eventually happened in what he termed polemischer Parallelismus. Paul Wendland also mused over the striking parallel brought back into the light with the Priene inscription. While he rejected Wilhelm Soltau’s reading79 of the birth narratives of the Gospels as construed with intentional opposition to the birth narrative of Augustus, Wendland admitted it is an open question to which ––––––––––––––––– Horbury, “Gospel,” 15. Horbury, “Gospel,” 23. 76 Horbury, “Gospel,” 11. 77 Mommsen and Wilamowitz, “Asianischen Kalenders,” 293. 78 See Schniewind, Euangelion, 11–12, supported by Frankemölle, “Evangelium,” 1657. 79 See Wilhelm Soltau, The Birth of Jesus Christ (London: Black, 1903). 74 75

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degree Hellenistic Christians either “unbewußt” or “mit Absicht”80 transferred saviour traditions known to them in Hellenistic ruler cult traditions. A final example of early studies discussing the impact the Priene inscription should have is Ernst Lohmeyer’s Christuskult und Kaiserkult. Lohmeyer likewise finds “mannigfache Uebereinstimmung in Worten und Gedanken” that, however, should not be understood as “direkte(r) Uebertragung.” Only after the apostolic period “beginnt die Zeit der direkten gegenseitigen Einwirkung beider Religionen.”81 The second round of studies exploring the Hellenistic influence on the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον was produced by Georg Strecker, who in a number of articles responded to Stuhlmacher’s advancement of the Schniewind/Friedrich interpretation. Strecker’s first point is that Mark’s use of the gospel notion belongs to “das Redaktionsgut.”82 This raises the question as to when and where this notion was invented. In his first article, Strecker confines himself to saying that Mark took it over from “… einem hellenistisch-christlichen Traditionsgrund” and used it to designate future eschatological salvation as well as entailing “eine zeitlich-historische Komponente.”83 This was expanded considerably in Strecker’s main article from 1975.84 In regard to the traditionsgeschichtliche Entwicklung of the εὐαγγελ- word group, Strecker ultimately arrives at a compound conclusion. Looking first at the “alttestamentlich-jüdische Überlieferungen,” Strecker finds the connection between the verbal use of ‫בשׂר‬ in piel and the New Testament “unbestreitbar.”85 However, the indisputable connection is not straightforward. First, the messianic interpretation evident in Matt 11:5/Luke 7:22 “findet sich in Jes 61 nicht.”86 Second, the evident ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬tradition of Isa 52:7 (and Nah 2:1 [1:15 ET]) in Qumran is difficult to find in the New Testament, where the participle εὐαγγελιζόµενος is found only “an zwei späten (redaktionellen) Stellen des Lukasevangeliums.”87 Strecker then proceeds to discuss the Greek/Hellenistic evidence, where the noun is attestable. Importantly, unlike Stuhlmacher, Schniewind, and Friedrich, Strecker argues that “das religiöse Verständnis des Substantivs … besonders im ––––––––––––––––– Paul Wendland, “Σωτήρ,” ZNWKU 5 (1904): 351. Ernst Lohmeyer, Christuskult und Kaiserkult (Tübingen: Mohr, 1919), 38. 82 Georg Strecker, “Literarkritische Überlegungen zum εὐαγγελίον-Begriff im Markusevangelium,” in Neues Testament und Geschichte, ed. Heinrich Baltensweiler and Bo Reicke (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1972), 104. 83 Strecker, “Literarkritische Überlegungen,” 104. 84 The insights from this article are reproduced in Georg Strecker, “εὐαγγελίζω, εὐαγγέλιον,” EWNT 2:174–186. 85 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 504, with reference to Luke 1:19; 2:10 and the citations of Isa 61:1 in Luke 4:18; 7:22; Matt 11:5. 86 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 505. 87 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 506, with reference to Luke 8:1; 20:1. 80 81

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hellenistisch-römischen Kaiserkult bezeugt [ist].”88 In contrast to Stuhlmacher, Strecker reads the Priene inscription as well as Josephus’s use of εὐαγγελία in connection with the imperial cult (J.W. 4.618, 656) as “Heilsereignisse.”89 However, only the plural is attested, for which reason there is a notable difference to the New Testament singular. This difference “kann das Urteil stützen, daß das Neue Testament trotz der unbestreitbar vorliegenden Parallelen zu Sprache und Vorstellungswelt des Kaiserkultes eine Abgrenzung nicht ausdrücklich vollzieht,” except in “einigen Kapiteln in der Johannesapokalypse.”90 Instead, Strecker takes a step back and finds the “Urgrund” of the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον “im Umkreis der hellenistischen Herrscherverehrung.”91 In this common Hellenistic milieu could the “urchristliche Missionare das Christusgeschehen ihren griechischsprachigen Hörern verständlich machten.”92 That the New Testament writers chose to use the singular only served to highlight the eschatological nature of the Christ event and to emphasize that the competing εὐαγγελία of the time were of no match. In other words, since Strecker does not find traces of direct opposition to the imperial cult in the New Testament writings, except in the case of Revelation, he instead explains the partial overlap as an expression of contextualization of the Christusgeschehen by the early Greek-speaking missionaries. In sum, Strecker arrives at a twofold conclusion. On the one hand he finds it impossible to establish a lückenlos eindeutig provenance of this word group; on the other he finds clear connections to Jewish and Greek traditions alike. Its root “sind sowohl alttestamentlich-jüdisch als auch griechisch-hellenistisch, ohne daß für den einen oder den anderen Hintergrund eine vorherrschende Bedeutung nachgewiesen werden könnte.”93 This openness only partially counts since he continues to argue that the noun was primarily influenced by “ein griechisch-hellenistischer” use, whereas the verb at the very least was influenced by “der alttestamentlich-jüdische Sprachgebrauch.”94 On top of this, Strecker ––––––––––––––––– Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 510, emphasis original. Already Harnack stated that the Priene inscription attests a use of εὐαγγέλιον “im Zusammenhang einer sakralen Aussage” (Adolf von Harnack, Entstehung und Entwicklung der Kirchenverfassung und des Kirchenrechts in den zwei ersten Jahrhunderten [Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1910], 199). 89 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 510, see Strecker, EWNT 2:179. 90 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 511. 91 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 511–12. 92 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 512. 93 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 545, see Strecker, EWNT 2:180. 94 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 545. Frankemölle argues that Strecker evaluates the evidence even more to the side of a Greco-Roman provenance of εὐαγγέλιον in his dictionary entry from 1981. This is in my opinion not the case, since he also there accepts that “eine eindeutige alt.-jüd. oder hellenistisch-griech. Genealogie” is not possible to establish even though the noun is evidently connected to a Greek-Hellenistic tradition (see Strecker, EWNT 2:180, and Hubert Frankemölle, Evangelium: Begriff und Gattung; Ein Forschungbericht, SBB 15 [Stuttgart: Katolisches Bibelwerk, 1988], 87). 88

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argues that the relationship to the imperial cult is only a question of communication. It provided terminology on which “die neutestamentliche Evangeliumsverkündigung anknüpfen konnte, um das Neue, das sie zu sagen hatte, in ihrer Umwelt verstehbar zu artikulieren.”95 For this reason we find no clearly stated demarcation to either Hellenistic ruler cult in general or imperial cult in particular, besides the distinct use of the singular used to point out “das Christusgeschehen als einzigartiges eschatologisches Ereignis.”96 Exactly this cautious and compound approach is abandoned in the third and recent round of Hellenistic/Roman explanations of the absolute use of εὐαγγέλιον in the New Testament. To the contrary, here we find specific emperors and historical situations used as ‘gap-fillers’ in arguments. One of the first and most noteworthy contributions in this connection is Stanton’s book, Jesus and the Gospel.97 In essence, Stanton departs from Strecker by suggesting a unique historical thesis for the emergence of the distinct τὸ εὐαγγέλιον designation, calling it a peculiar Christian ‘sociolect’ that developed in a “specific setting” in Antioch, with the pressure from the imperial cult imposed by Gaius Caligula as the “background” though not the “source”98 for this Christian nomenclature. He arrives at this conclusion after a discussion of the various Jewish texts. Like Stuhlmacher and others, Stanton distinguishes the secular use of ‫ ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬from its verbal form, which in certain places is used with “a clear theological note.”99 Based on the evidence of a messianic interpretation of the Isaianic ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬notion in 4Q521 (also known as the Messianic Apocalypse) and 11Q13 (also known as the Melchizedek Text), Stanton accepts that the historical Jesus saw his calling in the light of Second Isaiah. However, the uneven use of the noun in the Gospels leads Stanton to conclude that this tradition is late and that Jesus only used the verb. Paul provides the first secure usage of the noun, but since he hardly ever refers to the verbal use of Second Isaiah, something provoked him or other first Hellenistic Christians to make the change. The impetus for doing so must have happened early since the absolute use is evident even in Paul’s first letters (1 Thess 1:5; Gal 1:8–9, 11; 4:13). This leads Stanton to his historical thesis that the particular τὸ εὐαγγέλιον designation was coined by either Greek-speaking Jews in Jerusalem or, more

––––––––––––––––– Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 512, see Strecker, EWNT 2:180. Strecker, EWNT 2:180. 97 It should be noted that anti-imperial and/or postcolonial readings of New Testament writings as such not dealing specifically with the εὐαγγελ- word group already began the process of understanding specific authors and writings as provoked by a certain Roman emperor in the 1980s. See the discussion below in Section 2.4. 98 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 2. 99 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 13, with reference to Pss 40:10 (39:10 LXX, 40:9 ET); 68:12 (67:12 LXX, 68:11 ET); 96:2–3 (95:2–3 LXX); Isa 40:9; 52:7; 60:6; 61:1. 95 96

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43

likely, in Antioch somewhere “between AD 37 and 40”100 around the mission of Stephen (accepting Acts 11:19). This time-frame and geographical placement provides Stanton with a suggestive explanation since it coincides with the crisis around Gaius Caligula’s attempt to impose the imperial cult in the temple of Jerusalem, reaching its zenith in 39/40 CE. Thus, “from a very early point indeed, Christian use of the gospel word group may have formed part of a counter-story to the story associated with the imperial cult.”101 The need for a specific counter-story to the imperial cult thus arose as soon as the Christian message came into contact with the Roman world and not as late as under Domitian. The Priene inscription, or the Calendar inscription, as Stanton prefers, entails “an unmistakable whiff of eschatology and of soteriology.”102 To be sure, like Stuhlmacher, Strecker, and others, Stanton emphasizes the difference between the absolute, singular form and the plural, unarticulated form. He likewise accepts that the specific New Testament nomenclature has “deep Scriptural roots.”103 But the post-Easter shift is historically best explained as designed to subvert Roman claims: “The Gospel of Jesus Christ and the gospels of the Caesars were rivals.”104 In the end, however, Stanton also weighs his conclusion carefully. The gospel of Christ and the gospels of Caesar were rivals but not in direct polemical rivalry at the time of Paul. Like Harnack and Strecker, Stanton emphasizes the contextual component in this move; since it was basically in alignment with “contemporary ‘street’ language,”105 it “would have been heard by many with the language of the imperial cult ringing in their ears.”106 Thus, the early Christian nomenclature was a special “sociolect,” it was “contemporary ‘street’ language,” serving evangelistic purposes by making “Christian convictions … intelligible to all.”107 Finally, I shall mention some of the researchers who explain Mark’s use of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον as a direct response to the advent of Vespasian as emperor. In 1989, Gerd Theißen published a study of Mark in which he argues for a Syrian provenance of the gospel with a thematic content that was “chronologisch und sachlich durch Kriegsnähe bestimmt.”108 In particular, Theißen identified the false χριστός of 13:21 as a reference to Vespasian who “im Osten als ein ––––––––––––––––– 100 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 23. For a discussion of the Pauline usage of the ‘gospel’ nomenclature, see Section 3.4.3. 101 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 25. 102 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 32. 103 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 34. 104 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 40. 105 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 52. 106 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 59. 107 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 52. 108 Gerd Theißen, Lokalkolorit und Zeitgeschichte in den Evangelien: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, NTOA 8 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989), 284.

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Herrscher erscheint, der messianische Erwartungen usurpierte und sich durch Propheten und Wunder legitimierte.”109 Under influence of the Kriegesnähe, Mark wrote “eine Art ‘Gegenevangelium.’”110 Recently, Theißen has returned to his suggestion in an article treating Mark’s overall use of εὐαγγέλιον. Though Theißen denies that Mark “zum Widerstand gegen Rom aufruft,” he finds that Mark directly criticizes “die religiöse Herrschaftspropaganda der Flavier. Das ist Widerstand, aber kein Aufstand.”111 This is seen in the way Mark presents his εὐαγγέλιον in royal terms (1:1, 14), invoking “ein Herrschaftswechsel”;112 the way in which Jesus commands his followers to take up their crosses (8:35) “wie ein Feldherr”; the way in which it is presented in opposition “zu den Mächtigen dieser Welt”;113 the anointment as a gospel-act with clear embedded “Herrschaftssymbolik” (14:9); and, finally, the use of kingly terms in connection with the crucifixion (15:26). In essence, “das ‘Evangelium’ im MkEv könnte zudem Gegenbotschaft zu den ‘Evangelien’ des Vespasian sein: Nicht der römische Kaiser bringt das Heil … sondern der gekreutzigte ‘König der Juden.’”114 Thus, while Theißen tries to strike a balance between Widerstand and Aufstand, he clearly emphasizes the polemical contrast even more than Stanton. Mark’s “gospel” is a Gegenevangelium to the gospel of Vespasian. The same evaluation is presented by Craig A. Evans, who in a commentary on Mark and in a number of articles has presented a list of similarities between the Flavian propaganda surrounding and verifying Vespasian’s divine right to ascend the throne and the presentation of Jesus in Mark. Like Strecker, Stanton, and others, Evans in no way neglects the connection between τὸ εὐαγγέλιον and the Hebrew Bible, especially Second Isaiah.115 The point is rather how Mark used his Isaianic quotation in 1:2–3 to mimic “the language of the Imperial cult” by welding “together two disparate, potentially antagonistic theologies.”116 In so doing, Mark “deliberately presents Jesus in opposition to Rome’s candidates for a suitable emperor, saviour, and lord. All the features that made up the emperor cult and the various customs associated with the office and title ––––––––––––––––– Theißen, Lokalkolorit, 281. Theißen, Lokalkolorit, 284. 111 Gerd Theißen, “‘Evangelium’ im Markusevangelium,” in Mark and Paul, ed. EveMarie Becker, Troels Engberg-Pedersen, and Mogens Müller, BZNW 199 vol. 2 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014), 71. 112 Theißen, “Evangelium,” 70. 113 Theißen, “Evangelium,” 70, with reference to 13:9–10. 114 Theißen, “Evangelium,” 70–71. 115 See, e.g., Craig A. Evans, “From Gospel to Gospel: The Function of Isaiah in the New Testament,” in Writing and Reading the Scroll of Isaiah: Studies of an Interpretative Tradition, ed. Craig C. Broyles and Craig A. Evans (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 651–91. 116 Craig A. Evans, “Mark’s Incipit and the Priene Calendar Inscription: From Jewish Gospel to Greco-Roman Gospel,” JGRChJ 1 (2000): 67–81. 109 110

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45

of emperor in various ways find expression in NT Christology.”117 Evans backs this claim by a tenfold comparison of common features in the imperial cult and Mark, of which εὐαγγέλιον claims to take centre stage (others include omens and prophecies, Roman triumphal processions, divine terminology, and postmortem deification). In essence, the contribution of Evans is not the suggestion of new sources aligning the εὐαγγέλ- word group closer to the imperial cult, but rather the overall pattern he finds when Mark is placed and dated in Rome around 70 CE. In this “difficult and dangerous time,” Mark’s writing presented “a conscious challenge” to the Flavian propaganda by presenting the “bold assertation that the good news for the world begins in Jesus Christ.”118 Lastly, I will mention John Dominic Crossan’s understanding of Mark’s gospel notion, being the most single-minded presentation of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as designed as a counter-gospel to the imperial gospel of Vespasian which I have come across.119 To Crossan, Mark represents a “nonviolent revolution” against the “imperial power”120 of the Flavian regime. Crossan even labels the propaganda from this new house of emperors as “imperial theology” (not ideology), understood as a macro-scheme into which the scattered evidence of εὐαγγελία notions are placed and understood.121 Crossan takes his clue from Deissmann and his notion of polemical parallelism, and by way of illustrating the effect of applying words used for the emperor to Jesus, he writes in his book, In Search of Paul, co-edited with Jonathan L. Reed: “If, in the early 1930s, some German Christians had called Jesus der Führer, we would know why they died at Dachau.”122 The real question is not whether these two gospels were going to collide, but rather: “How does the gospel of the divine Caesar differ from that of the divine Christ?”123 In order to answer this question, Crossan has in several publications presented a blueprint of what he terms “imperial theology.” Examples thereof are, for example, Virgil’s Aeneid that provides a divine explanation for Augustus’s empire; Augustus’s inscriptions, most prominently Res Gestae; Augustus’s coinage with the inscription DIVI F(ILIUS); and the Ara Pacis Augustae with its reliefs and yearly peace sacrifice. In Crossan’s eyes, this makes a focus on an ‘emperor cult’ a much too narrow focus if ––––––––––––––––– Craig A. Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20, WBC 34B (Columbia: Nelson, 2001), lxxxix. Craig A. Evans, “The Beginning of the Good News and the Fulfillment of Scripture on the Gospel of Mark,” in Hearing the Old Testament in the New, ed. Stanley E. Porter (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 86–87, 103. 119 For other anti-Vespasian readings, see Section 2.4.4. 120 John Dominic Crossan, “Roman Imperial Theology,” in In the Shadow of the Empire, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2008), 73. 121 See, e.g., Crossan, “Imperial Theology”; John Dominic Crossan, God and Empire: Jesus Against Rome, Then and Now (New York: HarperOne, 2008). 122 John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed, In Search of Paul: How Jesus’ Apostle Opposed Rome’s Empire with God’s Kingdom (New York: HarperOne, 2004), 11. 123 Crossan and Reed, In Search of Paul, 12. 117 118

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we want to understand the polemical parallelism between Rome and the first Christians. It was in reality two full-fledged theologies that crashed on a deep level: Before Jesus the Christ ever existed and even if he had never existed, these were the titles of Caesar the Augustus: Divine, Son of God, God, and God from God; Lord, Redeemer, Liberator, and Saviour of the World. When those titles were taken from him, the Roman emperor, and given to a Jewish peasant, it was a case of either low lampoon or high treason. Since the Roman authorities did not roll over in their togas laughing, we may presume that Pilate, acting for them, got it precisely correct. He publicly, officially, and legally executed Jesus for nonviolent revolution against their imperial power.124

Crossan thus provides a reading of the gospel proclamation as deeply if not completely provoked by the Roman Empire without the balance observable by most others. It is further clear that the power of the argument does not come primarily from specific parallels and attestations but from an overall anti-imperial reading strategy – a topic to be treated below.125 2.2.5 Τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον as a Composite Notion (I) In retrospect, the discovery of the Priene inscription is rightfully judged as one of the rare instances where a singular discovery sets a new agenda for a welltrodden issue. The assumed connection between especially Second Isaiah and the New Testament gospel proclamation was henceforth a questionable matter. After the first round of discussion pro et contra, Rudolf Bultmann’s brief remark in his Theologie des neuen Testaments may be considered illuminating for the general consensus of the time, viewing the specific Pauline τὸ εὐαγγέλιον as “ohne jede Analogie.”126 After another round of discussion, even Stuhlmacher had to admit that “wir auf eine direkte Analogie zu dem bei Paulus geläufigen, technischen τὸ εὐαγγέλιον bisher nicht gestoßen sind.”127 Frankemölle is even more bleak in his evaluation, when he summarizes his thorough research review by stating that the researcher’s preferred explanation falls back on the researcher’s Vorverständnis: “Am Ende wären die Positionen gar nicht textlich, sachlich begründet, vielmehr motiviert durch ein unterschiedliches Forschungsinteresse und Vorverständnis.”128 Is this assessment still valid? In evaluation, the research overview presented here has yielded three important learnings: (1) First, when trying to explain the absolute, singular use of the εὐαγγέλword group in Paul and Mark, no lückenlos explanation is possible, for which ––––––––––––––––– Crossan, “Imperial Theology,” 73. See Section 2.4. 126 Rudolf Bultmann, Theologie des Neuen Testaments (Tübingen: Mohr, 1958), 89. 127 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 134–35. 128 Frankemölle, Evangelium, 90, see Frankemölle, “Evangelium,” 1676. 124 125

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47

reason the preferred conclusion must be assisted by other arguments. Stuhlmacher and Horbury, in particular, offer a detailed case for the specific use of the piel participle in connection with prophetic, eschatological passages in various Jewish texts, drawing especially on Second Isaiah. They also try to minimize the importance of the gap with respect to the noun by pointing at evidence of a flexible use of ‫ ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬and ‫ ְשׁמוָּﬠה‬in the rabbinic tradition and different readings in the Septuagint manuscript tradition. In the end, however, the force of the Jewish explanation comes down to how huge a leap one perceives the change from the verb to the noun is. At the very least, it has to be admitted that the New Testament τὸ εὐαγγέλιον is ‘Jewish tradition with a twist.’ Looking at the other historical trajectory, the Hellenistic/Roman tradition, the nominal form of the εὐαγγελ- word group is clearly attestable and even so in a ‘religious’ manner according to, for example, Strecker, Stanton, and Evans, rejecting Stuhlmacher’s attempt to characterize the Priene inscription as ‘secular/irdisch.’ However, the undefined plural constitutes a problem, as does the lack of direct confrontation with the Roman Empire in the New Testament writings until Revelation. As judged by Frankemölle, if the first Christians had taken over their key message directly from Roman propaganda, it must have led “zu einer akuten Auseinandersetzung,”129 something that is not attestable. (2) Second, due to the lack of a solid case for either side, a noteworthy result of this review is the illustration of how most arguments are presented in a balanced and composite manner. In reality, the research on the trajectory of εὐαγγέλιον is best described as a spectrum of opinions rather than two opposites. For instance, Schniewind argues that while the New Testament εὐαγγελhas its roots in the Hebrew Bible, it still had “die schärfste Antithese in sich: entweder der souveräne Gott Israels oder der Kaiser in Rom.”130 Stuhlmacher accepts affinity between the terminology of the New Testament and the imperial cult, though they are “durch Welten getrennt.”131 Watts allows for “a polemical edge” embedded in the New Testament use, though it otherwise has “a Palestinian rather than a Hellenistic provenance.”132 Horbury is slightly less

––––––––––––––––– 129 See Frankemölle, “Evangelium,” 1688. To the contrary, as shown by Meiser, early patristic evidence clearly shows how Christian writers argued that their Christian religion was not aimed at dethroning the emperor (see Martin Meiser, “Das Markusevangelium: Eine ideologie- und imperiumskritische Schrift?,” in People Under Power: Early Jewish and Christian Responses to the Roman Empire, ECRW [Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2015], 129–57). At the very same time, the necessity for bringing forth this argument attests to the way in which the Christian gospel was perceived as a threat to the Empire as it began to encounter this new sect. 130 Schniewind, Euangelion, 93. 131 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 204. 132 Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 119.

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forthcoming when he rather speaks of an “overlap” in vocabulary than a polemical situation.133 Moving to examples of those arguing for a stronger affinity to the imperial cult, it is noteworthy how Harnack, despite his spirited evaluation of the Priene inscription, in the end evaluates the use of the absolute noun as a matter of communication and evangelization, a proof of “die Anpassungskraft des Evangeliums.”134 Deissmann is, on the one hand, more outspoken when labelling the shared terminology as “polemischer Parallelismus,”135 while on the other hand, he does not find outspoken anti-imperial sentiments before Revelation. Strecker argues against Stuhlmacher’s position, but only to the degree that he finds the New Testament gospel nomenclature to be a child of both worlds and, when it comes to the Roman Empire, not expressing any ausdrückliche Abgrenzung but rather presenting its message in terminology well-known from Hellenistic ruler ideology as such.136 Stanton and Theißen also provide examples of minute, composite evaluations. On the one hand, Stanton claims that the Christian adaptation of imperial terminology would have been heard as “rival ‘gospels’” with the imperial cult as “backdrop.” On the other hand, he refrains from characterizing this rivalry as “polemical rivalry” at the time of Paul.137 On a whole, it was more a matter of speaking intelligibly, for which purpose the first Hellenistic Christians developed a specific but understandable Christian “street-language” and “sociolect.”138 Theißen labels the Christian gospel as a “Gegenbotschaft” urging to “Widerstand” but not “Aufstand.”139 Evans clearly outlines the affinity between the Isaianic message and the Gospel of Mark, but he nevertheless ventures to characterize Mark’s incipit as “a conscious challenge”140 to the gospel claims of Vespasian. Of the researchers discussed here, Crossan is clearly the most outspoken and one-sided. His notion of imperial theology points forward to the treatment of anti-imperial and/or postcolonial readings of Mark to be surveyed below. (3) Third, it is clear by now – and will be more so through the discussions below – how two types of reading strategies offer vantage points for making a more unified position. On the one hand, reading Mark from the perspective of Empire explains the gap between the singular and the plural noun just as postcolonial refined categories of covert resistance expressions explain the lack of overt anti-imperial sentiments. On the other hand, reading Mark through the lens of an Isaianic new exodus likewise minimizes the gap in the other ––––––––––––––––– Horbury, “Gospel,” 23. Harnack, “Heiland,” 308. 135 Deissmann, Licht, 257. 136 See Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 511. 137 See Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 35 n. 35. 138 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 52. 139 See, e.g., Theißen, “Evangelium,” 70. 140 Evans, “Beginning,” 86. 133 134

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49

direction, between the verb and the noun, by providing a much more solid case for Mark as an Isaianic-framed script. It remains to be seen if anti-imperial and/or postcolonial readings of Mark are persuasive in their reading of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον,141 just as it remains to be thoroughly discussed to which extent a new exodus script is devoid of political implications.142 For now, the most important conclusion from this survey is the recent shift from nuanced and composite understandings of Mark’s and Paul’s εὐαγγέλιον notion towards more single-minded evaluations. To these three observations, I will add a final perspective by drawing on the methodological considerations in Chapter 1. Without neglecting the noteworthy importance in having a practically unattested form of the Pauline and Markan Stichwort, τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, the ‘drama’ established around this discovery eases considerably when considering Eco’s notion of cultural encyclopedia. The εὐαγγελ- word group was in various nuances part of the communicative arsenal available to Jews and Romans alike in the first century, drawing on either the general notion of epoch-making war victory, as we shall see in Chapter 3, or the particular eschatologically-shaped victory message of Second Isaiah. In light of this, its composite nature will demand more than morphological considerations to establish a strong case in either direction for the Markan motivation behind his particular inflexion.

2.3 Kingdom or Christ? The Content of Mark’s Εὐαγγέλιον 2.3.1 Harnack and the Question of ‘das doppelte Evangelium’ Besides the historical provenance of εὐαγγέλιον, the question of its theological meaning and development within the New Testament writings has been the second major point of discussion. The central issue concerns whether the gospel denotes the preaching of Jesus or whether he is rather the content of the gospel himself. As noted by Frankemölle, this question is deeply connected to one of the oldest questions of historical critical research, namely F. C. Baur’s division between Jesus’s moral teaching and Paul’s kerygmatic Christ.143 While this question thus involves the entire neutestamentliche Traditionsgeschichte, the focus here is narrowly on Mark’s use, where the specific question ––––––––––––––––– See Section 2.4.6. See Section 3.3. 143 See Frankemölle, “Evangelium,” 1652. Bultmann famously framed the question of how “dem Verkündiger der Verkündigte wurde” as “das große Rätsel der neutestamentlichen Theologie” (Rudolf Bultmann, “Die Bedeutung des historischen Jesus für die Theologie des Paulus,” in Glauben und Verstehen, vol. 1 [Tübingen: Mohr, 1954], 266). While we will not deal with the question on the level of the historical Jesus, Mark’s Christology is connected to this question. 141 142

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concerns to which extent Jesus is part of the gospel he announces.144 Mark’s narrative confronts us with this question right from the start, where his qualification of ἀρχή as τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ can be understood in a subjective sense as the gospel ‘Jesus brings’ or in an objective sense as the gospel ‘of Jesus Christ.’ Again, Harnack’s sharp-witted mind pinpointed the issue for generations to come. Ten years after his minor comments on the discovery of the Priene inscription, he wrote a lengthy appendix on the history and conception of the εὐαγγελ- word group in his book Entstehung und Entwicklung der Kirchenverfassung und des Kirchenrechts in den ersten zwei Jahrhunderten. According to Stuhlmacher, Harnack’s outline is extremely profound and “bis heute nicht wieder erreicht.”145 To be sure, reading through Harnack’s tour de force yields an astonishing experience of the eminent knowledge possessed by Harnack of the sources. After a brief reference to the historical root of the gospel nomenclature in the imperial cult as well as in Jewish texts, Harnack provides an outline of the different writings of the New Testament, followed by the usage in the early church until Marcion. This brings Harnack to propose that the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον developed through a five-stage process during which the early verbal announcement of Jesus in alignment with Isa 61:1 gradually became the composite εὐαγγέλιον of the New Testament, denoting several different things, such as a general expression for the Christian preaching, the good news of the crucified and risen Christ, the history of the life of Jesus, and the keyword for the new religion of grace as opposed to the old ‘law-religion.’146 Crucial in this development is Paul, who lifted εὐαγγέλιον “zum formalen und materialen Zentralbegriff seiner Predigt”147 by equating it with the death and resurrection of Christ. “Das war eine ungeheure Wendung!”148 The central question, however – connecting the discussion of Paul with Mark – concerns whether Paul’s absolute use and the genitive τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ should be understood in an objective and narrow sense, as the gospel of Christ, or whether also Paul understood ‘the gospel’ as a dense and composite notion. The latter would mean that Paul mit und neben Christus die Gnade und Liebe Gottes, die Sendung und das Wirken des hl. Geistes, die Rechtfertigung und das ewige Leben, ferner die Verheißung im AT, usw. direkte

––––––––––––––––– 144 For discussions of the history of development within the New Testament, see, e.g., Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 207–89; Strecker, “Das Evangelium”; Frankemölle, Evangelium, 106–61; Pokorný, Gospel; Mason, Josephus, Judea, 283–302. 145 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 22, see Stuhlmacher, “Pauline Gospel,” 149. 146 See Harnack, Entstehung, 237. 147 Harnack, Entstehung, 235. 148 Harnack, Entstehung, 236.

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in den Begriff, in den Inhalt und in die Darlegung des Evangeliums mit hineingenommen hat.149

This discussion came to be framed as a dispute over ein doppeltes Evangelium. In a lecture titled “Das doppelte Evangelium im neuen Testament,” Harnack distinguishes between das erste Evangelium being “die Predigt Jesu vom Reiche Gottes” and das zweite Evangelium being the ‘Gospel of Christ’ as proclaimed by Paul with its focus on the death and resurrection of Jesus.150 The question of the relationship between these two gospel versions is according to Harnack of a magnitude great enough to scale the difference between the Catholic emphasis on “evangelische Räte” and the Protestant understanding as “die Botschaft von der freien Gnade Gottes in Christo im Gegensatz zum Gesetz.”151 While Harnack admits that some researchers in the line of F. C. Baur contrast these two gospels completely against each other as two different religions,152 Harnack’s concern is to keep them together for historical, theological, and even churchly reasons.153 Harnack tries to accomplish this by insisting on the point that also Paul’s gospel presentation entails “die Idee ‘des Reiches Gottes.’”154 In this way, Harnack tried to reject the criticism he had received from Dobschütz and others for projecting a “zweierlei Evangelium.”155 According to Harnack, the ‘second gospel’ of Christ should nowhere be understood singularly in the strictest sense of grace without kingdom which, according to Harnack, historically only became the case with Marcion.156 ––––––––––––––––– Harnack, Entstehung, 215. See also the discussion in Section 3.4.3. See Harnack, “Das doppelte Evangelium,” 214–15. 151 Harnack, “Das doppelte Evangelium,” 213–14. Harnack further points out, however, that the Catholic emphasis on consilia evangelica was preserved in pietistic “Erbauungsliteratur” and Liberal Protestantism alike (see Harnack, “Das doppelte Evangelium,” 214–15). 152 See Harnack, “Das doppelte Evangelium,” 216, with reference to Wrede. 153 Harnack ends by stating that the church needs both, if it is to retain its Lebenskraft: “Man kann sie unterscheiden, aber sie sind nicht getrennt, und die Lebenskraft des Christentums scheint darauf zu beruhen, daß keiner dieser beiden Ströme versiegt, die schließlich doch auch eine gemeinsame Quelle haben” (Harnack, “Das doppelte Evangelium,” 222). 154 Harnack, “Das doppelte Evangelium,” 217. 155 Dobschütz, “Doppeltes Evangelium,” 364. 156 With noticeable irony, Harnack claims that “Marcion ist nicht der einzige Ausleger des Paulus gewesen, der paulinischer als Paulus war.” This is the case with Dobschütz besides “zahlreiche moderne Exegeten” who describes Paul’s theology in a “singulär” way, thus removing it from the historical Jesus (Harnack, Entstehung, 216). Dobschütz would not find his views well represented with this alternative. His concern is to avoid the liberal picture of Jesus as the great role model that he sees behind Harnack’s erste evangelium, that is, the kingdom preaching by Jesus (Dobschütz, “Doppeltes Evangelium,” 346–47). Dobschütz does not deny the importance of this emphasis but finds it to be insufficient and lacking the eschatological outlook of Paul’s gospel with its emphasis on Jesus’s death for sin (see Dobschütz, “Doppeltes Evangelium,” 353). The concept of a “zweierlei Evangelium” is wrong from the beginning and “Paulus und die anderen würden alle energisch dagegen protestiert 149 150

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This kingdom-oriented reading of Paul prepares us for Harnack’s reading of Mark where he likewise argues against an objective post-Easter understanding. Specifically, he targets Wellhausen, who in a commentary on Mark from 1903 argued that, except for 1:14, Mark consistently uses εὐαγγέλιον to denote Jesus as “der Inhalt des Evangeliums.”157 To Wellhausen, the absolute gospel notion in the Jesus-saying in 1:15 reveals that Mark is presenting the church’s belief in the gospel of a risen Christ to his congregation. For the Jews of Galilee in the days of Jesus, such a statement would have been “völlig unverständlich” since “sie gehören in die apostolische Predigt, hier sind sie verfrüht.”158 Wellhausen’s strongest argument is found in 8:35 and 10:29 where the gospel is equated with Jesus by the repeated ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, if understood as hendiadys. Harnack instead takes εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ in 1:14 as the hermeneutical key to Mark’s otherwise absolute use of εὐαγγέλιον (besides 1:1 as well) and in this way argues against Wellhausen by reading all of Mark’s gospel notions as having the same content, namely that “die Zeit erfüllt und die Gottesherrschaft nahegekommen ist.”159 According to Harnack, the two uses in 1:14 and 1:15 are the closest Mark comes to providing a definition of his εὐαγγέλιον, and since it cannot in 1:15 mean “etwas anderes” than in 1:14, as claimed by Wellhausen, the genitive τοῦ θεοῦ in 1:14 must be taken as the starting point for understanding Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον. Thus, God is the “Urheber,” and Jesus “in göttlichem Auftrag ihr Verkündiger ist.”160 In response to Wellhausen’s reading of 8:35 and 10:29, Harnack admits that “die Predigt vom gekreuzigten und auferstandenen Christus”161 is a key concern of Mark’s elsewhere, only not in his presentation of εὐαγγέλιον as defined in 1:14–15. Since this saying is to be used as key to the remaining uses in Mark, εὐαγγέλιον must retain its kingdom content in 8:35 and 10:29, also with the consequence that ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου describes two disparate albeit connected things: the costs of following Jesus and God’s gospel. Harnack further finds his reading substantiated by the two absolute uses in 13:10 and 14:9, both connecting εὐαγγέλιον with κηρύσσειν as in 1:14. While Wellhausen understands this as the post-Easter, apostolic preaching of Jesus’s “Leiden, Sterben und Auferstehn,”162 Harnack ––––––––––––––––– haben” (Dobschütz, “Doppeltes Evangelium,” 364). Instead, in recognition of Harnack, Dobschütz prefers to talk of “zwei Christusbilder,” namely “das historische Jesusbild, … und das lebendige Jesusbild” (Dobschütz, “Doppeltes Evangelium,” 365), by which he means more or less the same as Harnack. Only Evangelium should, in the spirit of Luther, be reserved solely to the Heilsbotschaf of Jesus. 157 Julius Wellhausen, Das Evangelium Marci (Berlin: Reimer, 1903), 73. 158 Wellhausen, Marci, 8. 159 Harnack, Entstehung, 202. 160 Harnack, Entstehung, 202. 161 Harnack, Entstehung, 204. 162 Wellhausen, Marci, 116.

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insists on the inner-Markan connection to 1:14 through the repeated use of κηρύσσειν and thus concludes that Mark’s absolute τὸ εὐαγγέλιον should always be understood in light of the only place “wo das Wort völlig klar determiniert ist.”163 These considerations finally pave the way for a subjective reading of 1:1, the only other instance of a genitive determination. Harnack rejects the argument for an objective reading that τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ is marked with a Pauline stamp since he contests the pure objective meaning in Paul as well. In sum, while Harnack speaks of zwei Evangelien and maintains the importance of the preaching of and not solely by Jesus, his reading places all Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον notions in das erste Evangelium group. This leads Harnack to suggest the following as a proper translation of Mark’s opening statement: “Es beginnt die von Jesus Christus verkündete Frohbotschaft von der Nähe des Reichs.”164 Harnack’s deep sense of the problems and the areas of importance in defining Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον laid the groundwork for ensuing generations of scholars. Shall the defining genitive, τοῦ θεοῦ, in 1:14 and the connection to kingdom in 1:15 be taken as the interpretative key for the other uses, explaining the absolute uses in 13:10 and 14:9, minimizing the importance of the equating force of καὶ in 8:35 and 10:29, before finally explaining the genitive in 1:1? Or shall the order be reversed, starting with 1:1 read in an objective sense? Harnack likewise demonstrated how this question is of such magnitude that it can serve as a prism for the history of theology from the days of Marcion and Augustin to the Lutheran reformation and onwards to Liberal theology.165 In sum, Harnack objected to das strenges Evangelium by emphasizing das Evangelium des Reichs while he at the same time rejected the liberal tendency of a complete division by postponing this from Paul to Marcion. 2.3.2 Gospel Understanding in Ensuing Research The question of the narrowness or width of the εὐαγγέλιον in the New Testament as such and in Mark in particular thus became a recurring issue of ensuing research. Dealing specifically with Harnack’s subjective kingdom reading, Friedrich rejects the need to choose between an objective or subjective reading if only Jesus’s “Messiasbewußtsein” is accepted. “Jesus bringt die βασιλεία, in seinem Wort wird sie Wirklichkeit, und darum handelt die Botschaft, die er verkündigt, auch von ihm.”166 Moving on to Marxsen, this entire issue was treated afresh through the lenses of Redaktionsgeschichte. In the third part of his ground-breaking study, Der Evangelist Markus, Marxsen begins by accepting Friedrich’s objection to ––––––––––––––––– Harnack, Entstehung, 205. Harnack, Entstehung, 206. 165 See Harnack, Entstehung, 216–19. 166 Friedrich, TWNT 2:725–26. 163 164

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an either/or approach. However, through a redactional analysis, Marxsen concludes that it was Mark who introduced the noun in the Synoptic tradition. It was not part of the earliest stratum, but “ein Lieblingsausdruck des Markus.”167 This conclusion paves the way for a post-Easter reading of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον in an objective sense, downplaying the question of whether Jesus used the phrase. It is also not surprising that in his rejection of Harnack’s views Marxsen takes 8:35 and 10:29 as his starting points, exactly since καὶ ἕνεκεν τοῦ εὐαγγελίου is Mark’s addition to the original ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ and thus reveals his interpretation: “Der Zusatz will interpretieren,” καί is epexegetical, and since the Gospel of Mark has its Sitz im Leben in the post-Easter congregations, the risen Christ is always the content of this notion. It is the way in which “Jesus vergegenwärtigt wird.”168 In reality, Mark uses εὐαγγέλιον as an ‘embodyment’ of Jesus, as “Repräsentation” and “Vergegenwärtigung”169 for his readers. Marxsen reads 1:1 in the same light. It is not, as claimed by Harnack, the historical ἀρχή of Jesus’s kingdom message, but Mark’s title for the whole of his narrative; it is “Verkündigung” stating that “der Auserstandene ist zugleich Urheber des Evangeliums, das ihn selbst zum Inhalt hat.”170 Naturally, 1:14–15 constitutes the most difficulties for Marxsen’s approach, but having reversed the order of treatment compared to Harnack, Marxsen finally rejects Harnack by reading the qualifier τοῦ θεοῦ as “eine christologische Aussage”171 and the nearness of the kingdom as an affirmation to the present community, which should be translated: “Ich komme bald.”172 In sum, Marxsen makes 8:35 and 10:29 the interpretative key to Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον since his addition to the tradition reveals how the gospel preaching makes Jesus present to his congregation. Thus, the emphasis tilts towards the objective. It should be noted that Marxsen, despite this emphasis, means to strike a balance by maintaining that Mark meant to present Jesus as both bringer and content, subject and object, of the gospel. Marxsen even states that “das Besondere” contribution of Mark is the way in which he fuses the Pauline theology of “der Gekreuzigte” with “der Tradition vom Irdischen.”173 Read in the context of the congregation, however, Mark’s strong opening statement τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ came to be understood in an objective sense.174 Also Stuhlmacher enters into debate with Harnack over the content and scope of the gospel. On the one hand, his reading of Mark 1:14–15 conflicts squarely with Harnack’s kingdom reading. The specific notions of εὐαγγέλιον ––––––––––––––––– Marxsen, Markus, 83. Marxsen, Markus, 85. 169 Marxsen, Markus, 86. 170 Marxsen, Markus, 87. 171 Marxsen, Markus, 88. 172 Marxsen, Markus, 89. 173 Marxsen, Markus, 99. 174 See Marxsen, Markus, 100. 167 168

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τοῦ θεοῦ and τὸ εὐαγγέλιον are both used by Paul (see, e.g., Rom 15:16) as is εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ (see, e.g., Rom 15:19). For this reason, Stuhlmacher finds it reasonable to see a link between Mark’s summary and “geläufige, hellenistisch(-jüdische) christliche Missionssprache.”175 It is in essence not a ‘Judean’ palästinische kingdom saying. Another proof for this is found in Matthew’s “bewußt theologische Kritik”176 of Mark’s use of the gospel notion, which he tries to bring closer to the original verbal preaching inspired by Isa 61:1–2 through his specific notion of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τῆς βασιλείας. On the other hand, Stuhlmacher sees a certain Verschmelzung in Mark’s Gospel between “hellenistische Missionsausdrücke” and “die palästinischen Ursprungs”177 which explains the otherwise non-Pauline Semitism πιστεύετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ. In his later articles on the gospel, this latter part is substantiated. While Paul’s εὐαγγέλιον is described as “essentially a gospel of justification,”178 Mark contains just as much, if not more, of the kerygmatic gospel account preserved in Acts 10:36–43, which demonstrates how the early evangelistic message combined the proclamation of Jesus’s resurrection with “the deeds and fate of the earthly Jesus … in the framework of scriptural references to the Old Testament.”179 Actually, Stuhlmacher finds Peter’s preaching “strikingly similar to the Gospel of Mark”180 which emphasizes Jesus’s earthly ministry as the essence of εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ. While avoiding the notion of a dual gospel, Stuhlmacher’s conclusion is highly similar to Harnack’s in speaking of “the comprehensive genre of ‘Gospel’”181 and insisting on the need of both gospels in church life.182 Not surprisingly, Strecker is to be found at the other end of the spectrum as one who follows the trajectory of Harnack, emphasizing the opposite of Marxsen and Stuhlmacher. Actually, Strecker argues for a reversed situation underlying Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον than does Marxsen. “Die theologische Leistung des Markus”183 is precisely die Historisierung of the εὐαγγέλιον from the objective to the subjective, from “der Verkündigung der Gemeinde zur Verkündigung Jesu.”184 However, also Strecker tries to avoid an understanding of this ––––––––––––––––– Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 236. This reading of Mark 1:14–15, as Stuhlmacher admits, rests on M. Werner’s thesis of “eines Paulinismus des Markusevangeliums” (see Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 236). 176 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 238. 177 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 237. 178 Stuhlmacher, “The Gospel,” 23. 179 Stuhlmacher, “The Gospel,” 22. 180 Stuhlmacher, “Pauline Gospel,” 172. 181 Stuhlmacher, “The Gospel,” 25. 182 “The Church needs both forms of proclamation to preserve, and ever to regain afresh, its identity as Church of Jesus Christ” (Stuhlmacher, “Pauline Gospel,” 172). 183 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 535. 184 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 537. 175

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Leistung or Kehre of Mark in a one-sided manner. “Die Historisierung” goes hand in hand with “die Apokalyptisierung,” as evident, e.g., in 1:15, 13:10. In this way Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον displays a “Doppelcharakter,”185 a notion closely related to the wording of Harnack. In essence, Mark’s gospel notion is part and parcel of “der disparate Inhalt” of the entire New Testament gospel material: “Neben einer christologischen steht eine ekklesiologische Akzentuierung, neben dem gen. subiectivus der gen. obiectivus, neben dem christologischen Vergangenheits- oder Gegenwartsbezug eine betonte Ausrichtung auf die apokalyptische Zukunft.”186 Still, like Harnack, Strecker rejects talk of two religions. “Das Christusgeschehen” is the common denominator behind all accents for which reason each nuance of the εὐαγγέλιον is “die Christusbotschaft.”187 Stanton likewise briefly reflects on Mark’s use of εὐαγγέλιον and concludes with reference to Marxsen that the five examples in Mark of Jesus preaching the εὐαγγέλιον should all be understood as “post-Easter phraseology.”188 The only hurdle to this view is the aforementioned otherwise unattested πιστεύετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ. Stanton prefers to see this as another example of a post-Easter addition to the original Jesus tradition (ending with µετανοεῖτε) in order to secure accordance between the teaching of Jesus and the church.189 Finally, in this round, I will mention the book-length investigation of the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον notion by Petr Pokorný, who begins his investigation with the disagreements over Mark 1:1, suggesting that in reality Mark sought to convey “the polysemy of the term euangelion.”190 Pokorný argues that Mark followed Paul in understanding εὐαγγέλιον as the post-Easter message, except for 1:14–15, where the gospel notion “cannot be understood as a coded Easter proclamation.”191 In this way, Mark underscored to a higher degree than Paul the understanding that “the Easter Gospel is (should be) inseparably linked with Jesus in his earthly life.”192 Of special importance is Pokorný’s comparison of 1 Cor 15:3b–5 with Mark 16:6–7 in which he points ––––––––––––––––– Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 539. Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 546. As pointed out by Frankemölle, the differences between Marxsen/Stuhlmacher and Harnack/Strecker can also be described as being between the chosen starting point for reading Mark as either an apocalyptic script directed by the messianic secret now revealed to the community or a narrative using the broad spectrum of applications of the gospel notion by the first Christians (see Frankemölle, “Evangelium,” 1665). 187 Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 547. Like Harnack, Stuhlmacher, and others, Strecker points to the importance for church life to entertain an understanding of the gospel as flexible as the New Testament, since it will foster “Toleranz” and “Kooperation in der ökumenischen Theorie und Praxis” (Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 548). 188 Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 19. 189 See Stanton, Jesus and the Gospel, 20. 190 Pokorný, Gospel, 3. 191 Pokorný, Gospel, 54. 192 Pokorný, Gospel, 122. 185 186

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to detailed similarities. Suggesting that “the ending is the key to the beginning,”193 Pokorný uses this insight to bolster an objective reading of 1:1 in the light of Pauline theology. 2.3.3 Τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον as a Composite Notion (II) As in our investigation of the history of the use of the gospel nomenclature, it is clear from this outline of the interpretation of the Markan εὐαγγέλιον that it is difficult to define this concept unequivocally. On the one hand, the prime fault line is found to be between those who understand Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as a kingdom saying and an intentional Historisierung of the Pauline and/or Hellenistic preaching of Christ (Harnack, Strecker), and those understanding it as a post-Easter proclamation of the risen Christ to the congregation (Wellhausen, Dobschütz, Marxsen, Stuhlmacher, Stanton, Pokorný). On the other hand, there is a general acceptance of the composite character of the gospel, whether it is preferably labelled “zwei Evangelien” (Harnack), “zwei Christusbilder” (Dobschütz), “objectiver und subjektiver” (Marxsen), “a comprehensive genre” (Stuhlmacher), “polysemy” (Pokorný), or the like. That said, the presented overview clearly pinpoints that the main problem concerns the nature of the genitive εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ. Cases for either (or mostly) an objective or subjective reading are rendered probable through two strings of arguments. One is an internal discussion of Mark’s ensuing use. Should εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ and ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ in 1:14–15 be taken as the starting point, or rather should the notion of καὶ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου in 8:35 and 10:29 be understood epexegetically as referring to Jesus? Another is a historical reconstruction of the early church’s use of the εὐαγγέλιον notion. Does the Markan narrative represent an intentional effort to bridge the post-Easter Christ of faith with the Jesus of history, which would prompt a subjective reading, or should Mark be viewed as a step further away from the historical Jesus in the Pauline trajectory, presenting the deified and risen Christ as “the gospel”? To sum this up in one question: Is εὐαγγέλιον a christological notion or rather a theological notion about God’s inauguration of his kingdom with Jesus as the mediator? These questions will be pursued further below.194

––––––––––––––––– 193 Pokorný, Gospel, 123. For further on the interplay between Mark and Paul on this issue, see Section 3.4.3. 194 See especially Section 4.5.

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2.4 Mark and the Empire: Postcolonial and/or Anti-Imperial Readings 2.4.1 From Belege to Hermeneutics … and Preaching The two research trajectories outlined above both arrived at an impasse. The traditionsgeschichtlicher attempt to locate the root of the gospel in a Judean setting “konnte textlich gesichert nicht realisiert werden” just as dependency on the Sprachverwendung of the imperial cult or Hellenistic ruler cult “ist nicht nachzuweisen,” leaving the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον “ohne jede Analogie … in außerneutestamentlicher Literatur,” to borrow from the conclusion of Frankemölle.195 The innerneutestamentlicher attempt to determine the theological meaning of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον did not fare much better, locked in dispute over which verse to use as interpretative key or how to frame the setting of Mark. Within the last three to four decades, new reading strategies have emerged which bypass both impasses in a process that is best described as a move from proof-texting to hermeneutics. This is done by offering readings of Mark based on stronger frameworks, producing new understandings of apocalyptic statements and keywords such as kingdom, cross, and – indeed – εὐαγγέλιον. These reading strategies are often labelled postcolonial and/or anti-imperial, on the basis of which an array of book-length investigations of Mark have been produced.196 While anti-imperial or postcolonial readings were first ––––––––––––––––– Frankemölle, “Evangelium,” 1688–89. See Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1988); Herman C. Waetjen, A Reordering of Power: A Sociopolitical Reading of Mark’s Gospel (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989); Mary Ann Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel: Mark’s World in Literary-Historical Perspective (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989); Tat-sion Benny Liew, Politics of Parousia: Reading Mark Inter(con)textually, BibInt 42 (Leiden: Brill, 1999); Horsley, Hearing; Brian J. Incigneri, The Gospel to the Romans: The Setting and Rhetoric of Mark’s Gospel, BibInt 65 (Leiden: Brill, 2003); Simon Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus, LNTS 340 (London: T&T Clark, 2007); Adam Winn, The Purpose of Mark’s Gospel: An Early Christian Response to Imperial Propaganda, WUNT 2/245 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008); C. I. David Joy, Mark and its Subalterns: A Hermeneutical Paradigm for a Postcolonial Context (London: Equinox, 2008); Karl Matthias Schmidt, Wege des Heils: Erzählstrukturen und Rezeptionskontexte des Markusevangeliums, NTOA 74 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010); Seong Hee Kim, Mark, Women and Empire: A Postcolonial Perspective (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2010); Leander, Discourses; Andreas Bedenbender, Frohe Botschaft am Abgrund: Das Markusevangelium und der Jüdische Krieg, SKI 5 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2013); Laurel K. Cobb, Mark and Empire: Feminist Reflections (New York: Orbis Books, 2013); Jin Young Choi, Postcolonial Discipleship Embodiment: An Asian and Asian American Feminist Reading of the Gospel of Mark (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2015); Gabriella Gelardini, Christus Militans: Studien zur politisch-militärischen Semantik im Markusevangelium vor dem Hintergrund des ersten jüdisch-römischen Krieges (Leiden: Brill, 2016); Stephen Simon Kimondo, The Gospel of Mark and the Roman-Jewish War of 195 196

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introduced into New Testament studies through readings of Paul, studies in Mark quickly followed this lead, rediscovering the potent similarity of the wording in Mark’s opening and, for instance, the Priene inscription, as long noticed by Harnack, Deissmann, and others. Before providing an overview and classification of this research, the two concepts or reading strategies often labelled ‘postcolonial’ and ‘anti-imperial’ need to be introduced. This is not a straightforward task. Apparently, the word ‘postcolonial’ was used for the first time in a British newspaper in 1959 to describe the period after the withdrawal of colonial powers from their former colonies.197 The use of the term as a reading strategy, however, hits much deeper ground than merely a time-period,198 and “is an instrument or method of analyzing situations where one social group dominated another,” which “provides a platform for the widest possible convergence of critical forces, of multi-ethnic, multi-religious, and multicultural voices, to assert their denied rights and rattle the centre.”199 On a deep and refined level, it seeks to describe the “hybridity” that arose as a consequence of the “interaction between colonizing countries and the colonized.”200 While postcolonialism as an intellectual reading strategy as such evolved in the late 1980s,201 Edward W. Said’s 1978 book Orientalism is often referred to as a watershed.202 Said traces the invention of the concept of Orientalism to the Western intelligentsia (who he also accuses of this invention) as a way of defining ‘the Other,’ thereby controlling her or him as a subject. This focus has been criticized for being an “overly rigid binary” description, missing “the complex reciprocal relationship” between

––––––––––––––––– 66–70 CE (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2018); Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology; Mark J. Keown, Jesus in a World of Colliding Empires: Mark’s Jesus from the Perspective of Power and Expectations (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2018). 197 R. S. Sugirtharajah, Postcolonial Criticism and Biblical Interpretation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 2. For introductions to postcolonial studies in connection to biblical research, see, e.g., Sugirtharajah, “Biblical Interpretation”; Tat-sion Benny Liew, “Postcolonial Criticism: Echoes of a Subaltern’s Contribution and Exclusion,” in Mark and Method: New Approaches in Biblical Studies, ed. Janice C. Andersen and Stephen D. Moore, 2nd ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008), 211–31; Leander, Discourses, 27–72. 198 The difference between the two is often clarified by distinguishing between “postcolonialism” with a hyphen (time-period) and “postcolonialism” without (reading strategy). See, e.g., Sugirtharajah, “Biblical Interpretation,” 13; Liew, “Postcolonial Criticism,” 212). 199 Sugirtharajah, “Biblical Interpretation,” 13. 200 Sugirtharajah, “Biblical Interpretation,” 23. 201 See Sugirtharajah, “Biblical Interpretation,” 23. 202 See, e.g., Sugirtharajah, “Biblical Interpretation,” 15; Fernando F. Segovia, “Mapping the Postcolonial Optic in Biblical Criticism: Meaning and Scope,” in Postcolonial Biblical Criticism: Interdisciplinary Intersections, ed. Stephen D. Moore and Fernando F. Segovia (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 26–27; Liew, “Postcolonial Criticism,” 213.

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colonizer and colonized.203 Nevertheless, his effort “paved the way”204 for the wave of ensuing studies focussed on describing the complex relationship between the empire and its subjects, which through studies such as Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s “Can the Subaltern Speak”205 introduced more nuanced and complex descriptions, using keywords such as catachresis, ambivalence, hybridity, mimicry, and third-space. In different ways, these terms describe the in-between-space covert resistance is forced to occupy when finding a way between “modes of negotiation and criticism that unsettle the dominant from within.”206 When the colonist rulers require the colonized to mimic their colonial culture, they respond with an “almost the same but not quite”-representation207 of the values, culture, language, and the like of the empire as a way of turning the oppression into a covert mode of resistance in the form of parody and mockery. As stated by Simon Samuel, when “the colonized subjects mimic by repeating their colonial masters’ cultural habits, assumptions, language, institutions, values, voice, etc., the result is never a simple re-presentation or reproduction of those traits but rather a ‘blurred copy’, a ‘camouflage’ which can be quite disruptive.”208 As such, what began as a weapon of domination shows itself capable of backfiring, producing an ambivalent relationship, a hybrid mode of existence between the two parties. It opens up a third space that is “a heterogeneous, perhaps antagonistic, context of multiple discourses.”209 Hybridity describes the “‘in-between-space’ in which the colonialized translate or undo the binaries imposed by the colonial project.”210 Postcolonialism was first introduced into biblical studies in the mid-1990s and one of the earliest hallmarks was an issue of Semeia from 1996 edited by Laura E. Donaldson under the theme “Postcolonialism and Scriptural Reading,” bringing together general considerations on the value of postcolonialism for biblical studies as well as application to texts from the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament.211 In 1998 an edited volume was released with the title The Postcolonial Bible212 as the first instalment in the new series, The Bible and ––––––––––––––––– Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 11, see Leander, Discourses, 36. Sugirtharajah, “Biblical Interpretation,” 15. 205 Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, “Can the Subaltern Speak?,” in Colonial Discourse and Post-Colonial Theory: A Reader, ed. Patrick Williams and Laura Chrisman (New York: Harvester WheatSheaf, 1993), 68–111. 206 Leander, Discourses, 41. 207 See Leander, Discourses, 45. 208 Simon Samuel, “The Beginning of Mark: A Colonial/Postcolonial Conundrum,” BibInt 10.4 (2002): 27. 209 Leander, Discourses, 48. 210 Sugirtharajah, “Biblical Interpretation,” 22. 211 See Laura E. Donaldson, “Postcolonialism and Biblical Reading: An Introduction,” Semeia 75 (1996): 1–14. 212 R. S. Sugirtharajah, The Postcolonial Bible, BP 1 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1998). 203 204

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Postcolonialism. From there, postcolonialism gained momentum within biblical studies. Quickly becoming an umbrella term, amalgamating earlier research trajectories and producing new, the need for a map was obvious. Stephen D. Moore and Fernando F. Segovia provide such by distinguishing between three major clusters:213 One is related to liberation theology and Rasiah S. Sugirtharajah, in particular with a focus on contemporary implications of the biblical texts. Another is related to empire-studies and lumps together studies that read biblical texts through the lens of empire. Horsley is pinpointed as the most important scholar in this group. Finally, a third group is identified as the scholars utilizing and engaging the field of extra-biblical postcolonial studies and thereby distinguishing themselves from especially the second.214 Hans Leander has offered a critique and refinement of Moore’s and Segovia’s outline. For one thing, Leander does not feel that Moore and Segovia indicate clearly enough that it is a bit of a stretch to include the second group in the field of postcolonial biblical studies, since it is not common for researchers in this group to use the word “postcolonial” nor its theoretical basis.215 Most importantly, however, Leander laments the lack of feminist criticism in the picture. In total, Leander suggests redrawing the map, so that “postcolonial biblical criticism” (the third cluster of Moore and Segovia) is viewed as a distinct research field or trend that interacts with and has grown out of four other research trajectories: liberation studies (or vernacular hermeneutics), empire studies, gender criticism, and extra-biblical postcolonial criticism.216 Anti-imperial criticism is clearly related to postcolonialism, but there are likewise some notable differences. Most obvious, anti-imperial readings are a product of biblical studies and especially New Testament studies of the Apocalypse with roots back to Deissmann and his notion of “polemischer Parallelismus” and a designation of the New Testament as “ein Buch aus der Kaiserzeit.”217 The most important difference, however, concerns the level of theoretical foundation. While anti-imperial readings grew out of a historical placement of the New Testament writings in the Roman Empire, highlighting points of comparison and contrasts, postcolonialism builds on a wide array of ––––––––––––––––– 213 See Stephen D. Moore and Fernando F. Segovia, “Postcolonial Biblical Criticism: Beginnings, Trajectories, Intersections,” in Postcolonial Biblical Criticism: Interdisciplinary Intersections, ed. Stephen D. Moore and Fernando F. Segovia (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 1–22. See also Stephen D. Moore, Empire and Apocalypse: Postcolonialism and the New Testament (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2006), 3–23. 214 See Moore and Segovia, “Postcolonial Biblical Criticism,” 5–10. 215 Leander likewise wants to enlarge the group by adding quite a number of studies not mentioned by Moore and Segovia (see Leander, Discourses, 51–52). 216 See Leander, Discourses, 49–54. If we follow Leander in distinguishing postcolonial studies from anti-imperial studies, clear examples of the former would be Liew, Politics; Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading; Joy, Subalterns; Leander, Discourses. 217 Deissmann, Licht, 255–57.

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theoretical models drawn from sociology, psychology, literature, and more. An anti-imperial approach is therefore prone to detect binary relationships of resistance whereas postcolonialism is prone to detect multifaceted, hybrid, and ambivalent modes of interaction and covert resistance. In reflection on the relationship between the two, Warren Carter finds, on the one hand, postcolonialism to be “overtheorized and … neglectful of NT texts,” while, on the other hand, he admits that “imperial-critical work has been naïve and undertheorized … posing only an oppositional or antithetical relationship between the early Jesus movement and the Roman empire.”218 Carter continues to say that this has recently begun to change under the influence of postcolonial ideas such as ambivalence, hybridity, and mimicry.219 In short, the gist of anti-imperial readings is a protest against depoliticized and spiritualized New Testament readings, an isolationistic tendency with a focus solely on ethnicity (Jew–Gentile relationships), or an exclusive Jewish focus as the context of the New Testament at the expense of the imperial context. As phrased by Carter, no matter which origin the Gospels and the early Jesus movement may have, hermeneutical and contextual work on these “must engage and account for its negotiations of the Roman imperial world.”220 For this reason, as already mentioned, studies investigating the relationship between the Roman Empire and the New Testament writings are not a new phenomenon within New Testament research.221 Still, with forerunners, antiimperial approaches to New Testament writings began to emerge as a discernible field in the late 1980s. With reference to Mark, one of the first was Fernando Belo’s Lecture matérialiste de l’évangile de Marc from 1974, published in English in 1981 (A Materialist Reading of the Gospel of Mark). Belo does not specifically view Mark as anti-imperial, but he begins by sketching a grave image of the socio-economic living conditions in Judea and Galilee. Imposing the Marxist idea of ‘Asiatic mode of production’ in which absentee land owners exploited the rural village sphere, Belo concludes that a subversion of this ––––––––––––––––– Carter, “Christian Origins,” 279. Also, Jeremy Punt calls for biblical anti-imperial studies to mature in the direction of postcolonial refinement, lamenting the unfortunate, essentialist, and antithetical contrastation at play in anti-imperial studies (see Jeremy Punt, “Postcolonial and/or Empire Studies: Birds of a Feather? Intersections and Negotiations” [paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the SBL, San Diego, 2014], 3–4). 220 Carter, “Christian Origins,” 282; see also Punt, “Postcolonial and/or Empire Studies,” 2. 221 While Deissmann is often referred to as the first, this honour could actually be passed on to Reimarus for presenting a reading of Jesus and the early Jesus movement through the lens of resistance against the empire (see Hermann Samuel Reimarus, Fragmente des Wolfenbüttelschen Ungenannten herausgegeben von Gotthold Ephraim Lessing: Von dem Zwecke Jesu und seiner Jünger [Berlin: Sander, 1774–1778]). The influence of Reimarus is readily discernible in recent anti-imperial readings such as Douglas E. Oakman, The Political Aims of Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012). 218 219

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system, combined with the Roman dependence on slave-production that was widespread in Galilee, produced harsh living conditions from which class struggles in the forms of rebellions routinely occurred, especially in Galilee as a birthplace and hotbed for guerrilla warfare.222 Horsley and John S. Hanson’s book from 1985, Bandits, Prophets, and Messiahs: Popular Movements in the Time of Jesus, argues among the same lines.223 So does a number of studies from the late 1980s focused on the Gospel of Mark and the socio-economic living conditions in Galilee, which will be treated in more detail below.224 As demonstrated by, for example, Judy Diehl in three research essays,225 anti-imperial readings have by now been applied to the entire corpus of the New Testament; the call for moving the empire to the foreground has been heard. Some investigations are rather triumphal in stating that this anti-imperial perspective “throws open a door to a whole new genre of research,” in reality viewing as beyond imagination “how New Testament scholarship, most Christian interpretation over the last millennium, and countless assemblies of worship and research could have missed the contrast with Roman imperial power at the heart of early Christianity,”226 while other evaluations are cautions if not dismissive.227 Important to notice is that while anti-imperial criticism lacks the refined theoretical foundation of postcolonialism, it is still driven by a shift in hermeneutical approach, seeking to free the New Testament writings from the straitjacket imposed by religious interpretations. In this way, this approach seeks to regain a clear sight of how “early Christianity was, in fact, a down-toearth response to an oppressive ideology of earthly power that had recently ––––––––––––––––– See Fernando Belo, A Materialist Reading of the Gospel of Mark (New York: Orbis Books, 1981), 60–64, 82. 223 Richard A. Horsley and John S. Hanson, Bandits, Prophets, and Messiahs: Popular Movements in the Time of Jesus (Minneapolis: Winston, 1985). 224 See Myers, Binding the Strong; Waetjen, Reordering of Power; Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel. 225 Judy Diehl, “Anti-Imperial Rhetoric in the New Testament,” CurBS 10.1 (2011): 9– 52; Judy Diehl, “Empire and Epistles: Anti-Roman Rhetoric in the New Testament Epistles,” CurBS 10.2 (2012): 217–63; Judy Diehl, “‘Babylon’: Then, Now and ‘Not Yet’: Anti-Roman Rhetoric in the Book of Revelation,” CurBS 11.2 (2013): 168–95. 226 Hal Taussig, “Prologue: A Door Thrown Open,” USQR 59.3 (2005): 1–2. 227 See, e.g., C. M. Tuckett, “Christ and the Emperor: Some Reflections on Method and Methodological Issues Illustrated from the Gospel of Mark,” in Christ and the Emperor: the Gospel Evidence, ed. Gilbert Van Belle and Jozef Van Verheyden (Leuven: Peeters, 2014), 185–201; Karl Galinsky, “The Cult of the Roman Emperor: Uniter or Divider?,” in Rome and Religion: A Cross-Disciplinary Dialogue on the Imperial Cult, WGRWSup 5 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), 1–21; Jörg Frey, “Jesus und Pilatus: Der wahre König und der Repräsentant des Kaisers im Johannesevangelium,” in Christ and the Emperor, ed. Gilbert Van Belle and Jozef Van Verheyden (Leuven: Peeters, 2014), 337–93; Troels Engberg-Pedersen, review of Hearing the Whole Story: The Politics of Plot in Mark’s Gospel, by Richard A. Horsley, JTS 54.1 (2003): 245. 222

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swept across continents, disrupted economies, and overturned ancient traditions,” as formulated by Horsley and Neil Asher Silberman.228 As a matter of fact, the hermeneutical shift to asking questions from the perspective of empire is often coupled with a contemporary interest in applying the scheme found in the interpretation as a model for current political activism. For instance, Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza suggests reversing the traditional mode of operation, going from ancient texts to modern times, and instead beginning with contemporary issues and then going back to the ancient texts to find inspiration to apply to present political agendas.229 Among the many that draw contemporary, political implications from their postcolonial or anti-imperial readings, Horsley is perhaps the most outspoken. Calling the view that Jesus was in conflict with the Judaism of his time “simply unhistorical,” he reaches out to his own nation inciting that Americans who identify with Jesus and with the Israelite heritage on the basis of which he opposed Roman rule can draw both inspiration and guiding principles from his mission to insist that their country rediscover the political and economic principles of its covenantal heritage in opposition to its recent wielding of power as the New Rome.230

With this as introduction, we now turn to a survey of the most important antiimperial and postcolonial readings of Mark by focusing on questions like: (1) How is the relationship to the empire described? In a binary fashion or rather in a complex and ambivalent manner informed by postcolonial theory? (2) How is Mark treated? Partially or exhaustively? The extent to which the argued reading rests on selected sayings or the narrative as such reveals its explanatory power. Specifically, is Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον notion part of the picture? (3) To which extent is the analysis applied to contemporary political questions? And finally, (4) Is the entire enterprise methodological flawed or at least questionable for introducing circular reasoning and imposing rigid concepts on the text that produces pictures too diverse to convince?

––––––––––––––––– 228 Richard A. Horsley and Neil Asher Silberman, The Message and the Kingdom: How Jesus and Paul Ignited a Revolution and Transformed the Ancient World (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 10. 229 See Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “Empire and Christian Testament Studies,” USQR 59.3 (2005): 131–39. This approach was already taken by Belo, whose description of living conditions in the land of Israel, termed “The Mode of Production in Biblical Palestine,” is actually Part II. Part I consists of an essay with fifty-five hypotheses on economy, modes of production, and social reformation in Belo’s contemporary world, see Belo, A Materialist Reading. 230 Richard A. Horsley, “Jesus and Empire,” in In the Shadow of the Temple: Reclaiming the Bible as a History of Faithful Resistance, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2008), 95–96.

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2.4.2 Early Political Studies of Mark Belo’s study of Mark from 1974 can be seen as one of the first in the recent wave of Markan studies arguing for a political/revolutionist purpose of the gospel, deliberately departing not only from the ecclesiological or christological focus of redaction-critical studies such as Marxsen’s Der Evangelist Markus and Werner H. Kelber’s The Kingdom of Mark,231 but also from earlier political studies of Mark, interpreting its purpose completely differently as an apology for the political innocence of Jesus.232 However, a leading voice in the group of early political studies of Mark is found in Ched Myers’s Binding the Strong Man, originally published in 1988 and republished in 2008 as a twentieth anniversary edition with a new foreword, outlining the impact Myers’s book went on to have. In the forewords of both editions, Myers unapologetically identifies his interest in Mark as politically manifested and rooted in his own activist work in front of the Pentagon and White House against the Reagan administration and ensuing lifetime’s work as an activist.233 Writing under the influence of Reagan’s “imperial pride,” Myers feels deeply connected to the situation of Mark, characterized completely as a locus imperium, in which he utters a call for “radical discipleship” through a retelling of the story of Jesus of Nazareth and his struggle with “the ‘powers’ of Roman Palestine.”234 Pivotal to this understanding is a Galilean provenance of Mark and a dating immediately after Vespasian’s conquest in 67.235 As ‘newly colonized,’ Myers explains why “Mark obviously cannot speak directly about Rome,” instead being forced to use “two forms of more veiled discourse: the Jewish resistance tradition of apocalyptic and the literary divide of parody.”236 From this perspective, Myers provides a full reading of Mark’s narrative, at the end of which he concludes that there are “six instances in which Mark alludes to the reality of foreign imperialism” that each “articulates his decidedly anti-Roman socio-political stance.”237 These six places are: 1:1 and Mark’s “subversive expropriation of ––––––––––––––––– 231 Marxsen, Markus; Werner H. Kelber, The Kingdom in Mark: A New Place and a New Time (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1974). 232 Brandon’s landmark study from 1967 arrives at this conclusion, see S. G. F. Brandon, Jesus and the Zealots: A Study of the Political Factor in Primitive Christianity (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1967). In recent times, it has been argued afresh in Hendrika N. Roskam, The Purpose of the Gospel of Mark in its Historical and Social Context, NovTSup 114 (Leiden: Brill, 2004). 233 See Myers, Binding the Strong, xxxii; Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus, 2nd ed. (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2008), xxv– xxx. 234 Myers, Binding the Strong, 7–8. 235 See Myers, Binding the Strong, 40–42, with reference to Howard Clark Kee, Community of the New Age: Studies in Mark’s Gospel (London: SCM, 1977). 236 Myers, Binding the Strong, 426. 237 Myers, Binding the Strong, 426.

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‘gospel’ as title for his story”; the Gerasene demoniac where Mark is as politically bold as nowhere else by referring to “legion” (5:1–20); 10:42–45 where Mark contrasts the great men of the empire to the great men of his kingdom; the “central political parable of 12:1–12”; the confrontation with Pilate; and finally and most importantly, the reinterpretation of the cross. Here, “Jesus faces Caesar’s ‘lordship’ head on. Mark could not have chosen an image that indicated more unequivocally his opposition to the empire than the Roman executioner’s stake.… By redefining the cross as the way to liberation rather than symbol of defeat and shame, Mark radically subverts the authority of the empire.”238 In sum, Myers provide an intriguing early case before the introduction of postcolonial theory in biblical studies showing, on the one hand, awareness of veiled discourse, parody, and subversion rather than confrontation, while, on the other hand, emphatically underlining the binary, anti-imperial moments in Mark. In 1989, Herman C. Waetjen published A Reordering of Power. While reading Mark from a socio-economic perspective, Waetjen’s book is not nearly as focused on Rome as Myers’s. Mark is not specifically pointed out to be written from a locus imperium. Instead, Waetjen adopts insights from anthropology, especially the conflict model of Gerhard Lenski,239 to construct a highly stratified picture of ancient Galilee with Herod Antipas at the top, followed by a small class of retainers and then the vast body of peasants that had become “disposed by exorbitant rent funds, different kinds of taxes, and compulsory labor,”240 only to be followed by the lowest ranks, the degraded and expendable. From this reconstruction of ancient Galilee and Jerusalem, Waetjen provides a translation of Mark and then a passage-by-passage commentary focused on outlining how ‘reordering of power’ is the major theme of Mark. The Jesus of Mark heralds a ‘new way of the Lord,’ which occasionally confronts the Roman Empire, as in the case of the healing of the legion-possessed Gerasene man. The Latin term legion “links the demoniac to the institution of the Roman army,” which is why it most likely “is colonialism!”241 But Roman colonialism only represents one base of power that needs to be redistributed. Jesus represents a “liberating power,” and his “ministry in Galilee is an instantaneous and smashing success. The millennial rule of God is being actualized for the masses of the poor, oppressed, diseased, and dispossessed people of Galilee.”242 Throughout, Waetjen’s main concern is to explain the text of Mark from his perspective of power reorganization. Without being explicit, however, the ––––––––––––––––– Myers, Binding the Strong, 427–28. Gerhard Lenski, Power and Privilege: A Theory of Social Stratification (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966). 240 Waetjen, Reordering of Power, 10. 241 Waetjen, Reordering of Power, 115. 242 Waetjen, Reordering of Power, 86. 238 239

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bearing of this reading for present day readers is hinted at. According to Waetjen, Mark wrote to invite his readers to reorient themselves according to their experience of the “reordering of power” and to commit “to the continuation of the construction of the way.”243 Finally, in this connection, Mary Ann Tolbert’s book from 1989, Sowing the Gospel, should be mentioned. Tolbert calls her reading “literary history,” meaning an attempt “to situate the Gospel of Mark within the literary currents of its own historical milieu.”244 The burden of Tolbert’s book concerns detecting and outlining rhetorical structures of Mark. The historical questions come in mostly when discussing the genre of Mark, which Tolbert classifies as “popular literature” on par with erotic novels meant to be circulated widely245 that originated in Rome during the time of the Flavians.246 Since, however, Mark was not written in response to the problems of a specific community,247 Tolbert does not specifically explore Rome as the setting for and explanation of Mark. Instead, she ends her survey by sketching how her reading should be activated in her own world “beset by Star Wars, nuclear weapons, acid rain, widespread famine, revolution, and war.” Listening to Mark, Tolbert states, “we have the power to become responsible tenants or to destroy the vineyard absolutely. Which is it to be?” These forces of destruction are “power, wealth, status, fame, and authority”248 that corrupts governments, corporations, churches, and other institutions. As such, Tolbert’s early work laid the ground for later readings prefixing the Roman question.249 2.4.3 Richard A. Horsley and Anti-Empire Shifting now to studies of Mark after the introduction of anti-imperial and postcolonial criticism in the late 1990s, Horsley will be treated first and most thoroughly for two reasons. One is that he was one of the first to read Mark from an anti-imperial perspective in a short article published in Sugirtharajah’s The Postcolonial Bible as well as with his full monograph on Mark, Hearing the Whole Story, from 2001.250 Another is the ensuing number of books and articles on Mark, Q, and the historical Jesus read from a clear-cut anti-imperial perspective, perhaps making Horsley the most outspoken researcher with this

––––––––––––––––– Waetjen, Reordering of Power, 26, see 251. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, xi. 245 See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 70–78. 246 See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 305. 247 See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 304. 248 Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 310. 249 See, e.g., Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 78–79. 250 See Horsley, “Submerged,” 152–73; Horsley, Hearing. 243 244

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reading.251 To provide an outline of Horsley’s position, five things should be noted: (1) The first thing to notice is Horsley’s attack on Western theology for being caught in “a set of essentialist dichotomies that parallel those of Western colonialism/orientalism: Christian versus Jewish, Hellenistic versus Jewish, wisdom versus apocalyptic, and so on,”252 precisely as criticized by Said. Horsley consistently talks about the need to “cut through such synthetic and often essentialist scholarly constructs”253 and unmask how New Testament studies have “systematically depoliticized particular biblical books … rendered virtually irrelevant the overall imperial situation and particular colonial relations in response to which those movements and writing emerged.”254 Horsley sees postcolonial theory, which he seemingly does not distinguish from anti-imperial theory,255 as the right tool for the task of overcoming dichotomies and Western blindness in order to expose how “Jesus’ exorcisms of ‘unclean spirits’ turn out to be battles in a wider political struggle.”256 (2) Further, when it comes to Horsley’s treatment of Mark, it is important for Horsley to locate Mark’s community in Galilee. Not much argument is given for this, however, and mainly the observation is that Jesus’s Galilean ministry was directed towards Israelite village communities. Since “Mark seems simply to assume that the audience will resonate to the many explicit references and subtle allusions to Israelite history,”257 Mark’s community was most likely based in Greek speaking villages in or at the border of Galilee.258 Galilee, on the other hand, is treated thoroughly by Horsley in several books and articles259 in which he paints a bleak picture of a peasant society under ––––––––––––––––– 251 See especially Richard A. Horsley, “A Prophet Like Moses and Elijah: Popular Memory and Cultural Patterns in Mark,” in Performing the Gopsel: Orality, Memory, and Mark, ed. Richard A. Horsley, Jonathan A. Draper, and John Miles Foley (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2006), 166–90; Richard A. Horsley, Jesus and Empire: The Kingdom of God and the New World Disorder (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003); Richard A. Horsley, “Jesus and Empire,” USQR 59.3 (2005): 44–74; Horsley, “Jesus and Empire”; Richard A. Horsley, Jesus and the Powers: Conflict, Covenant, and the Hope of the Poor (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2011); Horsley, Prophet Jesus; Richard A. Horsley, “Jesus-in-Movement and the Roman Imperial (Dis)Order,” in An Introduction to Empire in the New Testament, ed. Adam Winn, RBS 84 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016), 47–70. 252 Horsley, “Submerged,” 154. 253 Horsley, Prophet Jesus, 153. 254 Horsley, “Submerged,” 154–55, see, e.g., also Horsley, “Jesus and the Politics,” 99– 145. 255 See Horsley, “Submerged,” 155. 256 Horsley, Hearing, x. 257 Horsley, Hearing, 48. 258 See Horsley, Hearing, 51. 259 See Richard A. Horsley, “The Historical Jesus and Archaeology of the Galilee: Questions from Historical Jesus Research to Archaeologists,” in Society of Biblical Literature

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intensive exploitation and destruction. First, by the successive numbers of Roman conquests, which were “particularly hard on the Galileans,”260 then by Herod Antipas who “must have” represented a severe burden on the traditional Israelite village life in Galilee through ruthless taxation for his building program and his embodiment of Roman imperial rule.261 (3) This presentation of Mark’s provenance paves the way for Horsley’s hermeneutical approach to and grip on Mark, which he reads as a story of and for submerged people. The crucial question is: “Was Mark written for us?”262 The answer is no, and only if we see through the “process of reduction to religion and appropriation” of Mark, begun already in the early church by making Mark a ‘Roman document,’263 we will be enabled to see what Mark really is, namely a story that “is about, originated from, and is addressed to a movement in the ancient counterpart of a ‘third-world’ people subjected to a western empire.”264 Once we realize that ‘empire’ is the horizon of the time of Jesus, we are ready to appreciate how Jesus “adapted and sharpened an oppositional discourse of a renewed covenantal society of justice rooted in that Israelite tradition” as well as “tapped the yearning and rive to realize that renewal.”265 Throughout his writings, Horsley increasingly highlights the oppressiveness of the Roman Empire, economically, culturally, and religiously, as the key to Mark’s story at the expense of the Jewish tradition.266 Jesus did not act in ––––––––––––––––– 1994 Seminar Papers, ed. Eugene H. Lovering, SBLSPS 33 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994), 91–135; Richard A. Horsley, Galilee: History, Politics, People (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1995); Richard A. Horsley, “Archaeology and the Villages of Upper Galilee: A Dialogue with Archaeologists,” BASOR 297 (1995): 5–16; Richard A. Horsley, “Archaeology of Galilee and the Historical Context of Jesus,” Neot 29.2 (1995): 211–29; Richard A. Horsley, Archaeology, History, and Society in Galilee: The Social Context of Jesus and the Rabbis (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1996); Richard A. Horsley, “Jesus and Galilee: The Contingencies of a Renewal Movement,” in Galilee through the Centuries: Confluence of Cultures, ed. Eric M. Meyers (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1999), 57–74. For an overview of Horsley’s research on Galilee, see Morten Hørning Jensen, Herod Antipas in Galilee: The Literary and Archaeological Sources on the Reign of Herod Antipas and its Socio-Economic Impact on Galilee, 2nd ed., WUNT 2/215 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 21–25. 260 Horsley, Hearing, 33, see Horsley, Archaeology, 29. 261 See, e.g., Horsley, Hearing, 35; Richard A. Horsley and Jonathan A. Draper, Whoever Hears You Hears Me: Prophets, Performance, and Tradition in Q (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1999), 58; Horsley and Silberman, Message, 35–36. 262 Horsley, Hearing, 27. 263 Horsley, Hearing, 30. 264 Richard A. Horsley, “A Response to Robert Gundry’s Review of Hearing the Whole Story,” JSNT 26.2 (2003): 154, see Horsley, Hearing, ix–xii; Horsley, “Jesus and the Politics,” 101. 265 Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 199. 266 See Horsley, Jesus and Empire, 15–34; Horsley, “Jesus and Empire”; Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 37–41.

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opposition to Judaism,267 which in essence is ‘a Western approach’ to extract Christology from Mark, to search for soteriology, or to read it as “a story about Christian discipleship.”268 Instead, Horsley’s approach to Mark is to underline how this gospel “presents Jesus as a Moses- and Elijah-like prophet engaged in the renewal of the people of Israel”269 by specifically being “in opposition to the Roman and Jerusalem rulers of the people.”270 (4) In order to prove the validity of this approach to Mark, Horsley discusses several passages. The “sea-crossings, exorcisms, healings and wilderness feedings”271 are all part of the Moses–Elijah Israelite exodus tradition which Mark revives. The legion saying of 5:9 is presented as crucial in understanding which type of exodus Jesus is performing. “The identity of the demon is Roman army,” which means that it is “the whole society that is possessed by the demonic imperial violence.”272 Also Mark 13 is crucial in Horsley’s reconstruction. The “supposedly ‘apocalyptic speech’” of Mark 13 in reality reveals “Jesus’ and/or his movement’s opposition to the Roman imperial order.”273 Apocalyptic speech reflects current political problems. “Far from being interested in speculating about the ‘end,’ Mark is concerned with the struggles of the present time.”274 Concerning the crucifixion scene, an interesting development in Horsley’s argumentation can be traced. In his early readings of Mark, the crucifixion plays virtually no role,275 whereas in his later writings it is presented as the key to unlocking the Gospel of Mark: Another look at our earliest Gospel sources suggests that the crucifixion was the decisive event in the historical breakthrough begun in Jesus’ confrontation with the rulers in Jerusalem that gave the impetus for the expansion of the Jesus movement(s). The effect of the crucifixion of Jesus on the movement he started was to transform the power that was intended to intimidate and dominate into the power that inspired commitment and solidarity in forming an alternative social order.276

The resurrection of Jesus, on the other hand, was secondary to Mark and other earlier sources that may or may not include it. Not so with the crucifixion. It testified that Jesus as a prophetic leader of the people “had boldly endured the ––––––––––––––––– 267 268

See Horsley, “Jesus and Empire,” 95. Horsley, Hearing, 28; see also, e.g., Horsley, “Submerged,” 156; Horsley, Hearing,

xiii. Horsley, Hearing, xiii. Horsley, Hearing, 191. 271 Horsley, “Submerged,” 158, see, e.g., Horsley, “Prophet like Moses”; Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 90–91; Horsley, Prophet Jesus, 102–3. 272 Horsley, Hearing, 140, emphasis original; see also Horsley, Jesus and Empire, 100– 103. 273 Horsley, Hearing, xiv. 274 Horsley, Hearing, 135. 275 See, e.g., Horsley, “Submerged”; Horsley, Hearing; Horsley, Jesus and Empire. 276 Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 199. 269 270

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torturous execution intended to intimidate and suppress resistance.”277 The cup-logion (14:24) becomes a statement of re-enactment of the covenant of Sinai that “bound God and the people, who promised to observe the principles of social-economic justice.” Thus, the Gospel of Mark “attests how the crucifixion of Jesus, as the imperial response to this public confrontation in Jerusalem, was the key event in the breakthrough that energized the movement.”278 As to the question of how Horsley views Mark’s use of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, it is fair to say that for some reason Horsley does not harvest its potential anti-imperial significance. Though at places he refers to the Priene inscription,279 he never makes a case out of Mark’s preference for the word. As a matter of fact, Horsley argues against the incipit of 1:1 as original, stating without argument that it is “probably not part of the original story but was added later in the manuscript tradition.”280 The aim of Horsley is to remove the christological reading of Mark, a task which the first line makes difficult. (5) Finally, as already mentioned, Horsley is among the most outspoken to draw contemporary, political implications from his reading. The role of capitalist West and especially America as New Israel or, better yet, New Rome, is a clear subtext throughout Horsley’s writings, most clearly expressed in several introductions or conclusions, for instance in the final chapter of Jesus and Empire titled “Christian Empire and American Empire”281 or in the introduction to In the Shadow of Empire where he directly characterizes “the Bush-Chaney administration’s invasion and occupation of Iraq” as an ideology of “New Rome.”282

––––––––––––––––– Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 200. Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 202; see also Horsley, Prophet Jesus, 149, 156–57. 279 See, e.g., Horsley, Jesus and Empire, 23–24. 280 Horsley, Hearing, 250, maintained in Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 190. For a strong criticism of Horsley on this point, see Robert H. Gundry, “Richard A. Horsley’s Hearing the Whole Story: A Critical Review of its Postcolonial Slant,” JSNT 26.2 (2003): 133. 281 Horsley, Jesus and Empire, 129–49. 282 Richard A. Horsley, “Introduction: The Bible and Empires,” in In the Shadow of Empire: Reclaiming the Bible as a History of Faithful Resistance, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2008), 3; see also Horsley, Hearing, 42; Horsley, “Jesus and Empire,” 96; Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 11. Horsley’s political interests have not gone by unnoticed. In a review of Hearing the Whole Story, Troels Engberg-Pedersen writes: “Horsley’s own ‘political’ engagement also colours his analysis to such a degree that a reader from the other side of the Atlantic may have serious doubts about the resulting picture” (Engberg-Pedersen, “Review Horsley Hearing,” 230), and concludes: “It smacks too much of romanticism, with roots in Herder and Marx and up-dated by a third-world perspective that builds on post-colonial thought in the Western world from the 1960s onwards. Beautiful, but historically false – of Jesus, probably, and certainly of Mark” (Engberg-Pedersen, “Review Horsley Hearing,” 245). 277 278

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In sum, while Horsley sometimes writes against the dichotomizing tendency of describing Jesus as either political or religious,283 the nerve of his reading of Mark’s Jesus is a Jesus who engaged his time and place and was not a ‘religious’ messiah dying an atoning death to free his disciples from this doomed world in a soon-to-happen apocalyptic scenario. At the most, Jesus was a martyr who took on the full force of the imperial oppression and died a ‘political’ death on the cross in order to disarm the Roman force from within.284

Jesus did “not die for others’ sins”285 but as a role model for Mark’s contemporaries, who Mark urged to take up their crosses as well, and as an inspiration to Christians today, who wish to engage their own time and empires.286 2.4.4 Vespasian or Jesus It has already been discussed above how Theißen, Evans, and Crossan view Vespasian as the decisive factor behind Mark’s use of the εὐαγγέλιον notion.287 In reality and with various nuances, this argument is part of a broader evaluation of Mark as driven by a wish to counter the claims of Vespasian, revealing the purpose of Mark as anti-imperial. For instance, after having established a case for Mark 13 as written under the influence of the Jewish War, Theißen continues by pointing out the evidence in Tacitus, Suetonius, Dio Cassius, and Josephus of the religious, imperial propaganda that legitimized Vespasian’s claim to the throne. Under the impression of these claims, Mark designed his “Gegenevangelium” to prove his point: “Nicht die Konsolidierung der politischen Lage unter Vespasian ist das ‘Evangelium’, sondern die Botschaft vom Leben und Sterben Jesu von Nazareth.”288 As already quoted above, this evaluation is corroborated in his article from 2014 in which he tries to steer a path between Widerstand and Aufstand.289 That is, Mark’s purpose is to inspire to resistance, though not rebellion. Theißen’s approach and conclusion outline the trajectory followed by quite a number of researchers who, on the one hand, refer to the oracles, prophecies, and miracle stories ascribed to Vespasian and, on the other hand, provide as many similarities and counter-stories as possible from Mark’s narrative. Martin Ebner, for instance, argues that when Mark in a pleonastic manner mentions that it was morning and the sun was rising, when the women went to the grave (16:2), it is no “purer Zufall” but meant as a direct contrast to the rising sun ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Horsley, Prophet Jesus, 3–4. Horsley, Prophet Jesus, 156. 285 Horsley, Hearing, 28. 286 See, e.g., Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 204–11; Horsley, “A Response,” 169. 287 See Section 2.2.4. 288 Theißen, Lokalkolorit, 284. 289 See Theißen, “Evangelium,” 71. 283 284

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displayed on the coins of the Flavians, revealing how Mark wrote “ein subversives Kontrastprogramm zur herrschenden religiösen, politischen und gesellschaftlichen Kultur.”290 The most detailed list of similarities is provided by Brian Incigneri as part of his argument for a Roman provenance of Mark, written in the later months of 71 CE under the impression of the Flavian triumphal parade. In this situation, Mark crafted his gospel to counter “the euangelion of Vespasian’s acclamation as the new emperor.”291 Through a comparison with the imperial propaganda surrounding Vespasian, such as his healing powers, his divine calling, and his role as saviour, lord and benefactor,292 Incigneri makes the claim that Mark is a “cryptic and rhetorical” message against Vespasian and Titus.293 In this sense, Mark is a piece of anti-imperial propaganda, though Incigneri never uses this designation nor enters into discussion with, e.g.. Horsley and Liew or anti-imperial and postcolonial theories. Examples of Incigneri’s parallels between Mark and Vespasian will be given below in connection with a discussion of the provenance of Mark.294 Evans takes a similar though less suggestive approach when in a couple of articles as well as in his commentary on Mark295 he marshals an array of possible similarities, allusions, and intentional contrasts between Jesus in Mark and Vespasian. These prompt him to conclude that Mark was written “as a conscious challenge to the rumours circulating in the Roman Empire that Jewish prophecy was fulfilled with the advent of Vespasian as the new emperor.”296 Especially problematic to Christians was the notion of Vespasian as the fulfilment of an “ambiguous oracle” in the Jewish Scriptures of a world-ruler that according to Josephus “signified the sovereignty of Vespasian” (J.W. 6.312– 314). As discussed by Evans, Josephus probably refers to Num 24:17. Basically, the argument of Evans is that the Flavian propaganda produced a tense situation in Rome where it would come as no surprise “if Christians, such as the evangelist Mark, should find it necessary to mount a challenge” to “the imperial cult of the divine emperor.”297 This necessitates a Roman provenance of Mark and a dating after 68/69.298 In turn, this throws new light on a number ––––––––––––––––– Martin Ebner, “Evangelium contra Evangelium,” BN 116 (2003): 41–42. For a similar approach to Ebner’s, see Ivan Head, “Mark as a Roman Document from the Year 69: Testing Martin Hengel’s Thesis,” JRH 28.3 (2004): 240–59. 291 Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 167. 292 See especially Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 168–77. 293 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 138, 226, 299. 294 See Section 2.5.4. 295 See Evans, “Mark’s Incipit”; Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20, lxxxi–xciii; Evans, “Beginning.” 296 Evans, “Beginning,” 86. 297 Evans, “Beginning,” 93. 298 Evans shifts between a dating of 68/69 (Evans, “Mark’s Incipit,” 81) and 69/70 (Evans, “Beginning,” 87). 290

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of occurences in Mark, such as 1:1; healing stories involving touching and spitting, countering Vespasian’s miracle stories;299 Jesus as a temple builder (14:58) versus Vespasian as builder of the Temple of Peace in Rome (e.g., J.W. 7.158); and Jesus as honoured with a triumphal procession to the cross300 versus Vespasian’s in Rome (J.W. 7.123–131). While Evans maintains that Mark’s narrative is deeply rooted in Jewish scripture (especially Second Isaiah), he concludes that Mark was written as a piece of “scriptural apologetic,” aimed towards the “new difficulties and challenges” posed by Vespasian.301 Like Horsley, Evans does not interact with postcolonial theory. In many respects, Adam Winn follows the trajectories of Evans and Incigneri in depicting Mark’s purpose as directed by a wish to pitch “Jesus’ impressive résumé against that of the current Roman emperor Vespasian.”302 In Mark, Jesus “out-Caesers Caesar.”303 In short, Winn proposes “a unified antiimperial reading of Mark’s Gospel,”304 which in several ways resembles the postcolonial reading of Mark as duplicating imperial hierarchy presented by Liew (see below). This explains why Winn is highly critical of the “sexual … political and economic egalitarianism,”305 Horsley finds in Mark’s purpose. Actually, to stretch his point, Winn claims contra Horsley that “Mark is not anti-imperial, but he is advancing the imperialism of both God’s kingdom and the one who bears it, Jesus.”306 To go along with the word play, Winn’s reading may be described as empire-anti-empire.307 Redaction-critical considerations provide the background for this presentation. As discussed further below,308 Winn argues that Mark was produced in Rome in the aftermath of the Jewish War to counter a christological crisis brought on the congregation in Rome due to the imperial propaganda of Vespasian and his “impressive résumé” as lord, saviour, benefactor, bringer of peace, and not least as a fulfilment of Jewish prophecies.309 Faced with all the immediate benefits of hailing Vespasian, ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Mark 7:33, contra, e.g., Dio Cassius, Vesp. 7.2–3. Suggested by T. E. Schmidt, “Mark 15.16–32: The Crucifixion Narrative and the Roman Triumphal Procession,” NTS 41 (1995): 1–18. 301 See Evans, “Beginning,” 103. 302 Winn, Purpose, 201. 303 Adam Winn, “‘No Stone Left Upon Another’: Considering Mark’s Temple Motif in Narrative and History,” in Christian Origins and the Establishment of the Early Jesus Movement, ed. Stanley E. Porter and Andrew W. Pitts, TENTS 12 (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 116. 304 Adam Winn, “The Gospel of Mark: A Response to Imperial Propaganda,” in An Introduction to Empire in the New Testament, ed. Adam Winn, RBS 84 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016), 91. 305 Winn, Purpose, 39. 306 Winn, Purpose, 40. 307 Hans Leander labels Winn’s reading of Mark “Imperial Gospel” (Leander, Discourses, 20–21). 308 See Section 2.5.4. 309 Winn, Purpose, 180, 154–69. 299 300

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“christological doubts” were growing in the church now facing “a significant crisis” that forced it to give a response.310 This crisis was further deepened by two other impending problems for the church: One was “eschatological anxiety” due to the fall of the temple. This earth-shattering event makes it “virtually certain” that the church leaders in Rome were confronted with questions of the end of time.311 Another was “fear of persecution” due to uncertainty of how Vespasian would tolerate the church in the wake of his “most recent encounter with messiah-crazed Jews.”312 It was to counter this situation that Mark presented Jesus as a figure of power superior to Vespasian. Winn arrives at this conclusion in two steps. First, based on Robert H. Gundry’s reading of Mark’s Christology as a ‘Christology of power,’313 Winn argues in his book from 2008 that “Mark’s Christology is predominantly a Christology of power from beginning to end,”314 which is meant to negate a ‘Christology of suffering’ and Jesus as “a suffering figure.”315 This conclusion is based on a one-sided reading of Mark’s presentation of Jesus, emphasizing Jesus’s miraculous power. For instance, Winn claims that before the passion predictions, Mark “has avoided any explicit reference to Jesus’ suffering and death for the eight chapters,”316 thus overlooking 2:18–20; 3:6, 19; and possibly 1:14 and 6:14–29. Following Gundry, the passion predictions are then interpreted as another proof of the power of Jesus since they serve to take the “shameful sting out of Jesus’ crucifixion.”317 Second, Winn reads Mark’s “major features” up against Vespasian, establishing an array of ways in which Mark’s “impressive résumé” of Jesus trumps Vespasian’s, such as Jesus as a more powerful exorcist and healer, a more modest ruler, and a better benefactor.318 Especially noteworthy is Winn’s reading of Jesus’s crucifixion. While being “an aspect of Jesus’ life and ministry that Mark cannot ignore,” it becomes “a subservient (rather than antithetical) motif to the motif of Jesus’s power and glory”319 due to the way in which it is presented as a better triumph than Vespasian’s.320 ––––––––––––––––– Winn, Purpose, 169. Winn, Purpose, 170–71. 312 Winn, Purpose, 172. 313 See Robert H. Gundry, Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993). 314 Winn, Purpose, 135. 315 Winn, Purpose, 136. 316 Winn, Purpose, 119. 317 Winn, Purpose, 119. 318 See especially Winn, Purpose, 180–94, for a resume, see Winn, “Imperial Propaganda.” 319 Winn, Purpose, 121. 320 Following Schmidt, “Crucifixion Narrative.” 310 311

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In his recent book from 2018, Winn maintains that the shame of the cross is mitigated through a depiction of Jesus as the perfect Roman ruler,321 but corrects himself with regard to his former adherence to a thorough Christology of power and now allows for a theology of suffering in Mark’s Christology.322 The difference, however, is negligible, since Winn is able to encompass this motive within Mark’s Roman framework as well since Roman ruler ideology to some extent encompassed a vision of self-neglective rulers “who sacrificed their own interests for those of the state.”323 While admitting that, even compared to the best of Roman rulers, Mark might “have stretched his readers somewhat”324 in his presentation of the shameful crucifixion of Jesus, Winn maintains that Mark portrays Jesus, in his power and suffering, as the superior “son of God,” trumping the claims of the new imperial dynasty. Another new feature in Winn’s recent studies is his inclusion of the role of the temple as an additional way of building a contrast to Vespasian. While Incigneri also anticipated this move, Winn enhances the analysis by including Timothy Gray’s analysis of the role of the temple in Mark325 and concludes that “the Markan Evangelist uses this anti-temple motif to dismantle the power of Flavian propaganda and simultaneously transfers that power to Yahweh and his Messiah Jesus.”326 In these ways, Winn’s presentation of Mark’s Jesus is basically from end to end controlled by its alleged anti-Vespasian setting in which the cross becomes the central proof of how Mark trumps Vespasian through an “extreme, Roman political ideology”327 and in which the centurion’s confession in 15:39 works as “a narrative fulfilment.”328 On balance, Winn strongly criticizes Horsley for making Mark “entirely about politics and economics,”329 just as he tries to incorporate the importance of Isaiah330 and allows for “atonement and forgiveness of sins”331 to be part of Mark’s theology. The same contra-distinction of Vespasian and Jesus is argued in three recent, major German monographs. Karl Matthias Schmidt in his Wege des Heils analyzes Mark from a historical perspective, using narrative and redaction criticism as well. The historical background of Mark is to be found in Vespasian’s ––––––––––––––––– Especially 10:42–45, see Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 95–114. It is noteworthy that Winn thanks the critics who helped him “away from such an extreme” (Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 152). 323 Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 105, with reference to Seneca, Ben. 4.31–32. 324 Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 112. 325 Timothy C. Gray, The Temple in the Gospel of Mark: A Study in its Narrative Role, WUNT 2/242 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008). 326 Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 148. 327 Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 152. 328 Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 161. 329 Winn, Purpose, 37. 330 See, e.g., Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 72–73. 331 Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 139. 321 322

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destruction of Jerusalem and his triumphal ascension to the throne with the Jewish nation and religion as stepping stones, which provides a post quem with regard to Mark’s date to around 71 CE as well as a Roman provenance.332 This conclusion is reached after a narrative outline of Mark’s Wege metaphor (Chapter I), a redaction-critical discussion of the crisis in Mark’s congregation that necessitated Mark to write (Chapter II), and most prominently a detailed reading of Mark’s story of Jesus labelled “der Weg des Herrschers,” contrasting Vespasian and Jesus (Chapter III). While Schmidt in many respects follows the trajectory of, for example, Incigneri and Winn, there are some notable differences, especially in the theological application of the similitude to Vespasian. Unlike Winn’s idea of Jesus’s powerful résumé, Schmidt understands the contrast as one of humiliation analogous to Paul’s “foolishness to the Gentiles” (1 Cor 1:23). In essence, “Jesu Weg der Demut” should be understood “als Kontrastvita zur Erfolsgeschichte Vespasians.” Instead: “Vespasian gelangte über die Niederwerfung der Juden zur Kaiserwürde, Jesu Weg führte dagegen scheinbar in die absolute Niedrigkeit.”333 Andreas Bedenbender presents in Frohe Botschaft am Abgrund a peculiar reading of Mark which agrees with the aforementioned in viewing the war as the controlling paradigm of the narrative, but stands out in portraying Mark’s Jesus as a failed Messiah due to the devastating effect of the Jewish War. In light of this “ist das ‘Evangelium von Jesus Christus, dem Sohn Gottes’ gescheitert.”334 Mark should be understood as an allegory of the destruction of the temple written by a ‘Judäo-Christen’ community as “ein Evangelium des Schreckens und der Angst”335 in order to cope with the calamity.336 Finally, Gabriella Gelardini in her monograph, Christus Militans: Studien zur politisch-militärischen Semantik im Markusevangelium vor dem Hintergrund des ersten jüdisch-römischen Krieges, provides the most extensive reading of Mark as a response to Vespasian and the war that I have come across. In the long Chapter 2, Gelardini exposes every pericope in Mark in order to extract its politisch-militärisches Profil which produces three main conclusions. First, Gelardini identifies 429 words in Mark that all have “militärische Bedeutung,”337 including everything from ‘Andrew’ to ‘angel’ and ‘man.’ Second, while Gelardini never actually argues a case for a post-war date of Mark, she concludes that such a date provides “viele, neue und oft auch plausiblere ––––––––––––––––– 332 Schmidt suggests tentatively that Mark was “ein Augenzeuge des Triumphzuges” (Schmidt, Wege des Heils, 508). 333 Schmidt, Wege des Heils, 527. 334 Bedenbender, Frohe Botschaft, 10 (emphasis original). 335 Bedenbender, Frohe Botschaft, 487. 336 The stark contrast to Schmidt’s portrayal of Mark’s war imagery is mutually recognized, see Schmidt, Wege des Heils, 18, and Bedenbender, Frohe Botschaft, 10. 337 Gelardini, Christus Militans, 27, see the sixty-seven page long listing of “kriegsrelevante Lexeme” in Mark, pp. 503–69.

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Deutungsangebote,”338 just as it allows a complete interpretation of every scene in Mark. Third, specifically regarding the death of Jesus, Gelardini concludes that in the light of the war it should be understood either “als Sinnbild für die militärisch Niederlage”339 (see Bedenbender) or better as a triumphales Opfertod in which Jesus’s death provides a victory that surpasses that of Vespasian (see, e.g., Incigneri and Winn). In the same manner as, for example, Incigneri does, Gelardini interprets specific words and happenings allegorically, understanding, e.g., λύτρον as Kriegsgeld and the notion of “going before” (προάγειν, 16:7) as a military march to Galilee.340 In short, Gelardini provides an all-encompassing presentation of Theißen’s idea of Mark “als Anti- oder Gegenevangelium,”341 arguing that by the end of reading, Mark’s readers would be assured through the hidden transcripts, even in the midst of post-war chaos and Vespasian’s military triumph, that an eschatological reversal is at hand, making Mark’s message of war “fürwahr zum Evangelium.”342 Another example to be mentioned is Stephen Simon Kimondo’s book from 2018 in which, much like, e.g., Gelardini, Incigneri, and Winn, he reads Mark as a script for a community that struggled not to succumb to the power of Vespasian and in need of encouragement “to identify themselves with Jesus, whose deeds demonstrated that he was truly God’s agent sent to establish God’s empire among his people.”343 Specifically, Kimondo argues this case by placing Mark’s community in Galilee (perhaps Southern Syria) where Vespasian’s war campaign is the background to which Mark provides a detailed commentary. For example, Mark’s opening εὐαγγέλιον proclamation would have been heard against how Vespasian was received as “good news” by the elite.344 The Isaianic notion of making the “paths straight” would have reminded the hearers of Vespasian’s command “to level the road on the stony mountain leading to the Jotapata before he entered and destroyed the city and its inhabitants.”345 Likewise, Vespasian’s tactic of starving cities to make them surrender stands in contrast to Jesus’s feeding miracles,346 just as “Vespasian’s crossing of the Mediterranean Sea with his troops from Rome to bring destruction in Judea” contrasts with Jesus’s crossing of “the Galilean sea in order to bring life to people.”347 Many other parallels and contrasts are presented; even places where ––––––––––––––––– Gelardini, Christus Militans, 27. Gelardini, Christus Militans, 27. 340 Gelardini, Christus Militans, 407. 341 Gelardini, Christus Militans, 884. 342 Gelardini, Christus Militans, 894. 343 Kimondo, Gospel of Mark, 186. 344 Kimondo, Gospel of Mark, 138. 345 Kimondo, Gospel of Mark, 133. 346 Kimondo, Gospel of Mark, 142–43. 347 Kimondo, Gospel of Mark, 179. 338 339

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obvious contrasts are lacking – for instance, Jesus is never hailed as saviour or benefactor – are used to bolster the case.348 Finally, to blur the picture even more, as will be outlined below,349 Hendrika N. Roskam has argued for the precise opposite attitude towards the Flavian administration in Mark, viewing Mark’s purpose as apologetic towards the post-war Roman administration in Galilee in order to secure the congregations a path forward after turbulent times.350 2.4.5 Postcolonial Ambivalence Switching to postcolonial-informed readings of Mark, we likewise encounter an array of full-length monographs besides articles by a number of researchers, which as in the case of anti-imperial readings differ substantially from one another on crucial issues. Tat-siong Benny Liew has presented what could be termed the most surprising reading of Mark in his book Politics of Parousia.351 Coming almost to the opposite conclusion than do Belo, Myers, Waetjen, Horsley, and others who see Mark as distinctly anti-imperial through means of non-violence and equality, Liew argues that Mark duplicates the colonial way of using power to build systems of absolutism, binarism, and hierarchy, only now with Jesus at the top – a view quite similar to Winn’s idea of Jesus’s powerful résumé. Liew links this reading of Mark to his own “diasporic consciousness,” growing up in Hong Kong, feeling alienation and pressure from two sides – the British colonial powers and mainland China – prompting him to refuse “to idealize anything.”352 Two things in particular characterize Liew’s reading. On the one hand, Liew determines the entire Gospel as “informed by an apocalyptic framework,”353 which should not be understood in an introvert or religious manner but as a potent, political language. On the other hand, Liew argues that in his apocalyptic struggle with the Roman colonial system Mark has in essence duplicated its rhetoric of power and thus merely replaced “one authority by another.”354 Liew admits that Mark’s Jesus at times acts anti-authoritarian, aligning himself with the marginalized,355 but the way in which Jesus is ascribed ––––––––––––––––– 348 See Kimondo, Gospel of Mark, 139. Methodologically speaking, such an approach raises the question of falsifiability, see Tuckett, “Christ and the Emperor,” 200. 349 See Section 2.5.2. 350 See Roskam, Purpose. 351 Liew, Politics. See also Tat-sion Benny Liew, “Tyranny, Boundary and Might: Colonial Mimicry in Mark’s Gospel,” JSNT 73 (1999): 7–31; Tat-sion Benny Liew, “The Gospel of Mark,” in A Postcolonial Commentary on the New Testament Writings, ed. Fernando F. Segovia and R. S. Sugirtharajah, BP 13 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 105–32. 352 Liew, “Tyranny,” 9. See Liew, Politics, 41; Liew, “Mark,” 105. 353 Liew, Politics, 47. 354 Liew, Politics, 93. 355 See, e.g., Liew, Politics, 86–93; Liew, “Mark,” 110–11.

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absolute authority on par with ‘the gospel’ (Mark 8:35), higher than Elijah and Moses, produces a “singularity” which works as “an effective ideological weapon that leads to absolutism by allowing no comparison or competition.”356 Liew also points to the “pecking order” among Jesus’s disciples and the unavoidable non-choice “serve-or-be-destroyed” relationship to the apocalyptically powerful Jesus357 as background for his bleak evaluation of Mark’s Jesus as “no different from the ‘might-is-right’ ideology that has led to colonialism, imperialism, and various forms of suffering and oppression.”358 In evaluation, Liew’s reading is remarkable and has a ‘sobering effect’ on the often romanticized revolutionary readings. Nonetheless, Liew’s presentation does come across as unduly one-sided in that his binary approach conflicts with Bhabha’s notion of mimicry to which Liew refers.359 This describes not a process of mere duplication but an ambivalent process involving disruption and mutation.360 Hans Lander suggests for this reason that Liew is in essence reacting against a Constantinian (imperial) appropriation of the cross, rather than to Mark’s presentation of Jesus, which is encoded with the ambivalent interplay between the victorious as well as the suffering side to Jesus’s sonship.361 Precisely this binarism is what is sought to be avoided by the next two contributions to be discussed. In his book from 2007, A Postcolonial Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus, Samuel tries to incorporate the full impact of postcolonial concepts of ambivalence, hybridity, and mimicry, thus avoiding binary simplicity.362 While Samuel actually provides a full-length analysis of Mark in this light, his discussion of Mark’s gospel notion in 1:1 is most pertinent to our purposes. Here, Samuel states his case straightforwardly, namely that Mark presents Jesus as a “colonial/postcolonial conundrum,” who is neither “anti- or pro-colonial” but instead a figure that at one and the same time “accommodates and disrupts both the author’s relatively dominant native Jewish culture, traditions and discourses and the alien Roman colonialist culture and discourses of power.”363 On the one hand, Mark’s opening line draws on the Jewish story of ––––––––––––––––– Liew, “Tyranny,” 16. See also Liew, Politics, 94–102; Liew, “Mark,” 112–27. See Liew, Politics, 99; Liew, “Mark,” 166. 358 Liew, Politics, 107. 359 Liew, Politics, 93–94. 360 See Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 84. 361 Leander, Discourses, 239–41, see Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 85. S. Moore pointedly describes such an understanding of Mark’s cross as “a bold entrepreneurial wager that yields an eschatological empire” rather than an “expenditure without reserve” presented in line with the spirit of the widow with the two mites, see Moore, Empire and Apocalypse, 43. 362 Pointedly, Samuel describes the relationship between the native and the alien colonialists as a “complex process of appropriating and abrogating, mimicking and mocking, affiliating and repulsing, consenting and conflicting” (Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 86). 363 Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 154. 356 357

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“YHWH’s imperium” as presented by Isaiah.364 On the other hand, 1:1 is “a mimetic design” that counters the “ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Καίσαρου υἱοῦ θεοῦ”365 by affiliating itself with the imperial cult, while at the same time abrogating “the imperial gospel of Rome,” making Jesus “an anomalous hybrid figure.”366 From there, Samuel proceeds to analyze the rest of Mark with special focus on sonship. Interestingly, Samuel admits that the Roman story is subdued to the Jewish. Mark avoids “any explicit reference to Roman colonialism in the early part of the story,”367 instead placing Jesus’s “transcultural hybridity within the native Jewish-religio-political discourses of the north.”368 While this changes in Jerusalem with the first and only direct references to the Roman emperor and a Roman official, Samuel’s analysis emphasizes how the focus in Jesus’s activities primarily concerns Jewish traditions. These are the temple,369 the Passover tradition in which Mark’s Jesus “mimics certain aspects of the native Jewish Passover tradition only to disrupt this tradition and hybridize the covenant,”370 and the sacrificial cult itself which Mark presents by making an “imitation-with-a-difference.”371 In sum, Samuel’s reading provides a highly interesting case by reading Mark in its entirety and thereby underlining the Jewish discourse in Mark even when read from a postcolonial perspective, only now clothed in specific postcolonial terminology such as Jesus’s ‘transcultural hybridity.’ Leander provides another profound reading of Mark in his book Discourses of Empire: The Gospel of Mark from a Postcolonial Perspective. While Leander shares Samuel’s understanding of postcolonial hybridity, or third space, as Leander prefers to label it, there is a notable difference in Leander’s approach that effects the overall reading. Instead of addressing the entirety of Mark, Leander chooses to restrict his focus to seven places where interaction with the Roman colonial powers shine through the most, namely 1:1, 5:1–20, 7:24–30, 8:31–9:1, 11:1–11, 12:13–17, and 15:39. Also, unlike Samuel, who specifically avoids linking his reading of Mark to contemporary issues,372 Leander follows Horsley and others in overtly stating his “personal reasons” for reading Mark postcolonially, such as living in a multi-ethnic community and being a “peace ––––––––––––––––– Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 93. Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 92. 366 Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 107. 367 Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 123. Mark 4:35–5:20 with the crossing of the sea and legion of the demons is the exception to this picture, see Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 127. 368 Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 128. 369 See Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 135–38. 370 Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 145. 371 Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 156. 372 See Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 161. 364 365

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activist,”373 looking for ways of freeing Mark’s message from the Lutheran binary division between politics and religion in order to see how Mark today “offers an amazingly rich and exciting source for construing a post-Constantinian Christian self-understanding.”374 Like Samuel, however, Leander spends considerable time outlining his postcolonial, theoretical basis, informed especially by the concepts of “mimicry, colonial ambivalence, hybridity, third space, catachresis, and pharmakon, all addressing the slippery nature of the relation between the dominant and the dominated.”375 Still, while Leander in this way tries to free himself from the binarism of the anti-imperial readings and rather wants to talk about negotiation than negation, the main target of his project is the Western tradition of reading Mark from a colonial perspective. In his novel and highly thought-provoking Part II, Leander examines sixteen nineteenth-century commentaries to Mark, concluding that, with one exception, they are locked between three interrelated binary divisions that determine their readings, namely Greek vs. Semitic, Jewish vs. gentile, and spiritual vs. worldly.376 For example, Leander concludes, concerning Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem and the question of tribute, that the binarism between spiritual and worldly blinded the colonial readers from seeing “the political dimensions of the episodes … involving no friction with imperial authorities.”377 In the final Part III, Leander seeks to correct this by reading the same passages in Mark from a twenty-first century postcolonial perspective. To mention a few of Leander’s many insightful readings, he understands Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον and Son of God-designation of 1:1 much in the same manner as Evans, Winn, and Samuel. In this, Leander views Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as inheriting from the dual background of the Hebrew Bible and the Roman imperial cult, not least as it unfolded around Vespasian as he ascended the throne as “the gospel of the Flavians.” To this Mark responded by taking “a rather clear oppositional and subversive position,” by proclaiming a deeply anti-Roman “gospel of Jesus Christ.”378 In evaluation, while Leander continuously stresses Mark’s position as a “third in-between space,”379 his reading bends towards exposing how Mark’s narrative subverted Roman positions of power. For example, the saying of taking up one’s cross is a perfect example of the cunning powerfulness of catachresis. In itself, crucifixion “signified the most repressive aspect of imperial discourse,” being the very “material density … around which Roman power ––––––––––––––––– Leander, Discourses, x–xi. Leander, Discourses, 320. 375 Leander, Discourses, 312. 376 See Leander, Discourses, 145. 377 Leander, Discourses, 147–48. 378 Leander, Discourses, 191. 379 Leander, Discourses, 259. 373 374

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was constructed.”380 But the minute Mark reuses the cross “as a metaphor for following Jesus, its meaning in imperial discourse is subverted.”381 In the same way, the confession of the Roman centurion of Jesus as God’s Son is presented as an example of a third space position which, while being neither imperial nor anti-imperial, opens up a “metonymic gap” that through the use of “mimicry/mockery” becomes much more “threatening to imperial discourse” than “downright opposition”382 could ever be. In essence, Mark’s challenge to the empire “did not lie as much in the oppositional contrasting of Jesus and the emperor as it did in the playful, yet profound, destabilizing of imperial notions of strength and triumph that were enacted in anticipation of God’s unimperial empire.”383 Thus, while Leander manages to show how ‘imperialist readings’ of the nineteenth century overlooked and avoided any political implications of Mark, Leander’s own approach tilts towards another binarism by focussing almost completely on how certain select passages in Mark can be interpreted to be an even greater threat to a colonial system than outright opposition and thus overlooking or downplaying the Jewish discourse of Mark, better represented by Samuel. Besides Liew, Samuel, and Leander, a number of other researchers have provided readings of Mark in a postcolonial perspective in articles or less extensive books. Moore has in three almost identical articles384 presented his postcolonial take on Mark in which he makes the “my name is Legion” in Mark 5:9 “a ‘hermeneutical key’ with which to unlock the gospel as a whole.”385 To his credit, Moore admits that there is a huge difference between the Book of Revelation’s imagined destruction of Rome and Mark’s apocalyptic vision of Rome’s destruction of Jerusalem. In reality, “Mark’s anti-imperial invective really only extends to the local elite.”386 Still, Jesus’s death on “the colonial cross”387 is the prequel to his final Parousia which will signify “the unceremonious cessation of the Roman empire” when Jesus will “bump Caesar off the throne.”388 ––––––––––––––––– Leander, Discourses, 246–47. Leander, Discourses, 247. 382 Leander, Discourses, 304. 383 Leander, Discourses, 304. 384 Stephen D. Moore, “Mark and Empire: ‘Zealot’ and ‘Postcolonial’ Readings,” in Postcolonial Theologies: Divinity and Empire, ed. Catherine Keller, Michael Nausner, and Mayra Rivera (Missouri: Chalice, 2004), 134–48; Stephen D. Moore, “Mark and Empire,” in Recognising the Margins: Developments in Biblical and Theological Studies, ed. Werner G. Jeanrond and Andrew D. H. Mayes (Dublin: Columba, 2006), 70–90; Moore, Empire and Apocalypse, 24–44. 385 Moore, “Mark and Empire,” 73. 386 Moore, “Mark and Empire,” 81. 387 Moore, “Mark and Empire,” 76. 388 Moore, “Mark and Empire,” 77. 380 381

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David Joy presents in Mark and its Subalterns a reading of Mark from an Indian perspective. Unlike the aforementioned researchers, Joy builds his case around Galilee as Mark’s provenance, thus joining, for example, Myers, Waetjen, and Horsley in reading Mark as a script ‘from the margin.’ Following especially Horsley’s work on first-century Galilee, living conditions in Galilee are described in a highly negative manner, to the extent that he claims that “the colonial power even encouraged mass enslavement for cheap labour and other hard work,”389 on top of which came famine and drought, military officials in every town, crushing taxes, monetization of the economy, besides infiltration of the synagogues by colonial collaborators. Clearly, even by Horsley’s standards, Joy presents a one-sided reading of first-century Galilee, out of tune with recent research,390 which he claims should be “the real background for the study of Mark.”391 From this viewpoint, he continues to analyze three select texts as proof of Mark’s anti-colonial sentiments. Seong Hee Kim undertakes a reading of Mark in “a Korean postcolonial perspective”392 in which she focusses on the role of women in Mark, furthering the pioneering studies of Fiorenza and Tolbert.393 According to Kim, the women in Mark represent “the others, the subalterns, and the hybrid subjects who are nameless, outsiders, marginalized, ambiguous, and without a language of their own.”394 By studying the role of the women in four episodes, Kim concludes that in Mark’s story they are heralds of the instability of the old, colonial order and the dawning of the new order in the kingdom of God, which again is reflected in the role of women in Korean Christianity. Another feminist reading is presented by Laure K. Cobb, in which she in a relatively short space undertakes an analysis of Mark chapter by chapter, after three initial chapters outlining empire in first-century Palestine, the living conditions in Palestine, and the role of “Empire Today.” Cobb begins by crediting her reading to Ched Myers, whose study of Mark opened her eyes to the relevance of Mark in a highly colonized world with gross inequalities in which ––––––––––––––––– Joy, Subalterns, 73. For an introduction to the debate over living conditions in first-century Galilee in dialogue with Horsley and others, see Morten Hørning Jensen, “Climate, Droughts, Wars and Famines in Galilee as a Background for Understanding the Historical Jesus,” JBL 131.2 (2012): 307–24; Morten Hørning Jensen, “Rural Galilee and Rapid Changes: An Investigation of the Socio-Economic Dynamics and Developments in Roman Galilee,” Bib 93.1 (2012): 43–67; Morten Hørning Jensen, “Purity and Politics in Herod Antipas’s Galilee: The Case for Religious Motivation,” JSHJ 11 (2013): 3–34; Jensen, “Political history,” 51–77. 391 Joy, Subalterns, 80. 392 Kim, Mark, Women and Empire. 393 See Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (New York: Crossroad, 1984); Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel. 394 Kim, Mark, Women and Empire, 157. 389 390

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Cobb has worked for decades as a social worker.395 While from a scholarly perspective the book is single-minded and moves from headline to headline, it is nevertheless a fine and at times moving example of what Mark means when read from the margins. 2.4.6 Discussion The emergence of, first, political readings of Mark and, successively, anti-imperial or postcolonial readings specifically impact our understanding of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον. While the relevance of the imperial cult was suggested by Harnack and Deissmann, among others, the renewed interest in Rome has brought focus on Mark’s place as locus imperium and the interplay between his εὐαγγέλιον and imperial propaganda. Unfortunately, as in the case with the discussion of the pedigree of εὐαγγέλιον and its inner, theological use of Mark, more than thirty years of intense discussion has not brought us near any kind of consensus. To the contrary, the research review of these reading strategies above proves disagreements to the extent that it becomes a methodological problem. The most important disagreement concerns the description of Mark’s relation towards the empire. There are as many as six different positions being argued, ranging from ‘pro-empire/colonial’ to ‘anti-empire/colonial,’ with variations of ‘ambivalent’ in the middle. On the one end we find Roskam’s reading of Mark as a political apology aimed at the Roman administration in Galilee. Next, while not being specifically ‘pro-empire,’ Winn and Liew provide readings of Mark describing his approach as a duplication of the Roman, colonial power system in an empire-anti-empire battle of the giants. Without the postcolonial methodological system, Winn arrives at this conclusion through a comparison of Mark’s Jesus with the imperial propaganda surrounding Vespasian, arguing that the impressive résumé of Jesus was designed to counter the ditto of Vespasian. Liew focusses on how Mark, negatively in his opinion, duplicates the colonial hierarchy. Third, another variation of the Jesus versus Vespasian reading is provided by Schmidt, who finds room for emphasizing the cross as humiliation, thus embodying a different value system than Roman values of power. One might see Bedenbender as the logical conclusion of this view, with his case for Mark’s Jesus as a failed Messiah designed to console the failure of the Jewish nation as such. Fourth, the majority of researchers determine Mark’s position towards Rome as ‘anti-imperial’ in the sense that he has Jesus identifying himself with the marginalized and oppressed in the imperial margins, in casu Galilee. While this position is already taken by Belo, Myers, and Waetjen, Horsley is the one who presents it most vigorously. The fifth and sixth positions argue that Mark’s relationship towards Rome is not understood apart from a fine-tuned postcolonial approach emphasizing the ––––––––––––––––– 395

Cobb, Mark and Empire, 1–5.

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complex interaction at play between the colonizing and the colonized, producing hybridity, ambivalence, and the like. In some cases, like Moore, Joy, and even Leander, the thrust of the presentation tilts towards an anti-colonial reading of Mark in which the mimicry produced by Mark ultimately serves to undermine the imperial system. In Samuel’s reading, the ambivalence is kept more open, but the cost is, as Samuel admits, that large bulks of Mark’s narrative are related to Mark’s Jewish heritage rather than a Roman setting. A second major problem concerns an implicit methodological flaw in these readings, namely the question of “falsifiability,” to borrow a term from Tuckett.396 When, for instance, Mark’s presentation of Jesus as superior to Vespasian is built on instances where similarities are argued as well as instances where these are lacking,397 logically the question must be raised on which grounds such a reading can be falsified. Finally, at least in five other areas, disagreements are obvious. First, as already noticed, while some researchers provide a reading based on postcolonial theory and nomenclature, others proceed from a historical setting of living conditions in Rome or Galilee. Second, while some researchers provide an exhaustive reading of Mark (e.g., Samuel, Gelardini, and Cobb), others limit themselves to a select number of texts (e.g., Horsley, Leander, Moore, Joy, Kim, and Choi). Third, as will be seen in detail below, there is no agreement on Mark’s provenance. Fourth, there is a marked difference in the approach to contemporary, political issues. While Samuel specifically eschews contemporary application of his reading of Mark, most of the researchers surveyed above are explicitly seeking to do so. Finally, there is no agreement on how to incorporate the Jewish setting of Mark. Some, like Leander and Liew, pay little or no attention to Mark’s use of Jewish Scriptures and the like. Others seek a “double coding” outlining both Mark’s Jewish and Roman background to various degrees, e.g., Winn, Samuel, and even Horsley, who understands Mark as a part of an old, Israelite, Northern tradition. To sum up, while there is no turning back to nineteenth century “colonial readings” or the like, the surveyed approaches here fail to convince, partly due to their highly conflicting results, partly due to methodological problems of which the blurred line between the chosen method and the researcher’s own agenda produces readings that at times just smack “too much of romanticism,” to quote Troels Engberg-Petersen commenting on Horsley’s reading of Mark.398 The important conclusion and consequence from this part of our Status Quaestionis is that in the same way that an answer to our main research question on Mark’s narrative unfolding and understanding of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον ––––––––––––––––– Tuckett, “Christ and the Emperor,” 200. See the discussion of Winn’s presentation of Jesus pro et contra Vespasian in Tuckett, “Christ and the Emperor,” 194–96. 398 Engberg-Pedersen, “Review Horsley Hearing,” 245; see also n. 282 above. 396 397

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cannot be based on alleged or lacking external rooting of this notion, it cannot be based on modern reading strategies leading to highly conflicting scenarios, testifying to an imbalance between the researcher’s agenda and the text as a narrative unity. For this reason, the discussion of Mark’s unfolding of his εὐαγγέλιον in Chapters 4–6 will proceed by paying attention to what is on the surface of the text, rather than alleged hidden transcripts, bringing in the question of the Roman Empire only when obvious and part of the narrative complexity of Mark.

2.5 Provenance and Gospel Purpose399 2.5.1 From Gospel Problems to Provenance Problems This brings us to the final research discussion of importance for our understanding of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον. It is obvious by now that this is in no way a straightforward notion. As a mean of reducing complexity and obtaining a vantage point from which to do so, the question of Mark’s provenance has played an increasingly important role in the overall understanding of Mark’s purpose and message, including his gospel notion. In other words, the Markan gospel problems have extended to the Markan provenance problems. Unfortunately, the entire prospect of using provenance to pinpoint Mark’s purpose has become a perilous affair with the breakdown of the dominance of a Roman provenance. With some significant forerunners,400 Marxsen’s redaktionsgeschichtliche Studien marked a watershed by successfully recasting Mark as “ein ‘galiläisches Evangelium.’”401 This paved the way for decades of discussions that have turned the once Roman Hauptstrasse into a frustrating Sackgasse, to borrow a pun from John R. Donahue,402 or perhaps several Sackgassen with the three most well-trodden proposals being Rome, Syria, and Galilee. ––––––––––––––––– 399 The present section has been published in an earlier version in Morten Hørning Jensen, “Provenance and the Holy Grail of Purpose in Recent Markan Research,” NovT 63 (2021): 1–21. 400 Lohmeyer and Lightfoot were notable exceptions, both viewing Mark as a product of – or at least building on – traditions from early Christianity in Galilee standing in opposition to the Jesus tradition in Jerusalem (see Ernst Lohmeyer, Galiläa und Jerusalem, FRLANT 52 [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1936], and Robert Henry Lightfoot, Locality and Doctrine in the Gospels [London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1938]; see further the discussion in Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “Galilee and Jerusalem: History and Literature in Marcan Interpretation,” CBQ 44 [1982]: 242–44). 401 Marxsen, Markus, 59. 402 John R. Donahue, “The Quest for the Community of Mark’s Gospel,” in The Four Gospels 1992: Festschrift Frans Neirynck, vol. 2 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1992), 836.

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Two observations provide the impetus for the ensuing investigation. First, the breakdown of the consensus has not led to caution regarding harvesting the hermeneutical significance embedded in a particular provenance and date. On the contrary, provenance is increasingly treated as a hermeneutical question rather than a preliminary historical issue. In logical terms this is surprising, since establishing a reading of Mark with a contested provenance as hermeneutical key is obviously a questionable approach, especially after the dismissal of the compelling force of the external evidence for a Roman provenance in recent research.403 Even advocates of a Roman provenance are forced to argue from inner evidence, which has heightened the risk of circular reasoning. Inner evidence pointing to a specific provenance and date are notoriously tricky to pinpoint and often only become “obvious” or unequivocal once a historical provenance is decided upon and are thus circular. This problematic situation was one of Dwight N. Peterson’s main points in his study from 2000 entitled The Origins of Mark. Peterson claims that provenance is often understood to provide “interpretative control” and a position from which we can “authoritatively … adjudicate between competing interpretations.”404 However, the extension of the provenance question from a historical issue to a hermeneutical key to Mark’s purpose is “to expect the impossible”405 of a reconstructed Markan community, which led Peterson to conclude that the present state of affairs should warn against viewing these as “hermeneutically necessary”406 to read Mark, as well as the other gospels for that matter. The second observation is that, in the two decades since Peterson’s investigation, Mark’s provenance has been argued more precisely and narrowly than ever in terms of place and time. In terms of time, Mark is dated within months of a suggested year; in terms of place, the traditional tripartition might not serve the level of detail in the current proposals available, locating Mark in specific cities such as Capernaum, Caesarea Maritima, Jerusalem, Pella, Caesarea Philippi, besides Rome.407 Naturally, such precision becomes counterproductive when it is conflicting and drives the question into an even tighter deadlock. This deadlock becomes even more problematic when considering that the last two decades of study have not only produced the most precise provenances, but also the most heavy-handed hermeneutical utilization thereof in terms of Mark’s purpose and overall message. In other words, the question of Mark’s provenance and gospel purpose has never been closer than they are now, and ––––––––––––––––– See Joel Marcus, “The Jewish War and the Sitz im Leben of Mark,” JBL 111.3 (1992): 441–62. 404 Dwight N. Peterson, The Origins of Mark: The Markan Community in Current Debate, BibInt 48 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 3. 405 Peterson, Markan Community, 4. 406 Peterson, Markan Community, 202. 407 See Christopher B. Zeichmann, “Capernaum: A ‘Hub’ for the Historical Jesus or the Markan Evangelist?,” JSHJ 15 (2017): 155. 403

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the objective of the following is to evaluate the provenance discussion since Peterson’s study and to provide a proposal of how to handle provenance in the tension between history and hermeneutics. 2.5.2 From Galilee to Capernaum Marxsen’s characterization of Mark as “ein ’galiläisches Evangelium’” was not first and foremost intended to be a “historisch-geographisches” determination of Mark’s provenance, but rather an “eschatologisch-geographisches”408 notion, in which ‘Galilee’ has attracted the meaning of the place of the imminent return of Jesus.409 In contrast, the idea of those arguing for a Galilean provenance is to view Mark as a product of an actual, rural, Galilean community,410 or written for rural, Galilean communities.411 This is also the case with what is, to date, the longest defence of a Galilean provenance, provided by Hendrika Roskam: The Purposes of the Gospel of Mark in its Historical and Social Context. As the title promises, Roskam’s objective is twofold. In the first part, she establishes her view of Mark as a script directed towards a community located in Galilee in the immediate aftermath of the Jewish War, now facing two oppositional fronts: Jewish prosecution and Roman suspicion of insurgency. In the second and third parts, she applies the established provenance, date, and readership of Mark to unlock the narrative’s central message and purpose. With regard to provenance, Roskam deliberately bases her arguments for a Galilean post-war setting on internal evidence, taking it as an essential premise “that the Gospel text can provide us, indirectly, with information about the actual, historical situation on the evangelist and his readers.”412 In brief, Roskam begins by discussing four passages (4:17; 8:34–35; 10:29–30; 13:9–13) that indicate that “Mark’s Gospel was written for a Christian community that suffered persecution.”413 Since this persecution is characterized explicitly in 13:9 as twofold, from “governors and kings,” Roskam proceeds by trying to make such a case probable in post-war Galilee, although no sources outside Mark are available. For the Jewish community at this time, the Christians “must have” appeared as a deviation “inclined to social insurrection”414 which is why they would have turned them over to the Romans. Further, after dismissing Rome and Syria as likely provenances, Roskam seeks, along the same lines as ––––––––––––––––– Marxsen, Markus, 60 Marxsen accepts the patristic view of the flight to Pella and views Pella as the location of the Markan community, but argues that borders were fluid and that the reference to Pella might have included the region of Pella, see Marxsen, Markus, 76 n. 3. 410 See, e.g., Kelber, Kingdom in Mark, 10–12; Myers, Binding the Strong, 41–42. 411 See, e.g., Horsley, Hearing, 81. 412 Roskam, Purpose, 14. 413 Roskam, Purpose, 27. 414 Roskam, Purpose, 140. 408 409

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Marxsen, to establish the unique role of Galilee in Mark, pointing not only to the dual command of meeting the resurrected Jesus in Galilee (14:27; 16:7) but also the role of the Galilean women and Mark’s detailed knowledge of Galilean geography, which Roskam evaluates as precise, unlike his treatment of the same in the Syrian context.415 In the second and third parts of her study, Roskam applies the provenance, date, and Galilean milieu of Mark’s congregation as a key to unlock Mark’s purpose, concluding that Mark’s Gospel should be understood “above all” as “an apologetic writing” written to free the congregation of “suspicion of subversiveness.”416 Mark may portray Jesus as the ‘Son of God’ and the ‘Messiah,’ but not as a royal pretender, only as a religious figure as “God’s final agent.”417 Viewed in this light, the secrecy motif is Mark’s way of “actively trying to prevent a political interpretation”418 of Jesus’s messiahship. It is a “literary device” used to ensure that Jesus was not trying to “re-establish a free and independent Israel,” nor trying “to mobilize the masses in preparation for a revolt.”419 A rebellious implication of the crucifixion is removed by pointing to the Jewish leaders as the real masterminds, while at the same time interpreting it in light of “the suffering righteous one” of the Psalms. Thus, Roskam’s post-war Galilean provenance provides her with a political understanding of Mark’s purpose, namely to prove that Jesus “should not be considered an anti-Roman rebel,”420 and that the Markan community should not be seen “as a threat to public order” or a “subversive movement.”421 Interestingly, in his newly published dissertation already referred to above,422 Kimondo argues the same Galilean post-war provenance and dates as Roskam (although he is open to southern Syria) but applies this setting entirely differently when it comes to understanding Mark’s message. Instead of dismounting Jesus’s revolutionary potential, Kimondo argues that Mark wrote to present Jesus as the alternative to Vespasian.423 It is also interesting to note the high degree of similarities to the readings presented by Incigneri and Winn, ––––––––––––––––– See Roskam, Purpose, 101–10. Roskam, Purpose, 236–37. 417 Roskam, Purpose, 170. 418 Roskam, Purpose, 187. 419 Roskam, Purpose, 187–88. 420 Roskam, Purpose, 206. 421 Roskam, Purpose, 209–10. 422 See Section 2.4.4. 423 Since Kimondo wants to apply “literary criticism” as well as “historical reconstruction” (Kimondo, Gospel of Mark, 2), it is sometimes difficult to determine whether he is arguing, on a historical level, that Mark wrote with the purpose of countering the devastation of Galilee by Vespasian, or whether he is arguing, on a literary level, that Mark’s text “may have” been received in this way by post-war Galilean readers (see, e.g., Kimondo, Gospel of Mark, 140). 415 416

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who base their conclusions on a Roman provenance. The only difference is the way in which a Galilean and Roman setting provides different points of comparisons to Vespasian. Finally, I will briefly mention two recent proposals by Joanna Dewey and Christopher Zeichmann, both of which contain highly specific suggestions regarding how and where Mark is Galilean. Dewey suggests that Mark is the final product of a three-stage process through which the story of Jesus evolved from an oral, Aramaic state preserved by the first followers of Jesus, who returned to their Galilean villages such as Capernaum after Jesus’s crucifixion, to a mixed oral and written stage marked by missions into the Greek-speaking areas surrounding Galilee, and then to the final stage, in which Mark was produced in a rural Galilean, perhaps Capernean, setting.424 While Dewey admits that her proposal is hypothetical and notes Peterson’s warning against circularity, she maintains that “positing a specific provenance is useful at least heuristically.”425 Zeichmann, for his part, does not provide mitigating remarks for his case, which is to prove Mark’s provenance as not only Galilee but specifically Capernaum. Working from the presupposition of redaction criticism in which the “differences between Jesus’ context and the author’s context are minimized,”426 Zeichmann argues that Mark, compared to Q, Matthew, Luke, and the so-called Sign Gospel, shows a specific interest in Capernaum as a “hub” for Jesus, which reveals its origin. While some of Zeichmann’s arguments are uncontroversial,427 others come across as dubious and unconvincing. For example, it seems fanciful and circular when Zeichmann argues that the story of the children used as role models (9:36–37) points to Capernaum as provenance, since these children at the time of writing would be adult members of the Jesus community, now able to use this story as a carte blanche for demanding hospitality. The same could be said of Zeichmann’s reading of the notion of people from Jerusalem gathering around Jesus (3:8) as proof of post-war Jerusalemites taking up refuge in Capernaum. 2.5.3 From Syria to Sectarianism Joel Marcus has in recent years provided the strongest case for Syria as provenance, even suggesting Pella as a possible location,428 followed lately by Timo––––––––––––––––– 424

Joanna Dewey, “A Galilean Provenance for the Gospel of Mark?,” Forum 3.2 (2013):

116. Dewey, “A Galilean Provenance,” 103. Zeichmann, “Capernaum,” 156. 427 For example, the central role occupied by Capernaum in the inauguration of Jesus’s ministry, the repeated instruction to meet the resurrected Jesus in Galilee (14:27; 16:7), and the number of stories that take place here throughout the gospel. 428 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 25–39; Marcus, “Jewish War.” 425 426

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thy Wardle.429 While Theißen’s study of the Lokalkolorit of the gospel tradition also argues a Syrian provenance,430 Marcus’s study departs from Theißen’s in the hermeneutical application on Mark’s narrative. Theißen finds anti-imperial polemics in the gospel-notion of Mark 13:10 as a kind of “Gegenevangelium”431 and the warning against false messiahs in 13:21–22 as having its historical setting in “die Propaganda für Vespasian.”432 In contrast, Marcus argues that the details of Mark 13 reflect the events in and around the temple during the last tumultuous years of the rebellion where the different factions were fighting for control of Jerusalem and the temple, incited by leaders with messianic aspirations.433 Thus, while Theißen presents the extra muros conflict or tension with Rome in post-war Syria as the most important background for Mark 13, Marcus points to the “developing opposition between Christian communities and the Jewish world”434 as the setting of the Markan community, possibly located in Pella. According to Marcus, this ‘imaginative’ setting is needed in order to understand Mark’s message, just as knowledge of early Soviet history is needed to understand Orwell’s Animal Farm.435 This exact line of argument is buttressed by Wardle who describes Mark as a document with “sectarian proclivities” with a “striking family resemblance to the known sectarian documents and groups”436 in Mark’s time. Wardle defines the sectarianism of Mark and the Markan community as a small, voluntary association that was in dispute with other Jewish sects on halakic matters; that understood itself as an elect group with information only available to insiders (Mark 4:11; 13:20, 22, 27); and that, on a core level, related to the temple in Jerusalem.437 In particular, Mark’s focus on Jesus’s conflict with and destruction of the temple, in combination with the establishment of a new temple in the Markan community, points to a near proximity to Jerusalem and the last stage of the war. Wardle concludes this on the basis of other Jewish “sectarian” manuscripts critical of the temple that “arose almost exclusively in circles geographically and socially contiguous to the sanctuary.”438

––––––––––––––––– 429 See Timothy Wardle, “Mark, the Jerusalem Temple and Jewish Sectarianism: Why Geographical Proximity Matters in Determining the Provenance of Mark,” NTS 62 (2016): 60–78. 430 See Theißen, Lokalkolorit. 431 Theißen, Lokalkolorit, 284, see the discussion above in Section 2.2.4. 432 Theißen, Lokalkolorit, 279. 433 See Marcus, “Jewish War,” 448, see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 34. 434 Marcus, “Jewish War,” 461–62. 435 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 37. 436 Wardle, “Mark,” 76. 437 See Wardle, “Mark,” 69–70. 438 Wardle, “Mark,” 77.

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2.5.4 From Rome to Vespasian Turning to recent defences of a Roman provenance, Incigneri’s 2003 study stands out, just as Winn’s investigations deserve credence, although the latter to a large extent argues the same case as Incigneri, both already introduced above.439 Compared to, for example, Martin Hengel’s renewed defence of a Roman provenance,440 the gist of the argument is a moving of Mark’s date from the last period of Nero’s reign to the beginning of Vespasian’s, combined with a much heavier hermeneutical employment of the argued date and provenance when it comes to discerning Mark’s purpose. Incigneri admits how controlling the provenance is for the correct understanding of the text. Together with the author, the audience or receiving community, like a mother and father, birthed the text and gave it its fundamental genes.441 Thus, once the correct understanding of Mark’s “social, political and religious context” is established, we have “the key to understanding the Gospel’s design” and “explanations for many literary features that have long puzzled scholars.”442 When it comes to locating Mark in Rome, Incigneri builds his case on traditional arguments, resembling those of Hengel.443 When it comes to his key point, the precise dating to the latter half of 71 CE, Incigneri argues his case in two steps.444 Firstly, a post quem after the destruction of the temple is postulated with reference to Mark 13:2 (pace Hengel and Theißen), just as 13:14 is seen as a reference to Titus, and the condemnation and destruction of the temple are understood as post ––––––––––––––––– 439 See Section 2.4.4. For other recent contributions arguing a Roman provenance and using it as key to Mark’s purpose, see Head, “Roman Document,” and Leander, Discourses, 167–75. See also the study of Bedenbender in which he enters into the provenance debate concentrating on the date and concludes, akin to Marcus, that Mark was written after the main battles in Galilee but not necessarily before the fall of the temple, though after is possible as well (see Bedenbender, Frohe Botschaft, 386). 440 See Martin Hengel, “Probleme des Markusevangeliums,” in Das Evangelium und die Evangelien, ed. Peter Stuhlmacher, WUNT 28 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1983), 221–65; Martin Hengel, “Entstehungszeit und Situation des Markusevangeliums,” in Markus-Philologie: Historische, literargeschichtliche und stilistische Untersuchungen zum zweiten Evangelium, ed. Hubert Cancik, WUNT 33 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1984), 1–45, see Martin Hengel, Studies in the Gospel of Mark (London: SCM, 1985). 441 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 1. 442 Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 2. 443 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 96–108. 444 According to Dwight Peterson, Incigneri was the first to propose the autumn of 71 in Rome as the precise date and provenance (see Dwight N. Peterson, “The Gospel to the Romans: The Setting and Rhetoric of Mark’s Gospel,” review of The Gospel to the Romans: The Setting and Rhetoric of Mark’s Gospel, by Brian J. Incigneri, RBL 1 [2005]). While this might be true, S. G. F. Brandon argued a similar case that Mark was written in response to the Flavian triumph and dates it accordingly “to a time shortly after A.D. 71” (Brandon, Zealots, 227).

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factum indications.445 Secondly, Incigneri pinpoints Mark’s date within the extremely narrow window of the latter months of 71 by claiming that during these months the Christian community was exposed to what amounted to a perfect storm of Roman propaganda and oppression. After years of turmoil following the latter days of Nero, Rome finally had something to celebrate: the victory of Vespasian and Titus. They were given a lavish triumphal parade, which Incigneri dates to August 71.446 Finally, once again it could be announced: “liberty restored,” as a legend on one of Vespasian’s coins reads. Only, not for the Christians. This triumphal parade was the epic climax of “the Vespasian story” of propaganda spun around the new emperor and the new dynasty, which Incigneri considers the decisive factor that drove Mark to write.447 Not only did the Christian community of Rome fear renewed persecution, it also had to tackle the religious sentiments surrounding Vespasian as the destroyer of Jerusalem and the temple, and had to deal with internal strife regarding what to do with members who had betrayed their faith during the years of turmoil. In essence, Mark got “caught up … in the post-triumph atmosphere,”448 and while some celebrated “the euangelion of Vespasian’s acclamation,” Mark proclaimed his “euangelion of Jesus Christ”449 as a custom-designed counter-message. Proceeding from provenance, Incigneri devotes several chapters to interpreting Mark in this light. As should already be clear, Mark’s setting is not only a historical question for Incigneri, but primarily an interpretative tool, which he applies to Mark to such a degree that it has been labelled “allegorical” and “fanciful.”450 One example is James and John’s request for ‘shared rulership,’ in which Incigneri finds a hidden reference to the similarly ambitious brothers, Titus and Domitian, who sought their father’s throne. In this way, Mark turns “the reader to the very situation in Roman politics,”451 and when the seats to the right and left of Jesus are given to two criminals, “Mark’s readers would remember the two who shared the emperor’s glory at the recent triumph – his sons Titus and Domitian,”452 who likewise mocked their father according to public perception in Rome as did the criminals. Also, when Mark has Jesus lecturing John and James on true humility for leaders (10:42–45), it is “epideictic rhetoric at its best … obvious to a community unjustly dealt with by ––––––––––––––––– See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 116–55. Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 163. 447 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 171–72. 448 Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 172. 449 Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 167. 450 Zeba A. Crook, “The Gospel to the Romans: The Setting and Rhetoric of Mark’s Gospel,” review of The Gospel to the Romans: The Setting and Rhetoric of Mark’s Gospel, by Brian J. Incigneri, RBL 8 (2006), see Collins, Mark, 100. 451 Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 184. 452 Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 184. 445 446

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imperial policy.”453 Another example is how the killing of the innocent Jesus, rather than the guilty rebel Barabbas, becomes a coded message for the experience of the Roman church, which has just recently witnessed the murder of innocent Christians rather than all rebel prisoners brought home for the triumph.454 Yet another example is how the cliffs of Decapolis, where the pigs met their doom, entails “Mark’s hope” at the time of writing when the Tenth Legion had just been deployed against the steep cliffs of Masada and Machaerus.455 One of Incigneri’s more significant suggestions is that the intrusive note of the rending of the veil in 15:38 is designed to rob Vespasian of the honour of being the destroyer of the temple, since the veil (according to Incigneri’s reading of Josephus) was paraded through the streets of Rome as a prominent part of the triumph.456 Many other events in Mark are discussed to prove the idea that Mark wrote his gospel to counter the gospel of Vespasian. It is telling that Incigneri, in the same manner as Kimondo, also harvests missing similarities as proof of the project.457 Winn provides another example of the exegetical potency of a post-70 Roman provenance. Central to Winn’s provenance and date of Mark is an understanding of Mark 13 as referring partly to future events for Mark’s readers and concerned with more than just the destruction of the temple. The notion of winter (13:18) and the confused chronology with widespread persecution (13:15–27) after the destruction of the temple (13:14) would have been a source of embarrassment if the readers knew the exact nature of the events.458 At the same time, Winn finds the argument for a pre-70 date uncompelling, given that the author of Mark would not have taken the risk or been motivated to include an unfulfilled prophecy. This paves the way to understanding Mark 13, and the purpose of Mark in general, as detached from immediate happenings in and around Jerusalem during the Jewish War. Instead, very much like Incigneri, Winn finds that Rome after the return of Vespasian provides a setting for Mark that fits the bill. His return produced an immediate crisis for the congregation that would have fostered speculation and anxiety about, for example, the “abomination of desolation,” which should therefore not be understood as referring to Titus’s destruction of the temple but rather to an event that “lies in the future for Mark and his readers.”459 Similar to Incigneri, Winn makes heavy ––––––––––––––––– Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 185. See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 189, no reference provided for the claim. 455 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 190–94. 456 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 202–7. It should be noted that Incigneri does not refer to Brandon, who argued the same case and made it one of his key arguments for Mark as an apology for the Christian community (see Brandon, Zealots, 227–30). 457 For example, Mark’s reluctance to apply κύριος and σωτήρ to Jesus, see Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 168–69. 458 See Winn, Purpose, 69. 459 Winn, Purpose, 73. 453 454

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use of his setting of Mark as a hermeneutical key to perceive Mark’s purpose. Perhaps to avoid the charge of circularity, Winn makes sure in his dissertation to analyze Mark’s major features before the milieu of Rome under Vespasian is reconstructed, upon which Mark’s theological agenda is expounded. Winn removed this initial step in his 2018 book and built his entire exegesis of Mark on his argued provenance and date. In the end, the manoeuvring in his dissertation makes little difference, since Winn’s overall reading of the purpose of Mark is almost totally controlled by a Roman provenance under Vespasian. In evaluation, both Incigneri and Winn develop the Roman provenance from being the traditional setting of Mark with uncertainty about the exact date to a fully-fledged hermeneutical key to Mark with a precise post-70 date and a purpose to counter the effects that the fall of the temple and the ascension of Vespasian had on the Roman congregation. 2.5.5 Evaluation of the Current Provenance Discussion This review of the last two decades of discussion on Mark’s provenance reveals several critical issues. First, the lack of agreement has not led to caution. On the contrary, the provenance discussion has moved towards more precision in terms of place and time. Suggestions include not only Galilee, but Capernaum in the immediate wake of the war; not only Syria, but Pella under the impact of rebel factions; not only Rome, but Rome under the triumphing Vespasian. Second, given that the external evidence for a Roman provenance has been sufficiently weakened to hold sway,460 the burden of lifting an argument for a particular provenance is laid on internal evidence, even in the case of Rome. Unfortunately, as Carter argued, when evaluating Theißen’s and Marcus’s cases for a Syrian provenance, the disagreements in relating Mark to precise, external situations prove that “the claimed correspondences are not ‘self-evident’ in their references,” but rather suggest “the portability and adaptability”461 of Mark’s material. In order to expand Carter’s observations of disagreements, the following examples from the survey above may be given: – Should the εὐαγγέλιον notion of 1:1 be viewed against the specific advent of Vespasian as emperor in Alexandria en route to Rome462 or as a term informed by the expectations in Second Isaiah?463 – Should 10:42–45 be viewed as a counterpart to the specific propaganda for Vespasian;464 or perhaps as a counterpart to Josephus’s willingness to give ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Black, “Roman?,” 36–40; Collins, Mark, 7–10. Warren Carter, “Mark and Syria? An Assessment,” ExpTim 125.11 (2014): 533. 462 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 167; Kimondo, Gospel of Mark, 121–22. 463 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 146. 464 See, e.g., Adam Winn, “Tyrant or Servant? Roman Political Ideology and Mark 10.42– 45,” JSNT 36.4 (2014): 325–52. 460 461

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his life for the sake of Jerusalem;465 or rather as a counterpart to the general idea of a “servant king” in Greek and Roman texts?466 Are the rumours of war in 13:7–8 to be identified with the Jewish revolt467 or are they not specific enough to be identified with an event that has already occurred?468 Is the persecution in 13:9–13 a reference to Roman persecution under Vespasian or fear thereof due to Nero’s persecution, during which Christians informed against each other according to Tacitus;469 or to Jewish persecution and war-courts during the Revolt;470 or, instead, a reference to the crosspressure experienced by Christian congregations in post-war Galilee persecuted by Jewish communities and Roman authorities alike?471 Does the “abomination of desolation” refer to rebel leaders’ action in the temple during the revolt, such as Eleazar, son of Simon, or Phanias;472 Titus and his destruction of the temple;473 or a future person and event?474 Are the false messiahs of 13:21–22 Jewish rebellion leaders475 or Vespasian as a Roman sort of ‘messiah’?476 Is the rending of the veil in 15:38 a revelatory event displaying true divine sonship as something different to Jewish rebellion477 or a distinct way of robbing Vespasian of his triumphal claim as destroyer of the temple?478 Should the overall focus on the temple in Mark be understood as a response to Vespasian’s triumphal march in Rome displaying temple artefacts479 or does the preoccupation with the temple demand a provenance not far from Jerusalem?480

The above list should indicate that the way in which the interpretation of internal evidence produces highly conflicting scenarios underlines the suspicion of ––––––––––––––––– See Kimondo, Gospel of Mark, 225. See Joel Marcus, Mark 8–16, AB 27A (Garden City, NY; New York: Doubleday, 2009), 748–49. 467 See Marcus, Mark 8–16, 880. 468 See Winn, Purpose, 68–75. 469 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 219–25; Winn, Purpose, 82–83; Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 32. 470 See Marcus, Mark 8–16, 882. 471 See Roskam, Purpose, 130–37. 472 See Marcus, Mark 8–16, 890–91. 473 See Roskam, Purpose, 90–91; Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 130. 474 See Winn, Purpose, 73–75. 475 See Marcus, Mark 8–16, 901; Roskam, Purpose, 95–96. 476 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 301–2; Winn, Purpose, 195. 477 See Marcus, Mark 8–16, 1067–68. 478 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 154–55; Head, “Roman Document,” 246–47. 479 See Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 202–7; Head, “Roman Document,” 256–59; Winn, “Temple Motif,” Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology. 480 See Marcus, Mark 8–16, 868; Wardle, “Mark.” 465 466

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circular reasoning – as Dewey put it, that researchers use “the text to posit a situation and then the situation to interpret the text.”481 Third, the problem with these conflicting scenarios grows the more that provenance is moved from a historical Einleitungsfrage to a hermeneutical key promising interpretative control. The above review suggests that the shift in handling provenance as hermeneutics rather than history is a process that has only accelerated since Peterson’s study. Here, nuances are needed. Though difficult to judge in detail, the way in which provenance is used to establish Mark’s purpose comes with different force. In my estimation, Incigneri takes the prize for the most single-minded reading of Mark tied in to a particular historical situation with the most fanciful suggestions, but Kimondo, Winn, and Head are not far behind. For example, Winn begins his latest contribution by establishing the case for a Roman provenance under Vespasian, upon which Mark is expounded in rich detail with many points of comparisons and contrasts. Also, Roskam’s characterization of Mark as an “apologetic script” is largely based on her evaluation of Mark’s Galilean setting, as is Kimondo’s diametrically different evaluation of Mark as a subversive script written in the devastated Galilee to empower Mark’s readers to identify with Jesus rather than Vespasian. Looking finally at Syria as provenance, the most interesting question to be answered is the degree to which Marcus applies the provenance he established with his 1992 article in his later magisterial two-volume commentary. Peterson had already raised interest in this question when the first volume was about to be published.482 In my estimation, Marcus’s overall reading of Mark is only partially dependent on his provenance since on every page he interacts with a host of primary and secondary sources to establish his reading. Occasionally, however, it shines through that Marcus views Mark as a product of a Syria-based congregation of refugees who had been caught up as a “third party” between the rebels and Rome, and was trying to establish a different reading of the Jewish tradition in competition with similar reform movements of the time,483 which is used to undergird Marcus’s fundamental approach to Mark as characterized by “apocalyptic modes of thinking.”484 Fourth, the survey above suggests that a new categorization is called for, at least when evaluating how provenance is used hermeneutically. Instead of following the traditional, geographical tripartite classification, the most significant hermeneutical partition concerns how Mark’s purpose is construed as either directed towards a Jewish intra muros temple discussion or a Roman extra muros threat. Thus, with important nuances, Roskam and Kimondo (a Galilean provenance) agree with Incigneri, Head, and Winn that the Roman threat was ––––––––––––––––– Dewey, “A Galilean Provenance,” 102. See Peterson, Markan Community, 174. 483 See, e.g., Marcus, Mark 8–16, 889–95. 484 Marcus, Mark 1–8, 73. 481 482

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Mark’s prompting purpose. On the other hand, if Mark is envisioned to be the product of an environment in which the Markan community was forced to define themselves against Jewish tradition, the question of identity moves into focus. This is most clearly the case in Wardle’s characterization of Mark as a sectarian piece of writing that has the question of the temple as its key issue. Though Marcus does not use this wording, his case is quite similar.485 In sum, since Peterson’s sobering call to downplay if not stop the use of a particular argued provenance and date of Mark as an interpretative key, quite the opposite has happened. In the last two decades, an array of books and articles have argued highly precise locations of Mark in time and place, as well as making heavy hermeneutical application thereof. To the best of my knowledge, the issue of provenance is not so divided for any of the other gospels, with such a substantial hermeneutical ramification, as is the case in Markan studies. In other words, the question of Mark’s provenance is, more than ever, caught in a cul-de-sac and, regarding the opening question of the meaning of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον notion, a disappointment, unable to provide a hermeneutical key. I further suggest that the real issue at stake in this debate is not Mark’s geographical provenance per se, but rather how Mark’s provenance is envisioned to entail a conflict scenario with the Roman Empire or with Jewish factions and the ongoing battle for identity and legacy as correct interpreters of and heirs to Scripture and especially Isaianic prophecy. In essence, is Mark written as a subversive script or a theological/sectarian treatise? In either case – and this is the topic of focus in the next chapter – Mark was then a part of a longstanding debate. There is good reason to describe the period from the centuries around the Hasmonean rebellion to the Jewish War as being marked by a strong duality of intra muros religio-political as well as extra muros politico-religious discussions. This was a period of recurring political upheavals and a flourishing Jewish factionalism/sectarianism marked by purity concerns, law discussions, and a range of proposals on how to approach foreign influences. Especially noteworthy is the question of the temple, its holiness and administration, and the question of Yahweh’s renewed presence among and liberation of his people, as described especially in Second Isaiah. Most Markan researchers accept that these two interrelated issues of Isaianic expectations and the temple are central issues to Mark. For this reason, Mark does not need a precise location in time and place to be ‘explained’ or of relevance. Mark’s main concerns were longstanding issues for first-century Jews. I present this as a consolidating argument to those who have proposed a reading of Mark as ––––––––––––––––– As suggested by J. P. Davies, there is a similarity between these two approaches to Mark and the debate over ‘the apocalyptic Paul’ (see J. P. Davies, “Apocalyptic and the History of God: Possibilities from Mark’s Epistemological Inclusio,” in One God, One People, One Future: Essays in Honour of N. T. Wright, ed. John Anthony Dunne and Eric Lewellen (London: SPCK, 2018), 513–28). 485

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a writing without a specific audience in mind, most notably Richard Bauckham and Tolbert.486 In combination, I propose that the soundest way of approaching Mark is to keep provenance as a historical question, avoiding the use of a specific date and provenance as a hermeneutical crutch of interpretation. As phrased by Carter, the “portability and adaptability”487 of Mark’s narrative and specific expressions may well end up in circular reasoning, with fanciful suggestions that are only able to show how Mark might have been preached in a particular situation, not why, where, and when Mark was written.

2.6 Partial Conclusion The question of Mark’s understanding of εὐαγγέλιον has been vigorously debated for more than a century. In order to gain a firm perspective over this farflung discussion, I have above conducted a survey of its four main trajectories: the root of the gospel nomenclature, the Markan use thereof, the recent readings of Mark from anti-imperial or postcolonial perspectives, and the issue of Mark’s provenance as hermeneutical key to its purpose. In evaluation, three major observations and conclusions present themselves: (1) On the positive side, the thorough nature of the debates has clarified where the major issues of contestation are located, which I will pinpoint to the following: (a) The Markan εὐαγγέλιον notion has a composite trajectory when it comes to its pedigree, turning the debate into a debate on which of its trajectories to give precedence. This has produced a number of highly fine-tuned evaluations when describing the exact relationship between the imperial use of the gospel nomenclature and Mark’s ditto that range from Crossan’s “imperial gospel” to Deismann’s “polemischer Parallelismus,” Theißen’s “Gegenbotschaft,” urging to “Widerstand” but not “Aufstand,” Horbury’s “overlap,” and Watt’s “polemical edge.”488 The important point is that most researchers accept and try to understand Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον in the light of Second Isaiah as well as imperial ideology. Such a double coding is also the case for several of the recent readings, even though a number of the postcolonial and anti-imperial readings here investigated limit the perspective solely to a Roman one. In essence, to one ––––––––––––––––– 486 See Richard Bauckham, “For Whom Were Gospels Written,” in The Gospel for All Christians, ed. Richard Bauckham (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 9–48; Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 302–6. As noted by R. Burridge, this argument is in part based on an understanding of Mark’s genre as a Greco-Roman bios, see Burridge, What Are the Gospels?, 294–95; see also Bond, First Biography, 36. 487 Carter, “Mark and Syria,” 533. 488 For references, see Section 2.2.5.

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living in the Roman world of the first century acquainted with the Jewish Scriptures, both notions are likely to have been part of the cultural encyclopedia informing the way Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον would have been communicated. (b) The Markan εὐαγγέλιον is likewise a composite notion when it comes to understanding its connection to Jesus. In essence, the basic positions were outlined by Wellhausen and Harnack, who argued for an objective or a subjective reading of 1:1, respectively, using either the dual expression of 8:35 and 10:29 or the kingdom saying in 1:14–15 as their fundamental definition. The discussion of this issue has produced highly fine-tuned definitions, trying to pinpoint the exact notion and to counter competing descriptions. Examples are Harnack’s “zwei Evangelien” in opposition to Dobschütz’s “zwei Christusbilder” and Stuhlmacher’s and Pokorný’s acceptance of the gospel notion as “a comprehensive genre” or a “polysemy.”489 The main question is to which extent the by Jesus proclaimed ‘gospel’ (1:14–15) has the proclaimer as its content. Again, in essence, any explanation of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον will need to encompass both trajectories, or at the very least address both trajectories, in order to gain convincing explanatory power. (c) The relationship between Mark’s passion narrative and his εὐαγγέλιον is a key issue to address. On the one hand, Mark does not specifically pinpoint either the cross or resurrection as εὐαγγέλιον despite the references to the postresurrectional preaching of the εὐαγγέλιον (13:10; 14:9). On the other hand, the connection between the βασιλεία and the εὐαγγέλιον is evident from 1:14–15 and foreshadows the extensive role the βασιλεύς designation is going to play in the cross scene. It will be discussed if in this way Mark intentionally turns the cross into a coronation of Jesus, in which instance Jesus’s death and resurrection becomes central in his kingdom-shaped εὐαγγέλιον.490 The outline above indicates how postcolonial and/or anti-imperial reading strategies in several incidents foster new readings of Mark’s cross-event as well. (d) In relation to the interpretation of the cross and the temple, the investigation above has revealed how a deep-seated difference divides the way in which Mark is read as answering to a Roman or a Jewish/sectarian pressure. This is especially evident when it comes to the discussion of Mark’s provenance. As I have already outlined and intend to unfold in the next chapter, Mark is part of a longstanding debate within Judaism of his time that did not distinguish between these issues or separate politics and religion, to use an etic language. Any comprehensive reading of Mark will need to situate Mark within this longstanding debate as answering intra muros as well as extra muros questions and pressure. (2) On the negative side, each of the four investigated topics above have revealed how research on Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον is deadlocked in conflicting ––––––––––––––––– 489 490

See Section 2.3.3. See the discussion in Section 6.2.4.

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interpretations and often conflicting applications of similar methodology, resulting in an imploding effect on the overall current state of affairs: (a) This is especially the case in the discussion of Mark’s relationship to the empire. One difference concerns the understanding of Mark’s position towards Rome. I detected as much as six different positions, ranging from apologetical to subversive or anti-colonial positions, mixed with various hybrid or ambivalent ones in between.491 Another difference concerns the highly contradictory utilization of postcolonial theory. While Samuel and Leander try to avoid binary descriptions, Liew understands Mark’s position as one of imitation, much in the same way as Winn presents an empire-anti-empire reading of Mark apart from postcolonial theory specifically. Likewise, quite a number of readings present Mark’s Jesus as a figure ‘from the margin,’ who identifies with the poor and marginalized over and against the empire. In reality, this situation has a subverting effect on the promising prospect of these new readings. (b) The provenance debate has in the same way produced highly conflicting postulations based on the same material that the entire endeavour is likewise in danger of imploding, revealing itself as a hermeneutical enterprise based on circular reasoning. (c) Finally, there is a notable difference in how concepts like ‘politics’ and ‘religion’ are used, not least when applied to the idea of apocalypticism. Stuhlmacher finds the difference between the gospel of the imperial cult and the streng apocalyptisches gospel of Mark to be “durch Welten getrennt,”492 whereas Horsley represents the total opposite evaluation by trying to do away with the “essentialist dichotomies”493 caught up in the binarism of ‘politics’ and ‘religion;’ a binarism he does not do well in avoiding when he blatantly argues that Jesus was “not a ‘religious’ messiah dying an atoning death” but a martyr who “died a ‘political’ death on the cross in order to disarm the Roman force from within.”494 (3) The most important outcome of the investigation of the current stand of the research on Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον is the way in which it clarifies how and on which terms a contribution can be made. This may be outlined as follows: (a) ‘Politics’ and ‘religion’ should not be separated in the manner in which it was in the twentieth century discussion of the root of the gospel. As I will argue in Chapter 3, there is a close connection between the so-called ‘secular’ usage of ‫ ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬in 2 Samuel and 2 Kings and the so-called ‘apocalyptic’ usage of ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬in especially Second Isaiah. The fundamental idea of the concept new ––––––––––––––––– See Section 2.4.6. Stuhlmacher, “The Gospel,” 25. 493 Horsley, “Submerged,” 154. 494 Horsley, Prophet Jesus, 156. 491 492

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103

exodus495 is precisely the establishment of a new Yahwistic kingdom centred on Jerusalem. Distinctly, however, I will argue that the establishment of the kingdom and rule of Yahweh in Jerusalem requires the re-establishment of the cult in Jerusalem. Thus, politics and religion should not be separated when dealing with the εὐαγγελ- word group in the Hebrew Bible or the Septuagint. They were deeply intertwined in the Isaianic visions of a paradisiac reversal.496 At the same time, ‘politics’ and ‘religion’ were longstanding issues at the time of Mark. As a matter of fact, the relationship between outer, political pressure and inner, Jewish factionalism over temple, purity, and law issues was the single most dominant factor in the period from the Maccabean rebellion to the Jewish War. (b) The specific suggestion I will investigate is that the intertwined nature of ‘politics’ and ‘religion’ in Isaiah’s vision, or rather, the intertwined nature of kingdom and cult, has a common denominator in the concept of ‘proximity.’ In trying to take hold of this tradition, Mark’s presentation of Jesus is centred on demonstrating how Jesus becomes the bringer of and medium through which ‘proximity to the divine’ can be entertained. This process demands a powerful struggle with and expulsion of hostile powers and a cultic renewal of the temple. In order to entertain this intertwined argument, I will, first, in Chapter 3 provide a setting for my reading of Mark by investigating the use of εὐαγγέλιον prior to Mark with a particular focus on Isaiah in order to gain a foothold on the cultural encyclopedia in which to situate Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον. Next, I will in Chapters 4–6 perform an investigation of how the framework of proximity through kingdom and cult provide an exhaustive explanation of Mark’s presentation of his εὐαγγέλιον.

––––––––––––––––– 495 496

For a discussion of the appropriateness of this term, see Section 3.3.1. See the discussion in Section 3.2.

3

Epoch-Making ‘Gospel’ Proclamations before Mark Chapter 3

Epoch-Making ‘Gospel’ Proclamations before Mark 3.1 Introduction and Research Questions The objective of this chapter is to establish a historical and semantical blueprint for the εὐαγγέλιον in pre-Markan texts. While the initial καθὼς γέγραπται ἐν τῷ Ἠσαΐᾳ τῷ προφήτῃ immediately following Mark’s first use of εὐαγγέλιον seems to indicate that Mark sought to root his gospel in the grand opening message of comfort and coming victory of Isa 40:1–11 to be proclaimed by the ‫ְמַבֶשּׂ ֶרת‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος, the devil is, as always, in the details. As outlined in the preceding chapter, earlier research of this question has in several ways been caught in a deadlock, trying to clarify the minute changes of the nomenclature and the influence of Isaiah on Mark in comparison with the wider use of the εὐαγγελ- word group in this period. This, in combination with the observed untenable distinction between ‘mundane’ and ‘religious’ spheres of life,1 necessitates a fresh evaluation of the sources available to us. In doing so, the thesis to be projected and tested will, if successfully demonstrated, circumvent this deadlock by making the question of a profane contra a religious use secondary and the gap between a verbal and a nominal use of minimal importance. My proposal is twofold: First, the outline of the use of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- word group provided in Section 3.2 of pre-Christian texts suggests that this notion was reserved for epoch-making proclamations as the uniting factor across centuries and different settings. While there are, as we shall see, examples of its use in everyday life such as in connection with the birth of a son or even the death of a mother-in-law, these instances as well draw on the general conception of a (good) message with fundamental, epoch-making consequences. I thus find no justification for a distinct Alltagsgebrauch.2 Second, since epoch-making events in antiquity were deeply connected to the interplay between war, kings, and deities, there is a highly important ‘gospel’ connection between what may be labelled Krieg, König und Kult. This connection blurs the lines between a clear-cut profane vis-à-vis religious understanding just as it blurs the line between the nominal and verbal use in the Hebrew Bible and the Septuagint. Admittedly, in some places the use of ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- (e.g., 1–2 ––––––––––––––––– 1 2

See Section 1.3.2. Pace Schniewind, Euangelion, 27.

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Sam/Kgdms, 1–2 Kgs/3–4 Kgdms) leans heavily towards Krieg-König solely. It is also possible from the rather few attestations in the Hebrew Bible to argue, as does Schniewind, that the use of ‫ בשׂר‬evolved from a secular notion of war victory to a cultic and liturgical proclamation of Yahweh as king in the liturgical Thronbesteigungslieder and, finally, to a theological or eschatological ‘religious’ use in Second Isaiah.3 Nonetheless, while different emphases are observable in the material at hand, the important point is that the composite nature of the ‘gospel’ proclamation is evident throughout. As we shall see, this is arguably the case even with the clearest examples of the so-called ‘profane’ use of the nomenclature that come with intertwined cultic notions.4 Upon establishing this understanding of the ‘gospel’ notion as an epochmaking message of (kingly) war victory, resulting in cultic renewal or thanksgiving, attention will be turned towards the Isaianic vision of epoch-making renewal in Section 3.3. As Mark’s primary place of proof, we shall take the time to investigate the ‘gospel’ vision of Isaiah 40–66 in detail and to outline in Section 3.4 how this vision was utilized in a number of other Jewish writings and settings that formed the immediate cultural encyclopedia of Mark’s narrative. As part of this latter investigation, we shall briefly take a look at main trends in the Pauline use of the εὐαγγελ- nomenclature. It’s a topic that in scope easily could do with a full book-length discussion of its own. While the focus of our investigation will not allow for an in-depth discussion, the topic nevertheless constitutes a good case to test the established understanding of ‘gospel’ argued in this chapter. A brief final note on the research history. Despite the centrality of the topic for New Testament research, not many studies have been devoted to exhaustive surveys of the material outside the New Testament. As it stands, Schniewind’s two volumes published between 1927 and 1931, Friedrich’s enumeration thereof in TWNT from 1935, and Stuhlmacher’s Vorgeschichte from 1968 to his never completed study of Paul’s use of the gospel are in my opinion the only contributions that can in fairness be judged as exhaustive investigations of the textual base at hand.5 In particular, while Friedrich departs from his teacher here and there, and Stuhlmacher contributes with his own insights, Schniewind’s contribution still stands tall a century after its publication as the most thorough and complete investigation. Even so, when coming to the Greek attestations in his second instalment, Schniewind warns that “auf Vollständigkeit darf sie nicht hoffen.”6 Thus, while there is space within the research ––––––––––––––––– See Schniewind, Euangelion, 58–62. While no one seems to question the validity of this distinction, the close connection is noticed from time to time, see, e.g., Friedrich, TWNT 2:705–6; Schilling, ThWAT 1:848. 5 See Section 2.2.3. 6 Schniewind, Euangelion, 115. 3 4

3.2 The ‘Gospel’ as an Epoch-Making Proclamation

107

for a new survey of the Greek material using the TLG database,7 the object of this chapter is to understand Mark’s Isaianic framework and the gospel he inherited from this background, leaving Vollständigkeit as an aspiration outside the present focus.

3.2 The ‘Gospel’ as an Epoch-Making Proclamation 3.2.1 Epoch-Making ‘Gospels’ in the Hebrew Bible In this section, we shall investigate the use of the ‘gospel’ nomenclature in the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint, and Greek and Roman texts in order to gain a sense of the scope of its usage and to test the thesis of this notion as reserved for epoch-making proclamations. This will include an outline of the use in Isaiah 40–66 for the sake of completeness, which otherwise will be the focus of the two final sections of the chapter. Beginning with the texts of the Hebrew Bible, the first thing to notice is how the ‫ בשׂר‬word group is by no means common – only used in four of the Historical Books, three of the Psalms, and three of the Prophetic Books, counting altogether thirty instances. The feminine noun ‫ ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬is used six times, always in singular.8 The verb is used twenty-four times9 of which ten are participles.10 Looking further into the specific forms of the verbal usage, the stem is always piel,11 except for one attestation in hithpael in 2 Sam 18:31. Besides three ––––––––––––––––– Schniewind builds his survey first and foremost on Henricus Stephanus/Henri Estienne’s Thesaurus Graecae Linguae, first published in the sixteenth century and revised and published in eight volumes from 1816 to 1835 (see Schniewind, Euangelion, 113 n. 1; see also Aune, “Meaning of,” 857–58). To my knowledge, no complete survey of the Greek material using the electronic TLG database has been published. Steven Mason provides some numbers (but no references) from such a survey, finding some 200 examples of the use of εὐαγγελ- before Christian sources but including the New Testament (Mason, Josephus, Judea, 285). Graham Twelftree provides a similar survey (including references) based on TLG, finding fifty-four instances of εὐαγγέλιον, εὐαγγελία, εὐαγγελίζεσθαι, and προευαγγελίζεσθαι (but not εὐάγγελος) in the same set of texts, excluding the New Testament corpus (see Twelftree, The Gospel, 207–10, see pp. 27–36). According to my counting and evaluation of the occurrences of all forms of εὐαγγελ- in the TLG database, we have approximately forty-eight attestations in texts before the New Testament (excluding the Septuagint) and fifty-four in non-Christian texts up until Lucian (second century). I am grateful to Steve Mason for sharing his list of places with me, compiled from the TLG database. For a similar overview but without metrics, see Dickson, “Gospel as News,” 212–30. 8 2 Sam 4:10; 18:20, 22, 25, 27; 2 Kgs 7:9. 9 1 Sam 4:17; 31:9; 2 Sam 1:20; 4:10; 18:19, 20 (2x), 26, 31; 1 Kgs 1:42; Isa 40:9 (2x); 41:27; 52:7 (2x); 60:6; 61:1; Jer 20:15; Nah 2:1; Pss 40:10; 68:12; 96:2; 1 Chr 10:9; 16:23. 10 1 Sam 4:17; 2 Sam 4:10; 18:26; Isa 40:9 (2x); 41:27; 52:7 (2x); Nah 2:1; Ps 68:12. 11 For a discussion of the implication hereof, see the end of this section. 7

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infinitives, the gender is always masculine with three notable exceptions where the feminine participle ‫ ְמַבֶשּׂ ֶרת‬is used.12 Another thing to notice before discussing the appearances is the question of the inherent meaning of ‫ בשׂר‬as good or neutral. This remains contested. According to Schilling, the flavour of the stem in other Semitic languages provides an inconclusive picture, attesting both a neutral meaning (Akkadian) as well as a positive of “good news” (Ugaritic, Old South Arabic, and Ethiopic).13 This, in combination with the way in which ‫ בשׂר‬at times is qualified as 14‫טוֹב‬ and once is connected with news of disaster,15 led Dalman to suggest that “frohe(n) Botschaft” is “nicht so inhärent” in the ‫ בשׂר‬stem as it is in the Greek εὐαγγελ- word group; a statement he bolstered with a small number of references to Tannaitic sources in which the Aramaic equivalent is used as a “Trauerbotschaft,” for instance in connection with the deliverance of a death message.16 As it stands, the principal dictionaries are divided on the matter. Gesenius maintains that the best attested meaning is “gute Nachricht bringen,” whereas the meaning “schlimme Botschaft bringen” is secondary and only attested in 1 Sam 4:17.17 HAL/HALOT, on the other hand, defines the basic meaning as “(gute od. schlechte) Botschaft bringen” and lists quite a few more places as “neutral.”18 In ThWAT, Schilling concludes, upon weighing the evidence, that the “tatsächliche Gebrauch im Bibl.-Hebr.” should be inherently understood as frohe Botschaft and that the exceptions should only “als Abflachung verstanden werden,” not amounting to “eine neutrale Grundbedeutung.”19 Schilling refers to Friedrich for this position, who follows Schniewind closely. Upon examining the objections, Schniewind concludes that ‫ בשׂר‬as “Freudenbotschaft” is a “character indelebilis” for the stem.20 Basically, it is a war message of victory; a Siegesbotschaft from das Schlachtfeld. As a technical term for a message brought from the battlefield, it could, however, be used of “jeder Bote vom Schlachtfeld … gelegentlich also auch der Unglücksbote.”21 The latter, however, is rare, and the three instances in which ‫ בשׂר‬is qualified ––––––––––––––––– Isa 40:9 (2x); Ps 68:12. Schilling, ThWAT 1:845. 14 See 2 Sam 18:27, ‫ְבּ שׂוֹ ָר ה טוָֹב ה‬, 1 Kgs 1:42, ‫שּׂ ר‬ ֵ ‫טוֹב ְתּ ַב‬, and Isa 52:7, ‫ְמ ַב ֵשּׂ ר טוֹב‬. 15 1 Sam 4:17 constitutes the only example of this in the Hebrew Bible where the ‫שּׂ ר‬ ֵ ‫ְמ ַב‬ brings news from the battlefield of the loss of the ark and the death of Eli’s two sons. 16 Dalman, Worte Jesu, 84. Dalman was anticipated in this view by Paul de Lagarde, see Schniewind, Euangelion, 28; Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 28. 17 See Gesenius, s.v. “ ‫בשׂ ר‬.” 18 See HALOT, s.v. “ ‫בשׂ ר‬,” referring to 1 Sam 4:17; 31:9; 2 Sam 4:10; 18:19–20; Isa 52:7; 61:1; Jer 20:15; 1 Chr 10:9. 19 Schilling, ThWAT 1:848. Also NIDOTTE subscribes to this position (see Stephen T. Hauge, “ ‫בשׂר‬,” NIDOTTE 1:775–77), whereas DCH suggests neutral translations such as “give news,” “announce,” and “messenger” (see DCH 1, s.v. “ ‫)”בשׂר‬. 20 Schniewind, Euangelion, 33. 21 Schniewind, Euangelion, 29. 12 13

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as ‫ טוֹב‬do not disqualify the stem’s general positive connotation, since the adjective in these instances serves only as a “bloße Verstärkung.”22 This further explains the use of ‫ ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬as “reward” for the (good) news brought by the messenger; a use that seemingly implies that the message is one of victory.23 Nevertheless, with the authorities on the Semitic languages having been divided on the matter for more than a century, it would probably be wisest to say with Stuhlmacher that “der Nichtfachmann wird zunächst nur diesen Dissensus konstatieren können.”24 I will, as it stands, add only two Fußnoten. One is that in both cases, the thesis I am investigating of the “gospel” as an epoch-making message is corroborated. News of victory and news of defeat would arrive with the same epoch-making force. Another is that judging from the material in the Hebrew Bible, the positive sense of ‫ בשׂר‬is significant and singular in Second Isaiah as denoting the war victory of Yahweh. Turning our attention to the actual use of ‫ בשׂר‬in the Hebrew Bible, I will now investigate the attestations following the tripartition of Schniewind, Friedrich, and Schilling, distinguishing between the Historical Books, the Psalms, and the Prophetic Books: (1) In the Historical Books, the use of the word group is characterized by being connected to kings or by being kingly in effect,25 and by being uttered in connection with war. Of the six uses of the noun ‫ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬, four denote the message itself brought either to king David or the king’s house in Samaria, while two rightfully are categorized as reward for good news, Botenlohn.26 Concerning the verb, the important distinction is between the seven finite forms27 (besides the two infinitive attestations28), and the three places using the participle.29 The first group attests how ‫ בשׂר‬is used to proclaim the message of war victory to the inhabitants in the Philistine cities, to king David, or to the usurper, Adonijah. Especially interesting is the single attestation in hithpael. Here the passive form communicates a royal, elevated style from the servant to the king: “May ––––––––––––––––– Schniewind, Euangelion, 30. See Schniewind, Euangelion, 32, with reference to 2 Sam 4:10; 18:22. For this use in Greek texts, see Section 3.2.3. 24 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 111. 25 The use of the word group is restricted to messages brought to king Saul, David, or Solomon with two exceptions that are ‘kingly’ as well: In 1 Sam 4:17 the news of defeat is brought to Eli, judge and head of Israel. In 2 Kgs 7:9, the news is brought by the lepers to “the king’s house” in Samaria ( ‫)ֵבּ ית ַהֶמּ ֶלְך‬. 26 In 2 Sam 4:10, David recalls how he killed the messenger ( ‫שּׂ ר‬ ֵ ‫ )ְמ ַב‬who gave him the news of the death of Saul, saying: “This was the reward I gave to him” ( ‫)ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה ֲא ֶשׁ ר ְלִת ִתּ י־לוֹ‬. The connection between ‫ נתן‬and ‫ ְבּ שׂ ֹ ָרה‬makes the case obvious. In 2 Sam 18:22 there is likewise made a connection between ‫ ְבּ שׂ ֹ ָרה‬and receiving. 27 2 Sam 1:20; 18:19, 20 (2x), 31; 1 Kgs 1:42; 16:23. 28 1 Sam 31:9; 1 Chr 10:9. 29 1 Sam 4:17; 2 Sam 4:10; 18:26. 22 23

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it be (joyfully) proclaimed to my lord, the king.”30 In the second group, the participles, the ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬is used instead of the equivalent to the Greek noun εὐάγγελος to denote the messenger him- or herself. In essence, four different uses are detected: the message itself (‫)ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬, the reward for the message (‫)ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬, the act of proclaiming the (good) news (‫)בשׂר‬, and the messenger of (good) news (‫)ְמַבֵשּׂר‬. The important thing is that, while in a certain sense we are dealing with a ‘profane’ use of the word group, it is not an “Alltagsgebrauch,”31 as suggested by Schniewind. Instead, all instances are specifically connected to epoch-making events, centred on kings and wars, involving defining moments for the future in terms of shifts in powers and rulers. If this is correct, it should come as no surprise that even in the ‘profane’ use of the word group in the Historical Books, we find a cultic connection. In 1 Sam 31:9 (» 1 Chr 10:9) it is narrated how the Philistines dispatch messengers “to proclaim in their house of idols and to their people” (‫ )ְלַבֵשּׂר ֵבּית ֲﬠַצֵבּיֶהם ְוֶאה־ָהָﬠם‬that Saul has been killed.32 According to Friedrich, “den Übergang vom profanen zum religiösen Gebrauch des Wortes zeigt 1 S 31,9,” precisely since the victory in war results in “ein kultischer Akt.”33 While I agree, I question the implicit Begriffsgeschichte in this notion. As is the case in the Greek use of the word group to be discussed below, the connection to the cult shines through even in the so-called ‘profane’ use in the Historical Books.34 (2) Exactly this connection of Krieg, König und Kult is further developed in the Psalms and Prophets. Ps 40:10 combines ‫ בשׂר‬with a cultic setting by staging the proclaiming of the good news (‫ )ִבַּשּׂ ְרִתּי‬of Yahweh’s “saving righteousness” or “victory” (‫)ֶצ ֶדק‬35 in “the great congregation” (‫)ְבָּקָהל ָרב‬. Formcritically, the first part of the psalm (vv. 2–11) has been described as an individual thanksgiving psalm after a great crisis such as disease, and now it is time for a “new song” (‫ִשׁיר ָח ָדשׁ‬, v. 4).36 Another option is to understand the “I” of the psalm as the king, who is to recite the psalm as part of a “liturgy of supplication” in the temple.37 Specifically interesting in this connection is the notion ––––––––––––––––– ‫( ִיְת ַבּ ֵשּׂ ר ֲא ד ֹ ִני ַהֶמּ ֶלְך‬2 Sam 18:31). Schniewind, Euangelion, 27. 32 According to 1 Chr 10:10, Saul’s armour was put on display in “their temple of gods” ( ‫ )ֵבּית ֱא ֹלֵה יֶה ם‬and his head in “the temple of Dagon” ( ‫)ֵבּ ית ָדּ גוֹן‬. 33 Friedrich, TWNT 2:705–6. 34 See also 1 Chr 16:23 narrating the hallel of the Levites, when David brought the ark to Jerusalem, using a phrase similar to Ps 96:2: “Sing to Yahweh, all the earth, proclaim day after days his salvation” ( ‫)ַבּ ְשּׂ רוּ ִמ יּוֹם־ֶא ל־יוֹם ְישׁוָּﬠתוֹ‬. 35 For this translation of ‫ ֶצ ֶד ק‬in Ps 40:10, see DCH 7, s.v. “ ‫ֶצ ֶד ק‬,” 11a. 36 See Peter C. Craigie and Marvin E. Tate, Psalms 1–50, WBC 19 (Nashville; London: Nelson, 2004), 313; Mitchell Dahood, Psalms I: 1–50, AB 16 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965), 313; Nancy L. deClaissé-Walford, Rolf A. Jacobson, and Beth Laneel Tanner, The Book of Psalms, NICOT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014), 371. 37 Craigie and Tate, Psalms 1–50, 315. Craigie and Tate admit that ‫שׁ יר ָח ָד שׁ‬ ִ in Isa 42:10 is used in connection with actual redemption and holy war. 30 31

3.2 The ‘Gospel’ as an Epoch-Making Proclamation

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of ‫ִשׁיר ָח ָדשׁ‬. According to Tremper Longman, this was a technical term for celebrating a recent war victory of Yahweh and his king.38 Peter C. Craigie and Marvin E. Tate, on the other hand, argue that the use of the expression in the Psalms has been “demilitarized,”39 now having a cultic setting where each festival is a proper setting for a “new song” celebrating the victories and salvation of Yahweh. In each instance, whether individual, kingly, or cultic, the psalm had its Sitz im Leben in public worship as part of a liturgy.40 While ‫ ָקָהל‬covers a broad semantic field, “the congregation assembled for (divine) worship”41 is one of them. That the temple indeed is in view here is clear from the preceding reference to four different kind of temple sacrifices.42 Thus, the promise by the psalmist – “I will proclaim the good news of justice” (‫ִבַּשּׂ ְרִתּי ֶצ ֶדק‬, v. 10) – is in this setting prompted by an epoch-changing event in his life authored by Yahweh, which is to be preached to the congregation in a cultic setting. (3) The cultic setting of the ‫ בשׂר‬proclamation is even more obvious in Psalm 68,43 which is replete with references to Yahweh’s “habitation” (‫ָמעוֹן‬, v. 6), the place he “sits” or “is enthroned”44 (‫ישׁב‬, v. 17) and “dwells” (‫שׁכן‬, vv. 17, 19), his “holy place” or “sanctuary”45 (‫קֹ ֶדשׁ‬, vv. 18, 25, see v. 6), his “ascension” to a “high place” (‫ָﬠִליָת ַלָמּרוֹם‬, v. 19),46 his “temple” (‫ֵהיָכל‬, v. 30), and his “sanctuary” (‫ִמְק ָדּשׁ‬, v. 36). While the Gattung and Sitz im Leben of the psalm is contested,47 the general gist of the psalm in its final form is readily evident: Yahweh48 is professed as king (‫ֵאִלי ַמְלִכּי‬, v. 25). Specifically, he is the victorious warrior king, who has set an exodus liberation and redemption in ––––––––––––––––– 38 Pss 33:3; 40:4; 96:1; 98:1; 144:9; 149:1; Isa 42:10, see Tremper Longman, “Psalm 98: A Divine Warrior Victory Song,” JETS 27.3 (1984): 269. 39 Craigie and Tate, Psalms 1–50, 513. 40 Artur Weiser, The Psalms: A Commentary, OTL (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), 334. 41 HALOT, s.v. “ ‫ָק ָה ל‬.” 42 See ‫ עוָֹל ה ַו ֲח ָט ָא ה‬... ‫( ֶז ַב ח וִּמ ְנ ָח ה‬40:7). For a rejection of understanding this verse as an annulment of the cult per se, see Craigie and Tate, Psalms 1–50, 315. 43 In the following, I am concerned only with the psalm in its final form. For an overview of the difficulties regarding composition, redaction, and textual variants, see Frank-Lothar Hossfeld and Erich Zenger, A Commentary on Psalms 51–100, Hermeneia 19B (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2005), 162–63, and Marvin E. Tate, Psalms 51–100, WBC 20 (Nashville; London: Nelson, 1990), 170–75. Tate plainly states: “The difficulties of interpreting Ps 68 are almost legendary” (Tate, Psalms 51–100, 170). 44 For this meaning of ‫ישׁב‬, see DCH, s.v. “ ‫ישׁב‬,” 3. 45 Mitchell Dahood, Psalms II: 51–100, AB 17 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974), 131. 46 While ‫ ָמ רוֹם‬can be used to describe a variety of high places, in certain psalms it is used to denote “the high, imposing place where heaven and earth are intertwined” (Hossfeld and Zenger, Psalms 51–100, 165, with reference to Pss 7:8; 93:4; 102:20). 47 Tate lists some of the suggestions of its literary type: eschatological hymn, victory song, processional hymn, liturgy, see Tate, Psalms 51–100, 173. 48 Or, more often, ‫ ֱא ֹלִה ים‬or ‫ ֲא ד ֹ ָנ י‬and occasionally ‫( ֵא ל‬see, e.g., v. 20) and ‫שׁ ַדּ י‬ ַ (v. 15).

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motion, consisting of a number of chained events: he has defeated the opposing kings (vv. 13, 15); he has “led out” (‫יצא‬, v. 7) the righteous (‫)ַצ ִדּיִקים‬, the fatherless (‫) ְיתוִֹמים‬, the widows (‫)ַאְלָמנוֹת‬, the lonely (‫) ְיִחי ִדים‬, the captives (‫)ֲאִסי ִרים‬, and his people (‫ַﬠם‬, vv. 4–8) by riding ahead of them into the “desolate plain” (‫ֲﬠ ָרָבה‬, v. 5) or the “desert” (‫ ְיִשׁימוֹן‬, v. 8); there he provided rain and shelter (vv. 10–11) until the climax is reached: king Yahweh’s own procession into the “holy place” (‫קֹ ֶדשׁ‬, v. 25). This place is specifically pinpointed as “your temple in Jerusalem” (ִ‫ֵהיָכֶלָך ַﬠל־ ְירוָּשָׁלם‬, v. 30). It is precisely this combination of Krieg, König und Kult that earns Yahweh the epithet “our Saviour” (‫ ְישׁוָּﬠֵתנוּ‬, v. 20) and “God for us” (‫ָהֵאל ָלנוּ‬, v. 21)49 and accumulates to the level of a ‫בשׂר‬ proclamation of Yahweh’s decisive, epoch-making victory with the exclamation of ‫ ַהְמַבְשּׂרוֹת‬in verse 12. Several different options are at hand when it comes to the exact understanding of ‫אֶמר ַהְמַבְשּׂרוֹת ָצָבא ָרב‬ ֹ ‫ֲאד ֹ ָני ִיֶתּן־‬. One option is to understand ‫ ַהְמַבְשּׂרוֹת‬as a host of female singers proclaiming Yahweh’s victory.50 Another option is to understand ‫ ַהְמַבְשּׂרוֹת‬as a collective plural. This removes the feminine referent, as is the case in LXX: κύριος δώσει ῥῆµα τοῖς εὐαγγελιζοµένοις δυνάµει πολλῇ.51 Mitchell Dahood opts for a third option viewing the ‫וֹת‬- ending as the Phoenician feminine singular, which produces the translation: “Let the Lord send forth the word, rejoicing a numerous host.”52 In this case, there is no host, feminine or collective, proclaiming Yahweh’s victory. Rather, the ‫ בשׂר‬proclamation is presented by Yahweh himself as thunder from the skies.53 While difficult to judge, the last option seems forced, leaving us with a female host of joyful messengers of war victory54 or a collective host doing just the same. In all cases, however, the important point is the same: The ‫ בשׂר‬proclamation is used to announce epoch-making events through which Yahweh has become, first, a victorious king who is, second, placed at the centre of a renewed temple, once ––––––––––––––––– 49 Hossfeld sees a similarity to the “Immanuel” ( ‫ )ִﬠ ָמּ נוּ ֵא ל‬of Isa 7:14, see Hossfeld and Zenger, Psalms 51–100, 166. For the many shared themes of a new exodus and Yahweh as a warrior king with Isaiah 40–55, see Tate, Psalms 51–100, 174. 50 In this case, the victory song might extend as far as to v. 24, see deClaissé-Walford, Jacobson, and Tanner, Psalms, 549. 51 See the discussion in Hossfeld and Zenger, Psalms 51–100, 164. HAL suggests that ‫ ַהְמ ַבְשּׂ רוֹת‬should be read as feminine singular, ‫ְמ ַב ֶשּׂ ֶרת‬, and understood as collective, see HAL, s.v. “ ‫בשׂר‬.” 52 Dahood, Psalms II: 51–100, 141. 53 In order to align the feminine ‫שּׂ רוֹת‬ ְ ‫ ַהְמ ַב‬with the masculine ‫אֶמר‬ ֹ , Dahood suggests that it should be understood as the feminine ‫ִא ְמ ָרה‬, “word,” but here “thunder” (see also Weiser, Psalms, 486). 54 Stuhlmacher likewise argues that ‫שּׂ רוֹת‬ ְ ‫ ַהְמ ַב‬should be understood “konkret” as “Frauen, die eine Siegesbotschaft weitertragen” as evidenced also in Exod 15:20–21 (Miriam), Judg 5:1–31 (Deborah), 11:34 (Jephthah’s daughter), and 1 Sam 18:6 (women singing for Saul), see Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 117; see also deClaissé-Walford, Jacobson, and Tanner, Psalms, 459 n. 40.

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again open to be enjoyed by the former captives, fatherless, and lonely.55 The pronounced connection between king and cult has not gone by unnoticed, but is the cornerstone in the Begriffsgeschichte argued by Schniewind, Friedrich, and Schilling. According to Schniewind, Psalm 68 makes “deutlich den Übergang” from a profane to a religious use of the word, since the announcement by the “Siegesbotinnen” is not only “die profane Botschaft vom Schlachtfeld” but rather “eine religiöse, eine kultische Verkündigung” delivered by a host of female singers proclaiming “Jahwes Sieg im Kult.”56 Ps 96:2 uses ‫ בשׂר‬in a highly similar manner to Pss 40:10 and 68:12, sharing the notions of a “new song” (‫ִשׁיר ָח ָדשׁ‬, v. 1, see Ps 40:4), “saving righteousness” (‫ֶצ ֶדק‬, v. 13, see Ps 40:10) and “salvation” (‫ ְישׁוָּﬠה‬, v. 2, see Ps 68:20). Likewise, the themes of Krieg, König und Kult are evident. It is to be told (‫)אמר‬ to the nations that “Yahweh reigns” (‫ ְיה ָוה ָמָלְך‬, v. 10). This kingly worthiness is manifested in “his wonders” (‫ ִנְפְלאוָֹתיו‬, v. 3), his defeat of opposing gods (v. 4), his creation (v. 5), and finally not least the way in which he “with eveness” (‫ֵמיָשׁ ִרים‬, v. 10) “judges the world in righteousness” (‫ ִיְשֹׁפּט־ֵתֵּבל ְבֶּצ ֶדק‬, v. 13). Noteworthy to the thesis I am projecting, we find the kingly victory and worthiness of Yahweh expressed in cultic terms in the middle part of the psalm. The “families of the nations” (‫ִמְשְׁפּחוֹת ַﬠִמּים‬, v. 7) are to take part in the worship of Yahweh, by ascribing him “glory” (‫)ָכּבוֹד‬, by entering into his “sanctuary” and his “courts” (‫ִמְק ָדּשׁ‬, ‫)ֲחֵצרוֹת‬, and by bringing him an “offering gift” (‫ִמ ְנָחה‬, vv. 6–8). In short, the psalm may be described as “a hymn celebrating Yahweh’s sovereignty,”57 expressing universalistic ideas in similar terms as in several places of Isaiah.58 Concerning Sitz im Leben, Psalm 96 is part of Sigmund Mowinckel’s core of Thronbesteigungspsalmen,59 a theory followed by Schniewind and later commentators.60 Other researchers reject the notion of a ––––––––––––––––– 55 Besides the aforementioned references to the temple in the psalm, Weiser rightfully describes verse 11 as a theophany with Yahweh speaking in a scenery “modelled on a cultic incident resembling the one which took place at Isaiah’s vision (Isa. 6) at his call in the Temple of Jerusalem” (Weiser, Psalms, 486). 56 Schniewind, Euangelion, 48, see Friedrich, TWNT 2:707; Schilling, ThWAT 1:848. For a different evaluation of Ps 68:12 as “ein irdischer Bote,” see Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 117. 57 Dahood, Psalms II: 51–100, 356. 58 See, e.g., 42; 49:6; 55:5; 56:3–8; 60–62. Schniewind expresses what is still the majority view today, that “der ganze Psalm ist voll von Anklängen an Deuterojesaia” (Schniewind, Euangelion, 53), see, e.g., Hossfeld and Zenger, Psalms 51–100, 465. However, Dahood musters weighty arguments against a necessary dependency on Second Isaiah due to this thematic similarity, see Dahood, Psalms II: 51–100, 357, pace Dickson, “Gospel as News,” 218. 59 See Sigmund Mowinckel, Psalm Studies, HBS 2 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014), 1:183. 60 See, e.g., Schniewind, Euangelion, 53; Weiser, Psalms, 628; Tate, Psalms 51–100, 472 (commenting on Psalm 93:1); J. J. M. Roberts, “Mowinckel’s Enthronement Festival: A Review,” in The Book of Psalms: Composition and Reception, ed. Peter W. Flint and Patrick D. Miller, VTSup 99 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 113–14.

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New Year festival in preexilic Israel where Yahweh is enthroned and proclaimed as the ruling king, instead understanding the crucial proclamation of verse 10, ‫ ְיה ָוה ָמָלְך‬, statically (“Yahweh is king”) rather than cyclically (“Yahweh has (again) become king”).61 Again, whether the Psalm is understood as an individual psalm of thanksgiving or a liturgical, collectivistic proclamation, the epoch-making reality attached to the notion of ‫ בשׂר‬is obvious, as is the connection to king, war victory, and the cult. (4) Moving on to the Prophetic Books, we encounter seven uses of the ‫בשׂר‬ word group in Isaiah, besides one in each Nahum and Jeremiah in all of which the sense of epoch-making events is confirmed. The use in Jer 20:15 might at first glance seem to contradict this thesis and be a perfect example of Schniewind’s notion of an Alltagsgebrauch of the word group, when used with reference to the message of a newborn son. But the joyful proclamation (‫)ִבַּשּׂר‬ to the father: “A child is born to you, a son” (‫) ֻיַלּד־ְלָך ֵבּן ָזָכר‬, is within any ancient society precisely a message of epoch-making proportions.62 The use in Nah 2:1 is of special importance due to the obvious similarity to Isa 40:9 and 52:7.63 As is the case in the four uses of the participle discussed above,64 the ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬denotes the messenger or the runner from the battlefield who brings good news of the victory. That this message is epoch-making in magnitude is obvious. Yahweh might have been slow to show his anger (1:3), leading to the fall of Israel, but he is now to reveal himself as a mighty warrior, taking a relentless revenge on Nineveh and the Assyrian king (see 2:9; 3:7, 18). This is the message brought by the ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬, who shows himself on the mountains (‫)ַﬠל־ֶהָה ִרים‬, proclaiming peace (‫ )ָשׁלוֹם‬with the instruction: “Celebrate your festivals, Judah, and fulfil your wows” (‫)ָח ִגּי ְיהוּ ָדה ַח ַגּ ִיְך ַשְׁלִּמי ְנ ָד ָר ִיְך‬. In essence, Nah 2:1 attests

––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Hossfeld, who states that the Psalm “is the reaction of an individual in a thanksgiving psalm after an act of salvation” (Hossfeld and Zenger, Psalms 51–100, 464). For a recent discussion and evaluation hereof, including the central question of whether ‫ְיה ָוה‬ ‫ ָמ ָלְך‬should be understood as cyclical (“Yahweh has (again) become king”) or static (“Yahweh is king/ruling”), see Roberts, “Enthronement Festival.” 62 In the Hebrew Bible, stories such as the feud between Esau and Jacob (Genesis 25–33) and laws such as Num 27:1–11 and Deut 21:15–17 attest to the importance of a son, not least a first-born son, in matters of hereditary inheritance ( ‫) ַנֲח ָלה‬. One may also notice Josephus’s use of εὐαγγελ- in connection with the birth of a son (Ant. 5.277; 5.282). Stuhlmacher likewise notices the close resemblance of Gabriel’s εὐαγγελ- message to Zachariah about the birth of a son (Luke 1:19, see 2:10, Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 115). See further J. A. Thompson, The Book of Jeremiah, NICOT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 464. 63 On the discussion of who inspired whom, see Duane L. Christensen, Nahum: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 24F (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009), 259. 64 1 Sam 4:17; 2 Sam 4:10; 18:26; Ps 68:12. 61

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to the combination of Krieg, König und Kult, which we have seen as a solid pattern.65 This finally brings us to the seven attestations in Isaiah, which all fall in the second and third part of the book. Here I shall only present the places and discuss how they align to the pattern detected above, reserving a comprehensive discussion to Section 3.3. Beginning with the general outlook, the following are worth noticing: (a) The use of the participle is distinct to Second Isaiah, where it is used five times in three verses. (b) The proclamation of the ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/‫ ְמַבֶשּׂ ֶרת‬is part and parcel of the grand vision presented by Second Isaiah of the liberation of Zion used in the opening (40:9) and in the centre and climax (52:7), in both places announced on the mountains. (c) It is used in feminine singular in 40:9 and masculine singular in 41:27 and 52:7.66 (d) The content of the proclamation is stated specifically. In 40:9 it is a message of comfort (“do not fear,” ‫ )ַאל־ִתּי ָרִאי‬based on the assertion of Yahweh’s immediate appearance or actual presence (“See, your God! See, the Lord

––––––––––––––––– 65 Schniewind and Stuhlmacher discuss if Nahum’s use of ‫ בשׂ ר‬should be understood as ‘religious’ or ‘profane’ in character. This is tied to their understanding of its historical development, where only Second Isaiah in a true way may be labelled ‘religious,’ due to its eschatological understanding of Yahweh’s coming victory. Both admit, however, that Nahum’s message is ‘religious’ in essence, as “Jahwes Bote,” and therefore within the sphere of “Heilserwartung” (Schniewind, Euangelion, 47, see Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 117). 66 This change is best explained as forced by a change in the identification of the messenger. In 40:9, the construct ‫ ְמ ַב ֶשּׂ ֶרת ִציּוֹן‬can be understood as an objective genitive (“a messenger to Zion”) or as an epexegetical or appositional (“Zion, messenger”), in which case the messenger is proceeding from Zion, announcing the victory of Yahweh to the cities of Judah. The latter seems to be the best explanation here since a messenger’s message to Zion is expressed with a prepositional construction in 41:27 and 52:7 (‫)ְלִציּוֹן‬. For discussion and different evaluations, see Klaus Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah: A Commentary on Isaiah 40–55, Hermeneia 23C (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2001), 61; John N. Oswalt, The Book of Isaiah: Chapters 40–66, NICOT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 54; John D. W. Watts, Isaiah 34–66, WBC 25 (Nashville: Nelson, 2005), 2:612. Noteworthy, the preferred texts of the LXX changes it into a masculine construction (ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος Σιων … ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος Ιερουσαληµ), most likely with the intention of pinpointing the messengers as messengers to Zion since Zion and Jerusalem, though indeclinable, are feminine (pace Evans, “From Gospel,” 662 n. 25); see also Ken Penner, who estimates that in the LXX, “the cities must be the objects of the verb, the recipients of the news” (Ken M. Penner, Isaiah, SEPT [Leiden: Brill, 2021], 549). This understanding is finally brought to completion by Pss. Sol. 11:1, stating that “the voice of the messenger shall be preached in Jerusalem” (κηρύξατε ἐν Ιερουσαληµ φωνὴν εὐαγγελιζοµένου), see further the discussion in Section 3.2.2 and 3.4.1.

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Yahweh,” ‫ִה ֵנּה ֱאֹלֵהיֶכם ִה ֵנּה ֲאד ֹ ָני ְיה ָוה‬, vv. 9–10)67 as a mighty warrior, who comes “as a strong one” or “in strength” (‫ ;)ְבָּח ָזק‬as a king, whose “arm rules for him” (‫מְשָׁלה לוֹ‬ ֹ ‫ ְזר ֹעוֹ‬, v. 10); and as a shepherd, who “shepherds” (‫רעה‬, v. 11) his flock.68 In 41:27, “a messenger” (‫ )ְמַבֵשּׂר‬is sent “to Zion” (‫)ְלִציּוֹן‬, “to Jerusalem” (ִ‫)ִלירוָּשַׁלם‬, with the somewhat cryptic message: “Look, here they (are)” (‫)ִה ֵנּה ִה ָנּם‬. In 52:7, the content of the message of the ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬is far from cryptic. As in 41:27, the messenger (‫ )ְמַבֵשּׂר‬is specifically pointed out as coming on the mountains “to Zion” (‫)ְלִציּוֹן‬, and as noted by Schilling, the message to Zion is defined as a cohesive “Dreiklang” of “peace” (‫)ָשׁלוֹם‬, “good (message)” (‫)טוֹב‬, and “salvation/deliverance” (‫) ְישׁוָּﬠה‬, which is either “caused to hear” (‫ )שׁמע‬or “proclaimed” (‫)בשׂר‬.69 Highly noteworthy, this triad of peace, good message of victory, and salvation is summed up in the statement of the messenger to Zion: ‫ָמַלְך ֱאֹלָה ִיְך‬. As noted by Klaus Baltzer, this statement is linked to the general notion of ‫( ְיה ָוה ָמָלְך‬see Ps 96:10) and the concept of Yahweh’s kingly intronization, an area of intense research.70 However, the question is if the antecedent position of the verb should prompt a translation stressing the activity of ruling, “he reigns, your God,” or if the perfective aspect of the verb is strong enough to justify the translation “your God is king.”71 (e) The two attestations in the third part of Isaiah differ in some respects from the participial use in Second Isaiah. In Isa 60:6, we have a description of a caravan of foreign people from afar heading towards the temple with gifts and sacrifices (v. 7), a scene with links to the universal theme present in all parts of Isaiah. This party is now part of those “proclaiming Yahweh’s praise” (‫)ְתִהֹּלת ְיה ָוה ְיַבֵשּׂרוּ‬, much in the same way as the cultic or individual ‫ בשׂר‬praise of Yahweh in the Psalms (especially 40:10 and 96:2, par. 1 Chr 16:23). In 61:1, ‫ בשׂר‬is the first of a string of infinitives that display the purpose and content of the anointing (‫ )משׁח‬and commission (‫ )שׁלח‬of the messenger, namely “to ––––––––––––––––– 67 The lack of copulative verbs has resulted in different translation traditions as either a present reality (“See, your God is here”) or an in-breaking, yet future, event (“See, your God is coming”). The question connects to the understanding of the construct ‫ ְמ ַב ֶשּׂ ֶרת ִציּוֹן‬as either “messenger to” or “messenger of/from” Zion (see the preceding note). If the latter, the message preached ִ‫ ַﬠל־ֵלב ְירוָּשׁ ַלם‬in 40:2 has already materialized to the degree that it is Jerusalem who is sending forth messengers to the cities of Judah. 68 For the redemptive power entailed in the notion of ’shepherd,’ see Frederik Poulsen, The Black Hole in Isaiah: A Study of Exile as a Literary Theme, FAT 125 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019), 325–27. 69 Schilling, ThWAT 1:849, followed by Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 380. 70 Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 381; see also Joseph Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 19A (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002), 342. 71 Blekinsopp’s translation captures the double-sided nature of the expression: “Your God reigns as king,” and comments that while ‫“ ָמ ַלְך ֱא ֹלָה ִיְך‬signifies an event rather than a kind of article of faith,” it “also carries with it echoes and reverberations from familiar mythic patterns” (Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 342–43).

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announce (the good news) to the poor” (‫)ְלַבֵשּׂר ֲﬠ ָנ ִוים‬.72 The entire setting of 61:1 and the following is in the words of Stuhlmacher a prophetic “Sendungsauftrag,” the “Evangelisationsamt des ‫מבשׂר‬,” which “traditionsgeschichtlich für das nachbiblische Judentum und das Neue Testament von größter Bedeutung ist.”73 Besides that, the ‫ בשׂר‬commission is part of the epoch-changing state of fortunes Jerusalem is about to witness. This will include the experience and presence of Yahweh’s glory (‫ָכּבוֹד‬, 60:1), the splendour of the reconsecrated temple (e.g., 60:7, 13; 62:9) that is about to be rebuilt (e.g., 62:1– 12), and Yahweh’s redemption or liberation (‫גאל‬, 60:16) of his people in the spirit of Moses and the exodus (63:11–14), that is, Yahweh’s “salvation” (‫ ְישׁוָּﬠה‬, e.g., 60:18). This short review of the seven uses in Isaiah underlines my point vividly: The notion of ‫בשׂר‬, whether denoting the messenger or the message, is used in Second and Third Isaiah as the epoch-making proclamation of the war victory of Yahweh, the reestablishment of his glorious presence at Zion in his temple in order that all foreign peoples and gods may acknowledge his superior kingship. In short, Krieg, König und Kult.74 To sum up this review of the use of ‫ בשׂר‬in the Hebrew Bible, I find my thesis of an inherent notion of epoch-making or epoch-changing thoroughly substantiated. While at times used in conjunction with much more broad-ranging verbs of telling, notifying, and saying, such as ‫נגד‬, ‫דבר‬, ‫אמר‬, ‫ספר‬, ‫שׁמע‬, and ‫קרא‬,75 ‫ בשׂר‬is in the Hebrew Bible reserved in use to situations of defining magnitude. Going one step deeper, the use of the stem is inherently kingly and victorious for which reason it likewise readily shows its colours as cultic. The clear-cut distinction between a profane and a theologische or religiöse Verwendung entertained with some difficulty and noteworthy variations by Schniewind, Friedrich, Stuhlmacher, and Schilling is challenged by, amongst others, 1 Sam 31:9 and the Philistine cultic ‫ בשׂר‬celebration of their war victory. The same is the case with the blended use of kingly and cultic motifs in the attestations in the Psalms. This is not to say that the use in Second Isaiah does not represent something distinct, such as an eschatological intensification, but the proposed Begriffsgeschichte is unwarranted, going from a profane and ordinary use to a cultic one, and finally to a theological one in the meaning of ––––––––––––––––– 72 ‫שּׂ ר‬ ֵ ‫ ְלַב‬may be taken as the indirect object of ‫ ְשׁ ָלַח ִני‬and thereby closely related to the following string of infinitives, clearly standing for objects of the commission (see, e.g., Joseph Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 19B (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 218) or as the indirect object of the preceding ‫ָמ ַשׁ ח‬, which would single it out as the content of the anointment only (see, e.g., Oswalt, Isaiah 40–66, 561). 73 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 121. 74 As rightfully noted by Oswalt: “This verb occurs at critical places in this part of the book” (Oswalt, Isaiah 40–66, 564). 75 See, e.g., 2 Sam 1:20; 4:10; Pss 40:6, 11; 96:10; Isa 52:7; 61:1.

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eschatological.76 Rather, what we are witnessing in the relatively slim base of attestations in the Hebrew Bible are variations and different emphases of the inherent epoch-making notions of Krieg, König und Kult intimately attached to ‫בשׂר‬. Finally, an understanding of ‫ בשׂר‬as epoch-making is corroborated by recent developments in the understanding of the piel stem as summarized by Waltke and O’Connor.77 While earlier grammarians would describe piel as an “intensification” of qal,78 renewed investigations in the twentieth century led to the result that piel should rather be understood as “effecting or causing a state corresponding to the basic meaning of the root.”79 If the corresponding verb in qal is intransitive, the piel stem should be understood as factitive, meaning “it designates without regard to the process the bringing about of the state.”80 If the verb in qal is transitive, the piel stem is resultative, meaning “it designates the bringing about of the outcome of the action designated by the base root.”81 Such an understanding of the piel stem clearly underlines the notion of ‫ בשׂר‬as epoch-making. It is not just ‘telling intensively,’ but ‘proclaiming a new state of affairs.’ 3.2.2 Epoch-Making ‘Gospels’ in the LXX Looking at the Septuagint, we are confronted with three issues of importance. One is the obvious rephrasing and interpretative translation in several instances. Another is the thesis raised by Schniewind that the Septuagint misunderstood the theological importance of the ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬notion. Finally, and most importantly for our purpose, the question is if the Septuagint uses the εὐαγγελword group to communicate epoch-making changes or rather has weakened its connotation. (1) Concerning the differences, four are of noteworthy importance: (a) The six instances of ‫ ְבּשׂ ֹ ָרה‬are translated differently: five times with the feminine singular εὐαγγελία (2 Kgdms 18:20, 22, 25, 27; 4 Kgdms 7:9) and one time with the neuter plural εὐαγγέλια (2 Kgdms 4:10), according to the

––––––––––––––––– 76 This evaluation is supported by the noteworthy variations between the researchers working with such a development. While Friedrich sees a transition from a secular to a religious use taking place in 1 Sam 31:9 (see Friedrich, TWNT 2:705–6), Schilling sees it only in Ps 68:12 (Schilling, ThWAT 1:848), which Stuhlmacher to the contrary finds to be a profane use, reserving the change for Second Isaiah (see Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 117). 77 Bruce K. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 396–417. 78 See, e.g., Schilling, ThWAT 1:846. 79 Waltke and O’Connor, Biblical Hebrew, 398. 80 Waltke and O’Connor, Biblical Hebrew, 400. 81 Waltke and O’Connor, Biblical Hebrew, 400.

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best attested accentuation and tradition.82 The preference for the feminine singular may be seen as a wish to remain in close conformity with the Hebrew pretext. The exception in 2 Kgdms 4:10 may be explained by the phrase δοῦναι εὐαγγέλια, clearly indicating the money of the messenger’s reward, requiring plural. In either case, including the variant readings, neither of the forms of the noun used in the Septuagint, feminine singular and neuter plural, is used in any text of the New Testament. (b) Three uses of ‫ בשׂר‬are not translated with forms of εὐαγγελ-. In 1 Kgdms 4:17, ‫ ַהְמַבֵשּׂר‬is changed to τὸ παιδάριον. This may readily be explained as a wish to reserve the εὐαγγελ- word group to communication of good news of victory.83 In Isa 41:27, ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬is changed to παρακαλεῖν, changing “and to Jerusalem I will give a messenger” (‫ ) ְוִלירוָּשַׁלםִ ְמַבֵשּׂר ֶאֵתּן‬to “and I will comfort Jerusalem along the way” (καὶ Ιερουσαληµ παρακαλέσω εἰς ὁδόν). This change is far from trivial, and it is the main reason behind Schniewind’s judgment that the LXX translation misunderstood the theology and eschatology of Second Isaiah, which will be discussed below. In 1 Chr 16:23, the piel imperative ‫ַבְּשּׂרוּ‬ is translated as ἀναγγείλατε,84 declare or announce, which might also be deemed a change of minor importance.85 ––––––––––––––––– While the Göttingen minor displays no knowledge of variant readings for these places in 2 Kingdoms (Rahlfs’s Göttingen maior is not available for 2 Kingdoms yet), the two Cambridge critical editions of LXX do, that is, Swete (minor), and Brooke, McLean, and Thackeray (maior). Interestingly, variant readings of 2 Kgdms 18:20, 22, 25, 27, and 31 attest the neuter, plural form here as well. The variant readings fall into three groups: (a) In vv. 22 and 25, a corrector of Codex Vaticanus changed the accentuation of εὐαγγελία to εὐαγγέλια, the neuter plural. (b) In v. 20, one manuscript changed εὐαγγελίας to the neuter plural genitive εὐαγγελίων. (c) In vv. 20, 25, 27, and 31, the manuscript group boc2e2, also known as the Lucianic text tradition (Göttingen maior uses the sigla L), makes two types of changes: First, in vv. 20 and 25, it reads εὐαγγελίσµος (in v. 20 only partially). Second, in vv. 27 and 31, it reads either the neuter plural genitive εὐαγγελίων (v. 27) or the neuter plural nominative εὐαγγέλια (v. 31; here instead of the better attested εὐαγγελισθήτω). Thus, the neuter plural is attested altogether in six places in the manuscript tradition. For further discussion, see Horbury, “Gospel,” 15–17; Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 155–56. 83 See Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 155. On the other hand, the LXX preserves a form of ἀγαθός as translation of ‫ טוֹב‬in the three instances where it is used to explain the ‫ בשׂר‬announcement as “good” (2 Kgdms 18:27; 3 Kgdms 1:42; Isa 52:7). 84 Except for one manuscript, e , which reads εὐαγγελίσασθε (see Cambridge maior). 2 There is, to complete the picture, also Hexaplaric evidence (α’) for reading εὐαγγελιασώµεθα instead of ἀναγγείλωµεν in Jer 28:10 LXX (51:10 MT), here as a translation of ‫( ספר‬to count, to recount/tell about). 85 Raymond E. Brown notes in his commentary to 1 John 1:2, 5 that the Johannine writings use ἀναγγέλλειν and ἀγγελία “interchangeable in meaning” and as the “technical Johannine equivalent” to εὐαγγέλιον, pointing to a couple of places in the LXX for a similar use, namely Isa 28:9: “To whom do we declare evil (ἀνηγγείλαµεν κακά), and to whom do we declare a message (ἀνηγγείλαµεν ἀγγελίαν)?,” and the notion in Prov 12:25 and 25:25 of “a good message (ἀγγελία ἀγαθή),” Raymond E. Brown, The Epistles of John, AB 30 (Garden 82

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(c) More noteworthy is the translation of Joel 3:5 (2:32 ET) where ‫ְשּׂ ִרי ִדים‬ (survivors) is rendered εὐαγγελιζόµενοι. Perhaps this translation is based on a misreading of the Hebrew text and thus “Sinnlos,”86 or perhaps it should, together with Strack and Billerbeck, be viewed as a passive participle, identifying “the survivors” as “denen die gute Botschaft überbracht wurde.”87 Another option is provided by the variant readings of Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Marchalianus, which present the singular εὐαγγελιζόµενος. This rendering may readily be understood in the light of the Isaianic ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬, the messenger of Yahweh.88 Regardless of the background, Joel 3:5 attests to an eschatological understanding of εὐαγγελίζειν in close proximity to the use in the Psalms as well as in Isaiah. This is seen from the noteworthy equation in the verse between εὐαγγελίζειν and ἀνασῴζειν, as well as σῴζειν, echoing precisely Ps 95:2 LXX and Isa 52:7; 60:6 LXX.89 (d) Finally, the Septuagint uses the participle differently in four other instances besides Isa 41:27 and Joel 3:5. Of minor importance is 1 Kgdms 31:9, rendering the infinitive (‫ )ְלַבֵשּׂר‬as εὐαγγελίζοντες, and Jer 20:15, rendering a third singular piel (‫ )ִבַּשּׂר‬as a participle, ὁ εὐαγγελισάµενος. More important is the change from a feminine to a masculine participle in Isa 40:9 (‫ ְמַבֶשּׂ ֶרת‬to ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος, 2x) and in Ps 68/67:12 (‫ ַהְמַבְשּׂרוֹת‬to τοῖς εὐαγγελιζοµένοις).90 ––––––––––––––––– City, NY; New York: Doubleday, 1982), 167–68, 193. While Brown makes a good case concerning the Johannine writings, he stretches his case beyond the reasonable when lumping together a variety of words with a wider semantic range and different use, such as ἐπαγγέλλεσθαι, ἐπαγγελία, and ἀπαγγέλλειν besides ἀγγελία, ἀγγέλλειν, and ἀναγγέλλειν. Nevertheless, the similarity between 1 Chr 16:23 and Ps 95:2 LXX (εὐαγγελίζεσθε ἡµέραν ἐξ ἡµέρας τὸ σωτήριον αὐτοῦ) does indeed indicate a close proximity between ἀναγγέλλειν and εὐαγγελίζειν in this place (see also the two text-critical variations discussed in the previous note). 86 Schniewind, Euangelion, 67; see also Twelftree, The Gospel, 31. There is Hexaplaric evidence (α’ and θ’) for a change to καὶ ἐν τοῖς καταλελειµµένοις (“and among the left behind/remnant”). 87 Str-B 3:7; see also the discussion in Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 160–61. 88 In this instance, εὐαγγελιζόµενος should be understood as an equivalent to εὐάγγελος (a messenger of good news) used only by Greek authors. The translation would then be: “And there shall be salvation for all, who call on the name of the Lord. Because on Mount Zion and in Jerusalem, there shall be one, who is rescued, as the Lord has said, and one, who is a messenger of good news, whom the Lord has called.” 89 In reality, whereas the connection between ‫ בשׂ ר‬and ‫ ְי שׁ וָּﬠ ה‬is made only in Ps 96:2, Isa 52:7, and 1 Chr 16:23 in the Hebrew Bible (see also Ps 40:10–11), the Septuagint connects εὐαγγελίζειν and σῴζειν as well in Isa 60:6 and Joel 3:5 (but not in 1 Chr 16:23). 90 Noteworthy, the tendency among the younger translators is to preserve the feminine form of the Hebrew text. According to the Hexapla Apparat in Göttingen maior, this is the case with Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion (along with other witnesses), who in Isa 40:9 read εὐαγγελιζοµένη. While Göttingen maior to the Psalms does not provide a specific apparatus for the Hexaplaric evidence, Schniewind quotes Symmachus for a similar rendering of Ps 67:12 LXX as well, see Schniewind, Euangelion, 67.

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(2) This brings us to Schniewind’s evaluation of changes made in the Septuagint. Followed by Friedrich, Schniewind argues that the LXX did not understand the theological and eschatological content of the ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬notion of the Hebrew Bible, namely the idea of Yahweh sending an intermediary in his place. This concept was instead preserved by other strings of Jewish tradition from where it was eventually adopted by the New Testament. As summarized by Friedrich, the problem is that “an den entscheidenden Stellen,” where the Hebrew Bible uses the ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬notion, Isa 40:9; 41:27; 52:7, and Ps 68/67:12, “ändert die LXX den Text.”91 In detail: (a) According to Schniewind and Friedrich, the change from feminine to masculine in Isa 40:9 and Ps 67:12 LXX is “nicht eine Verstärkung,” but to the contrary an “Erleichterung und Abschwächung” in which the notion becomes “verallgemeinert.”92 However, to counter this reading, Stuhlmacher provides evidence for a more convincing case, namely to understand the change to a masculine participle as caused by the rabbinic tradition for viewing the messenger of Yahweh in the light of Moses and Aron.93 (b) Isa 41:27, changing ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬to παρακαλεῖν, is seemingly a much better case for Schniewind. Concordantly, he characterizes it as “bloßes Ratespiel,” proving that the ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬notion is “überhaupt nicht verstanden.”94 Again, Stuhlmacher provides a more compelling understanding in which, on the one hand, he acknowledges that the identification of ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬as the Messiah or Elijah, as in the later Targum Isaiah and Rabbinic material,95 is not yet present in the Septuagint. On the other hand, however, the Septuagint makes another startling theological and eschatological identification: “Gott selbst ist der Freudenbote.”96 (c) This is also the case with Isa 52:6–7. To Schniewind, the problem is twofold. The main problem is that with the threefold ὡς construction the Septuagint identifies the εὐαγγελιζόµενος as God himself, speaking in the preceding verse (ἐγώ εἰµι αὐτὸς ὁ λαλῶν πάρειµι), for which reason “Deuterojesaias Anschauung vom kommenden Freudenboten durchaus nicht verstanden wurde.”97 The second problem is the translation of the qal qatal ‫ ָמַלְך‬with the future βασιλεύσει, which proves that the LXX “die Anschauung von der ––––––––––––––––– Friedrich, TWNT 2:710. Friedrich, TWNT 2:710. 93 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 161. Stuhlmacher further notes that the Hebrew feminine participle may be used as an office title. 94 Schniewind, Euangelion, 68. 95 See Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 148. Tg. Isa. 41:27 reads: ‫ִל י ֻר ושׁ ַל ם ְמ ַב ַס ר ַא ֵת ן‬, “and I will give to Jerusalem a herald of good tidings” (after Bruce Chilton, The Isaiah Targum: Introduction, Translation, Apparatus and Notes, ArBib 11 [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1987], 81). 96 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 163. 97 Schniewind, Euangelion, 73. 91 92

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hereinbrechenden Herrschaft Jahwes nicht ganz erfasste.”98 This reading seems stretched, however. The future tense of βασιλεύσει does not necessarily equal an Erleichterung und Abschwächung of the eschatology of Second Isaiah, but only that whatever the authors of the Septuagint hoped to see God perform they deemed as a future event.99 (d) This brings us to a final note on Schniewind’s critique of the LXX, the rendering of Nah 2:1, in which he argues that the preceding ὅτι ταχεῖς of 1:14 “erleichterte das Verständnis des Bildes.”100 No explanation for this conclusion is offered, and in reality, Nah 2:1 LXX stays true to the Hebrew original, ‫ִכּי‬ ‫“( ַקלּוָֹת‬because you are swift/light”). Nevertheless, Schniewind concludes: “Die Septuaginta bringt uns keinen Gewinn, den Ursprung des Begriffs Evangelium zu verstehen.”101 In evaluation, however, Schniewind’s bleak reading of the Septuagint is one-sided, as seen from the following considerations: First, concerning the various changes in the use of the participle, Schniewind underplays the two places where the LXX adds a participle.102 In Isa 60:6, the translation καὶ τὸ σωτήριον κυρίου εὐαγγελιοῦνται is noteworthy for rendering ‫ְתִּהָלּה‬, praise, as σωτήριον, something that only occurs here in the LXX, bringing it in line with Ps 95:2 LXX as almost a formula for proclaiming the victorious salvation of the Lord (εὐαγγελίζεσθαι τὸ σωτήριον κυρίου).103 While Joel 3:5 is more of a conundrum and may be understood as a mistranslation, the double use of a form of σῴζειν makes it more likely that it should be viewed as an intended echo of Isa 52:7 and 60:6. In this case, the translation of the Septuagint in Joel 3:5 is not Sinnlos but rather presents a theologically motivated rendering of God as the messenger (reading εὐαγγελιζόµενοι, understood as a passive) or of God’s messenger, preaching in Zion (reading εὐαγγελιζόµενος with Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Marchalianus).104 Second, concerning the change from feminine to masculine participles in Ps 67:12 LXX and Isa 40:9 LXX (2x), these may in this light readily be ––––––––––––––––– 98 Schniewind, Euangelion, 73. As noted by Schniewind, one manuscript reads the present βασιλεύει (106, see Göttingen maior), just as there is Hexaplaric evidence for the aorist, ἐβασίλευσεν. In several other instances the LXX readily translates the qal qatal with the aorist. 99 It should also be noted that qatal expresses aspect rather than time and may be reproduced with various Greek tenses; see, e.g., 2 Kgdms 15:10 and 4 Kgdms 9:13 where ‫ ָמ ַלְך‬is translated with perfect (βεβασίλευκεν) and aorist (ἐβασίλευσεν), respectively. 100 Schniewind, Euangelion, 74. 101 Schniewind, Euangelion, 78. 102 Apart from 1 Kgdms 31:9 and Jer 20:15 where the change from a finite form of ‫בשׂ ר‬ to a participle does not seem theologically motivated or connected with the ‫ ְמ ַב ֵשּׂ ר‬notion. 103 Stuhlmacher phrases it well in saying that Isa 60:6 is “von einer theologischen Auslegung inspiriert” (Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 163). 104 See above for more details and n. 88 for a translation of Joel 3:5.

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understood as a theological intensification and thus far from an Erleichterung und Abschwächung. Instead of being a well-known picture from history of women singers announcing the war victory, Ps 67:12 LXX provides an eschatological or cultic scenery of male, perhaps priestly, victory proclaimers. Isa 40:9 LXX is even more noteworthy. The double use of ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος is in reality the closest the Septuagint comes to a direct translation of the notion of the male ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬, which may be understood as entailing messianic notions. The change further makes it clear that the messenger is coming to Jerusalem – understanding the indeclinable Σιων as the object of ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος105 – rather than going out from Jerusalem, which is better understood as a heightening of the eschatological potential of the text than the opposite.106 Third, while the change to παρακαλεῖν in Isa 41:27 and the future βασιλεύσει in 52:7 undeniable represent a change that weakens the notion of God’s messenger by making God himself the messenger about to enter Zion, these changes do not necessarily weaken the overall theological impetus behind the septuagintal translation. As shown by Stuhlmacher, the identity of Yahweh’s ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬was not fixed in Judaism, something also to be seen in the two places in the New Testament that most clearly refer to this tradition, Acts 10:36 having God as the messenger and Rom 10:15 having the evangelists as the messengers. Granting this, the emphasis on God as the agent in the reversal of Jerusalem’s fortunes can hardly be considered a fading of the eschatological horizon in the Septuagint. Fourth and finally, Schniewind also underplays the connection between εὐαγγελ- and the σῴζειν word group, which the Septuagint takes over from the Hebrew Bible and expands it to the translation of Isa 60:6 and Joel 3:5. Together with other theologically noteworthy connections, such as δικαιοσύνη (Ps 39:10 LXX), εἰρήνη (Nah 2:1; Isa 52:7) and ἀγαθός (Isa 52:7), this connection places the Septuagint’s use of εὐαγγελ- on par with its Hebrew Vorlage. (3) This evaluation of Schniewind’s proposal also entails my evaluation of the Septuagint’s theological connotation of the εὐαγγελ- word group, which I find to resemble that of the Hebrew Bible closely: (a) Firstly, the Septuagint generally translates ‫ בשׂר‬with εὐαγγελ-. There is only one place where it translates something else with εὐαγγελ-,107 and only three places where it does not translate ‫ בשׂר‬with εὐαγγελ-.108 While certain variant readings are observable, the four critical editions of the Septuagint used in this investigation reconstruct (where the text has been published) the Septuagint’s use of εὐαγγελ- in precisely the same manner, providing the total ––––––––––––––––– See Penner, Isaiah, 549. See the discussion above in n. 66 for further details. 107 Joel 3:5, besides also the Hexaplaric attestation in Jer 20:18. 108 1 Kgdms 4:17 (τὸ παιδάριον); Isa 41:27 (παρακαλέσω); 1 Chr 16:23 (ἀναγγείλατε with Hexaplaric evidence for εὐαγγελίσασθε). 105 106

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number of attestations to twenty-eight,109 two less than in the Hebrew Bible. Of these, six are of the feminine and neuter nominal forms110 and twenty-two are verbal forms, including the twelve participles111 (compared to the ten participles of the Hebrew Bible). In essence, like the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint only uses this word group reluctantly and only in ten books altogether. (b) This means, secondly, that the conclusion concerning the use in the Hebrew Bible covers the use in the Septuagint as well. There is no evidence of an Alltagsgebrauch of the εὐαγγελ- word group. Rather, it is reserved for certain situations of epoch-making proportions in which a victory is proclaimed,112 which in all cases, except Jer 20:15, are kingly war victories. In the Historical Books, it is victories of Davidic kings or the Philistines (1 Kgdms 31:9; 1 Chr 10:9); in the Psalms and the Prophetic Books, it is the victory, present or future, of God. Psalm 39 LXX is clearly a hymn, proclaiming (εὐαγγελίζειν) the epochmaking salvation (σωτήριον) and justice (δικαιοσύνη) of the Lord, which has produced a “new song” (ᾆσµα καινόν, Ps 39:4 LXX). While God is not proclaimed king, the choice of words and the similarities to Psalms 67 and 95 LXX make the case compelling. As already stated, the word given by the Lord to τοῖς εὐαγγελιζοµένοις in Ps 67:12 amounts to a word of eschatological victory. This includes a new exodus through the desert lands (ὁδοποιεῖν, v. 5) and salvation (σωτήριον, vv. 20–21), besides the defeat of opposing kings (v. 15). Ultimately, the Lord will be recognized as King in his temple (v. 25), even by kings from afar (v. 33). The kingly victory is likewise just as present in Psalm 95 LXX as in the Hebrew Vorlage where ‫ ְיה ָוה ָמָלְך‬is rendered ὁ κύριος ἐβασίλευσεν (v. 10), a statement bolstered by reference to his salvation and fair judgment, which is what needs to be proclaimed (εὐαγγελίζειν, v. 2). It has also already become clear how the imagery presented in Second Isaiah, Nahum, and Joel is of a kingly victory by the God of Israel. Especially noteworthy is Isa 52:7, where the change from ‫ ֱאֹלָה ִיְך ָמַלְך‬to βασιλεύσει σου ὁ θεός may be read, as discussed above, as a weakening of the kingly theme, but may just as readily indicate the unfolding drama through which God retakes his throne. In the very ––––––––––––––––– Following the variant readings, this number would raise to thirty, adding 1 Chr 16:23 (εὐαγγελίσασθε, e2) and Jer 28:10 (εὐαγγελίσωµεθα, Aquila). 110 Following the variant readings, this number would raise to seven, adding 2 Kgdms 18:31. Likewise, the number of neuter nominal forms would rise from one (2 Kgdms 4:10) to six (adding 2 Kgdms 18:20, 22, 25, 27, 31), leaving 4 Kgdms 7:9 as the only uncontested feminine attestation. 111 Noteworthy, the three feminine participles in Ps 67:12 LXX and Isa 40:9 (2x) are changed to masculine, except by some witnesses in the Hexaplaric tradition. 112 As often noticed, the change from ‫שּׂ ר‬ ֵ ‫ ַהְמ ַב‬to τὸ παιδάριον in 1 Kgdms 4:17 bolsters the understanding in the LXX of the εὐαγγελ- as an inherently positive proclamation. However, David’s death song to Saul and Jonathan could be read as an εὐαγγελ- proclamation of war defeat (2 Kgdms 1:20), just as the LXX preserves the explanation of εὐαγγελ- as ἀγαθός in 2 Kgdms 18:27, 3 Kgdms 1:42, and Isa 52:7. 109

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125

same manner, the Septuagint preserves the link between the εὐαγγελ- and the temple cult, occasionally in the Historical Books113 but specifically in the Psalms114 and the Prophetic Books.115 (c) Finally, to recount, two alterations are observable regarding the ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬. On the one hand, in two places the Septuagint identifies the Lord as the messenger.116 On the other hand, in other places the Septuagint adds the notion of messengers.117 In light of this, the change from feminine to masculine in Ps 67:12 and Isa 40:9 LXX becomes evident. The Septuagint preserves the notion of eschatological gospel messengers, and in doing so, it remarkably refrains from using the secular Greek notion of εὐάγγελος but stays close to the Hebrew Vorlage with the participial notion of ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος. 3.2.3 Epoch-Making ‘Gospels’ in Greek and Roman Texts Finally, in this subsection, we shall look at the use of the εὐαγγελ- notion in Greek and Roman texts. As it soon will become clear, the picture from the Hebrew Bible and the Septuagint also covers these texts in rarely using the word group and reserving it for epoch-making victories or, deflected from this use, a change of fortunes in one’s personal life for the better. In overview, the rarity of the word group in the Greek text corpus in the pre-Christian era may be gleaned from a search in the TLG database, revealing approximately fortyeight attestations in texts before the New Testament (excluding the Septuagint) and fifty-four in non-Christian texts up until Lucian (second century).118 Further, in overview, following the seventeenth-century synopsis of Latin Bible commentaries by Matthew Poole,119 it has become standard for dictionaries and researchers alike to divide the use of the word group into three (in particular ––––––––––––––––– 113 1 Kgdms 31:9 is noteworthy, since the phrase εὐαγγελίζοντες τοῖς εἰδώλοις αὐτῶν may be translated “to announce to their idols” (see NETS); see also 1 Chr 10:9: τοῦ εὐαγγελίσασθαι τοῖς εἰδώλοις αὐτῶν. 114 Ps 67 LXX is replete with references to the temple, such as ἐν τόπῳ ἁγίῳ αὐτοῦ (v. 6), κατοικεῖν (v. 17), ἐν τῷ ἁγίῳ (v. 25), τοῦ ναοῦ σου (v. 30), just as Pss 39 LXX and 95 LXX have the temple as focus (see, e.g., 39:7; 95:8–9). 115 Nah 2:1 commands Juda to celebrate the festivals (ἑόρταζε Ιουδα τὰς ἑορτάς σου), just as Joel ends with a temple cultic reference to the dwelling of the Lord at Zion (κύριος κατασκηνώσει ἐν Σιων, 4:21). The role of the temple cult in Second and Third Isaiah will be investigated separately below, see Section 3.3.3. 116 Isa 41:27 (see παρακαλέσω) and 52:7 (see the use of ὡς and ποιήσω rather than the participial construction in the Hebrew text). 117 Isa 60:6; Joel 3:5; Jer 20:15; see also 1 Kgdms 31:9. 118 As listed in n. 7 above, the most thorough investigations of the Greek material are still to be found in, first and foremost, Schniewind, Euangelion, 113–258 (= Zweite Lieferung), but also Friedrich, TWNT 2:705–35 and Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 164–206 (see especially pp. 183–84, 186–89). For recent surveys, see especially Twelftree, The Gospel, 27–36 and Dickson, “Gospel as News.” 119 See Horbury, “Gospel,” 9.

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with reference to the noun), adding “to make a sacrifice for good tidings” to the two uses attested in the Hebrew Bible and the Septuagint, namely “announcement of good news” and “reward for good news.”120 We shall discuss the attestations at hand according to this tripartition. To this will be added a discussion of the use in connection with the imperial cult and the so-called everyday use, which is highly pertinent to the thesis under investigation. (1) Beginning with the two oldest known examples of the word group, Homer’s two uses of εὐαγγέλιον, we are immediately confronted with the notion of “reward for good tidings.” The early date is remarkable in itself (the next known attestations are in the writings of Aeschylus from the sixth or fifth century BCE), but so is the fact that Homer provides us with the only attestation of the noun in neuter singular outside the New Testament until Josephus, Plutarch, and Appian (first and second century CE). The two uses fall in the same paragraph in which Odysseus is speaking in disguise to the swineherd Eumaios. As servant in the household of Odysseus, he has witnessed the collapse of Odysseus’s household during the many years of Odysseus’s absence and has at this point given up hope of his return. But as a messenger of the turning tides, Odysseus assures him, saying: “Let there be a reward for good tidings to me immediately, when he [Odysseus] comes and reaches his home” (εὐαγγέλιον δέ µοι ἔστω αὐτίκ’, ἐπεί κεν κεῖνος ἰὼν τὰ ἃ δώµαθ’ ἵκηται).121 To this Eumaios answers: “Oh, old man, neither shall I pay (you) reward for good tidings, nor shall Odysseus ever come to his house” (ὦ γέρον, οὔτ’ ἄρ’ ἐγὼν εὐαγγέλιον τόδε τίσω, οὔτ’ Ὀδυσεὺς ἔτι οἶκον ἐλεύσεται).122 While not the most common, the sense, “messenger’s reward,” is retained throughout our texts, most often in connection with εὐαγγέλια, the neuter plural,123 though Plutarch also uses the singular (τὸ) εὐαγγέλιον to refer to the ––––––––––––––––– 120 See, e.g., Cremer, Wörterbuch, 31; LSJ, s.v. “εὐαγγελέω”; Harnack, Entstehung, 199; Burrows, “Gospel,” 1925; Twelftree, The Gospel, 27–28. A telling example of this threefold semantic range of εὐαγγέλιον is found in Aristophanes’s comedy, Knights (Equites), where all three are used in the same paragraph if the first verbal form is considered as well (see Eq. 643–656). It should be noted that most researchers find the sense “good news” to be of late date. Burrows even argues that this sense is basically a Christian invention. This is certainly not the case if we consider the entire word group and not only the neuter noun in singular, which is not attested between Homer and Paul. The neuter plural εὐαγγέλια is basically used in the sense “good news” in connection with reward or sacrifices, for instance in the aforementioned play by Aristophanes (Eq. 647, 656), εὐαγγελίζεσθαι is used most often in the sense “to bring good news” (e.g., Eq. 643), just as εὐάγγελος is used in the sense “messenger of good news” (see, e.g., Aeschylus, Ag. 21, 262, 264, 475, 646). See also the critique in Schniewind, Euangelion, 120; Einer Molland, Das paulinische Euangelion: Das Wort und die Sache, ANVAO 3 (Oslo: Dybwad, 1934), 22. 121 Homer, Od. 14.152–153. 122 Homer, Od. 14.166–167. 123 See, e.g., Aristophanes, Eq. 647, describing the reward as a crowning (ἐστεφάνουν µ’ εὐαγγέλια). In one of the three places where Cicero uses εὐαγγέλια without transcribing it

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messenger’s reward.124 As noted by Friedrich,125 the prize differed in size from being a wreath of honour to meat from the common mess.126 It follows from our examples that receiving εὐαγγέλια/εὐαγγέλιον was just as much a matter of honour as the actual gift, something captured vividly by Plutarch in Artaxerxes where he describes the rewards (εὐαγγέλια) king Artaxerxes handed out to those helping him in his battle against his brother, Cyrus, and bringing him the news of his death. A certain Carian is offered only “second prize for good tidings” (εὐαγγελίων δευτερεῖα) since he was the second to report the news (ἀπαγγέλλειν). But Carian got greedy, grasping for the first prize, and “would not degrade to receive the given pay for good tidings” (οὐκ ἠξίου τὰ δοθέντα µισθὸν εὐαγγελίων ἔχειν) since he felt that “the honour unjustly was withheld” (τὴν δόξαν ἀδίκως ἀποστεροῖτο) from him. Plutarch brings the story of Carian’s aspiration for gospel glory to an end by telling how he was instead degraded in the worst possible manner by the king’s evil mother, who had Carian stretched on a wheel for ten days, after which he was blinded and killed by having melted brass poured into his ears.127 (2) The texts above indicate how the εὐαγγελ- word group is primarily used in connection with war. For instance, Odysseus’s homecoming marks the final consequence of the victory at Troy. Plenty of texts highlight this notion of war victory. The next known text after Homer to use our group is Aeschylus’s play Agamemnon. At the opening of the play, Aeschylus has his watchman waiting for the signal of fire, the beacon from Troy, the long-awaited messenger of good news (εὐάγγελος).128 Also Aristophanes’s comedy, Knights, delivers a punch line, witty to this day, prospering on the sense of war victory. At one point, Aristophanes has the sausage seller (ἀλλαντοπώλης) say, after rushing into the βουλὴ of Athens that is assembled in eagerly await of the relieving news of war victory: “O, council, I am carrying good words to you since I want to be the first to proclaim good news to you: Since the war broke upon us, I ––––––––––––––––– he writes about “giving back” (reddo) εὐαγγέλια (quibus εὐαγγέλια quae reddam nescio, Att. 2.12). 124 See Plutarch, Demetr. 17.5 (ἀπολήψῃ τὸ εὐαγγέλιον); Glor. Ath. 3 (εὐαγγέλιον … ἀποστεῖλαι); Ages. 33.4 (ἔπεµψαν εὐαγγέλιον); Art. 14.3–4 (δίδωσιν βασιλεύς εὐαγγελίων δευτερεῖα … µισθὸν εὐαγγελίων). Demetr. 17.5 is the first reference in the text corpus we are looking at that uses the articulated neuter singular noun outside the New Testament, as later does Appian, Bell. civ. 3.13.93; 4.4.20. 125 See Friedrich, TWNT 2:720. 126 Examples of messenger’s rewards as crowns of honour are given in nn. 148 and 149. Plutarch reports that, after the battle at Mantinea in 418 BCE, the Spartan “magistrates sent meat from the common mess as a messenger’s reward for good tidings, but nothing else” (οἱ ἄρχοντες ἐκ φιδιτίου κρέας ἔπεµψαν εὐαγγέλιον, ἄλλο δὲ οὐδέν) to the first man bringing the news of the victory to the city (Ages. 33.4, see for same story Glor. Ath. 3). 127 See Plutarch, Art. 14. 128 Aeschylus Ag. 21. Eὐάγγελος is used in the same sense as a messenger of war victory also in Ag. 262 (in connection with θυηπολεῖν), 264, 475, 646 (in connection with σωτήριος).

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have never seen sardines cheaper” (ὦ βουλὴ λόγους ἀγαθοὺς φέρων εὐαγγελίσασθαι πρῶτον ὑµῖν βούλοµαι· ἐξ οὗ γὰρ ἡµῖν ὁ πόλεµος κατερράγη, οὐπώποτ’ ἀφύας εἶδον ἀξιωτέρας).129 Other examples of εὐαγγελ- in connection with good news of victory in war is found in Xenophon,130 Josephus,131 Plutarch,132 and Appian,133 to name a few. G. H. R. Horsley provides a reference to a first-century BCE inscription that summarises it precisely: “good tidings of the Roman victory!” (εὐαγγέλια τῆς Ῥω[µαίων νίκης]).134 Thus, Schniewind’s evaluation of the Greek material is fully corroborated: “Überaus häufig ist die Verwendung unsrer Wortgruppe für Siegesnachrichten.”135 The fundamental scenery behind this main use of the word group is that of a besieged city or a king or general positioned in secure distance from the frontline, awaiting the good news from the battleground of the relief of victory. In essence, ‘gospel’ is the proclamation of victory (νίκην εὐαγγελίζεσθαι).136 Deflected from this sense, we find εὐαγγελ- used in connection with winning a political victory like the death or killing of one’s political enemy,137 being

––––––––––––––––– 129 Aristophanes, Eq. 642–645. Another humorous instance that plays on the meaning of εὐαγγελ- as war victory is told by Philostratus, relating how some Greek cities thought that Nero had been successful in war and taken “some Olympian men” (τινὰς ἀνθρώπους Ὀλυµπίους) captive when in reality he had issued an order to sacrifice εὐαγγέλια for his victory in the Olympian games (Vit. Apoll. 5.8). 130 See Xenophon, Hell. 1.6.37 (ἔθυε τὰ εὐαγγέλια), 4.3.14 (ἐβουθύτει ὡς εὐαγγέλια). 131 See Josephus, J.W. 2.420 (εὐαγγέλιον); 3.143 (εὐαγγελίζεται), 503 (εὐαγγελίζεται); Ant. 5.24 (εὐηγγελίζετο); 7.245 (εὐαγγελίσασθαι), 250 (εὐαγγελίζεται). 132 Plutarch is an especially rich source for the use of εὐαγγελ-, with twenty-five occurrences. Many of these concern victory of war. For instance, εὐαγγέλια are brought to Pompey when his enemy Mithridates is dead (Pomp. 41.3). In Pomp. 66.3, the participle εὐαγγελιζόµενοι is used in regard to those who announce Pompey’s victory to his wife, Cornelia. Other times, it is used in connection with giving sacrifices (see n. 147) or receiving a reward (see n. 149). 133 See Appian, Bell. civ. 3.13.93 (τὸ εὐαγγέλιον); 4.15.113 (εὐαγγέλιον). 134 NewDocs 3, 13. 135 Schniewind, Euangelion, 130. In total, Schniewind refers to thirty places with this meaning. See also Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 185. 136 See Friedrich, TWNT 2:708. 137 See, e.g., Josephus, Ant. 18.228–229 (Tiberius’s death reported as good news to Agrippa: εὐαγγελιούµενος … εὐαγγελίας); J.W. 3.143 (Josephus’s military retreat announced, εὐαγγελίζεται, to Vespasian, see 3.503); J.W. 6.656 (εὐαγγέλια arrives from Rome that Vitellius has been killed); Plutarch, Phoc. 16.6 (Philip’s death makes the Athenians wanting to εὐαγγέλια θύειν); Appian, Bell. civ. 4.4.20 (the assassination and bodily mutilation of Cicero proclaimed as τὸ εὐαγγέλιον to Anthony).

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elected for an office,138 being proclaimed emperor,139 or simply opportune changes of fortunes in one’s political life.140 (3) The sense of victory and political change of fortunes lead to the next main sense, the places where εὐαγγελ- designates the sacrifices offered for the good tidings received. This sense is so common that Einer Molland aptly labels εὐαγγέλια θύειν “der stehende Ausdruck.”141 The first attestation is found as early as in Aeschylus’s aforementioned play, Agamemnon, where the messenger (εὐάγγελος)142 says to Clytemnestra, the wife of king Agamemnon, who commanded the Greek forces deployed at Troy: “You make hopeful glad tiding sacrifices” (εὐαγγέλοισιν ἐλπίσιν θυηπολεῖς).143 In Knights, Aristophanes elaborates on his gospel joke by having the council crowning or honouring (στεφανοῦν) the sausage seller as well as paying him a reward for his good tidings (εὐαγγέλια). This forces the tyrant, Cleon, who is disguised as the Paphlagonian in the play,144 to exceed all offers in order to take back control of the assembly by stating: “Friends, I have already decided, due to these great events just announced, to offer good tidings of one hundred oxen to the goddess” (ἄνδρες, ἤδη µοι δοκεῖ ἐπὶ συµφοραῖς ἀγαθαῖσιν εἰσηγγελµέναις εὐαγγέλια θύειν ἑκατὸν βοῦς τῇ θεῷ).145 Also the two instances in Xenophon present (τὰ) εὐαγγέλια as the object and content of sacrifices,146 as does many others.147 There was even a tradition for ––––––––––––––––– 138 See, e.g., Plutarch, Mar. 22.3 (Marius being told of his fifth election as consul, εὐαγγελιζόµενοι). 139 See, e.g., Philo, Legat. 231–232 (Gaius’s ἡγεµονία is proclaimed, εὐαγγελιουµένη, from Jerusalem to other cities, and sacrifices presented in the temple; see also Legat. 14–22, 99); Josephus, J.W. 4.618 (Vespasian’s proclamation as emperor is celebrated with a festival of good news and sacrifices, ἑώρταζεν εὐαγγέλια καὶ θυσίας, see 4.655–656). 140 See, e.g., Euripides, Med. 975, 1010 (Medea longing to receive εὐάγγελος, that is, a change of her fortune); Philo, Ios. 245 (the finding of Joseph in Egypt is to be proclaimed, εὐαγγελίσασθαι, to his father); Josephus, Ant. 6.56 (Saul receives a sign in the form of the good news, εὐαγγελιουµένῳ, of the return of some donkeys in connection with the anointment by Samuel), 15.209 (Herod the Great returns from audience with Augustus after the battle at Actium and rushes to tell Mariamne of the good news, εὐηγγελίζετο, of his reinstatement as king); J.W. 1.607 (Antipater, son of Herod, writes from Rome to his friends in Jerusalem with the good news, εὐαγγελιζόµενος, of his immediate release). 141 Molland, Euangelion, 21. 142 Aeschylus, Ag. 264. 143 Aeschylus, Ag. 262. 144 For a discussion of the allegory of Aristophanes’s comedy, see James F. McGlew, Citizens on Stage: Comedy and Political Culture in the Athenian Democracy (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2002), 97–111. 145 Aristophanes, Eq. 654–656. 146 Xenophon, Hell. 1.6.37 (ἔθυε τὰ εὐαγγέλια); 4.3.14 (ἐβουθύτει ὡς εὐαγγέλια). 147 See, e.g., OGIS 1.6, lines 31–33, fourth century BCE (θῦσαι δὲ καὶ [εὐ]αγγέλια); Philo, Legat. 231–232 (sacrifices presented after Gaius’s enthronement); Plutarch, Demetr. 11.3 (εὐαγγέλια θύειν); Sert. 11.4 (ἐπ’ εὐαγγελίοις … τοῖς θεοῖς θύειν); 26.3 (θύοντος εὐαγγέλια);

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sacrificial feasts (ἑορτάζειν εὐαγγέλια) and games (ἀγῶνα) in response to the relief brought by the εὐαγγέλια,148 which is the reason why the reward is at times presented as a festive crowning.149 As a matter of fact, since the reception of εὐαγγέλια was a public event, due to its epoch-making nature, it was a grave situation if the received news turned out to be false or exaggerated.150 For this reason, there is some evidence in the sources for a twofold celebration of the victory: one when the news was proclaimed (εὐαγγέλια) and one when the delivery was experienced (σωτηρία).151 In essence, εὐαγγελ- as a proclamation of war victory is always for the Greeks a religious proclamation. “Jede gute Botschaft ist eine Gabe der Götter.”152 Or as summarized by G. H. R. Horsley after providing nine examples of the use of εὐαγγέλια in Greek inscriptions: “The usage of the neuter plural noun is clear: it refers to good news (often emanating from a monarch), such as news of their victories or benefactions; and in particular the word is employed of the sacrifices celebrated on such an occasion.”153 ––––––––––––––––– Phoc. 16.6 (εὐαγγέλια θύειν); Ages. 17.3 (αὐτὸς ἐστεφανωµένος ἔθυσεν εὐαγγέλια); Reg. imp. apophth. 35.1 (εὐαγγέλια, τοῖς θεοῖς ἔθυσε, see 50.12); Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 5.8 (εὐαγγέλια θύειν). Several more inscriptions attest to the use of εὐαγγέλια θύειν, see NewDocs 3, 13. 148 OGIS 1.6, lines 22–23, fourth century BCE, lists ἀγῶνα alongside with θυσία and στεφανηφορία in a context with εὐαγγέλια (lines 31), see OGIS 1.4, lines 41–42, fourth century BCE (ἐστεφα[να]φόρησεν … εὐαγγέλια καὶ σωτηρία ἔ[θ]υσε). Josephus speaks of “celebrated good tidings” (ἑώρταζεν εὐαγγέλια, J.W. 4.618), see Plutarch, Phoc. 23 (ἑορτάζειν εὐαγγέλια συνεχῶς καί θύειν τοῖς θεοῖς). NewDocs 3, 13 refers to two inscriptions where the formulations ἐν εὐανγελίοις and [τὰ δὲ] εὐανγέ[λια ὑπὲρ] probably refer to a festival of good news. 149 See Aristophanes, Eq. 647 (ἐστεφάνουν µ’ εὐαγγέλια); Plut. 764–765 (ἀναδῆσαι … εὐαγγέλιά); see also OGIS 1.6, lines 31–33; Plutarch, Sert. 11.4 (ἐστεφανωµένην ἐπ’ εὐαγγελίοις); Ages. 17.3. 150 See, e.g., Plutarch, Demetr. 11.3 (Stratocles falsely announces victory over the Spartans in Athens); Ages. 17.3 (the Spartan general, Agesiläus, has false εὐαγγέλια announced to keep up the moral among his men); Pomp. 66 (spreading of false tidings that Pompey had already won over Caesar). It is also in this light that the very first reference to εὐαγγελ- in the Greek text corpus should be understood, where the swineherd Eumaios strongly refuses to believe the εὐαγγέλιον of Odysseus in fear of it being a false ‘gospel’ (Homer, Od. 14.166– 167). See Schniewind, Euangelion, 179; Friedrich, TWNT 2:709. 151 Following the suggestion of Schniewind, Euangelion, 171–72. The best attestation for the thesis is the fourth-century BCE inscription reprinted in OGIS 1.4, line 42, where these two kinds of offerings are presented side by side (εὐαγγέλια καὶ σωτηρία ἔ[θ]υσε). See also Plutarch, Reg. imp. apophth. 35 (µετ’ ὀλίγον δὲ πυθόµενος τὸν ἀδελφὸν σῴζεσθαι, εὐαγγέλια, τοῖς θεοῖς ἔθυσε). While εὐαγγέλια θύειν is the most common expression, σωτηρία θύειν is found as well, see Schniewind, Euangelion, 171 n. 2. 152 Schniewind, Euangelion, 169. 153 NewDocs 3, 13. In this connection, Philo’s story in Virt. 1.40–41 may also be mentioned in which apostate Jews had “proclaimed the good tidings” (εὐαγγελίζονται) of their “unfit sacrifices” (θυσίας ἀθύτους) to their kinsmen.

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(4) Precisely this intertwined reality of (kingly) victory and cult prepares the scene for the use of εὐαγγέλια in the imperial cult. Acknowledging the warning from Karl Galinsky and other experts in the field against deflating the picture by speaking monolithically about such a thing as ‘the imperial cult,’154 it should be safe to assume that the use of the various cultic epithets ascribed to the reigning emperor by the emperor himself or by local, provincial assemblies in some way or other served to present the victorious emperor as a mediator between men and god with some form of divine attributes. In this light, the full potency of the crucial lines 40–41 of the Priene Calendar inscription may be felt: ἦρξεν δὲ τῶι κόσµωι τῶν δι’ αὐτὸν εὐανγελί[ων ἡ γενέθλιος ἡµε],ρα τοῦ θεοῦ155 (“for the birthday of the god marked the beginning of the good news because of him for the world”). As already outlined in Section 2.2.2, the lengthy inscription concerns the adoption of a new calendar system in which “the birthday of the most divine Caesar” (ἡ τοῦ θειοτάτου Καίσαρος γενέθλιος ἡµέρα, lines 4–5) should henceforth be recognized as “the beginning of all things” (τῆι τῶν πάντων ἀρχῆι, line 5). As noted by Allen Brent, the ideology expressed in the inscription should be understood in conjunction with the entire Pax Augusta that was unfolded under Augustus in which the consecration of the Ara Pacis in 13 BCE marked a crucial turning point. Henceforth, the peace of the empire and the peace with the gods was “inseparable from his own person.”156 This is precisely why the Koinon of Asia Minor hails Augustus as σωτήρ (line 34, emandation), as the one who “has ceased wars” (τὸν παύσαντα µὲν πόλεµον, line 36), and as “good news” (εὐαγγέλια) given to the world by Providence (πρόνοια, line 32). Clearly, εὐαγγέλια is in this place not Evangeliumsopfer but used in the sense “good news.”157 In connection with the imperial cult, the use of the εὐαγγελ- word group is attested in a number of other places as well. An inscription from Sardes recalls how “the city was evangelized” (εὐανγελίσθη ἡ πόλις) the day the grandson of Augustus through Julia and Agrippa became of legal age and took on the toga virilis.158 Two centuries later, the noun is used in connection with the proclamation of emperors. When Septimus Geta became emperor in 209 CE, the βουλὴ of Athens issued a statement, reading by the emendation of Dittenberger: “The council gathered because of the good news to declare allegiance” (βουλὴ ––––––––––––––––– See Galinsky, “The Cult,” 3. After Sherk, Roman Documents, 328–37, based on the latest discovered fragments. 156 Allen Brent, The Imperial Cult and the Development of the Church Order: Concepts and Images of Authority in Paganism and Early Christianity Before the Age of Cyprian, SVigChr 45 (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 68. For a less religious and more politisch-verwaltungstechnisches interpretation, see Ettl, “Evangelien,” 129. 157 Instead, the adoption of the new calendar system is what is offered to honour Augustus along with ἀγών in Pergamon, as is clear from lines 41–59. 158 The text is reprinted in Friedrich, TWNT 2:721, see NewDocs 3, 12. 154 155

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συνήχθη ἐπὶ τοῖς εὐαγγελίοις ἀναδειχθέντος).159 When Gaius Julius Verus Maximus became emperor in 238 CE, an Egyptian official wrote a papyrus letter to a friend to let him know of a planned festal procession to the goddesses (τὰς θεὰς κωµάζεσωαι) in response to “the good news concerning the proclamation as emperor” ([τοῦ] εὐανγελ[ίο]υ περὶ τοῦ ἀνηγορεῦσθαι Καίσαρα) of Gaius Julius.160 In between, both Philo and Josephus attest to the use of εὐαγγελ- in connection with the imperial cult and the proclamation of allegiance to emperors as already outlined above.161 In Legatio ad Gaium, Philo recounts the petition brought to Petronius, the legate of Syria, by the Jewish embassy in order to stop the erection of a statue of Gaius in the temple of Jerusalem. They ensure Petronius that the Jewish nation was the first to rejoice when Gaius first assumed his imperial powers (ἡγεµονία) and “the news was proclaimed with joy from our city to other (cities)” (ἀπὸ τῆς ἡµετέρας πόλεως εὐαγγελιουµένη πρὸς τὰς ἄλλας ἔδραµεν ἡ φήµη), just as the temple in Jerusalem was the first to receive “sacrifices for the reign of Gaius” (τὰς ὑπὲρ τῆς ἀρχῆς Γαΐου θυσίας).162 When Vespasian was proclaimed emperor by his legions, Josephus relates how the news rapidly spread, and how “every city celebrated a festival of good tidings and completed sacrifices for him” (πᾶσα µὲν πόλις ἑώρταζεν εὐαγγέλια [δὲ] καὶ θυσίας ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ ἐπετέλει).163 Thus, while only a limited number of examples have come down to us, there is evidence to confirm that εὐαγγελwas used in connection with the Roman imperial cult and other joyous epochmaking events related to the ἡγεµονία or ἀρχη of the Roman emperor or his heir. (5) Finally, there is some evidence for an everyday use, “im Alltagsleben,”164 to quote Schniewind, of εὐαγγελ- that might at first instance seem to contradict my thesis of epoch-making connotations. Upon a further look, however, these instances are the exceptions that prove the rule, if they are exceptions at all. In reality, the attestations from the mundane sphere of life may readily be explained as deflected from the fundamental semantic notion of εὐαγγελ- as an epoch-making victory, preserving the connotation of a transition from one state to a better one through the experience of εὐτύχηµα, a bit of good fortune coming one’s way. Besides the aforementioned change of fortunes in ––––––––––––––––– The text is reprinted in Schniewind, Euangelion, 89, see NewDocs 3, 13. The text is reprinted in Deissmann, Licht, 277, see NewDocs 3, 12. The text is noteworthy for using the articulated noun in neuter singular if the emendation is followed. 161 See n. 139. 162 Philo, Legat. 231–232. Philo likewise uses εὐαγγελίζεσθαι in connection with subservient adoration of Gaius in Legat. 18, 99. 163 Josephus, J.W. 4.618, see 4.655–656 also relating to festivals (ἑορτάζειν) in the cities for Vespasian’s enthronement and for the εὐαγγέλια from Rome that Vitellius was killed. 164 Schniewind, Euangelion, 151. 159 160

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political life,165 examples include the delivery of a son,166 the announcement of a wedding,167 the cleansing of a house from demons,168 or some kind of personal victory.169 On the more colourful side of our attestations, Chariton narrates in his novel Callirhoe how the trustworthy servant, Leonas, bought the most beautiful girl on the slave market to compensate for his master’s loss of his wife and “was eager to proclaim the good news to his master about his new purchase” (σπεύδων εὐαγγελίσασθαι τῷ δεσπότῃ τὰ περὶ τῆς νεωνήτου).170 Heliodorus likewise narrates a colourful story in the novel Aethiopica about the young man Cnemon of Athens whose father, Aristippus, married the evil Demainete. Cnemon’s new stepmother quickly became full of lust for him and made every effort to seduce him. When he refused, she successfully turned his father against him, who had him scourged and finally sentenced to expulsion from Athens. But one day soon after, his fortunes changed when an old classmate sought him out in his exile with the good news of the death of his stepmother: “Cnemon, I bring you good tidings (ὦ Κνήµων εὐαγγέλιά σοι κοµίζω)! You are revenged on your enemy: Demainete is dead.”171 Concerning transitions from one state to a better one, Philo singlehandedly attests to the use of εὐαγγελίζεσθαι in a proverbial way to describe, for example, hope (ἐλπὶς), as the state of initial joy to be experienced when “the complete good is proclaimed” (πλῆρες ἀγαθὸν εὐαγγελίζεται).172 Further, early morning (πρωΐα) “heralds in advance” (προευαγγελίζεται) that the sun is about to rise,173 just as the right constellation of stars will “proclaim harvest time” (ἄµητον εὐαγγελίζονται).174 Likewise, a young bird flipping its wings proclaims in advance (προευαγγελίζεσθαι) that it is about to leave the nest,175 just as “the ––––––––––––––––– See nn. 137 to 140. Josephus, Ant. 5.277 (the pregnancy and birth of Samson is proclaimed, εὐαγγελιζόµενον, to his mother); see also 5.282; Jer 20:15 LXX. 167 P.Oxy. 3313: “You filled us with joy when you announced the good news of the most noble Sarapion’s marriage” (χαρ[ᾶς ἡµ]ᾶς ἐπλήρωσας εὐαγγελισαµένη τὸν γ[άµον] τοῦ κρατίστου Σαραπίωνος). After NewDocs 3, 10. 168 Lucian, Philops. 31 (good tidings, εὖ ἀγγέλλων, that the house is purged and free of fears, καθαρὰν … καὶ ἀδείµαντον). 169 See, e.g., a private letter with the interesting notion of “a slave coming to bring the good news of his victory and success” (τιν[ὶ] παιδαρίῳ ἐρχοµένῳ εὐαγγελίζοντι τὰ τῆς νείκης αὐτοῦ καὶ προκοπῆς), see NewDocs 3, 12. 170 Chariton, Chaer. 2.1.1. 171 Heliodorus, Aeth. 1.24. The Greek quotation after Schniewind, Euangelion, 152, who mistakenly refers it to 1.14. The English translation after Heliodorus, An Ethiopian Romance, trans. Moses Hades (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1957), 14. 172 Philo, Praem. 161. 173 Philo, Opif. 34. 174 Philo, Opif. 115. 175 Philo, Mut. 158. 165 166

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almond tree is the first to flourish, proclaiming the good news of the produce of the fruit trees” (ἡ ἀµυγδαλῆ καὶ πρῶτον ἀνθεῖν εὐαγγελιζοµένη φορὰν ἀκροδρύων).176 As is clear, even in these instances drawn from Alltagsleben, the sense of εὐαγγελ- as epoch-making changes of fortunes inaugurating a new state is never lost if one considers the importance of day following night, harvest following sowing, and so on. To sum up, in the Greek and Roman texts, the εὐαγγελ- word group was used to communicate victories of epoch-making proportions. First of all, it was the public proclamation of victorious news for which reason a reward was presented to the bringer as a prize of honour and lavish sacrifices given in combination with festive celebrations. Judging from the relatively few instances of its use, the εὐαγγελ- was reserved for events of special importance as a powerful way of describing victory and relief. As aptly expressed by Friedrich: εὐαγγέλιον ist term tech für Siegesbotschaft. Der Bote erscheint, erhebt die Rechte zum Gruß und ruft mit lauter Stimme: χαῖρε … νικῶµεν. Schon an seinem Äußeren erkennt man, daß er eine freudige Nachricht bringt. Sein Gesicht strahlt, die Lanzenspitze ist mit Lorbeer geschmückt, das Haupt bekränzt, er schwingt einem Palmenzweig, Jubel erfüllt die Stadt, εὐαγγέλια werden geopfert, die Heiligtümer bekränzt, Agone veranstaltet, um Opfer schmückt man sich mit dem Kranz, und der, dem man die Freudenbotschaft verdankt, wird mit dem Kranz geehrt.177

In line with this, the word group provided the Roman emperors with a potent tool of communication in connection with their endeavors towards universal recognition, just as it offered a way of expressing thanksgiving for epoch-making reliefs in ‘everyday life’ or high-spirited, proverbial expressions of ‘everyday miracles.’ As such, the use of the word group in Greek and Roman texts corroborate the projected thesis of the word group’s connotation of epoch-making changes to the better, often in connection with war and often leading to cultic celebrations.

3.3 The Epoch-Making ‘Gospel’ Vision of Isaiah 40–66 3.3.1 The Isaianic ‘Gospel’ as a ‘New Exodus’? The investigations above have demonstrated how the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint, and Greek and Roman texts in the pre-Christian era share a restricted use of the gospel nomenclature, confined to epoch-making proclamations and transitions in politics and personal life. In MT/LXX, the most intense use of ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- is found in Isaiah 40–66. In the following, the objective is to establish an understanding of the context in which our word group is used in ––––––––––––––––– 176 177

Philo, Mos. 2.186. Friedrich, TWNT 2:719, references included in the original.

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135

the book of Isaiah. As it will become clear, the seven occurrences of ‫ בשׂר‬in Isa 40:9 (2x), 41:27, 52:7 (2x), 60:6, and 61:1, as well as the six occurrences of εὐαγγελίζεσθαι in Isa 40:9 (2x), 52:7 (2x), 60:6, and 61:1 LXX, provide a perfect match between our understanding of this word group as reserved for epoch-making proclamations and the Isaianic vision of full restoration and reversal to paradisiac conditions. In essence, the dense use of the word group in Isaiah 40–66 corroborates our projected thesis. This will be demonstrated in two steps by analysing the way in which the core of the Isaianic vision in these chapters centres on the return of Yahweh to Zion, which may further be described as an intertwined process of kingly victory and cultic renewal. Before discussing this in the next two subsections, two issues need to be addressed, namely the question of Isaiah’s composition and authorship and the suggestion of a ‘new exodus’ motif: (1) The question of Isaiah’s authorship and unity is only tangibly connected to the focus of the present study, for which reason I refer to the rich literature on the subject matter.178 For the author of Mark, the book of Isaiah was a single text in the same way as it was to those responsible for the Qumran texts, something the twenty-one copies in this library attest to by showing no awareness of a tripartition.179 In the same way, the textual transmission of Isaiah LXX knows only of a unified text.180 Briefly, it may be recounted that the strong consensus of an authorial twofold division established by, first, Döderlein and Eichorn in the 1780s181 and, second, by Bernhard Duhm’s suggestion of a third

––––––––––––––––– 178 For recent contributions, see, e.g., James H. Charlesworth, The Unperceived Continuity of Isaiah, TTCJCTS 28 (London: T&T Clark, 2019); Bo H. Lim, The “Way of the Lord” in the Book of Isaiah (New York: T&T Clark, 2010), 19–34. For general introductions, see, e.g., Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 41–120; Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 26–33; Oswalt, Isaiah 40–66, 4–7; Brevard S. Childs, Isaiah: A Commentary, OTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 289–91. 179 See Emmanuel Tov, “Exegesis and Theology in the Transmission of Isaiah,” in The Unperceived Continuity of Isaiah, ed. James H. Charlesworth, TTCJCTS 28 (London: T&T Clark, 2019), 96. 180 Ziegler notes: “Die Einheit der Js-LXX war im Gegensatz zu anderen Teilen der Propheten-LXX zunächst nicht bestritten” (Joseph Ziegler, Untersuchungen zur Septuaginta des Buches Isaias, ATA 12 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1934), 31). See also the list of witnesses in Joseph Ziegler, Isaias, Septuaginta Vetus Testamentum Graecum: Auctoritate Academiae Litterarum Gottingensis Editum 14 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1967), 7–12. 181 As is often noted, reservations of a unified authorship of Isaiah was expressed already by the medieval commentator Abraham Ibn Ezra (1092–1167), who argued that someone other than the eight-century prophet Isaiah ben Amos wrote the parts about Cyrus and the Babylonian exile (see, e.g., Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 69; Hans M. Barstad, A Way in the Wilderness. The “Second Exodus” in the Message of Second Isaiah, JSSMS 12 (Manchester: University of Manchester, 1989), 1).

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author of chapters 56–66,182 has met growing resistance in recent decades. Some suggest that the second part of Isaiah should be confined to chapters 40– 52,183 while the recurring themes throughout the book of Isaiah prompt others to revise the consensus completely, adopting either a synchronic approach, reading Isaiah as a literary unity, or arguing for a unified authorship.184 Recently, for instance, Frederik Poulsen has argued for the pervasiveness of the theme of exile for the entire text of Isaiah, disqualifying the tripartition of Duhm as far too simplistic.185 Still, the thematic shift introduced by Isaiah 40 is undeniable with its remarkable outcry ‫ ַנֲחמוּ ַנֲחמוּ‬/παρακαλεῖτε παρακαλεῖτε,186 which brings the ‘gospel’ victory of Yahweh/the Lord including full restoration of his presence at Zion to the fore. For this reason, researchers presently use designations such as Deutero-Isaiah, Second Isaiah, Isaiah2, or Isaiah 40–55 without necessarily subscribing to a particular theory on authorship and literary unity or lack hereof.187 (2) The other issue is far more crucial to our investigations and concerns if the thematic shift by Isaiah 40 may aptly be described as a ‘new exodus’ or perhaps even ‘the new exodus.’ As noted by Daniel Lynwood Smith,188 this exact phrase is a modern construct not used by any ancient author, unlike other relevant concepts such as ‘new creation,’ ‘new covenant,’ or ‘new Jerusalem,’ and is thus open to critique. While there is, according to Smith, a near ––––––––––––––––– See Bernhard Duhm, Das Buch Jesaia, 3rd ed., HK (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1914), xv. 183 See, e.g., Lim, Way, 26, who adopts the thesis that Isa 1–52 is a unified exilic book, written by an anonymous author, and Isa 53–66 a later addition, written by the servant of Isa 52:13–53:12. 184 According to Blenkinsopp, “there has been a tendency in recent years, especially in English-language scholarship, to reassert the unity of the book of Isaiah on literary, structural and occasionally theological rather than authorial grounds and to minimize the distinctions and differences among the three major sections of the book” (Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 48). See also Andrew T. Abernethy, The Book of Isaiah and God’s Kingdom: A ThematicTheological Approach, NBST 40 (London: Apollos, 2016), 8–9. 185 See Poulsen, Black Hole, 7–14. 186 This is so, even though it is much discussed how especially Isa 35 is connected to the thematic shift in Isa 40, see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 42–46. For an overview of the thematic unity of Isa 40–55, see Rikki E. Watts, “Consolation or Confrontation? Isaiah 40–55 and the Delay of the New Exodus,” TynBul 41.1 (1990): 31–49; Abernethy, Isaiah, 53–54. 187 See, e.g., Lim, Way, 2; Jeffrey R. Chadwick, “The Insights of Third Isaiah: Observations of a Traditionalist,” in The Unperceived Continuity of Isaiah, ed. James H. Charlesworth, TTCJCTS 28 (London: T&T Clark, 2019), 76–93; R. Reed Lessing, Isaiah 40–55, ConcC (St. Louis: Concordia, 2011), 12–29. The same is the case in this investigation. 188 See Daniel Lynwood Smith, “The Uses of ‘New Exodus’ in New Testament Scholarship: Preparing a Way Through the Wilderness,” CurBS 14.2 (2016): 208. The oldest reference to the concept of new exodus that Smith has detected is in an Isaiah commentary from 1847. 182

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137

consensus among Hebrew Bible scholars that this phrase aptly describes the theology of Second Isaiah, detractors of the consensus continues to weigh in. To map this discussion briefly,189 we shall begin by looking at the strength of the arguments that forces, for instance, Norman H. Snaith to conclude that “the Return is not merely one of the themes” but in essence “the prophet’s dominant theme,” and in reality “this prophet’s ONE theme, and all else is subservient to it.”190 These may be enumerated as follows: (a) The references to the exodus from Egypt are obvious and replete to the degree that Joseph Blenkinsopp notes that it basically “needs no documentation.”191 The first exodus is clearly presented as connected to the events described by the Isaianic prophet. This is seen by the way in which exodus language brackets Second Isaiah with the prophecies in 40:3–5 and 55:12–13,192 and by the prominent way in which the exodus narrative shapes Isaiah 40–55 throughout. Noteworthy, there is no uniform, agreed upon list, as evident by the comparison of fifteen scholars compiled by Carroll Stuhlmueller.193 Some of the more common examples are Isa 40:3–11 with multiple allusions such as

––––––––––––––––– 189 For research overviews, see Barstad, A Way, 5–6; Øystein Lund, Way Metaphors and Way Topics in Isaiah 40–55, FAT 2: 28 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 3–21; Lim, Way, 1–2; Smith, “New Exodus,” 208–9. 190 Norman H. Snaith, Studies on the Second Part of the Book of Isaiah: Isaiah 40–66, VTSup (Leiden: Brill, 1967), 147. In the same manner, Alfred Zillessen labels Second Isaiah der Prophet der Heimkehr and views the return as the hermeneutic key in which “eine ganze Reihe deuterojesajanischer Stellen” come into the light (Alfred Zillessen, “Der alte und der neue Exodus: Eine Studie zur israelitischen Prophetie, speziell zu Jesaja 40 ff.,” AR 6.4 [1903]: 290). See also Bernard W. Anderson, “Exodus Typology in Second Isaiah,” in Israel’s Prophetic Heritage: Essays in Honor of James Muilenburg, ed. B. Anderson and W. Harrelson (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1962), 181; Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 52. 191 Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 52. 192 See Anderson, “Exodus Typology,” 182; Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 59. 193 See Carroll Stuhlmueller, Creative Redemption in Deutero-Isaiah, AnBib 43 (Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1970), 272. See also Neal D. Cushman, “A Critique of Rikk E. Watts’ Isaianic New Exodus in the Markan Prologue” (Dissertation 2012), 447–48, although this list contains obvious omissions (e.g. Blenkinsopp and Stuhlmueller). For instance, Zillessen lists Isa 40:3, 5, 10, 11; 41:17–28; 42:10–16; 44:3, 27; 48:20–21; 49:8–11; 50:2–3; 51:9–10; 52:3, 10–12; 55:12–13 (see Zillessen, “Der alte und der neue Exodus,” 304). With a few variations, Bernard Anderson adds 43:1–3, 14–21 to this list (see Anderson, “Exodus Typology,” 181–82). Blenkinsopp primarily refers to 40:3–11; 42:15–16; 48:20–22; 49:9– 12; 52:11–12; 55:12–13 (see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 103, 59). Kiesow estimates that “maximal werden 13 Texte aufgefürt,” namely 40:3–11; 41:17–20; 42:14–17; 43:1–7, 16– 21; 44:1–5, 27; 48:20–21; 49:8–12; 50:1; 51:9–10; 52:11–12; 55:12–13 (see Klaus Kiesow, Exodustexte im Jesajabuch: Literarkritische und motivgeschichtliche Analysen, OBO 24 [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1979], 17; the list is adopted with a few variations by Lim, Way, 47–48).

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wilderness (‫ִמ ְדָבּר‬/ἔρηµος),194 seeing the glory of Yahweh (‫ָכּבוֹד‬/δόξα),195 strength (‫ָח ָזק‬/ἰσχύς),196 arm (‫ ְזרוֹ ַע‬/βραχίων),197 and going before;198 41:17–20 describing the transformation of the wilderness into a place with streams of waters by “the hand of Yahweh” (‫ ַיד־ ְיה ָוה‬/χεὶρ κυρίου);199 43:16–21 recounting the way through the sea (‫ ָים‬/θάλασσα),200 the trapped horse chariots and the new way in the wilderness; 48:20–21 dressing the “going out” (‫יצא‬/ἐξέρχεσθαι)201 from Babylon with exodus echoes such as the redeeming/liberation (‫גאל‬/ ῥύεσθαι)202 of the slave/servant (‫ֶﬠֶבד‬/δοῦλος),203 Jacob, and water from the rocks in the wilderness; 51:9–11 also recounting the exodus from Egypt through the sea for the redeemed and ransomed (‫גאל‬/ῥύεσθαι, ‫פדה‬/λυτροῦν); and 52:4–12 explicitly mentioning the exile in Egypt, the “going out,” though not “in haste” (‫ְבִחָפּזוֹן‬/µετὰ ταραχῆς)204 since Yahweh will go before and guard the rear.205 (b) While the exact term ‘new exodus’ is not attested, there is an important and significant contrastation of “the former things” (‫ ִראשׁ ֹנוֹת‬/τὰ ἀπ᾿ ἀρχῆς, τὰ πρῶτα) with “the new things” (‫ֲח ָדשׁוֹת‬/καινά) in the context of the exodus from Egypt and Babylon.206 (c) Following this there is, as noted by Bernard W. Anderson, a crucial theme of heightening or transposition, a Steigerung, from Yahweh’s first to his new and final act of redemption. The first exodus is recast as “the eschatological finale,” being “more marvellous than the Exodus under Moses.”207 Now, there will be no reason to leave in haste (52:12), and the Davidic covenant will now include nations previously outside the covenant (55:5). Actually, the people might as well forget Yahweh’s first “way through the sea” (‫ַבּ ָיּם ָדּ ֶרְך‬, 43:16), that is,“the former things and the old things” (‫מ ִניּוֹת‬ ֹ ‫ ִראשׁ ֹנוֹת ְוַק ְד‬, 43:18), in the light of “the new, I will do” (‫עֶֹשׂה ֲח ָדָשׁה‬, 43:19). In short, “Second Isaiah … does not merely heighten the tradition a few degrees more: he transposes the ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Exod 13:18. See, e.g., Exod 14:4; 16:7; 24:16–17. 196 See, e.g., Exod 13:3 (LXX: κραταιός); 15:6 (MT: ‫)כּ ֹ ַח‬. 197 See, e.g., Exod 15:16; Deut 4:34; 5:15; 7:19; 9:29; 11:2; 26:8; 33:27; Ps 77:16. 198 See, e.g., Exod 13:21–22; 14:19–20; Num 10:33–34. 199 See, e.g., Exod 9:3; 13:3, 9, 14; Deut 4:34; 5:15; 7:19; 11:2; 26:8. 200 See Exod 14. 201 See, e.g., Exod 11:8; 12:31, 41; 13:3; 12:17, 42, 51; 13:3, 9, 14, 16 (ἐξάγειν). 202 See Exod 6:6; 12:27; 14:30 and, e.g., Exod 6:6; 15:13; Deut 7:8; 9:26; 13:6; 15:15; 24:18; Ps 76:16 LXX (λυτροῦν). 203 See, e.g., Exod 1:13; 6:5; 13:3, 14; 14:31; 20:2. 204 See Exod 12:11; Deut 16:3. 205 See especially Exod 14:19. 206 See especially Isa 42:9; 43:18–19 but also 44:6; 46:9; 48:6, 12. See further Anderson, “Exodus Typology,” 185–88. Bentzen likewise argues that the ‫ ְשׁ מוָּﬠה‬of Isa 53:1 should be understood in this trajectory “as something absolutely new” (Aage Bentzen, “On the Ideas of ‘the Old’ and ‘the New’ in Deutero-Isaiah,” ST 1 [1947]: 184, emphasis original). 207 Anderson, “Exodus Typology,” 181–82. 194 195

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whole sacred story into a higher key as he announces the good tidings of salvation.”208 Specifically, the Steigerung of Second Isaiah is expressed through a fusion of motifs from creation and salvation history. Not only is Second Isaiah replete with references to the creation of heavens and earth or Israel as an elect nation,209 the new things to happen are described as a new creation with return to Eden-like conditions.210 According to Stuhlmueller, the creation motifs run deeper still with references to the Babylonian creation myth, Enuma Elish, and the re-creation motif of the Akitu New Year festival that included a via sacra on which the deities were marched into the city, resembling the visions of Isa 40:3–11 and 52:7–10, just as he argues for an allusion to the Ugaritic Chaoskampf motif in texts such as 44:27, 50:2, and 51:9–10.211 (d) Looking at the broader picture, researchers subscribing to a new exodus reading of Second Isaiah in various ways try to schematize its components. Anderson suggests a fourfold pattern of promise, deliverance, journey, and reentry.212 Stuhlmueller decudes three basic motifs or patterns, namely the exodus as “a way to a New Creation,” a motif of the “Processional Via Sacra and creation,” and finally “the struggle motif and creation.”213 Blenkinsopp, for his part, does not suggest a detailed pattern but recounts how Second Isaiah uses ‫( גאל‬LXX: λυτροῦν, especially, or ῥύεσθαι, occasionally) and once ‫( פדה‬LXX: λυτροῦν) to describe the liberation from Babylon in the same manner as especially Deuteronomy.214 Watts proposes a threefold pattern akin to Anderson’s of deliverance, journey, and arrival.215 Combined, the obvious references to the exodus from Egypt (especially 43:16–21 and 51:9–11) together with the outlined arguments that Second Isaiah presents the content of the message of comfort as a reshaped exodus has gained acceptance to the degree that the term ‘the new exodus’ is at times used without argumentation or qualification.216 ––––––––––––––––– Anderson, “Exodus Typology,” 191. See, e.g., Isa 40:26, 28; 41:20; 42:5; 43:1, 7, 15; 44:2, 24; 45:7, 12, 18; 51:13; 54:5, 16. For the role of Eden in Second Isaiah, see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 327. 210 See especially Isa 41:17–20; 43:19 ( ‫שׁ ה‬ ָ ‫ִה ְנ ִני עֶֹשׂ ה ֲח ָד‬/ἰδοὺ ποιῶ καινά); 45:7–8; 48:7 ( ‫ַﬠתּה ִנְב ְראוּ ְול ֹא ֵמ ָא ז‬/νῦν γίνεται καὶ οὐ πάλαι); 51:3 ( ‫ְכּ ֵﬠ ֶדן‬/ὡς παράδεισον). Creation vocabulary in the context of the “new things” includes ‫עשׂה‬/ποιεῖν, ‫ברא‬/ποιεῖν, and ‫שׂים‬/ποιεῖν; see also Stuhlmueller, Creative Redemption, 94; Walther Zimmerli, Gottes Offenbarung: Gesammelte Aufsätze zum Alten Testament (Munich: Kaiser, 1963), 201. 211 See Stuhlmueller, Creative Redemption, 74–94, see similarly Frank Moore Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973), 136–44. 212 See Anderson, “Exodus Typology,” 182–84. 213 See Stuhlmueller, Creative Redemption, 66–67. 214 See Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 110. 215 See Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 81. 216 See, e.g., Childs, Isaiah, 302, 382, and otherwise the researchers listed in Smith, “New Exodus,” 208–9. 208 209

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Nevertheless, detractors from the consensus have amounted weighty arguments: One such is that the lack of the precise formula remains a problem despite the aforementioned opposition of “the former things” with “the new things.” For this reason, some scholars prefer to use “way” (‫ ֶדּ ֶרְך‬/ὁδός) as the overarching metaphor.217 Further, according to Klaus Kiesow, the main problem is that the envisioned exodus does not lead to the conquest of a new land but is in essence, as is evident in 40:3–11, a vision “von der Heimkehr Jahwes zum Zion.”218 For this reason, it is only possible to speak of an exodus theology “in einem abgeleiteten, uneigentlichen Sinne.”219 Third, adopting a diachronic approach, Kiesow and Hans M. Barstad argue that Second Isaiah has a provenance in Jerusalem and is written to those who remained behind.220 The exodus or wilderness texts such as 40:3–4 are “through and through metaphorical” and should be read “as poetical allusions to Yahweh’s encroachment upon the course of history, resulting in a new and blossoming future for the Judean nation.”221 If this provenance of Second Isaiah is combined with a focus on the movement of Yahweh instead of the exiled people, a new and broader overarching perspective presents itself, namely the full restoration of Judah and Yahweh’s kingship and supremacy over Zion and all of creation.222 At best, a return from Babylon may be part of this grander vision of restoration, but then “not only from Babylon, but from the whole of the diaspora.”223 For two reasons, the differences between the two positions are not insuperable. One is that the real dividing issue is dependent on a diachronic approach to Isaiah 40–55 in which the question of provenance becomes crucial. For the reuse of the text in late Second Temple Jewish texts, the message of comfort and the state of its receivers were transposed in any case. Another is that there is a considerable overlap between a reading of Second Isaiah as a vision promising a total restoration of Zion, including “full political and religious restoration, victory over Yahweh’s enemies, etc.,”224 and a new exodus reading, promising an exiled people (historically or mentally) a return to Zion, after which they will experience the same kind of new creation and restoration of Zion. The ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Joel Marcus, The Way of the Lord: Christological Exegesis of the Old Testament in the Gospel of Mark, SNTW (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1992); Lim, Way. 218 Kiesow, Exodustexte, 19. 219 Kiesow, Exodustexte, 201. 220 See Kiesow, Exodustexte, 20–21; Barstad, A Way, 6. 221 Barstad, A Way, 20. Barstad concludes that he has “not succeeded in finding one single text that qualifies for the designation ‘exodus text’” (Barstad, A Way, 108). This metaphorical approach is followed closely by Lund, Way Metaphors, 293–303. 222 See, e.g., Barstad, A Way, 109–10; Abernethy, Isaiah, 53–81. 223 Barstad, A Way, 19. Also Lund accepts that some of the texts may have a historical point of reference along with their general symbolic nature, not least 49:12; 55:12–13, besides 48:20; 51:10–11; 52:1–12, Lund, Way Metaphors, 295–96. 224 Barstad, A Way, 19. 217

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141

focal point in both approaches is the question of identity: Those who consider themselves the receivers of this message, no matter their physical or historical location, await the intervention of Yahweh, leading to restoration and renewed access to his proximity at Zion. This said, there is good reason to be cautious with the use of an unspecified and singular notion of ‘the new exodus’ with a fixed pattern of its elements. Likewise, when used, this notion should be combined with the other themes present throughout Second Isaiah, such as the kingship of Yahweh and new creation. To conclude, while the review above clearly substantiates Blenkinsopp’s statement that the prevalence of the exodus tradition in Isaiah 40–55 “needs no documentation,”225 the important point is not a duplication of the exodus from Egypt in itself but the return of Yahweh to Zion which is cast in a mold far superseding the exodus tradition and reaching the level of new creation. Thus, new exodus motifs are present, but the important point is the broader Isaianic vision of a full renewal and restoration.226 3.3.2 The Epoch-Making Vision of Proximity to the Divine … It follows from the discussion of the so-called new exodus motif above that the central issue in the Isaianic vision is the return of Yahweh to Zion, a process in which the use of ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- in 40:9 and 52:7 is right at the centre. In the following, I will substantiate this understanding of the use of ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- in Isaiah 40–66 by outlining four ways in which the renewed proximity to Yahweh is proclaimed as the central benefit of the salvation envisioned: (1) The controlling focus on the renewed proximity to the presence of Yahweh is seen, first, by the initial vision of 40:1–11, in which the ‫ ֶד ֶרְך ְיה ָוה‬/ὁ ὁδός κυρίου is the way for Yahweh, who will proceed in front of his exiled people.227 This is evident on the surface of the text since the purpose of the way is to stage the revelation (‫גלה‬/ὁρᾶν) of Yahweh’s glory for all people to see (‫ראה‬/ὁρᾶν, 40:5) as he marches (‫בוא‬/ἔρχεσθαι) in procession towards Zion as the victorious ruler in strength (‫ְבָּח ָזק‬/µετὰ ἰσχύος)228 as well as the tender shepherd (‫ְכּר ֶֹﬠה‬/ὡς ποιµὴν) guarding his flock (40:9–11). On a deeper level, two contextual readings of Isa 40:1–11 impact the way in which this procession and parousia should be understood. One is already mentioned, suggesting that Isa 40:3–5 is inspired by the Babylonian Akitu festival, in which the cult and the kingship of Marduk was celebrated.229 This would heighten the kingly as well as the ––––––––––––––––– Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 52. See Smith, “New Exodus,” 224–26. 227 See, e.g., Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 181. For ‘the way’ for the people only, see instead, e.g., Isa 35:8–10; 49:11–12; 51:10–11; 52:11–12. 228 As pointedly put by Blenkinsopp, “the basic image here, therefore, is that of royal parousia” (Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 186). 229 See Stuhlmueller, Creative Redemption, 77. 225 226

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cultic framework of the way as via sacra. Another is Frank Moore Cross’s proposal that this prologue to Second Isaiah should be read as a heavenly court setting in the light of the tradition of ‘councils of gods’ in Near Eastern mythology as well as in Isaiah 6.230 According to Cross, the unidentified voices in the Hebrew Bible231 of 40:3, 6 are one or more members of the heavenly, royal encourage of Yahweh. This would, according to Lim, transform the message of Second Isaiah from a “merely political or spiritual” message to one with a “cosmic, historical, political, eschatological, and ethical” scope.232 Both readings have been met with critique,233 but even if they are not accepted, the content of the vision is clear: the parousia of Yahweh/God. The translation of 40:1–11 in the Septuagint displays three noteworthy additions or changes that further clarify how it understood the appearance of God: First, the insertion of ἱερεῖς in 40:2 punctures the possibility of a heavenly council. The message of comfort is laid in the hands of the priests.234 It probably also serves to identify the anonymous voice of vv. 3 and 6 (φωνὴ βοῶντος, φωνὴ λέγοντος), as well as the masculine ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος in v. 9. Second, the vision of ἡ δόξα κυρίου is explained as τὸ σωτήριον τοῦ θεοῦ, instead of the MT’s ‫ַיְח ָדּו‬ (together, 40:5). Finally, the already discussed important change from the feminine ‫ ְמַבֶשּׂ ֶרת‬to the masculine ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος heightens the possibility that the feminine but indeclinable Σιων and Ιερουσαληµ should be understood as objects, making it a (priestly) message to Zion, instead of subjective genitives, denoting messengers going out from Zion, which would rather have been the case with a feminine participle. Thus, the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- proclamation of the ‫ ֶד ֶרְך ְיה ָוה‬/ὁ ὁδός κυρίου in 40:1–11 emphatically concerns the kingly parousia and procession into Jerusalem of Yahweh/God. The exact same is the case in 52:1–12, the second place where Isaiah 40–55 uses the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- notion, which closely resembles 40:1–11 to the degree that some view 40:1–52:12 as a single unit.235 Only, this time the advent of Yahweh is explained in finer detail. The masculine ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος is ––––––––––––––––– 230 See Frank Moore Cross, “The Council of Yahweh in Second Isaiah,” JNES 12.4 (1953): 274–77. For a recent reiteration hereof, see Christopher R. Seitz, “The Divine Council: Temporal Transition and New Prophecy in the Book of Isaiah,” JBL 109 (1990): 229– 247. 231 The LXX clarifies the scene by inserting ἱερεῖς in 40:2 whereas Tg. Isa. addresses God’s proclamation to the prophets ( ‫ ) ְנִב ַיָיא‬in 40:1. 232 Lim, Way, 51. 233 See Lim, Way, 51; Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 179–80; Poulsen, Black Hole, 251–52. 234 See Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 178 and n. 231. 235 See Lim, Way, 88 who follows Melugin in viewing 51:9–52:12 as the epilogue to this section of Isaiah which repeats key concerns of this section, such as exodus language, the message of comfort (see 51:12; 52:9), the ‘gospel’ proclamation, and the display of the victorious arm of Yahweh (see 51:9; 52:10) and his glory (52:10), see Roy F. Melugin, The Formation of Isaiah 40–55, BZNW 141 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1976), 164–65.

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143

destined with his message ‫ְלִציּוֹן‬/λέγων Σιων. This message with its Dreiklang of “peace” (‫ָשׁלוֹם‬/εἰρήνη), “good (message)” (‫טוֹב‬/ἀγαθός), and “salvation/deliverance” (‫ ְישׁוָּﬠה‬/σωτηρία, 52:7) is explained as having the return (‫ )שׁוב‬or the mercy (ἐλεεῖν) of Yahweh/the Lord at its core (52:8). Also, the theophanic element is underlined even further since the seeing (‫ראה‬/ὁρᾶν) will now be as sharp focussed as having “an eye in an eye” (‫ַﬠ ִין ְבַּﬠ ִין‬/ὀφθαλµοὶ πρὸς ὀφθαλµούς).236 This does not mean that the road is solely for Yahweh. There are other roads and travellers in Second Isaiah such as Cyrus (41:3; 45:13) and the servant (49:9–11) besides, most importantly, ‫ַﬠִמּי‬/ὁ λαός µου (52:4), who will follow Yahweh/God as he marches in front of them (‫ִלְפ ֵניֶכם‬/πρότερος ὑµῶν) towards Jerusalem (see, e.g., 48:17; 49:9–11; 51:9–11; 52:11–12). In connection with clarifying ‘the way’ in Isa 40:1–11 and 52:1–12 as the way of Yahweh/God, another suggestion of Cross is of particular importance, namely his pinpointing of the way in which “the march of the Conquest abruptly shifts into the festal, ritual procession to Zion.”237 This is evident in several texts of Isaiah alongside these two238 but particularly evident in the ultimate description of Yahweh’s arrival in 52:1–12 in which Zion is to prepare as if for a temple festival (52:1). Likewise is the ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος ordered to ascend (‫עלה‬/ἀναβαίνειν) a high mountain, a notion also known from Israel’s pilgrimage tradition.239 We shall return to this important intertwinement of kingly imagery with pilgrimage or cultic imagery in the next subsection. (2) The result of ‘the way’ as the way of Yahweh/God going in front and leading his people towards Zion in a combined victory parade and festal pilgrimage is an extreme emphasis on the proximity between the two parties. It comes to expression in at least two ways: One is the use of ‫קרב‬, ‫ָקרוֹב‬/ἐγγίζειν, προσάγειν to express the reality about to be experienced of the proximity between the two parties. For example, in Isa 46:13 Yahweh speaks about bringing his justice near (‫ֵק ַרְבִתּי ִצ ְדָקִתי‬/ἤγγισα τὴν δικαιοσύνην µου) and providing access to his salvation (‫ְתּשׁוָּﬠה‬/σωτηρία) and splendour (‫ִתְּפֶא ֶרת‬/δόξασµα) at Zion. The same combination of nearness and justice/vindication and salvation is expressed in 50:8 and 51:5.240 In light of the exodus theme present in Second Isaiah’s vision of restoration, this focus on nearness evokes one of the key themes of the book of Exodus, the question of how the nearness of Yahweh to his people can be administered. This theme runs throughout, from the vocation of Moses to the descent on Mount Sinai with the establishment of the covenant to finally the construction of the tabernacle as a mobile home for his ‫ָכּבוֹד‬/δόξα ––––––––––––––––– 236 Baltzer rejects this notion as an expression of emphasis, viewing it rather as an expression of the watchmen standing in line (see Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 382). 237 Cross, Canaanite Myth, 108. 238 Cross refers to Isa 25:6–8; 35; 40:3–5; 51:9–11; 52:7–12; 55:1–5, see Cross, Canaanite Myth, 105–11. 239 See Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 17. 240 See also Isa 55:6.

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in the middle of the camp.241 Another is the focus on display and vision, particularly with the keyword ‫ראה‬/ὁρᾶν. The visibility of Yahweh’s ‫ָכּבוֹד‬/δόξα in 40:5 picks up a theme expressed in Isa 35:2 as well as 6:1–3.242 Not only will the glory and salvation of Yahweh be visible, the blindness of the people will also be cured, enabling their eyes (‫ַﬠ ִין‬/ὀφθαλµός) to see and perceive his proximity. The theme of blindness and deafness is central in Isaiah 1–39,243 and the resumption of the theme in Isaiah 40–66 is done with particular focus on how Yahweh’s glory will finally be made visible to “all flesh” (‫ָכל־ָבָּשׂר‬/πᾶσα σὰρξ, 40:5).244 Also here, a theme from the book of Exodus is evoked, namely the seeing of the salvation through the grand works of Yahweh,245 but importantly in comparison with the book of Exodus as well as Isaiah 1–39, the magnitude and the scale of the visibility of Yahweh is extended, providing another example of how a transposition or Steigerung takes place in Isaiah 40–66. What in Isaiah 1–39 is an experience primarily confined to the prophet alone,246 is now made available to the entirety of the people (and the nations) to also see and enjoy the proximity.247 (3) Further, the proximity to the divine is expressed through a number of salvific key terms, which combined serve to clarify how it will be possible to experience the renewed proximity to Yahweh/God. In overview, these can be enumerated in three groups: (a) The first concerns various ways in which Yahweh is described as a saviour. As already outlined, salvation is of central focus to Second Isaiah, labelling Yahweh the ‫מוִֹשׁי ַע‬/σωτήρ, ὁ σῴζων,248 just as salvation is a central part of the vision in 52:7–10 as well as 40:5, as the Septuagint understood it.249 As also mentioned, we often find ‫ֶצ ֶדק‬/δικαιοσύνη mentioned in tandem with salvation,250 to which also the image of the arm and strength of Yahweh/God can be added,251 which indicates that the justice to be experienced is primarily the ––––––––––––––––– 241 For a reading of Exodus as a theological treatise on the administration of the nearness and ‫ ָכּבוֹד‬of Yahweh, see John I. Durham, Exodus, WBC 3 (Nashville; London: Nelson, 1987), xxi. Baltzer likewise notes the similarities “to the Priestly writing’s account of the wanderings through the desert” (Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 56). 242 For the close intertextual relationship between Isaiah 6, 35, and 40, see Childs, Isaiah, 299. 243 See especially 6:9–10; 29:10, 18; 35:5. 244 See also 52:10 ( ‫ ָכּ ל־ַא ְפ ֵס י־ָא ֶר ץ‬... ‫ָכּ ל־ַה גּוֹ ִ֑י ם‬/πάντων τῶν ἐθνῶν … πάντα τὰ ἄκρα τῆς γῆς); see also 45:22; 49:6; 55:5; 60:6; 66:18. 245 See, e.g., Exod 14:13, 30–31; 19:4. 246 See Isa 6:3, 5. 247 For the display of the glory of Yahweh outside the temple and outside Israel, see Stuhlmueller, Creative Redemption, 97. 248 See Isa 43:3, 11; 45:15; 47:15; 49:26 besides also 60:16; 63:8–9. 249 For other places, see, e.g., Isa 45:17; 46:4; 49:6, 8, 25; 51:4–8. 250 See Isa 45:8, 21; 46:13; 51:5–8. 251 See Isa 45:24; 51:5, 8; see also, e.g., 50:2.

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145

vindication of the rightful and the defeat of the wrongdoers.252 In particular, and as a distinct focus of Second Isaiah, we find the emphasis on ‫( גאל‬LXX: λυτροῦν,253 ῥύεσθαι254). While its close relative, ‫( פדה‬LXX:255 λυτροῦν, ῥύεσθαι, ἀφορίζειν, συνάγειν, σῴζειν),256 is the chosen word in especially Deuteronomy to describe Yahweh’s redeeming/liberation,257 Second Isaiah specifically uses ‫גאל‬. In the first part of Isaiah, it is used only in 35:9, and in the entirety it is mostly in Leviticus and the book of Ruth in connection with the ‫ ֹגֵּאל‬institution. It is, though, occasionally also used to describe Yahweh’s salvific acts including the exodus event.258 By all measures, numerically and theologically, however, only in Second Isaiah is it elevated to a specific keyword for Yahweh’s salvific act and most pointedly with the participle, ‫ֹגֵּאל‬/ὁ λυτρούµενος, ὁ ῥυσάµενος, used as a divine epithet.259 The exact reason for this preference is difficult to estimate, but besides the occasional use of ‫ גאל‬in connection with the exodus from Egypt, its notion of “restoration of a lost, original wholeness”260 from the Levitical laws concerning ‫ ַנֲחָלה‬might very well explain this peculiarity, which, then, might serve as yet another example of the Steigerung

––––––––––––––––– 252 In particular, this combination is played out in Isa 49:24–26, a place that is echoed in Mark 3:27, see Section 5.3.3. 253 10x: Isa 41:14; 43:1, 14; 44:22–24; 52:3; see also 35:9; 62:12; 63:9. In the entire LXX, λυτροῦν is by far the most common translation. 254 12x: Isa 44:6; 47:4; 48:17, 20; 49:7, 26; 51:10; 52:9; 54:5, 8; see also 59:20; 63:16 besides 60:16 (ἐξαιρεῖν). 255 The five occurrences of ‫פדה‬/ ‫ ְפּ דוּת‬in the book of Isaiah are translated differently each time. In the entire LXX, λυτροῦν is by far the most common translation. 256 According to Stuhlmueller, the basic difference may be described as the difference between commercial and family law. When ‫ פדה‬is used to describe the settling of market disputes (see, e.g., Exod 21:8, 30), ‫ גאל‬is used to describe the settling of debt and obligations by a kinsman on behalf of the family in order to preserve the divinely divided ‫ ַנֲח ָלה‬for generations to come (see especially Lev 25:23–55; 27:13–33). In this way “the gōʾēl made all the difference between life and death, existence and extinction” (Stuhlmueller, Creative Redemption, 104). Often, however, ‫ פדה‬and ‫ גאל‬are used interchangeably as in Lev 27:27; Isa 35:9–10; 51:10–11; Jer 31:11; Hos 13:14; Ps 69:19 (see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 110). The two uses in Second Isaiah (50:2, ‫ְפּדוּת‬/ῥύεσθαι, 51:11, ‫פדה‬/λυτροῦν; see also 1:27; 29:22; 35:10) are seemingly synonymous (see Stuhlmueller, Creative Redemption, 105). 257 See, e.g., Deut 7:8; 9;26; 13:6 (13:5 ET); 15:15; 21:8; 24:18. 258 For the exodus event, see, e.g., Exod 6:6; 15:13; Pss 77:16 [15]; 78:35; 106:10, see, e.g., Jer 31:11 [38:11]; Mic 4:10; Zech 10:8 for a future exodus. For other places, which in general refers to Yahweh’s act of ‫ גאל‬or Yahweh as a ‫ֹגֵּא ל‬, see, e.g., Pss 19:15 [14]; 69:19 [18]; 103:4; 107:2; 119:154; Lam 3:58; Prov 23:10–11; Hos 13:14. 259 See Isa 41:14; 43:14; 44:6, 24; 47:4; 48:17; 49:7, 26; 54:5, 8; besides also 59:20; 60:16; 62:12; 63:16. 260 Robert L. Hubbard, “ ‫ ָגּ ַא ל‬,” NIDOTTE 1:779.

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of Second Isaiah’s grand vision of a total restoration and nullification of all injustices and securing unhindered proximity.261 (b) Next, we find the role forgiveness of sins plays as proximity language. In the prologue, the initiating message of comfort is motivated by a completion of the restoration for guilt (‫ָﬠוֹן‬/ταπείνωσις) and retribution for sins (‫ַחָטּאת‬/ἁµαρτία, Isa 40:2). Moving on, guilt and sin are several times referred to as the background for the punishment and misfortunes of Israel/Jacob.262 In particular, the salvific solution to this problem is presented in the fourth Servant Song,263 which is packed with references to “ours”/the people’s264 transgressions (4x, ‫ֶפַּשׁע‬, ‫פשׁע‬/ἀνοµία, ἄνοµος, ἁµαρτία265), guilt (3x, ‫ָﬠוֹן‬/ἁµαρτία), and sin (1x, ‫ֵחְטא‬/ἁµαρτία), besides weaknesses/illnesses/sins (1x, ‫ֳחִלי‬/ἁµαρτία266) and sufferings (1x, ‫אב‬ ֹ ‫ַמְכ‬/ὀδυνᾶν), all produced by each man turning to his own ‫ ֶדּ ֶרְך‬/ὁδός (53:6). In the poem, the ‫ֶﬠֶבד‬/παῖς is presented as the solution to this problem in various ways, including notions of intercession by carrying (‫נשׂא‬/(ἀνα)φέρειν, ‫סבל‬/περὶ ἡµῶν, 53:4, 12) the host of transgressions, by being inflicted or pierced (‫חלל‬/τραυµατίζειν, 53:5) with the punishment for this, and, most strikingly, by presenting his life as a guilt, reparation, or trespass offering (‫ָאָשׁם‬/περὶ ἁµαρτίας, 53:10).267 To this list, it should also be added how the servant is willing to give up his life to death for the benefit and behalf of sinners (‫ַתַּחת ֲאֶשׁר ֶהֱﬠ ָרה ַלָמּ ֶות ַנְפשׁוֹ‬/ἀνθ᾿ ὧν παρεδόθη εἰς θάνατον ἡ ψυχὴ αὐτοῦ … ‫ ְוַלֹפְּשִׁﬠים ַיְפ ִגּי ַע‬/διά ὁ ἁµαρτία αὐτός παραδίδωµι, 53:12). We shall return to this passage below in Section 3.3.3,268 but the important point to notice for now is how this matter of sin and intercession serves to re-establish the broken community. Sacrifice is said to produce peace and healing (‫ָשׁלוֹם‬/εἰρήνη, ‫רפא‬/ἰᾶσθαι, 53:5), “justifying with justice” or “vindicating with victory” (‫ ַיְצ ִדּיק ַצ ִדּיק‬/δικαιῶσαι δίκαιον) the many (‫ָל ַרִבּים‬/πολλοῖς, 53:11), and by all means gaining a mighty victory of kingly proportions.269 These are all notions that strike the ––––––––––––––––– 261 As seen above, the broad sense in which ‫ ישׁ ע‬is used effectively communicates the same, see especially Isa 49:26 where ‫ ישׁע‬and ‫ גאל‬are used together as epithets of Yahweh ( ‫ֲא ִני ְיה ָוה מוִֹשׁ יֵﬠְך ְוֹגֲא ֵלְך‬/ἐγὼ κύριος ὁ ῥυσάµενός σε καὶ ἀντιλαµβανόµενος). 262 See Isa 42:24; 43:24–27; 44:22; 46:8; 48:8; 50:1. 263 For a discussion of the problems involved in Duhm’s traditional designation EbedJahweh-Lieder, see Joseph Blenkinsopp, “The Sacrificial Life and Death of the Servant (Isaiah 52:13–53:12),” VT 66 (2016): 2; see also Poulsen, Black Hole, 234–35. The designation is retained here as a technical term only. 264 The speaker’s collective “we” (see, e.g., 53:6: ‫ֻכּ ָלּ נוּ‬/ἡµῶν) is identified in 53:8 as ‫ַﬠִמּ י‬/τοῦ λαοῦ µου. 265 The translation of ‫שׁ ִﬠ ים‬ ְ ‫ ֹפּ‬with τὰς ἁµαρτίας in 53:12 is contested by a sizeable number of manuscripts preferring τὰς ἀνοµίας. 266 Some manuscripts render ‫ ֳח ִל י‬as µαλακία, others as ἀσθένεια, as does Matt 8:17. 267 For an overview of the many points of dispute concerning this poem, see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 344–57. 268 See further the discussion in Sections 6.1.2; 6.3.1; 6.3.5. 269 See especially 52:13, 15, and 53:12.

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147

salvific thread of Second Isaiah throughout, especially 52:7–10. In this way, the servant’s suffering and sacrifice become instrumental in the reversal of the people’s fortunes. As the various shades of sin are given as explanation for the exile, the mediation “on behalf”270 is now given as explanation for the victorious finale. (c) The salvific renewal of Yahweh’s presence is, lastly, expressed forcefully by the notion of a covenant (‫ְבּ ִרית‬/διαθήκη). While this notion is used in all of Isaiah’s sections, it plays a distinct role in Second Isaiah’s visions of renewal, where it is used in two ways. First, this notion plays a role in the first and second Servant Song in which the servant is said to be given or presented (‫נתן‬/διδόναι) “as covenant for the people” (‫ִלְב ִרית ָﬠם‬/εἰς διαθήκην γένους, 42:6, see 49:6 LXX; 49:8). As argued by Blenkinsopp, these statements are connected with the instructions to Cyrus (see 44:28–45:13),271 who is called to play a decisive role in the reestablishment of the temple and Jerusalem as part of the way in which justice (‫ֶצ ֶדק‬/δικαιοσύνη, 42:6) is restored. Second, even more distinctly for our purposes, we find the covenant language resumed in the two ultimate chapters of Second Isaiah, describing the full glory of the restored Jerusalem. On the one hand, we find a reference to the perpetual covenant made with Noah, which Yahweh/God assures is still more secure than any mountain and labels “peace covenant” (‫ָשׁלוֹם ְב ִרית‬/διαθήκη εἰρήνη, 54:10); on the other hand, we find a reference to the promises made to David of an “eternal covenant” (‫ְבּ ִרית עוָֹלם‬/διαθήκη αἰώνιον, 55:3), which is precisely marked by restored glory (‫פאר‬/δοξάζειν, 55:5) and Yahweh/the Lord’s nearness (‫ָקרוֹב‬/ἐγγίζειν, 55:6).272 According to Blenkinsopp, of the latter two, “peace covenant” is the most noteworthy since in the context of Near Eastern covenant language it involves the reestablishment of “good relations or reconciliation by restoring relations of amity that had been severed” and thus can be translated “covenant of friendship.”273 This being the case would elevate even further the notion of nearness and proximity as the ultimate gift of the evangelic epoch-making vision of Second Isaiah. (4) Finally, the emphasis on proximity and presence in Second Isaiah specifically may be summed up by the increasing focus on Jerusalem/Zion. As already mentioned, Jerusalem/Zion is presented as the locus of Yahweh’s/God’s theophany in the prologue (40:1–2, 9–11). In particular, the threefold ‫ִה ֵנּה‬/ἰδού in vv. 9–10 “are designed to evoke a visual impression”274 of the ––––––––––––––––– See the use of ‫ ְל‬in 53:5 ( ‫ ;)ָלנוּ‬53:11 ( ‫ ;)ָל ַרִבּ ים‬53:12 ( ‫ )ַלֹפּ ְשׁ ִﬠים‬and ‫ ַתּ ַח ת‬in the sense “instead of” in 53:12, see the use of περί in 53:4 LXX (περὶ ἡµῶν) and ἀντί and διά in 53:12 LXX (ἀνθ᾽ ὧν παρεδόθη εἰς θάνατον ἡ ψυχὴ αὐτου … διὰ τὰς ἁµαρτίας αὐτῶν παρεδόθη). 271 See Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 210. 272 See also the targumic reference to the temporary loss of God’s ‫שׁ ִכ י ָנ ה‬ ְ in Tg. Isa. 53:8, now restored through the reestablishment of the covenant. 273 Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 364. 274 Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 63. 270

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victory, glory, salvation, and peace Zion is about to experience. In the first part of Second Isaiah, Jerusalem is only referred to a couple of times.275 In 41:27, Yahweh recalls how he sent a ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬to Jerusalem; in 44:21–28, Jacob/Israel is pledged to return (‫שׁוב‬/ἐπιστρέφειν)276 to Yahweh, who redeems it, with a promise of the rebuilding of Jerusalem along with its temple (‫ֵהיָכל‬/οἶκος), a message repeated in 46:12–13. In the latter part, however, Zion enters the centre stage as especially evident from the three prolonged speeches to Zion in 49:14–26, 51:12–52:10, and 54:1–17.277 The ‫ִה ֵנּה‬/ἰδού from the prologue, repeated throughout,278 reaches its zenith, even within the emphatic Isaianic universe of a cosmic or paradisial Steigerung, with the ‫ִה ֵנּ ִני‬/παρεῖναι in the kingly vision of 52:6–10: Yahweh/God has returned to Zion (see 52:6). The proximity of Yahweh turns to full-fledged presence in first person when the ‫שׁוב‬/ἐπιστρέφειν and exodus of the people (51:11) joins hands with the ‫ שׁוב‬of Yahweh to Zion (52:8). As expressed in 51:3, when the promised consolation (‫נחם‬/παρακαλεῖν) is materialized, and Zion’s ‫ִמ ְדָבּר‬/ἔρηµος is transformed ‫ְכֵּﬠ ֶדן‬/ὡς παράδεισον, then it will be the time for gladness (‫ָשׂשׂוֹן‬/εὐφροσύνη), joy (‫ִשְׂמָחה‬/ἀγαλλίαµα), and thanksgiving (‫תּוֹ ָדה‬/ἐξοµολόγησις). This is the point where kingly war victory will be announced (‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελίζειν), bringing ‫ָשׁלוֹם‬/εἰρήνη (52:7; 53:5; 54:13; 55:12), ‫טוֹב‬/ἀγαθός (52:7; 55:2), ‫ ְישׁוָּﬠה‬/σωτηρία (49:6, 8; 51:6, 8; 52:7, 10), and ‫ֶצ ֶדק‬/δικαιοσύνη (46:12–13; 51:5–8; 54:14) in measures unbound to Jerusalem in the renewed “covenant of peace” (‫ְבּ ִרית ָשׁלוֹם‬/ἡ διαθήκη τῆς εἰρήνης, 54:10). In reality, Second Isaiah is striking the highest possible note in its vision of an all-encompassing renewal and restoration, the one of new creation and a new covenant with its idea of unlimited proximity to the presence of the divine.279 3.3.3 … Through Kingly Victory and Cultic Atonement Given that a main focus of Isaiah 40–55 is the establishment of a renewed proximity of Yahweh at Zion, the next question is by which means this is envisioned to take place. This brings us to the question of whether the observed intertwinement of kingly victory and cultic renewal is present here as well. As we shall presently see, a strong argument can be established for this being the case, providing the frame within which we should understand the use of ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- in 40:9 and 52:7 in particular. The one part of it, that proximity as the fruit of Yahweh’s kingly victory, is firmly established in the discussion ––––––––––––––––– 275 For a rejection of the theory that this necessitates more than one author, see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 114. 276 Isa 44:22, see 45:22; 55:7; and also 49:5–6; 51:11. 277 See Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 114. 278 See Isa 41:15; 42:9; 43:19; 47:14; 48:10; 49:12, 22; 51:22. 279 See n. 209.

3.3 The Epoch-Making ‘Gospel’ Vision of Isaiah 40–66

149

above.280 Not only does Yahweh label himself ‫ֶמֶלְך‬/βασιλεύς,281 he also rules over kings,282 just as references are made to his strength, his uplifted arm, or his capacity as “a mighty man” (‫ )ַכּ ִגּבּוֹר‬or a war hero (‫)ְכִּאישׁ ִמְלָחמוֹת‬.283 Most pointedly, we find the initial description in 40:10 of Yahweh as a mighty war lord coming in strength (‫ְבָּח ָזק‬/µετὰ ἰσχύος), ruling with his arm, and showing forth his war prize (‫ָשָׂכר‬/µισθός). This picture is brought to completion when the final, climactic war news is proclaimed to Zion, pure and simple: ‫ָמַלְך ֱאֹלָה ִיְך‬/βασιλεύσει σου ὁ θεός (52:7). Likewise, it should not be overlooked how even the suffering and death of the servant of the fourth Servant Song is sandwiched with references to his kingly elevation. In short, the notion of epoch-making, kingly war victory of the εὐαγγελ- word group is fully present in Isaiah 40–55. The second part of this process – the focus on temple, cult, and cleansing – is, on the other hand, disputed when it comes to Second Isaiah. The temple as a building is mentioned only once, namely as part of the vocation of Cyrus when it is stated that, alongside the rebuilding of Jerusalem, he shall rebuild the ‫ֵהיָכל‬/οἶκος (44:28). In contrast, the temple is one of the main points of focus in Isaiah 56–66. With reference to the temple, Jerusalem is in these chapters several times labelled “my holy mountain” (‫ַהר־ָק ְדִשׁי‬/τὸ ὄρος τὸ ἅγιόν µου).284 The temple itself is likewise named with various epithets and names, such as “a house of prayer” (‫ֵבּית ְתִּפָלּה‬/οἶκος προσευχῆς, 56:7), “my glorious house” (‫ֵבּית ִתְּפַא ְרִתּי‬/ὁ οἶκος τῆς προσευχῆς µου (δοξασθήσεται), 60:7), “my holy place” (‫ְמקוֹם ִמְק ָדִּשׁי‬/τὸν τόπον τὸν ἅγιόν µου, 60:13; ‫ִמְק ָדּשׁ‬/ἁγίασµα, 63:18; ‫ֵבּית ָק ְדֵשׁנוּ‬/ ὁ οἶκος τὸ ἅγιον ἡµῶν, 64:10), and “my sacred courts” (‫ַחְצרוֹת ָק ְדִשׁי‬/ταῖς ἐπαύλεσιν ταῖς ἁγίαις µου, 62:9). In particular, the problem is that the temple is burned down (64:10), its ruins are being desecrated (63:18), and the people are indulging in all kinds of sins including pagan cultic activities (57:7; 65:11). The vision of restoration in this situation is specifically said to include the rebuilding of the temple, as for instance is made clear by the close parallel to the prologue of Second Isaiah in 62:10–12, which is preceded by a reference to the temple.285 This immediate contrast is by some researchers interpreted as a substantial, theological difference. John McKenzie states straightforwardly that ––––––––––––––––– For the kingly theme of Second Isaiah, see also Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 34–35. Isa 41:21; 43:15; 44:6. 282 Isa 45:1; 49:7, 23; 52:15. 283 Isa 42:13. As noticed by Blenkinsopp, this presentation echoes the exodus tradition (Exod 15:3, see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 112). For other references to the strength of Yahweh, see, e.g., Isa 40:10–12, 26, 28–29, 31; 49:26; 51:5, 9–10; 53:1. 284 Isa 56:7; 57:13; 65:11, 25; 66:20. 285 Likewise, the final vision in chapter 66 is not to be read as a critique of the temple (see 66:1–2), but rather as a vision of the heavenly temple containing the full ‫ ָכּבוֹד‬of Yahweh for which any earthly building will come short, see the discussion in Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66, 86, 294–96. 280 281

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“the cult was not included among the themes of Second Isaiah because it does not appear,”286 just as Stuhlmueller notes slightly more nuanced that “the point of concern [of Second Isaiah] is not the temple cult but rather the purity or holiness of the people.”287 Baltzer goes on to provide a historical explanation thereof, viewing Second Isaiah as one of the “dissenting voices”288 in the early post-exilic Jerusalem to the priestly temple rebuilding project, separating him “fundamentally from Ezekiel, Haggai, or Zechariah, for example, or even Ezra.”289 In contrast to the priestly theology of his day, “DtIsa stands for a noncultic solution, and is hence in the prophetic tradition.”290 While a shift in emphasis is certainly evident, Baltzer’s suggestion is farfetched. Instead, the approach taken by, for instance, Blenkinsopp is more convincing. Here the difference in emphasis is acknowledged but without inferring a distinct, theological contrast thereof.291 This becomes evident if we allow a number of cultic references in Second Isaiah to count, and if we factor in the motif of Steigerung through which the concept of an earthly temple is transposed into the ideal expression of all temples, the garden of Eden itself. Being a main point in connection with our projected thesis of the εὐαγγελ- word group as having an intertwined kingly and cultic notion, the weighty evidences for the cultic resonance in Isaiah 40–55 need to be outlined in detail: (1) As even Baltzer notices, the fundamental expression of the nearness of the presence of Yahweh in the prologue, the ‫ְכּבוֹד ְיה ָוה‬/ἡ δόξα κυρίου “is close to the Priestly writing’s account of the wanderings through the desert” in which the ‫ ָכּבוֹד‬serves “a protective/military role … as well as a temple cultic role.”292 There is thus no fundamental difference to the vision of Yahweh’s return in Isa 52:9–12 or Ezekiel’s full-fledged temple cultic description.293 (2) The one place specifically mentioning the temple, 44:28, is noteworthy by doing so as part of the general rebuilding of Jerusalem, which in essence suggests that the rebuilding of the temple is implied whenever the rebuilding of Jerusalem is mentioned.294 In reality, the rebuilding of the temple is not always spelled out even in Third Isaiah’s building visions.295 ––––––––––––––––– John L. McKenzie, Second Isaiah: Introduction, Translation, and Notes, AB 20 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968), lxvii. 287 Carroll Stuhlmueller, “Deutero-Isaiah: Major Transitions in the Prophet’s Theology and in Contemporary Scholarship,” CBQ 42.1 (1980): 9. 288 Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 38. 289 Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 220. 290 Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 421. 291 See, e.g., Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66, 85. 292 Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 56. 293 See Ezek 43–48. Blenkinsopp refers to Ibn Ezra for an early understanding of Isa 43:3–5 as temple cultic in the light of Isa 62:10–12, see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 181. 294 See 45:13; 49:14–26; 51:3; 52,1–12. 295 See, e.g., 58:12; 61:4. 286

3.3 The Epoch-Making ‘Gospel’ Vision of Isaiah 40–66

151

(3) Further, the paucity of the temple may be explained by the motif of Steigerung. As already noticed, the most important element thereof is the recasting of the exodus from Babylon as a new creation in which a central part is the recreation of Zion ‫ְכֵּﬠ ֶדן‬/ὡς παράδεισον.296 The idea of an eschatological recast of Zion as Eden was shared by Ezekiel297 and, as often noticed, Eden was the mother of all temples.298 The motif of transposing the pre-exilic conditions is expressed in another important way as well, namely through the transformation of the entire city of Jerusalem to a temple. As evident above, Zion is the locus of the salvific acts to come. This is where Yahweh/God will bring near (‫קרב‬/ἐγγίζειν) the host of benefits, such as his justice (‫ְצ ָדָקה‬/δικαιοσύνη), salvation (‫ְתּשׁוָּﬠה‬/σωτηρία), glorious beauty (‫ִתְּפֶא ֶרת‬/ δόξασµα), peace (‫ָשׁלוֹם‬/εἰρήνη), glory (‫ָכּבוֹד‬/δόξα), and his merciful acts (‫רחם‬/ ἐλεεῖν).299 In light of this, it is not surprising to find Jerusalem addressed ‫ִﬠיר ַהקֹּ ֶדשׁ‬/πόλις ἡ ἁγία.300 Further, the notion of water in abundance in 55:1 might carry an echo to the waters of Eden, which Ezekiel located as bursting forth from the temple and Zechariah from the city.301 According to Baltzer, the exact location of the eschatological flow of water – city or temple – is a point of dispute, and according to his reconstruction, the labelling of the city as such as holy in Second Isaiah is specifically meant to encroach on the temple’s primary prerogative.302 In the light of the motif of Steigerung, however, another option presents itself: Second Isaiah envisions the entire city rebuilt as a temple or, in fact, as the garden of Eden itself, not in competition with the idea of a temple but as the eschatological consumption of the need for a provisional, earthly house of Yahweh.303 (4) This brings us to the climactic vision of 52:1–10 which, as discussed above, at its core is a kingly vision of the renewed enthronement of Yahweh at Zion. But to which extent, if at all, is a temple cultic motif part of this vision? According to Baltzer, there is a direct hit at the temple cult in 52:5 if ‫ְוָתִמיד‬ (“and continually”) is understood as ‫עַֹלת ָתִּמיד‬, thereby referring to the tamid ––––––––––––––––– See Sections 3.3.1 and 3.3.2. See Ezek 36:35 (the land of Israel as such); 47:1–12 (the temple and the land), see McKenzie, Second Isaiah, 125; Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 327. 298 See, e.g., Peter Thacher Lanfer, Remembering Eden: The Reception History of Genesis 3: 22–24 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 127–58. 299 See, e.g., Isa 40:5; 46:13; 52:7; 54:8. 300 See Isa 48:2; 52:1. 301 See Ezek 47:1–12; Zech 14:8. 302 See Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 467–68. 303 As noted by Blenkinsopp, there is in Isa 40–66 as such a reservation against a magical understanding of an earthly temple (see Isa 60:1–2). This is, however, “not an outright, ideological rejection of temple worship,” but is in alignment with a general tendency in the Hebrew Bible to negotiate the immanence and transcendence of Yahweh’s presence in the temple (see 1 Kgs 8:27, Salomon’s prayer at the dedication of the First Temple, and, e.g., Deut 12:5, 11, 21, only the ‫ ֵשׁ ם‬of Yahweh resides in the temple), see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66, 86–87. 296 297

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sacrifice and not simply denoting the “continual” spurning of Yahweh’s name. In this way, Baltzer understands the oracle directed towards the daily sacrifices in the temple, not the shame of the prolonged exile.304 This suggestion is farfetched. The LXX translates διὰ παντός, just as Targum Isaiah displays evidence to the contrary by pinpointing the temple cultic worship of God’s name as the reason for the daily spurning.305 In the same way, Blenkinsopp sees a parallel to Ezekiel’s vision of the return of Yahweh’s glory to the rebuilt temple, just as he argues that, “though the temple is not mentioned in this connection, affinity with the so-called enthronement psalms (Pss 93; 95–97; 99) leaves no doubt that this eschatological event is envisaged as taking place in a rebuilt temple.”306 (5) Besides 44:28, the most direct reference to the temple is to be found in 52:11, where the command to leave is coupled with a command not to touch anything unclean (‫ָטֵמא‬/ἀκάθαρτος), just as those carrying “the vessels of Yahweh” (‫ְכֵּלי ְיה ָוה‬/τὰ σκεύη κυρίου) should purify themselves or remain separate (‫ברר‬/ἀφορίζειν). In two ways, Baltzer finds a subtle critique of the temple embedded in this verse. One is that there is no reference to the Levites or the priests. Whereas Ezra and Nehemiah strictly observed the cultic preference of the priestly class, it is here “the people who ‘carry the vessels of Yahweh.’”307 Another is that the reference of the feminine pronoun in ‫ִמתּוָֹכהּ‬/ἐκ µέσου αὐτῆς (“from the midst of her”) is not stated directly, making it “conceivable” that for the people reading this in Jerusalem it “may also be a reference to the temple.”308 In my opinion, both are arguments from silence and are speculative rather than conclusive. Even if we should accept for the sake of argument Baltzer’s historical reconstruction, his inference of a thoroughgoing temple critique in Second Isaiah is only inferential. It might as well be understood as yet another way in which Second Isaiah outbids the pre-exilic period by including the people as such in the priesthood.309 In essence, even if accepting Baltzer’s hypothesis of a prophetic critique of the priestly clan and its administration of the temple, Second Isaiah contains an eschatological or transposed description of an unbound cultic presence of Yahweh in the Eden-like holy temple city of Jerusalem. (6) This finally brings us to the most important argument for a temple cultic interwoven element in Second Isaiah’s vision of the eschatological restoration ––––––––––––––––– See Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 375. “Continually all day they incite to anger over against the service of my name ( ‫( ”)ֻפלַחן ְשׁ ִמ י‬Chilton, Isaiah Targum, 102). 306 Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66, 85, see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 340. 307 Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 390, see, e.g., Neh 12:30. 308 Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 391. 309 This is in line with Isa 61:6 labelling the people of Jerusalem ‫כּ ֲֹה ֵנ י ְי ה ָו ה‬/ἱερεῖς κυρίου and ‫ְמ ָשׁ ְרֵת י ֱא ֹלֵה ינוּ‬/λειτουργοὶ θεοῦ, just as the eschatological vision of Zech 14:20–21 contains the notion of priestly purity beyond Levitical boundaries. 304 305

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of Zion, namely the fourth Servant Song. It has already been outlined above how the thoroughgoing interest in the various forms of sin, guilt, transgression, and the like culminate in this poem. The question remaining is if there is evidence in the poem for a temple cultic mitigation thereof. This discussion can be narrowed down to the question of whether the notion ‫ָאָשׁם‬/περὶ ἁµαρτίας in Isa 53:10 should be understood in a priestly or a legal way.310 Unfortunately, this is also a longstanding crux interpretum with more aspects than it is possible to treat here where the focus will be on two issues, the use and meaning of ‫ָאָשׁם‬ in Isa 53:10 and the differences between the Hebrew Bible and the Septuagint:311 (a) Firstly, concerning the meaning of ‫ָאָשׁם‬, the trend in recent research has been to understand it apart from its cultic use in especially Leviticus.312 According to Bernd Janowski, the traditional identification of this notion in the context of Isaiah 53 as identical with the Levitical ‫ ָאָשׁם‬sacrifice leads into “eine Sackgasse” no matter if the primary background hereof is depicted as the “Schuldopfertora” in Lev 5:14–26 or the “Sündenbockritus” in Lev 16:10, 20– 22.313 Concerning the differences to the Levitical description of the ‫ָאָשׁם‬, Janowski maintains that Isaiah 53 makes no reference to the blood of the servant nor any of the traditional terms for bringing a sacrifice, for which reason the servant is not presented as a sacrificial animal. The reference to a lamb led to slaughtering (53:7) is understood as “ein Bildwort.” Concerning the Day of Atonement, Janowski argues that “so gut wie alles” count against this event as the reference point of Isa 53:10. The ‫ ָאָשׁם‬sacrifice is not part of Leviticus 16, and “die Schuld Israels … wird er-tragen” by the servant, not “in eine abgelegene Gegend ‘weggeschafft.’”314 Instead, Janowki’s Gegenthese is that the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬sacrifice was originally a secular notion concerning “schuldhafte

––––––––––––––––– For the difficult question if ‫ נזה‬in 52:15 should be translated “sprinkle” or “astonish” (= ‫ נזה‬II, which would be the only instance of this meaning in the HB), see the pro et contra enumerated in Oswalt, Isaiah 40–66, 384. The best attested tradition of the LXX reads θαυµάσονται while Aquila and Theodotion read ῥαντίζει. If ‫ נזה‬is allowed to contain its regular semantic notion, this could be interpreted as a reference to a priestly service of the servant (see, e.g., Exod 29:21; Lev 4:6). However, even in this case, the kingly context of the verse might suggest a kind of greeting gesture (see Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 400). 311 For other pertinent questions, such as the various suggested emendations of the text and the identity of the servant, see Blenkinsopp, “Sacrificial Life and Death,” 1–5. 312 For a general and instructive introduction to the ‫שׁ ם‬ ָ ‫ ָא‬sacrifice, see Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 3 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991), 339–45. 313 Bernd Janowski, “Er trug unsere Sünden: Jes 53 und die Dramatik der Stellvertretung,” in Der leidende Gottesknecht: Jesaja 53 und seine Wirkungsgeschichte, ed. Bernd Janowski and Peter Stuhlmacher, FAT 14 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 41–42. 314 Janowski, “Er trug unsere Sünden,” 43. 310

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Übergriffe und deren Wiedergutmachung.”315 The point is that ‫ָאָשׁם‬, contrary to the ‫ ַחָטּאת‬sacrifice, works outside the cult by addressing the consequences of guilt situations. The death of the servant is Stellvertretung, only not in a priestly or cultic way but as a way of freeing Israel from its “Schuldsituation” from which it must “gelöst werden, um noch eine Zukunft zu haben.”316 Along the same lines, Baltzer suggests that it is the intercession of Moses in the story of the golden calf that should be seen as the primary point of reference for the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬of Isaiah 53. Unlike the priestly ‫ ָאָשׁם‬sacrifice, Moses, like the servant, makes himself liable to Yahweh, just as there is made reference to the promise of multiple offspring.317 In reality, since “DtIsa makes no mention at all of the temple cult and its sacrifices at the restitution of Zion/Jerusalem,” the nonpriestly use of ‫ ָאָשׁם‬in 53:10 “suggests that the present text is arguing against the theory and practice of guilt offerings” by making Moses – and not a priest – the true guilt offering.318 Contrary to this trend of a non-cultic understanding of ‫ ָאָשׁם‬in Isa 53:10, Blenkinsopp has recently argued for a cultic reading afresh. While admitting that the understanding of the servant’s role in terms of prophetic intercession has always been “an attractive option,” it “falls far short of adequately describing the Servant’s role in the threnody.”319 In the Hebrew Bible, the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬ritual is overwhelmingly a priestly notion just as its close counterpart, the ‫ ַחָטּאת‬sacrifice, and several elements in Isaiah 53 justify a link to Leviticus. One is the juxtaposition with ‫ ֶנֶפשׁ‬in 53:10 and 12, which in combination with ‫ָאָשׁם‬ “obliges us to adopt a translation which associates death with bloodshed and, in this instance, sacrificial bloodshed.”320 The conclusion is backed by a reference to the Levitical idea that ‫ ֶנֶפשׁ‬is in the ‫ ָדּם‬of the animal, which is what will provide atonement (‫כפר‬, Lev 17:11). A second argument for this identification is taken from 53:7 of the lamb (‫)ֶשׂה‬, which is lead (‫ )יבל‬to slaughtering (‫)ֶטַבח‬. While Janowski views this as “ein Bildwort,” and Baltzer in a footnote designates the ‫ ֶטַבח‬as a non-religious slaughter of an animal for a banquet,321 Blenkinsopp argues that “the lamb is one of the animals most acceptable for sacrifice.”322 This is the case for the Passover sacrifice and not least in connection with the required ‫ ָאָשׁם‬after being healed from skin disease or leprosy (‫)ָצ ַרַﬠת‬, ––––––––––––––––– 315 Janowski, “Er trug unsere Sünden,” 43. The references cited for this claim is Gen 26:10 and 1 Sam 6:3–4, 8, 17. 316 Janowski, “Er trug unsere Sünden,” 43. 317 See Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 420–23. 318 Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 421. 319 Blenkinsopp, “Sacrificial Life and Death,” 9. 320 Blenkinsopp, “Sacrificial Life and Death,” 7. Unfortunately for Blenkinsopp’s case, ‫ ערה‬is never used in connection with sacrifices in priestly texts. He refers instead to Ps 141:8. 321 See Janowski, “Er trug unsere Sünden,” 42 and Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 415. 322 Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 7.

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which specifically is performed with a lamb.323 Skipping the question of ‫ֶטַבח‬, Blenkinsopp further argues that ‫ יבל‬is used in a cultic sense.324 A third argument is found in Isa 53:8 with the expression of the servant as “cut off from the land of the living,” understood as an echo of the goat for Azazel, which carries the sin of the people into “a cut-off land” (Lev 16:22) on the Day of Atonement. Thus, Blenkinsopp finds an indirect reference to the Levitical cult in the notion of ‫ ֶנֶפשׁ‬, a reference to particular sacrifices performed with a lamb, and a reference to the Day of Atonement in the notion of being cut off, enumerating in total to a cultic connotation of ‫ָאָשׁם‬. Richard E. Averbeck also argues for a cultic reading of Isaiah 53 despite the lack of some obvious cultic vocabulary.325 Averbeck’s main point is that the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬should be understood as restoration, by which he understands a more comprehensive notion than Milgrom’s understanding as “reparation offering”326 and likewise more than the closely related but more narrowly defined ‫ַחָטּאת‬ sacrifice. In essence, the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬was “not just redemptive atonement and reparation, but actual restoration.”327 However, while Averbeck thus accepts that the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬was more than the ‫ַחָטּאת‬, it was at the same time never less, always including a cultic sense, even when the restoration took place in the mundane sphere of life. In unfolding this further, Averbeck argues that the common denominator between the ‫ָאָשׁם‬, required if a “desecration of sancta” had occurred, and the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬prescribed in instances of infringement against a neighbour’s (‫ָﬠִמית‬/πλησίον) property, is precisely to be found in an understanding of the neighbour as part of Yahweh’s ‘sancta.’328 This means that the “wedge” Janowski drives between “the narrative passages and the cultic ones” does not stand up to scrutiny.329 Instead, the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬is prescribed in situations demanding restoration and recovery that ultimately are connectable to the sancta and the holiness of Yahweh. Examples hereof include unintended desecration of “the holy things of Yahweh” (‫)ִמָקּ ְדֵשׁי ְיה ָוה‬, a defilation of the Nazirite condition, and after skin-disease.330 ––––––––––––––––– See Lev 14:12–13, 21, 24–25. Blenkinsopp refers to Isa 18:7; Hos 10:6; 12:2 for this claim. One may also add the close parallel in Jer 11:19. However, of its eighteen uses in the Hebrew Bible, most are concerned with everyday life situations. 325 Averbeck notes the lack of ‫כפר‬, to which we could add any notion of ‫ ָדּ ם‬, see Richard E. Averbeck, “Christian Interpretations of Isaiah 53,” in The Gospel According to Isaiah 53: Encountering the Suffering Servant in Jewish and Christian Theology, ed. Darrell L. Bock and Mitch Glaser (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2012), 45. 326 See, e.g., Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, 339. 327 Averbeck, “Isaiah 53,” 53. 328 See Averbeck, “Isaiah 53,” 49–51, on basis of Lev 5:21–26, see Num 5:6–10. 329 Averbeck, “Isaiah 53,” 46. 330 See Lev 5:5–19; Num 6:12; Lev 14:12–18. 323 324

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Averbeck’s second main point is that the most important tertium comparationis for Isaiah 53 is the latter, skin disease. He refers to the notion of plague or stroke (‫ ) ֶנ ַגע‬in 53:8 to describe the way in which the servant was inflicted by Yahweh, a noun used more than twenty times in the Levitical laws about skin disease, alongside also the general description of the deformities and even quarantine of the servant.331 In the same way, Averbeck understands the ‫ נזה‬of 52:15 to designate what it otherwise designates, namely cultic “sprinkling,”332 which specifically was part of the restoration rite of the skin diseased.333 Averbeck stresses, finally, the fact that the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬in connection with skin disease is one of only three instances in which blood is smeared or otherwise applied on people.334 The two others are to be considered rites of ordination, namely the covenant sacrifices of Exod 24:6–8,335 which may be considered as the ordination of the nation of Israel as “a kingdom of priests” (‫ַמְמֶלֶכת כֲֹּה ִנים‬, Exod 19:6), and the ordination of Aron and his sons.336 Thus the coincidence of the notions of plague (‫) ֶנ ַגע‬, sprinkling (‫)נזה‬, and restoration/guilt offering (‫ )ָאָשׁם‬found in the case of leprosy prove to Averbeck that the use in Isaiah 53 has its point of reference in these Levitical laws (Leviticus 13–14). In consequence, Averbeck suggests that the fate of the servant in Isaiah 53 should be viewed in concordance with the faith of Israel in Isaiah 52: “From Isaiah’s point of view, the suffering of the Isaiah 53 Servant was as essential to the restoration of the exiled people back to their Promised Land as the guilt offering was for the restoration of the skin-diseased person to the community.”337 In my opinion, Blenkinsopp’s and Averbeck’s arguments provide the best case for understanding the use of ‫ ָאָשׁם‬in the various places discussed, that is, as a reference to the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬involved in the cultic mitigation of leprosy, which should be understood in the sense of full restoration. Read in this way, the ‫ָאָשׁם‬ of Isa 53:10 is neither a misnomer nor solely cultic or secular but the most comprehensive way of expressing the full restoration and reparation in view in the vision of Isaiah 52–53 of Israel and its sancta in terms of land, city, people ––––––––––––––––– See Isa 52:14; 53:2–3, see Averbeck, “Isaiah 53,” 54–55. See n. 310. 333 See Averbeck, “Isaiah 53,” 56–57 with reference to Lev 14:7. As a matter of fact, three more points of reference to ‫ ָצ ַרַﬠ ת‬are present in Isa 53: Blenkinsopp highlights the verbal form ‫ נגע‬in 53:4, which in the Vulgate is translated with reference to leprosy (nos putavimus eum quasi leprosum), see Blenkinsopp, “Sacrificial Life and Death,” 7; the notion of a sheep in 53:7 echoes the animal prescribed for the ‫ ָא ָשׁ ם‬after skin disease from which blood is applied to the cured person (see Lev 14:13–14); and finally it may be noted that the LXX uses καθαρίζειν in Isa 53:10 in connection with the cure for the servant, a verb consistently used in connection with λέπρα, in total twenty-eight times in Lev 13–14, see, e.g., Mark 1:40–45. 334 See Lev 14:14, 17–18, 25, 28–29 (using ‫ נתן‬for the ‘smearing’, LXX: ἐπιτιθέναι). 335 Using ‫זרק‬, “to scatter, sprinkle, splash” (LXX: προσχεῖν and κατασκεδάννυειν). 336 See Exod 29:20; Lev 8:23–24 (using ‫ נתן‬for the ‘smearing’, LXX: ἐπιτιθέναι). 337 Averbeck, “Isaiah 53,” 59. 331 332

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157

as well as temple after a period comparable to the worst possible human condition, that of ‫ָצ ַרַﬠת‬. (b) Secondly, the understanding of ‫ ָאָשׁם‬expressed in the translation of the Septuagint is of key importance. Unfortunately, this is also not easy to discern. On the one hand, the LXX emphasizes the honour and shame aspects of the text.338 In line with this, the ‫ נזה‬of 52:15 is translated with θαυµάζειν. On the other hand, the LXX is far more interested in the notion of ἁµαρτία, which it uses seven times according to the best witnesses as opposed to only one use of ‫ ֵחְטא‬and three uses of ‫ ָﬠוֹן‬in the MT. Besides this, two issues in particular are of our concern in order to estimate in which manner the LXX understood the fate of the servant: The first concerns the translation of ‫ ָאָשׁם‬with περὶ (τῆς) ἁµαρτίας. Otherwise in the LXX, this is the standard phrase for the ‫ ַחָטּאת‬sacrifice,339 whereas ‫ ָאָשׁם‬is rendered with πληµµέλεια, πληµµέληµα, or πληµµελεῖν. There is, though, one or two exceptions in which ‫ ָאָשׁם‬is translated with περὶ ἁµαρτίας.340 While 4 Kgdms 12:17 is probably just due to a different word order, Lev 5:6– 7 is interesting. While the first occurrence of ‫ ָאָשׁם‬here is translated with πληµµελεῖν, the second is rendered with περὶ τῆς ἁµαρτίας.341 This “confusion” is especially noteworthy since Lev 5:7 LXX in this way translates ‫ ָאָשׁם‬as well as ‫ ַחָטּאת‬with περὶ (τῆς) ἁµαρτίας in the same verse. As is clear from the priestly texts, these two sacrifices were closely united,342 and later commentators such as Philo and Josephus struggled with providing an adequate distinction. Thus, while the περὶ ἁµαρτίας of Isa 53:10 LXX is surprising, perhaps even a misnomer, technically speaking, the translation serves to underline a “strong sacrificial resonance”343 in the Septuagint’s edition of the fourth Servant Song. The second issue of concern is the idea of Stellvertretung, clearly evident in the Septuagint’s translation of 53:5–6 and 10–12 with the various notions of περί/διὰ ἡµῶν, ἡµῶν, φέρειν, ἀναφέρειν, and παραδιδόναι.344 What is not evident, however, is if this Stellvertretung should be understood in a sacrificial way or otherwise such as the heroic sacrifice of one for the many in a war context. On ––––––––––––––––– This is seen, for instance, in 53:2–3 with the use of δόξα, ἄτιµος, and ἀτιµάζειν and in 52:13–14 with a triple use of δόξα terminology. 339 See, e.g., Lev 4:3, 35; 5:6. 340 Pace Blenkinsopp, “Sacrificial Life and Death,” 6, who mistakenly refers to Lev 7:7, 37, 14:13; 19:20–22. It may also be noted that the LXX further translates ‫ ָא ָשׁ ם‬with ἄγνοια (Gen 26:10; Ezek 40:39; 42:13; 44:29; 46:20), βάσανος (“torture,” only in the story of the Philistine’s return of the ark, 1 Kgdms 6:3–4, 8, 17), and ἀδικία (Jer 28:5 LXX). 341 With the exception of one manuscript, w, which uses πληµµέλεια. 342 See, e.g., Lev 4:13, 22, 27. Not least places like Lev 5:6 and Num 5:6–7 treat the two sacrifices indistinguishably; see also the formulation ‫ ַכַּח ָטּ את ְוָכָא ָשׁ ם‬of Lev 6:10; 7:7; (14:13). 343 Blenkinsopp, “Sacrificial Life and Death,” 6. 344 These notions are evident as well in the MT, see the use of ‫ ְל‬and ‫ִמ ן‬. 338

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the one hand, περὶ ἡµῶν echoes the standard expression in Leviticus of the priestly, sacrificial service “on behalf of him” (‫ָﬠָליו‬/περὶ αὐτοῦ), that is,the person bringing a sacrifice.345 In the same way, φέρειν and not least ἀναφέρειν bear a cultic connotation.346 On the other hand, as summarized by Cilliers Breytenbach, lexicographic investigations of the compound παραδιδόναι emphasize its meaning as “deliverance to a hostile force”347 when used in connection with someone dying on behalf of another. Indeed, throughout the LXX, παραδιδόναι is used in contexts of wars and victories, just as it echoes exodus language.348 In essence, Isaiah 53 LXX has in this way strong cultic resonance as well as a thoroughgoing emphasis on war, victory, and honour after disgrace. This intertwined emphasis connects it firmly with the themes of the preceding passage, 52:1–12.349 To summarize this section, the rejection of a cultic interest or even a hostile position against the cult in Isaiah 40–55 does not stand up to scrutiny. Instead, the paucity of direct references to the temple are best understood as part of Second Isaiah’s motif of an eschatological Steigerung in which the actual presence of Yahweh in Zion transformed to the garden of Eden becomes the point of focus. The focus is on the full restoration of Israel and in this vision there is an interwoven cultic thread, which strikes its highest note when the restoration of Israel is compared to and combined with the servant as an ‫ ָאָשׁם‬offering, possibly in connection with restoration from leprosy. While the main theme concerns the victory of Yahweh as king, the references to the temple in combination with the embedded cultic resonance of ‫ָאָשׁם‬/περὶ ἁµαρτίας offer the conclusion that the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- proclamation of Second Isaiah aligns closely to the evidence we have seen throughout of this notion as a victorious war message with embedded cultic resonance.

––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Lev 1:4; 4:3, 14, 20. See Lev 2:16; 3:5, 11, 14, and numerous other places where ἀναφέρειν is used as a technical term for the priestly sacrifices. 347 Cilliers Breytenbach, “The Septuagint Version of Isaiah 53 and the Early Christian Formula ‘He Was Delivered for Our Trespasses,’” NovT 51 (2009): 347. 348 See, e.g., Exod 23:31; Lev 26:25; Num 21:2, 34; Deut 1:8. 349 It may be noted that Targum Isaiah goes further in the direction of a cultic understanding of the agenda of the servant who is identified specifically as “the Messiah” ( ‫ְמ ִשׁ יָח א‬, 52:13), who shall “build the sanctuary ( ‫ )ֵב ית ַמ ק ְד ָשׁ א‬which was profaned for our sins” (53:5) and “cleanse the remnant of his people” (53:10), translation adopted from Chilton, Isaiah Targum, 103–5. 345 346

3.4 Isaianic Restoration in the Late Second Temple Period

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3.4 Isaianic Restoration in the Late Second Temple Period 3.4.1 Isaianic ‘Gospel’ Proclamation in Late Second Temple Jewish Texts Having already outlined the Septuagint’s as well as Josephus’s and Philo’s use of the εὐαγγελ- word group, we shall now finally in this chapter trace the remaining and relatively meager attestation of the word group in late Second Temple Jewish texts. Whereas Josephus and Philo mostly use the word group apart from references to the biblical texts and in alignment with the general Greek usage, Psalms of Solomon and the attestation in the Qumran scrolls are deeply tied to its biblical usage and not least Second Isaiah. Besides these, a third group is to be found in the few attestations in early post-war Jewish writings, namely 2 Baruch, Assumption of Moses, Joseph and Aseneth, and 4 Baruch (Paraleipomena Jeremiou): (1) Although the dating of the different psalms of Psalms of Solomon are still a matter of debate, it is generally agreed that the historical background to their expectations of a future restoration of Jerusalem including a messianic king is to be found in Pompey’s conquest in 63 BCE.350 Another obvious feature of these psalms is the way in which they are dressed in biblical clothes. This goes beyond their psalmic form and permeates their theology to the degree that, for instance, Brad Embry recently suggested that the author(s) of the psalms in reality saw the work as an organic part of the Jewish collection of biblical books.351 Within the multitude of echoes, allusions, and citations, we find what amounts to an Isaianic compilation in Psalm 11.352 As opposed to the striking parallel in 1 Baruch 5, Psalms of Solomon 11 connects the restoration of Jerusalem with the Isaianic notion of a messenger. Interestingly, the ambiguity of Isa 40:9 MT (ִ‫ )ְמַבֶשּׂ ֶרת ְירוָּשָׁלם‬and, according to Evans, of the LXX as well (ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος Ιερουσαληµ)353 is finally brought to rest by a formulation that removes the possibility of the messenger as one being sent forth from Jerusalem. Instead, “the voice of the messenger shall be preached in Jerusalem” (κηρύξατε ἐν Ιερουσαληµ φωνὴν εὐαγγελιζοµένου, 11:1), as we are told with a paraphrase of Isa 40:9 and 52:7.354 As in Isa 40:1–11 and 52:1–10, the central ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., John J. Collins, The Scepter and the Star: The Messiahs of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Ancient Literature, ABRL (Garden City, NY; New York: Doubleday, 1995), 50. 351 See Brad Embry, “Some Thoughts on and Implications from Genre Categorization in the Psalms of Solomon,” in The Psalms of Solomon: Language, History, Theology, ed. Eberhard Bons and Patrick Pouchelle, EJL 40 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 76–77. 352 See, e.g., Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 83. 353 See the discussion above, n. 66. 354 Evans argues that Pss. Sol. 11 especially “revolves around Isa 52:7” (Evans, “From Gospel,” 658). It is true that the reference to the ἐλεεῖν of God echoes Isa 52:8–9 LXX, as does the dressing of Jerusalem in “garments of glory” and “sanctity” (τὰ ἱµάτια τῆς δόξης … 350

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point is the visitation (ἐπισκοπή)355 of God in the restored Jerusalem and filled afresh with the exiled from afar. As is well known, Psalms of Solomon are one of the examples of later Jewish texts that understood the Isaianic ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬notion as part of a messianic reversal of fortunes.356 The important point for our purpose is the way in which the visions of Isaiah 40–66 are reproduced as a message of the salvation of Jerusalem, including the cleansing of the temple, and the visitation of God.357 (2) The bulk of the evidence from this period comes from the Dead Sea Scrolls. According to the overview provided by Francesco Zanella, ‫ בשׂר‬is attested sixteen times in the non-biblical manuscripts, of which four are emendations.358 Besides a noteworthy dual use of ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬in the Aramaic Testament of Joseph (4Q539 2–3, 5–6) in its profane Verwendung to give news of Joseph’s situation, we find otherwise, according to Zanella, “nur eine theologisch geprägte Verwendung des Verbs.”359 Perhaps not surprising, given the role of the book of Isaiah for the Qumran community,360 the primary reference for the theological use of ‫ בשׂר‬is Isaiah 40–66. This is seen in two ways. One is the way in which it is used in connection with Isaianic keywords such as ‫ָשׁלוֹם‬,361 ‫טוֹב‬,362 ‫רחם‬/‫ ַרֲחִמים‬,363 besides ‫ֲﬠ ָנ ִוים‬.364 The other is the direct quotations or references made to Isa 52:7 and 61:1 in 1QHa (Hodayota) XXIII, 15,365 11Q13 (Melchizedek) II, 16.18–19, and 4Q521 (Messianic Apocalypse) 2 II+4, 12. Combined, these three texts witness nine uses of ‫ בשׂר‬and the following may be noted as the most important elements for our purpose: (a) 1QHa XXIII, 15 (formerly XVIII, 14) is a prayerful request “to [raise up] according to Your truth the herald of good news (‫)מבשר‬, [to recount] Your goodness (‫)טובכה‬, bringing good news (‫ )לבשר‬to the humble (‫ )ענוים‬in accordance with the abundance of Your compassion (‫)רחמיכה‬.”366 These formulations ––––––––––––––––– τὴν στολὴν τοῦ ἁγιάσµατος, 11:7, see Isa 52:1). The echoes of Isa 40:1–11, however, are clear as well, see especially 11:1–2 (Isa 40:9), 11:4 (Isa 40:4). 355 See Pss. Sol. 11:1, 6. 356 See further Pss. Sol. 17–18 (esp. 17:32 and 18:7 for the messianic identification of the Davidic servant). See also the discussion in Friedrich, TWNT 2:713–4. 357 The focus on the temple and Jerusalem is evident throughout, see, e.g., Pss. Sol. 1:8; 2; 7; 8; 11; 17:30. 358 See Francesco Zanella, “ ‫בשׂ ר‬,” TWQ 1:535. 359 Zanella, TWQ 1:536. 360 See, e.g., Tov, “Transmission of Isaiah,” 97–98. 361 1QH a X, 8; 4Q432; 11Q13 II, 16; 4Q440 3 I, 16, see Isa 52:7; 53:5; 54:13; 55:12. 362 1QH a XXIII, 15 par. 4Q428 14, 4; 11Q13 II, 16.18–19, see Isa 52:7; 55:2. 363 1QH a XXIII, 15 par. 4Q428 14, 4, see Isa 49:10, 13, 15; 54:7–10; 55:7; 60:10; 63:7, 15. See also its close parallel, ‫נחם‬, see Isa 40:1; 49:13; 51:3, 12, 19; 52:9; 61:2; 66:13. 364 1QH a XXIII, 15 par. 4Q428 14, 4; 4Q521 2 II+4, 12, see Isa 61:1. 365 See the parallel in 4Q428 (Hodayotb) 14, 4 (reconstructed). 366 Translation adopted from Michael O. Wise, Martin G. Abegg, Jr., and Edward M. Cook, Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Translation (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1996).

3.4 Isaianic Restoration in the Late Second Temple Period

161

clearly echo “the herald of good news” from Isa 52:7367 as well as the “good news proclamation to the poor” from Isa 61:1.368 (b) 11Q13 provides a close parallel, though in much more detail, by citing Isa 52:7 and 61:2 in full.369 According to Evans, the precise meaning of this fascinating text “still eludes scholars.”370 For instance, it is debated if the text in its interpretation (‫פשר‬, II, 17) of Isa 52:7 identifies one or two messiahs and if one of these is Melchizedek.371 If two messiahs are identified, the first ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬ is identified as the anointed one/the messiah: “And ‘the messenger’ (‫ )מבשר‬is the Anointed of the Spir[it] ([‫”)משיח הרו]ח‬372 who with a quote from Dan 9:26 is said to be “cut off” after sixty-two weeks. After him follows the second, the ‫מבשר טוב‬, who with a quote from Isa 61:2 will carry through the vengeance of Yahweh besides comforting the mourning. These important details aside, the general point of this fragmented text is discernible. Melchizedek will appear in the ultimate “year of Jubilee” (‫בשנת היובל‬, II, 2) and provide a full restoration, including liberation of the captives (II, 4, citing Isa 61:1), return of inheritance (‫נחלה‬, II, 5), forgiveness of inequities (‫עון‬, II, 6), and a reestablishment of ‫יום‬ ‫( הכפורים‬II, 7). This service of Melchizedek is specifically said to serve the purpose of atonement for the sons of light (‫לכפר‬, II, 8). All these salvific gifts will be provided precisely with the appearance of the (possibly) two ‫ְמַבְשּׂ ִרים‬. As commented by Evans, 11Q13 thus provides an “eschatological interpreta-

––––––––––––––––– 367 As discussed by Stuhlmacher, ‫ מבש ר‬was by some early commentators and translators vocalized ‫“( ִמ ְבּ ַשׂ ר‬in the flesh”) rather than ‫ְמ ַב ֵשּׂ ר‬, which is preferred today, not least under influence of 11Q13 II, 16, see Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 143. 368 See Evans, “From Gospel,” 659. 369 11Q13 cites and alludes to several different biblical texts, and it has been discussed whether Lev 25 or Isa 61 provides the backbone. While Isa 61 “zwar möglicherweise nirgends explizit zitiert wird” (Johannes Zimmermann, Messianische Texte aus Qumran, WUNT 2/104 [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998], 401), its echo is present throughout (see the table in Zimmermann, Messianische Texte, 402), for which reason Isa 61:1–3 may be seen “behind the text of 11Q Melch” (Merrill P. Miller, “The Function of Isa 61:1–2 in 11Q Melchizedek,” JBL 88 [1969]: 469). In any case, the three cited or echoed texts of Lev 24, Deut 15, and Isa 61 all concern Jubilee or remission of debt, the important point being that 11Q13 uses Isa 61 as a foundry ladle to cast an eschatological fulfilment thereof. 370 Evans, “From Gospel,” 660. 371 That two messiahs should be inferred from the pesher of Isa 52:7 was argued by Paul Rainbow on the basis of the repetition of the ‫הואה‬-pronoun in II, 18–19 (see Paul Rainbow, “Melchizedek as a Messiah at Qumran,” BBR 7 [1997]: 190). In a recent discussion of this suggestion, Michael Flowers substantiates Rainbow’s suggestion, while rejecting that the second ‫ מבשר טוב‬should be identified as Melchizedek, adhering to the traditional identification of him as an angelic figure (see Michael Flowers, “The Two Messiahs and Melchizedek in 11QMelchizedek,” JAJ 7.2 [2016]: 194–227). For the discussion of the identity of Melchizedek, see further Zimmermann, Messianische Texte, 403–9. 372 11Q13 II, 18.

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tion of two of Isaiah’s good tidings passages.”373 What is even more pertinent for our purpose is the way in which the text overtly merges three key theological concepts in its pesher of the Isaianic ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬notion, namely that of exodus/liberation of prisoners, the Year of Jubilee, and the Day of Atonement.374 Especially, the references to atonement (‫לכפר‬, II, 8) and ‫( יום הכפורים‬II, 7) are surprising, representing a novelty by merging cultic atonement with the notions of exodus and the Year of Jubilee in Leviticus 25, Deuteronomy 15, and Isaiah 61; the texts above which 11Q13 hovers. Though Melchizedek is not directly labelled a priest, “erscheint er jedoch … als Priester.”375 In this way, 11Q13 thoroughly intertwines kingly war victory with cultic atonement and understands this to be the essence of Isaiah’s vision of a full restoration. (c) Finally, 4Q521, the so-called Messianic Apocalypse, is another highly fragmented text that contains several echoes to biblical texts, including Isa 61:1 in line 12–13 of fragments 2 and 4: “For He shall heal the critically wounded, He shall revive the dead, He shall send good news (‫ )יבשר‬to the afflicted. He shall sati[sfy the poo]r, He shall guide the uprooted (‫)נתושים‬, He shall make the hungry rich.”376 While the question of agency in this interpretation of Isa 61:1 is much debated, it is most likely in one way or another connected to the Lord (‫אדני‬, line 11) as well as “his messiah” (‫משיחו‬, line 1).377 For our purpose, the important point is how the Isaianic ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬notion is once again used as a vehicle to bring in the most intense notification of a full restoration, including return of the uprooted or exiled.378 ––––––––––––––––– 373 Evans, “From Gospel,” 660–61. See Zimmermann, who labels it an “eschatologisher Midrasch” (Zimmermann, Messianische Texte, 412). 374 See also Byrne, who without specifically pinpointing these three concepts, concludes that “11QMelchizedek brings together a remarkable series of texts to express the hopes of the elect community for the messianic age” (Brendan Byrne, “The Qumran Melchizedek Scroll and the Gospel of Mark: Coherence and Contrast in Soteriology,” Pacifica 27.2 [2014]: 132). 375 Zimmermann, Messianische Texte, 404. Zimmermann refers for a priestly interpretation of Melchizedek to the close parallel in T. Levi 18 of the eschatological ἱερεύς καινός that the Lord will raise during whose priesthood (ἱερωσύνη) “all sin shall cease, and the lawlessness shall stop doing evil” (ἐκλείψει πᾶσα ἁµαρτία καὶ οἱ ἄνοµοι καταπαύσουσιν εἰς κακά, T. Levi 18:9), after which he shall open (ἀνοίγειν) the doors to Paradise (παράδεισος, 18:10) and provide food from the tree of life (18:11). 376 4Q521 2 II+4, 12–13, translation adopted from Wise, Abegg, and Cook, Dead Sea Scrolls. 377 For the question of agency in 4Q521 2 II+4, 12, see Collins, Scepter and Star, 117– 18. 378 In the case of 4Q521, one of the most intriguing elements is the pesher of Isa 61:1 as including resurrection, see line 12: ‫“ – ומתים יחיה‬he will make the dead come alive.” While the following, “he will proclaim good news to the meek” (‫)ענוים יבשר‬, is a quote of Isa 61:1 ( ‫)ְלַב ֵשּׂ ר ֲﬠ ָנ ִוים‬, the question is whether there is any Isaianic reference behind the notion of revival from death. As noted by Collins, 4Q521 is in agreement with Matt 11:2–5/Luke 7:22 in going beyond Isa 61:1 verbatim (see Collins, Scepter and Star, 122). However, as argued

3.4 Isaianic Restoration in the Late Second Temple Period

163

To sum up, 1QHa XXIII, 15 (par 4Q428 14, 4), 11Q13 II, 16–19, and 4Q521 join the evidence from the Dead Sea Scrolls, suggesting the “extreme importance of Isaiah among those who lived at Qumran.”379 The Isaianic ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬ tradition was invoked to locate the identity upon whom God would bestow his eschatological restoration. (3) Besides this, we have a few scant attestations of our word group in Jewish writings from the first century or the early post-70 period: (a) In Joseph and Aseneth, Joseph extolls when he first sees Aseneth: “Here, come to me, pure virgin, for I have had good news about you from heaven (διότι ἐγὼ εὐηγγελίσθην περὶ σοῦ ἐξ οὐρανοῦ).”380 This usage could be understood as an example of an everyday-life usage, but the reference to the divine plan behind the marriage between the Jewish Joseph and the pagan Aseneth points towards a high profiled connotation of the passive εὐηγγελίσθην as some sort of prophetic, possibly even angelic or divine message. (b) Even more clearly, the same is the case in 2 and 4 Baruch. In 2 Baruch, preserved in Syriac, two passages make use of the Syriac sebarta which “often renders the Greek noun euangelion.”381 Writing in the period after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 CE,382 the author crafted a text set in the period after the destruction of the first temple with Baruch, the secretary of Jeremiah, as prophet or apocalypticist, who reveals visions from God to the people and instructs them in how to respond to the state of exile. After a speech to the people on how they should not forget the law, he continues to instruct the elders to “prepare your heart so that you obey the Law,” to which he adds: “If you do this, those good tidings will come to you of which I spoke to you earlier.”383 Though sebarta is used here without reference to the Hebrew Bible, it is used in the same manner as in Isaiah to encapsulate the victory of Yahweh. The second attestation is very similar, only this time laid in the mouth of people who, after another speech by Baruch with strong admonition to obey the law, ask for “a

––––––––––––––––– by Evans, both this notion and the preceding “he will heal the badly wounded” ( ‫)ירפא חללים‬ can be understood as containing references to the faith of the servant in Isa 53 (vv. 5 and 9– 10, see Evans, “From Gospel,” 661). 379 James H. Charlesworth, “Introduction: Is There an Unperceived Continuity of Isaiah?,” in The Unperceived Continuity of Isaiah, ed. James H. Charlesworth, TTCJCTS 28 (London: T&T Clark, 2019), 24. 380 Jos. Asen. 19.2 381 Horbury, “Gospel,” 17. This connection was also suggested in Dalman, Worte Jesu, 85. 382 See Klijn’s introduction in OTP 1:615–20. 383 2 Bar. 46:5–6, after A. F. J. Klijn, “2 (Syriac Apocalypse of) Baruch: A New Translation and Introduction,” in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. James H. Charlesworth, vol. 1 (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009), 635.

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letter of doctrine and a roll of hope”384 to be written to the exiles in Babylon. Also here, the word is reserved for events of epoch-making proportions. (c) The attestations in 4 Baruch (Paraleipomena Jeremiou) are very similar as well. Again we are dealing with a text addressing the destruction of the temple in 70 CE, using Jeremiah and Baruch and the destruction of the first temple to elevate its message.385 In a conversation with the Lord (κύριος), Jeremiah is instructed to go with the exiled people to Babylon, “preaching good news to them (εὐαγγελιζόµενος αὐτοῖς) until I return to the city.”386 The task of Jeremiah, “to proclaim good news to them” (εὐαγγελίσασθαι αὐτοῖς), is repeated in 5:19 and coupled with teaching of the word (κατηχῆσαι αὐτοὺς τὸν λόγον).387 (d) In Testament (Assumption) of Moses, perhaps written in the first century CE but only preserved in a later Latin translation,388 we find another invocation of Isaianic material in an apocalyptic vision of God’s final judgement and restoration. The text is full of encrypted references to various Jewish and foreign kings, rulers, and priests who create misery in Israel.389 Eventually, a man from the tribe of Levi named Taxo will speak up, urging the people to obey the law even if this means martyrdom.390 This message prompts an eschatological message, spun over Isaianic themes in which a messenger (nuntius) will arrive with a message of vengeance over the enemies of Israel, which he will see through, and which will usher in God’s kingdom. This message and act of vengeance clearly echoes the messenger’s proclamation of ‫יוֹם‬ ‫ ָנָקם‬/ἡµέραν ἀνταποδόσεως of Isa 61:2, just as it also echoes the levelling of the high mountains of Isa 40:4.391 (e) Finally, to complete the picture, in the ostensibly Jewish sections of History of the Rechabites there is a reference to “good news of the holy angels”

––––––––––––––––– 384 2 Bar. 77:12, after Klijn, “2 Baruch,” 647. Since sebarta is behind, this place may be better translated “scroll of (good) tidings” (see Horbury, “Gospel,” 17). 385 See S. E. Robinson, “4 Baruch: A New Translation and Introduction,” in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. James H. Charlesworth, vol. 2 (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009), 413–17. 386 4 Bar. 3:15. 387 The final instance in 4 Bar. 9:20 is clearly a Christian interpolation, as is the attestations in Sib. Or. 1:382 (καλλείψας κόσµῳ εὐαγγελίης διάθηµα); see also Apoc. Sedr. 14:10; 15:3, 5. 388 For an overview of the various positions in the date of T. Mos., see J. Priest, “Testament of Moses: A New Translation and Introduction,” in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. James H. Charlesworth, vol. 1 (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009), 920–21. 389 In fact, T. Mos. 6–8 is an encrypted paraphrase of Judea’s history from the Hasmoneans to at least after Herod the Great. Unfortunately, there is no agreement on the exact historical references behind the code names, see the preceding note. 390 See T. Mos. 9. 391 See T. Mos. 10:1–4; see also Horbury, “Gospel,” 21–22.

3.4 Isaianic Restoration in the Late Second Temple Period

165

(τὸν εὐαγγελισµὸν τῶν ἁγίων ἀγγέλων), which is likened to the joy of a bride who receives her bridegroom.392 Thus, the scant attestation in Jewish writings from around the fall of the temple clearly reserves the gospel nomenclature for epoch-making announcements or a turn of fortunes which most often is done by an invocation of the Isaianic vision of restoration of Jerusalem. These findings concur with the investigation of Horbury. While the gospel nomenclature to some extent “was in everyday use,” it “gained a high profile in cultic contexts,”393 or, at the very least, it gained its high profile by evoking the Isaianic vision of epoch-changing fortunes by the hand of God. 3.4.2 Isaiah and the Sectarian Quest for the ‘Place of Fulfilment’ Being the case that the use of the gospel nomenclature in late Second Temple Jewish texts is tied to the visions of eschatological restoration in Isaiah 40–66, it will be beneficial as the final task of this chapter to take a brief look at the wider use of Isaiah in the last centuries of the Second Temple period. The picture that emerges from this survey shows that by the turn of the common era we find a number of Jewish groups, normally labelled sects, who engaged in a vivid fight for the patent on the ‘place of the fulfilment,’ the locus implementum; that is, a quest for taking hold of the time and place of the fulfilment of Yahweh’s final restoration as envisioned by Isaiah and other prophets. In particular, the text and material data available to us suggest that Isa 40:1–11, and especially 40:3–4, was a paradigmatic text for a variety of groups in “the revolutionary ferment in Palestine.”394 It seems there was not only one ‫קוֹל קוֹ ֵרא‬ ‫ ַבִּמּ ְדָבּר‬but several ‫קֹלוֹת‬, fighting for the monopoly on the Isaianic restoration. The texts, recounted many times,395 fall into two groups: the Dead Sea Scrolls and various other late Second Temple Jewish texts. To this, we shall add some ––––––––––––––––– Hist. Rech. 14:3. According to Charlesworth, the non-interpolated sections of the book “may antedate the second century A.D.” (James H. Charlesworth, “History of the Rechabites: A New Translation and Introduction,” in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. James H. Charlesworth, vol. 2 [Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009], 445). For the question of original language and which of the preserved versions to translate from, see further Charlesworth, “Rechabites,” 444. 393 Horbury, “Gospel,” 28. 394 Marcus, Way of the Lord, 22. 395 See, e.g., Klyne R. Snodgrass, “Streams of Tradition Emerging from Isaiah 40:1–5 and Their Adaption in the New Testament,” JSNT 8 (1980): 24–45; George J. Brooke, “Isaiah 40:3 and the Wilderness Community,” in New Qumran Texts and Studies, ed. George J. Brooke, STDJ 15 (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 117–32; Evans, “From Gospel,” 657–58; Evans, “Beginning,” 98–102; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 82–84; Michael A. Knibb, “Isaianic Traditions in the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha,” in Essays on the Book of Enoch and Other Early Jewish Texts and Traditions, ed. Michael A. Knibb, SVTP 22 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 289–306. 392

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highly noteworthy material evidence in the form of rebel coinage in combination with Josephus’s description of motivation behind the Jewish War against Rome that in the same way reflects Isaianic imagery: (1) In the Dead Sea Scrolls we find a particular focus on Isa 40:3 and ‘the way’ in the wilderness, whereas the second group of Jewish texts from this period to be discussed is instead focussed on Isa 40:4 and the actual return of Yahweh and/or the people to Jerusalem by way of the levelled mountains. This is hardly surprising, considering the potency of Isa 40:3 for the Qumran community itself. The important role thereof has earned Isa 40:3 labels such as “a manifesto for this community,”396 a “proof text” for their relocation to the wilderness,397 besides being what “inspires the faith and provides the philosophy of the Qumran movement.”398 In reality, the Community Rule (1QS) suggests that followers of this text, otherwise known as ‫היחד‬, simply labelled their community and way of life as “The Way” (‫)הדרך‬.399 The role of Isa 40:3 as the backbone of the community’s ideology is revealed most clearly by the two citations thereof in 1QS VIII, 13–15 and IX, 19–20 in which the separation (‫)בדל‬ of the perverse men to the wilderness is done in order “to prepare there the Way of the Lord” (‫ )לפנות שם את דרך הואהא‬through “the study of the Torah” (‫)מדרש התורה‬. This precisely is the fulfilment of “what is written” (‫)כאשר כתוב‬ in Isa 40:3.400 (2) In other late Second Temple Jewish texts, we instead find a particular focus on the eschatological finale shaped with images drawn from the levelling of valley and mountain in Isa 40:4 and the “high mountain” (ὄρος ὑψηλόν) of Isa 40:9. Baruch’s poem of the restoration of Jerusalem and the return from exile (5:1–9) is replete with echoes of Isa 40:1–11. Jerusalem is to stand “on the high place” (ἐπὶ τοῦ ὑψηλοῦ, Bar 5:5) as the Isaianic messenger to see the exiles return and God fulfilling his promise of “making low every high mountain and eternal hills and filling every valley to the levelling of the ground” (ταπεινοῦσθαι πᾶν ὄρος ὑψηλὸν καὶ θῖνας ἀενάους καὶ φάραγγας πληροῦσθαι εἰς ὁµαλισµὸν τῆς γῆς, Bar 5:7). With various wording, the same is the case in Pss. Sol. 11:1–4, 1 En. 1:6, T. Mos. 10:4, and Sib. Or. 8:234. Pss. Sol. 8:17 also ––––––––––––––––– Lim, Way, 1. Charlesworth 2019, “Introduction,” 25, see Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Semitic Background of the New Testament, The Biblical Resource Series (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 35. 398 Snodgrass, “Streams of Tradition,” 28. See also Watts, who calls Isa 40:3 “a programmatic statement of the community’s self-understanding” (Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 82). 399 See, e.g., 1QS IX, 21: “These are the precepts of the Way” ( ‫ואלה תכוני הדרך‬, translation after Wise, Abegg and Cook, Dead Sea Scrolls); see also Snodgrass, “Streams of Tradition,” 28. 400 Also, other texts thematize the exilation to the wilderness or the return from exile, see 1QM I, 2–3; 4Q171 1 III + 3 I + 4; 4Q176 1–2 I, 6–7, see further Evans, “Beginning,” 101. 396 397

3.4 Isaianic Restoration in the Late Second Temple Period

167

seems to paraphrase Isa 40:4 in its reference to the levelling of “the rough roads” (ὁδοὺς τραχείας).401 Of particular importance for our purpose are the places citing the command of Isa 40:9 of ascending ὄρος ὑψηλόν, such as Bar 5:5 and Pss. Sol. 11:1–2, which is the set scene for the gospel messenger of Isa 40:9. It may also be noted how some texts specifically pinpoint the royal element in the perceived Isaianic restoration. The emphasis on fulfilment may be felt in the targum to Isa 40:9, paraphrasing the message of the messenger to Jerusalem as “the kingdom of your God is revealed.”402 Testament of Moses does the same, beginning his vision in chapter 10 of the final restoration by claiming: “Then his kingdom will appear throughout his whole creation (et tunc parebit regnum illius in omni creatura illius)” after which follows several verses clearly echoing the Isaianic visions, including the role of “the messenger (nuntius)” and the levelling of the high mountains (alti montes humiliabuntur).403 The most noteworthy element in these texts, however, is not the details in terms of exact quotations, but the overall scheme in which Isaiah 40 is used to project a vision of the eschatological finale when God after epochs of tribulation will finally return to Jerusalem, see through the return of the exiled, level every hindrance, and become king again.404 (3) The kingly and eschatological potency of Isa 40:1–11 probably lies behind another recurring wilderness activity in the late Second Temple period, namely the various popular resistance figures and movements against the Roman Empire. As is well known, Judea and Galilee experienced a successive number of upheavals and even revolutionary attempts from Antiochus Epiphanes’s desecration of the temple in 167 BCE to its destruction in 70 CE.405 Some of these used the wilderness as “the staging ground for God’s eschatological holy war.”406 Specifically, Josephus mentions five instances in which a rebel, insurgent, or imposter staged his uprising by way of the ἔρηµος. As can be seen from the table below, Josephus presents these desert insurgents in a schematic way with several shared characteristics, such as a prophetic status, acting “according to divine inspiration” (προσχήµατι θειασµοῦ, J.W. 2.259), and a capacity “to show signs and phenomena” (σηµεῖα καὶ φάσµατα δείξειν, J.W. 7.438) to the large multitudes flocking around them if they would follow ––––––––––––––––– Pace Evans, “From Gospel,” 657, who sees it as an allusion to Isa 40:3. After Chilton, Isaiah Targum, 77. 403 T. Mos. 10:1–4, translation adopted from OTP 1:931–32. 404 This particular role of Isa 40:1–5, especially as the prophecy of the final vindication, is shared by the later rabbinic tradition, see the texts cited in Snodgrass, “Streams of Tradition,” 31–33. 405 For an overview, see, e.g., Craig A. Evans, Ancient Texts for New Testament Studies (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2005), 431–43. Specifically concerning Galilee, see Jensen, “Political history,” 51–77. 406 Marcus, Way of the Lord, 23. 401 402

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them into the ἔρηµος. Interestingly, these five insurgents are finally portrayed in the same way as Josephus portrays the Sicarii, which Josephus otherwise connects to kingly messianism and holy war.407 In general, Josephus went a long way to disguise the “holy war” component in the Jewish rebellion from his Roman readers or at the very least to blame this on “the fourth philosophy,” the Sicarii or the Zealots and their innovations compared to Judaism of old.408 In accordance with this tendency, Josephus’s language is subdued and generic in these descriptions and no scriptural quotations are in sight. Even so, the scriptural component is readily discernible, and the whiff of ‘exodus re-enacted’ is unmistakably present in Theudas’s promise to part (σχίζειν, Ant. 20.97) the Jordan River or the Egyptian’s plot to lead the multitude “from the wilderness to Mount of Olives” (ἐκ τῆς ἐρηµίας εἰς τὸ ἐλαιῶν καλούµενον ὅρος, J.W. 2.262) in order to overturn the walls of Jerusalem.409 Table 1: Similarities between five rebel leaders in Josephus Prophecy and divine inspiration Theudas, under Fadus (44–46 CE) Ant. 20.97–98; Acts 5:36

Named himself a προφήτης

Signs and wonders Theudas promised to part (σχίζειν) the Jordan River

Exodus motifs Parting (σχίζειν) of the Jordan River

The multitudes

Sicarii

“He persuaded a great multitude” (πείθει τὸν πλεῖστον ὄχλον)

––––––––––––––––– As discussed further below, it is possible from the descriptions of Josephus that the Sicarii in a particular way adhered to a royal, Davidic messianology, expressed most clearly in the case of Menachem (Μανάηµος), who appeared for worship in the temple dressed “in royal robes” (ἐσθῆτί τε βασιλικῇ, J.W. 2.444), see David M. Rhoads, Israel in Revolution, 6– 74 C.E.: A Political History Based on the Writings of Josephus (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976), 114; Sean Freyne, “The Herodian Period,” in Redemption and Resistance: The Messianic Hopes of Jews and Christians in Antiquity, ed. Markus Bockmuehl and James Carleton Paget (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 39. 408 See, e.g., Freyne, “Herodian period,” 38. 409 This argument has been presented forcefully in Daniel R. Schwartz, “Temple and Desert: On Religion and State in Second Temple Period Judaea,” in Studies in the Jewish Background of Christianity, WUNT 60 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), 29–43. See also Robert W. Funk, “The Wilderness,” JBL 78 (1959): 210; Rhoads, Israel in Revolution, 82–84; Marcus, “Jewish War,” 22–23; Evans, “Beginning,” 101–2. The same eschatological motif is possibly also hidden in the defeated rebels’ request to be allowed by the Romans to depart for the wilderness (J.W. 6.351, see Rhoads, Israel in Revolution, 83). 407

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Unnamed rebels, under Felix (52–60 CE) J.W. 2.258– 260; Ant. 20.167– 168

Acting “according to divine inspiration” (προσχήµατι θειασµοῦ) and “according to God’s providence” (κατὰ τὴν τοῦ θεοῦ πρόνοιαν) claiming to have “purer hands” (χειρὶ µὲν καθαρώτερον)

They promised “wonders and signs” (τέρατα καὶ σηµεῖα); God would provide “signs of liberation” (σηµεῖα ἐλευθερίας)

Retracting to the ἔρηµος

“Many persuaded” (πολλοὶ πεισθέντες)

The rise of the Sicarii narrated in the preceding passage

The Egyptian, under Felix (52– 60 CE) J.W. 2.261– 263; Ant. 20.169– 172; Acts 21:38

Claimed to be a προφήτης

Provide demonstration (ἐπιδεικνύναι) by overturning the walls of Jerusalem

Led the multitude “from the wilderness to Mount of Olives” (ἐκ τῆς ἐρηµίας εἰς τὸ ἐλαιῶν καλούµενον ὄρος); overturning the walls of Jerusalem

30,000 followers

A leader of the Sicarii (Acts 21:38)

Unnamed rebel, under Festus (60–62 CE) Ant. 20.188

He “promised salvation to them and rest from all evil” (σωτηρίαν αὐτοῖς ἐπαγγελλοµένου καὶ παῦλαν κακῶν)

Retracting to the ἔρηµος

Group of followers

Sicarii rebels mentioned in the preceding paragraph

Retracting to the ἔρηµος

“Not a small group of followers”

Sicarii group

Jonathan the Weaver in Cyrene, J.W. 7.437–442

Promised “to show signs and phenomena” (σηµεῖα καὶ φάσµατα δείξειν)

Further, as will now be discussed, it is possible that the rebel coinage from the Jewish War against Rome in 66–70 CE likewise testify to a widespread

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Isaianic inspiration.410 These coins provide “first-hand evidence independent of literary sources”411 of the aspirations and motivations of the issuers for their engagement in the war. The issuing of this coinage was, as stated by Ya’akov Meshorer, “part of the struggle, being a political expression and declaration of national independence.”412 According to Leo Kadman, these coins can be grouped into three families: the silver coins minted from year one to five with the legend “Jerusalem the Holy” (yrwšlm hqdwšh) on the reverse, the bronze coins from year two and three with the legend “Freedom of Zion” (ḥrwt ṣywn) on the reverse, and finally the notorious bronze coins from year four with the legend “for the redemption/liberation of Zion” (lgʾlt ṣywn) on the reverse.413 For this reason, considerable energy has been put into identifying the authorities behind the various series.414 While Meshorer’s caution against identifying individuals or even assemblies behind each of these families should be kept in mind, much is in favour of locating the authority behind the silver coins with the priestly party of the initial provisional government of Jerusalem. This would explain why none of the coins bear the name of a rebel leader.415 It is also likely that the silver needed for these silver shekels was supplied by the temple treasure, just as the chalice on the obverse and the three pomegranates on the reverse were priestly and temple cultic in nature.416 Further, since the ––––––––––––––––– 410 In general, the religious component of the rebellion has to some degree unjustifiably been downplayed in modern research, see Per Bilde, “The Causes of the Jewish War According to Josephus,” JSJ 10.2 (1979): 179–202; James S. McLaren, “Going to War Against Rome: The Motivation of the Jewish Rebels,” in The Jewish Revolt Against Rome: Interdisciplinary Perspectives, ed. Mladen Popović, JSJSup 154 vol. 154 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 129– 53. 411 Robert Deutsch, “Coinage of the First Jewish Revolt Against Rome: Iconography, Minting Authority, Metallurgi,” in The Jewish Revolt Against Rome: Interdisciplinary Perspectives, ed. Mladen Popović, JSJSup 154 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 361. 412 Ya’akov Meshorer, A Treasury of Jewish Coins: From the Persian Period to Bar Kokhba. (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi Press, 2001), 115. 413 See Leo Kadman, The Coins of the Jewish War of 66–73 C.E. (Tel Aviv: Schocken, 1960), see recently Donald T. Ariel, “Identifying the Mints, Minters and Meanings of the First Jewish Revolt Coins,” in The Jewish Revolt Against Rome: Interdisciplinary Perspectives, ed. Mladen Popović, JSJSup 154 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 375–81; Ariel, “Identifying the Mints,” 373–97. 414 See, e.g., Uriel Rappaport, “Who Minted the Jewish War’s Coins?,” INJ 2 (2007): 103–16; Ariel, “Identifying the Mints”; Ariel, “Identifying the Mints.” 415 See Meshorer, A Treasury, 115. 416 The chalice is generally understood to be the golden vessel of the omer or some other chalice from the temple cult, for example the ones used for wine-libation (see Meshorer, A Treasury, 117–18). Such a cup features prominently on the Arch of Titus. According to Robert Deutsch, the pomegranates are in reality the adornment of a staff projecting from a large pommel on its end, which can be “identified as the staff of the high priest” (Deutsch, “Coinage,” 363).

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bronze prutot from the second and third year have much in common with the silver coins, they possibly stem from the same authority.417 This picture decisively changes with the year four bronze coins that feature such obvious changes “that they prompt the question as to whether a secondary mint existed alongside that of the temple.”418 The suggestion by Baruch Kanael has won some approval, according to which Simon bar Giora was responsible for this new family of coins.419 This suggestion would explain the notable intensification of the scriptural evocation in the legends of these coins, considering Josephus’s elevated picture of Giora’s scriptural inspiration.420 It is not necessary, however, to speculate in the unknown to appreciate the importance of the innovations on this third group of rebel coinage. To put this in perspective, it should first be acknowledged that distinct exodus imagery is present in the first two groups of coins as well. This is evident from the epochal shift to ‘year one,’ the paleo-Hebrew script evoking Israel’s glorious past, the iconography featuring “symbols connected with the Jerusalem temple, cult practices and Jewish feasts,”421 and the legends “Shekel Israel,” “Jerusalem the Holy,” and “Freedom of Zion.”422 Nevertheless, compared to this already vivid imagery, the year four bronze coinage display three important changes: First, as argued by Ariel, the lāmed in the innovative new legend, lgʾlt (“for the redemption/liberation”), “begs the question: why did the ‘year two’ and ‘year three’ prutot not read: lḥrt ṣywn (‘for the freedom of Zion’)?”423 In other words: Why was it necessary to shift from a statement of fact, that is,“freedom of Zion” (ḥrwt ṣywn), to a battle cry or prayerful request of this to remain so or even be regained? The changed political situation of 68/69 CE provides an answer in the advancement of Titus’s army towards Jerusalem. Second, with the change to lgʾlt, the coins sound an unmistakable echo of the theme of redemption and liberation from Leviticus 25, greatly amplified by ––––––––––––––––– See Deutsch, “Coinage,” 366. Deutsch, “Coinage,” 367. For an alternative suggestion, ascribing all bronze coins to the same mint (Simon bar Giora’s), see Rappaport, “Jewish War’s Coins.” 419 See Baruch Kanael, “Ancient Jewish Coins and Their Historical Importance,” BA 26 (1963): 38–62, see Ariel, “Identifying the Mints,” 395; Deutsch, “Coinage,” 368; Rappaport, “Jewish War’s Coins,” 111–12. 420 See Roth and Rhoads, who both view Giora’s “proclamation of liberty for the slaves” (προκηρύξας δούλοις µὲν ἐλευθερίαν, J.W. 4.508) in the light of the Isaianic messenger’s “proclamation of release for the captives” (κηρύξαι αἰχµαλώτοις ἄφεσιν, Isa 61:1). See Cecil Roth, “Simon Bar Giora, Ancient Jewish Hero: A Historical Reinterpretation,” Commentary 29 (1960): 52–58; Rhoads, Israel in Revolution, 142. 421 Deutsch, “Coinage,” 361. 422 Concerning the legends, while ‫ חרת‬in the meaning “freedom” does not feature in the Hebrew Bible, the idea of liberation and restoration does prominently in Isa 40–66, as discussed above, as does the notion of its holiness, see, e.g., Isa 52:1–10 combining the notions of holiness and liberation. 423 Ariel, “Identifying the Mints,” 377. 417 418

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exactly Isaiah 40–66 in which ‫ ֹגֵּאל‬becomes a divine epithet and the promise of redemption is part and parcel of the ‫ בשׂר‬message of kingly victory, as not least visible in the important vision of 52:1–10.424 Finally, the symbols on the coins were changed from rather general temple cultic emblems to the specific ones of the feast of tabernacles, a feast with a long tradition of carrying “national pride and desire for independence.”425 Put together, Meshorer is likely correct in estimating that it was the desperate situation of the rebellion in the fourth year with all lost, save Jerusalem and a few strongholds, that caused the changes: “‘Freedom,’ as inscribed on the coins of the previous years, was to be achieved by force of arms, while ‘Redemption’ would be at God’s hand.”426 As stated by Rappaport, the legend on the year four coins is decisively “more eschatological” than the previous ones.427 For our purpose, the important task is to pinpoint this eschatological intensification as Isaianic in flavour. Though an identification of Simon bar Giora as the authority behind these coins would heighten the case thereof, considering Josephus’s description of him, this link is not imperative. The Isaianic evocation is notable in any case, considering how ‫ ֹגֵּאל‬and ‫ גאל‬are keywords in Second Isaiah’s vision of liberation and redemption. Thus it is a likely reading that the change from ‘Freedom of Zion’ to ‘For the redemption of Zion’ should be understood as motivated by an intensified eschatology due to the change of political circumstances at the end of the war. While the legends of the first series state a fact, Jerusalem has been liberated, the last series express a prayerful request for divine intervention, likely struck with Isaianic language. If we bring the descriptions in Josephus of the wilderness insurgents and the reading of the rebel coins laid forward here together with what we otherwise learn by Josephus of the inspiration behind the various rebel factions, a coherent picture begins to emerge that corroborates the understanding of the Isaianic restoration as an intertwined vision of kingly victory and cultic cleansing discussed throughout. This becomes clear if we take the biases of Josephus into consideration. Josephus is a difficult source to handle for many reasons, not least his deep-running self-interest in the story he is narrating,428 causing him constantly to pinpoint the guilty figures for the disaster.429 Not least the various rebel factions are burdened with the main responsibility and are consistently labelled robbers, madmen, brigands, tyrants, and more.430 David Rhoads has ––––––––––––––––– See the discussion above in Section 3.3.2. Ya’akov Meshorer. Herod the Great Through Bar Kochba, vol. 2 of Ancient Jewish Coinage, (New York: Amphora, 1982), 123, see Meshorer, A Treasury, 125–27. 426 Meshorer, A Treasury, 128, see Meshorer, Ancient Jewish Coinage II, 122. 427 Rappaport, “Jewish War’s Coins,” 111. 428 For an introduction to Josephus as a writer of history, see Jensen, Herod Antipas, 54– 68. 429 See Bilde, “Causes of the Jewish War.” 430 See, e.g., Josephus’s initial description of the Fourth Philosophy in Ant. 18.7–10, 25. 424 425

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suggested an intriguing way of inferring the nature of the rebel faction’s aims and ambitions from Josephus’s strong polemics through what he labels ‘reverse polemics.’431 Rhoads convincingly argues that Josephus is turning the arguments for the war and their case given by the rebel factions upside down in his polemics against them, which provide us with a clear imprint or negative of these. For instance, when Josephus consistently blames the rebels for defiling Jerusalem and the temple, this suggests that their aim behind the cessation of the sacrifice for the Roman emperor was the exact opposite, a cleansing of the temple.432 Rhoads provides a list of six polemical attacks on the rebel factions with reverse polemics, but the list is not final.433 For our purposes, the important point is the way in which Josephus’s accusations against the rebels revolve around the intertwined themes of divine, kingly victory and cultic cleansing. On the one hand, despite his efforts, Josephus is not able to suppress the prophetic and Davidic kingly or messianic element in the rebellion. The most obvious example of Josephus’s reverse polemics is found in his treatment of the circulating oracle (χρησµός), stating that “one from their region would rule the whole earth” (ἀπὸ τῆς χώρας αὐτῶν τις ἄρξει τῆς οἰκουµένης, J.W. 6.312). According to Josephus, it was this oracle that above anything else elevated (ἐπαίρειν) the rebels to initiate the war. When Josephus slanders the rebels for being false prophets for going into war for this prophecy, since in reality it was foretelling the victory of Vespasian, Josephus at the very same time reveals the motivation behind the rebels’ cause as soaked in scriptural if not messianic aspirations.434 In the same way, it shines through Josephus’s polemics against the rebel leaders how they possessed kingly aspirations that in one way or the other tapped into the Davidic, messianic tradition.435 Josephus lets us know that Judas, son of Hezekiah, “burned for royal dignity” (ζηλώσει βασιλείου τιµῆς) when he robbed the royal armoury in Sepphoris after the death of Herod the Great in 4 BCE, despite the fact that he, according to Josephus, was in reality “terrible to all” (φοβερός τε ἅπασιν, Ant. 17.272). The leading rebel behind the so-called fourth philosophy, Judas the Galilean,436 likewise stroke a kingly note by exciting the Jewish to rebel against the census of Quirinius upon the death of Archelaos in 6 CE, which he said would lead to slavery (δουλεία), whereas the divine (τὸ θεῖον) would assist them in their cause for liberty (ἐλευθερία, Ant. 18.4–5). Josephus presents this as the heart of the fourth philosophy, namely ––––––––––––––––– See Rhoads, Israel in Revolution, 166–73. For a recent corroboration of Rhoads’s approach, see McLaren, “Going to War.” 432 See Josephus, J.W. 2.409–417. 433 See McLaren, “Going to War,” 132, who adds additional examples of reverse polemics. 434 See Josephus, J.W. 6.313–315. 435 See, e.g., Freyne, “Herodian period,” 39. 436 See Josephus, Ant. 18.23. 431

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only to have God as ruler and master (18.23). According to Josephus, however, “there is not the evil that was not seeded by these men” (κακόν τε οὐκ ἔστιν οὗ µὴ φυέντος ἐκ τῶνδε τῶν ἀνδρῶν, 18.6), who in their madness (µανία) eventually become the ones responsible for the destruction of τὸ ἱερὸν τοῦ θεοῦ (18.8), ironically the exact opposite of adherence to the first commandment. In particular, the kingly, messianic impulse is detectable in Josephus’s description of the Sicarii leader, Menachem, who, “swaggering” (σοβαρός), went up to worship in the temple “adorned in royal robes” (ἐσθῆτί τε βασιλικῇ κεκοσµηµένος), a dignity Josephus painstakingly makes sure to devoid him of by labelling him a τύραννος “puffed up with savageness” (ἐτύφωσεν εἰς ὠµότητα, J.W. 2.442, 444). On the other hand, Josephus’s reverse polemics indicate in several ways how the various rebel factions in their own mind were fuelled by pious concerns for the ancient traditions, the law, and not least the temple cult. One of the most frequent accusations against the rebel factions is that they introduced new customs unknown to the ancestral tradition. For instance, Josephus’s most sounding judgement of Judas the Galilean concerns his “renovation of the ancestral traditions” (ἡ τῶν πατρίων καίνισις, Ant. 18.9),437 whereas in reality the Romans were the more pious of the parties by permitting the law to continue.438 In the same way, Josephus’s loud charge against the rebels of defilement of the temple reveal that the exact opposite was likely the aim. For instance, John of Gischala is censured by Josephus in front of the walls of Jerusalem for ἀσέβεια in direct contrast to the Romans (J.W. 6.99–102). Most telling is the way in which Josephus explains the destruction of the temple as a divine cleansing of the temple by fire. In the highly important editorial remark in Ant. 20.166, Josephus brings forward such a claim as his theological interpretation of Titus’s destruction. This takes place right after the introduction of the first act of the Sicarii proper, the assassination of Jonathan, the high priest under Felix, which took place on the Temple Mount with daggers.439 Following the logic of reverse polemics, the impetus behind this plot would have been a wish to cleanse the temple since Josephus strongly outlines how according to him their acts accomplished the exact opposite. To Josephus, a killing within the temple courtyards was a perfect proof of their ἀσέβεια for which reason God “no longer deemed the temple a pure dwelling place for him” (τὸ δὲ ἱερὸν οὐκέτι καθαρὸν οἰκητήριον αὐτῷ κρίναντα) and for which reason he brought “purification by fire on the city” (τῇ πόλει καθάρσιον πῦρ, Ant. 20.116).440 As stated by Rhoads, ––––––––––––––––– 437 438

See further Jensen, Herod Antipas, 79–80. See, e.g., Josephus, J.W. 6.101, 333–334. See further Rhoads, Israel in Revolution,

167. See Josephus, Ant. 20.160–165, J.W. 2.254–257. For the importance of this text, see Bilde, “Causes of the Jewish War,” 192–93. For other places in which Josephus blames the rebels’ handling of the purity of the temple to be 439 440

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Josephus’s polemics on this point are “so pervasive and specific” that the cleansing of the temple cult from Roman pollution “may have been a predominant religious motive of the revolutionaries.”441 In essence, by emphatically and consistently accusing the various rebel leaders of acting as cruel tyrants and temple defilers, Josephus has provided us with a negative imprint of their fundamental aims and ambitions, which is in sync not only with the claim of liberation and redemption of Jerusalem and the temple minted on the rebel coins but also the widespread tradition of the period to evoke the scriptural and not least Isaianic vision of kingly victory and cultic renewal. In sum, there is evidence in our sources of a widespread tradition of laying claims to the Isaianic prophecies of restoration and renewal. In some cases, late Second Temple texts include overt citations that reflect how the ‫ בשׂר‬proclamation was evoked as part of the final victory and renewal. In other cases, an allusion or echo is likely despite the lack of an overt citation, as for example in the case of the year four bronze coins that may be understood as reflecting Simon bar Giora’s proclamation of liberation of slaves as an evocation of the Isaianic Jubilee. In the same way, the bold proclamation of the initiation of the rebellion as ‘year one’ may also be understood as fuelled by eschatological expectations. In other words, there is evidence for continuous appeal to the Isaianic visions of God’s ultimate victory in the late Second Temple period. The question was not if God would fulfil his promise of old but where and when. Which of the Jewish factions, groups, or sects would at the end of the day stand tall on the spot of fulfilment: the Isaianic, evangelic locus implementum? 3.4.3 Paul as Priest, Prophet, and Proclaimer of the Isaianic Gospel Finally, in our investigation of the Isaianic-shaped ‘gospel’ nomenclature in late Second Temple Jewish texts, we shall take a look at how Paul’s usage of the word group situates itself within the perspectives established in this chapter. The magnitude of this question naturally calls for a clear focus in the context of our investigation. We shall for this reason limit the discussion to four perspectives. First, considering the focus on the Gospel of Mark in this study, a brief outline will be provided of the re-emerged discussion of the potential influence of Paul on Mark in order to evaluate to which degree we can say that Mark was influenced by Paul’s use of our word group. Second, considering the fact that the bulk of the use of the εὐαγγελ- word group in the New Testament is found in the Pauline corpus, we shall proceed by providing a brief sketch of the material at hand before turning to the final two and most interesting questions of this section. These are, third, an evaluation of the degree to which ––––––––––––––––– the cause its defilement and God’s eventual purification by fire, see, e.g., Ant. 18.6; 20.218; J.W. 4.323; 5.15–20. 441 Rhoads, Israel in Revolution, 170.

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Paul’s ‘gospel’ is informed and defined by the Isaianic visions, and, fourth, to which degree the understanding hereof presented above is found in Paul as well. In fact, the Pauline corpus provides an apt test case for the suggestion of this chapter that ‘gospel’ in the pre-Christian sources denoted epoch-making change of fortunes through victory and cultic renewal. (1) The question of Paul’s influence on Mark – or the other way around442 – has re-emerged in the recent decade, propelled into focus by a seminal article authored by Joel Marcus, followed by at least three volumes with collections of papers on the theme,443 a number of other articles,444 and recently several dedicated studies.445 Interestingly, despite the renewed efforts, it has proven difficult to find solid ground to move beyond the principal positions argued a century or more ago in the discussion between Gustav Volkmar and Martin Werner. In brief,446 under the influence of the Tübingen School and F. C. Baur, Volkmar argues that the Gospel of Mark was strongly influenced by Paul. Though not accepting a second-century date, and while accepting that Mark entailed a historical framework of the life of Jesus as remembered in the ––––––––––––––––– See James G. Crossley, “Mark, Paul, and the Question of Influences,” in Paul and the Gospels: Christologies, Conflicts, and Convergences, ed. Michael F. Bird and Joel Willits, LNTS 411 (London: T&T Clark, 2011), 11. 443 See Michael F. Bird and Joel Willits, eds., Paul and the Gospels: Christologies, Conflicts, and Convergences, LNTS 411 (London: T&T Clark, 2011); Oda Wischmeyer, David C. Sim, and Ian J. Elmer, eds., Paul and Mark: Comparative Essays Part I; Two Authors and the Beginnings of Christianity, BZNW 198 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014); Eve-Marie Becker, Troels Engberg-Pedersen, and Mogens Müller, eds., Mark and Paul: Comparative Essays Part II; For and Against Pauline Influence on Mark, BZNW 199 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014). 444 See, e.g., Michael Kok, “Does Mark Narrate the Pauline Kerygma of ‘Christ Crucified’? Challenging an Emerging Consensus on Mark as a Pauline Gospel,” JSNT 37.2 (2014): 139–60; Reimund Bieringer, “Proclaimed Message or Proclamation of the Message? A Critical Analysis of the Meaning of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον in the Letters of Paul and in the Gospel of Mark,” in Receptions of Paul in Early Christianity: The Person of Paul and His Writings Through the Eyes of His Early Interpreters, ed. Jens Schröter, Simon Butticaz, and Andreas Dettwiler, BZNW 234 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2018), 61–88; Heidi Wendt, “Secrecy as Pauline Influence on the Gospel of Mark,” JBL 140.3 (2021): 579–600. 445 See, e.g., Eric Kun Chun Wong, Evangelien im Dialog mit Paulus: Eine intertextuelle Studie zu den Synoptikern, NTOA 89 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2012), 61–106; Heidrun E. Mader, Markus und Paulus: Die beiden ältesten literarischen Werke und theologischen Entwürfe des Urchristentums im Vergleich, BZSup 1 (Leiden: Brill, 2020); Cameron Evan Fergusson, A New Perspective on the Use of Paul in the Gospel of Mark, Routledge Studies in the Early Christian World (London: Routledge, 2021). 446 For an instructive overview, see Anne Vig Skoven, “Mark as Allegorical Rewriting of Paul: Gustav Volkmar’s Understanding of the Gospel of Mark,” in Paul and Mark: Comparative Essays Part II; For and Against Pauline Influence on Mark, ed. Eve-Marie Becker, Troels Engberg-Pedersen, and Mogens Müller, BZNW 199 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014), 13– 27, and Mader, Markus und Paulus, 62–106. 442

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seventies and not purely a synthesizing document between Petrine and Pauline traditions within the early church, Volkmar perceived Mark’s Jesus as distinctly Pauline by being doctrinal and by including gentiles in the sphere of salvation.447 Thus, while Volkmar ensures, on the one hand, that the gospel has “volle geschichtliche Wahrheit,” he stresses, on the other hand, that the gospel is just as much a source “für das Leben des Paulus und der Christenheit nach ihm.”448 Though Volkmar never describes Mark as an allegory of the life of Paul, he comes close by suggesting that the Gospel of Mark in reality merges the story of Jesus and Paul into a single story.449 While the initial reception of Volkmar’s Pauline Mark was positive, at least to some degree,450 Martin Werner’s refutation thereof in his 1923 study came to dominate the research in the twentieth century. According to Werner, Volkmar was only able to arrive at his conclusions through an allegorical approach.451 Instead, based upon a wide array of theological issues such as Christology, eschatology, sacraments, and issues like the law, gospel, and sin, Werner concludes that in the places where Mark and Paul agree, “handelt es sich immer um allgemein-urchristliche Anschauungen,” whereas Mark either leaves the characteristically Pauline emphases untouched or, worse, takes “geradezu entgegengesetzte Standpunkte.”452 Looking particularly at Werner’s treatment of Mark’s and Paul’s use of the εὐαγγέλιον, it is readily evident how this debate on the relationship between Paul and Mark is in essence largely a theological and not a historical enterprise. Without mentioning the studies of Adolf von Harnack,453 Werner opposes, in the same way as Harnack, the reading of Mark 1:14–15 represented by Julius Wellhausen, in which τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ is understood in a Pauline sense as having Jesus as the object and content,454 and instead argues for a theological interpretation of εὐαγγέλιον in Mark in the same way as Harnack, in which the εὐαγγέλιον denotes God’s kingdom, thus introducing considerably distance between the two uses.455 ––––––––––––––––– For a summary hereof, see Martin Werner, Der Einfluß paulinischer Theologie im Markusevangelium: Eine Studie zur neutestamentlichen Theologie (Gießen: Töpelmann, 1923), 1–5; Skoven, “Mark as Allegorical Rewriting,” 16–17. 448 Gustav Volkmar, Die Religion Jesu und ihre erste Entwickelung nach dem gegenwärtigen Stande der Wissenschaft (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1857), 269. 449 See Skoven, “Mark as Allegorical Rewriting,” 21–22. 450 Most notably by William Wrede, see Mader, Markus und Paulus, 67–68 and Skoven, “Mark as Allegorical Rewriting,” 24. 451 See Werner, Einfluß paulinischer Theologie, 8–29. 452 Werner, Einfluß paulinischer Theologie, 209. 453 See Section 2.3.1. 454 See Wellhausen, Marci, and the discussion above in Section 2.3.1. 455 Werner, Einfluß paulinischer Theologie, 104. Interestingly, Werner overlooks Harnack’s reading of Paul in which he tries to minimize the distance between Paul and Mark by arguing that Paul’s gospel is a composite notion, including also “die Idee ‘des Reiches Gottes’” (Harnack, “Das doppelte Evangelium”, 154). 447

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As mentioned, this debate was reignited by Marcus’s essay from 2000 in which he sets out to circumvent Werner’s influence by focussing on Mark’s Christology and Jesus’s death, reaching the conclusion that writings of Mark and Paul overlap considerably in terms of their “theology of the cross.”456 Again, the argument is drawn primarily from a theological evaluation of certain aspects of the two authors, exposing this question’s difficulties in moving beyond the interpreter’s theological evaluation. For this reason, in the renewed discussion since Marcus’s article, we find scholars who argue for a different theological framework between the two,457 scholars who accept a certain amount of Pauline influence on Mark,458 and scholars who argue for a distinct and notable influence.459 While several of the recent book-length investigations of the subject are to be found in this last category, the three volumes of collected essays contain studies throughout the spectrum between Volkmar and Werner, showing that the question of the exact historical relationship between Paul and the author of Mark is one of those questions where it would probably be wisest, in the wording of James Crossley, “to hold our hands up and admit: we simply do not know.”460 (2) While this evaluation underlines the need for an investigation of Mark in its own right and not as pre-figured by Paul’s use of the εὐαγγελ- word group, it is, as stated, nevertheless of interest to see how Paul’s usage situates itself within the wider perspective established in this chapter. Before turning ––––––––––––––––– Joel Marcus, “Mark – Interpreter of Paul,” NTS 46 (2000): 486. See, most notably, Kok, “Does Mark Narrate”. 458 See, e.g., Michael Bird who argues that while Mark was “his ‘own man’,” he sought “to synthetize Petrine and Pauline perspectives” (Michael F. Bird, “Mark: Interpreter of Peter and Disciple of Paul,” in Paul and the Gospels: Christologies, Conflicts, and Convergences, ed. Michael F. Bird and Joel Willits, LNTS 411 [London: T&T Clark, 2011], 52– 53). Similarly, Gerd Theißen argues that Mark “steht in einer synoptischen Tradition” at the same time as he has a “Dialog mit Paulus” (Theißen, “Evangelium”, 86). In reality, Marcus concludes similarly: “The most reasonable conclusion would seem to be that Mark writes in the Pauline sphere of activity and shows some sort of Pauline influence on his thought, although he is not a member of a Pauline ‘school’ in the same sense that the authors of Colossians-Ephesians and the Pastorals are” (Marcus, Mark 1–8, 75). See further Andreas Lindemann, “Das Evangelium bei Paulus und im Markusevangelium,” in Paul and Mark: Comparative Essays Part I; Two Authors and the Beginnings of Christianity, ed. Oda Wischmeyer, David C. Sim, and Ian J. Elmer, BZNW 198 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014), 313– 359; Wong, Evangelien im Dialog, 105–06. 459 See, e.g., Pokorný, Gospel, 118–21; Jesper Svartvik, “‘East Is East and West Is West:’ The Concept of Torah in Paul and Mark,” in Paul and Mark: Comparative Essays Part I; Two Authors and the Beginnings of Christianity, ed. Oda Wischmeyer, David C. Sim, and Ian J. Elmer, BZNW 198 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014); Bieringer, “Proclaimed Message”; Mader, Markus und Paulus, 294–307. 460 Crossley, “Mark, Paul,” 29. 456 457

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to this specifically, it is appropriate to present an overview over some general and obvious elements in Paul’s use of the word group: As noted in Section 2.2.1, the majority of the usage of the εὐαγγελ- word group in the New Testament is to be found in Paul’s letters. Of the seventy-six occurrences of εὐαγγέλιον in the entirety of the New Testament writings, sixty are found in letters ascribed to Paul, of which forty-eight are to be found in the seven homologoumena. Of the fifty-four occurrences of εὐαγγελίζεσθαι, a total of twenty-one are found in Paul and eighteen in the homologoumena.461 Most frequently, Paul uses εὐαγγέλιον in an absolute and articulated manner, not further defined by a genitive construction.462 In some of these cases, it seems that Paul refers to his actual proclamation of the gospel (nomen actionis) rather than the content of his message;463 in other places, the content of ‘the gospel’ was seemingly not in need of further clarification for his readers. In the remaining cases, where it is defined by a genitive construct, we find three recurring constructions: (τὸ) εὐαγγέλιον (τοῦ) θεοῦ,464 τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ,465 and τὸ εὐαγγέλιόν µου/ἡµῶν.466 This triad is strikingly consistent. In the same manner as Mark uses the first two genitive constructs within a few verses in his prologue,467 Paul likewise seems to use them randomly and without an obvious distinction. In 1 Thessalonians, for instance, Paul’s proprietary sense (1:5) is used alongside τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ (2:2, 8–9) and τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ (3:2).468 A particular recurring construction is found in the connection between various expressions of preaching and proclamation and the εὐαγγέλιον. At times, ––––––––––––––––– 461 To this can be added the single attestation of προευαγγελίζεσθαι in Gal 3:8 and the dual attestation of εὐαγγελιστής in Eph 4:11 and 2 Tim 4:5. 462 This is the case in twenty-seven of the sixty occurrences in the entire Pauline corpus (twenty-three of the forty-eight in the homolegoumena): Rom 1:16; 10:16; 11:28; 1 Cor 4:15; 9:14 (2x), 18 (2x), 23; 15:1; 2 Cor 8:18; Gal 1:11; 2:2, 5, 14; Eph 3:6; 6:19; Phil 1:5, 7, 12, 16; 2:22; 4:3, 15; 1 Thess 2:4; 2 Tim 1:8, 10; Phlm 13. Likewise, Paul generally uses εὐαγγελίζειν in an absolute sense, not defining further with an object. The exceptions count references to τὸ εὐαγγέλιον (1 Cor 9:18; 15:1; 2 Cor 11:7; Gal 1:11), [τὰ] ἀγαθά (Rom 10:15), and τὴν πίστιν καὶ τὴν ἀγάπην (1 Thess 3:6, see also Eph 2:17; 3:8). 463 See further John P. Dickson, Mission-Commitment in Ancient Judaism and in the Pauline Communities: The Shape, Extent and Background of Early Christian Mission, WUNT 2/159 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 87. 464 See Rom 1:1; 15:16; 2 Cor 11:7; 1 Thess 2:2, 8, 9; 1 Tim 1:11. 465 See Rom 1:9; 15:19; 1 Cor 9:12; 2 Cor 2:12; 4:4; 9:13; 10:14; Gal 1:7; Phil 1:27; 1 Thess 3:2; 2 Thess 1:8. 466 See Rom 2:16; 16:25; 2 Cor 4:3; 1 Thess 1:5; 2 Thess 2:14; 2 Tim 2:8. 467 See Mark 1:1, 14. 468 See also Rom 15:16, 19 (τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ, τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ) and 2:16 (τὸ εὐαγγέλιόν µου διὰ Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ). For a historical reconstruction of Paul’s proprietary use with full emphasis on its conflict potential, see Mason, Josephus, Judea, 283–302.

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εὐαγγελίζεσθαι is used in combination with εὐαγγέλιον,469 other times in connection with κηρύσσειν or κήρυγµα,470 or independently, to denote Paul’s preaching activity.471 At other times again, the context provides the feeling of εὐαγγέλιον as something proclaimed.472 Another recurring construction is the way in which Paul connects his preaching of the gospel with power. In Rom 15:19 Paul recapitulates the completion of his preaching of the gospel of Christ (πεπληρωκέναι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ) as something done “in the power of signs and wonders, in the power of the Spirit” (ἐν δυνάµει σηµείων καὶ τεράτων, ἐν δυνάµει πνεύµατος). Another witness of this constellation is found in 1 Thess 1:5, in which Paul remembers his gospel proclamation in Thessalonica as something not in words alone but “in power and in the Holy Spirit and complete assurance” (ἐν δυνάµει καὶ ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ καὶ [ἐν] πληροφορίᾳ πολλῇ). In 1 Cor 9:18 Paul defends his declining of reward with reference to the ἐξουσία he possesses by the gospel (τῇ ἐξουσίᾳ µου ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ).473 When it comes to particular hotspots or places of distinct definition of how Paul understood his εὐαγγέλιον, the noun or other variants of the word group are used in all of the seven homologoumena and only wanting in Titus in the entire Pauline corpus. In terms of places where Paul defines his gospel, three stand out: In 1 Cor 15:1–11, Paul recapitulates τὸ εὐαγγέλιον ὃ εὐηγγελισάµην ὑµῖν, which he further defines according to the tradition of the early church (ὃ … παρέλαβον) and according to scriptures (κατὰ τὰς γραφὰς, 1 Cor 15:3); in Rom 1:1–17, Paul uses εὐαγγέλιον as the catchword for the message he wishes to share with the Romans and thereby in effect for the entire letter,474 just as the letter to Galatians is staged as a conflict between τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ and a ἕτερον εὐαγγέλιον (1:6–7). (3) Turning now to how Paul’s usage aligns itself within the general outlook of this chapter, the first question to be asked is whether and how Paul uses the Book of Isaiah to shape his εὐαγγελ- notion. This is indeed the case, as evident from the following: (a) First, Isaiah is of particular importance to Paul in Romans as proof text for his ministry, cited most prominently in places where Paul focusses on his preaching activity among non-Jewish nations, not least in Romans 9–11 and ––––––––––––––––– See 1 Cor 9:18; 15:1–2; 2 Cor 11:7; Gal 1:11, besides also 1 Cor 9:14. See Rom 16:25; Gal 2:2; see also Col 1:5, 23. 471 See Rom 1:15; 15:20; 1 Cor 1:17; 2 Cor 10:16; Gal 1:8–9, 16, 23; 4:13; Eph 2:17; 3:8. 472 See Rom 15:19; Phil 1:12–13, 16. For a presentation of Paul’s gospel with a particular emphasis on proclamation, see Dickson, Mission-Commitment. 473 For an understanding of Paul’s gospel as ‘power,’ see Graham H. Twelftree, The Gospel According to Paul: A Repraisal (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2019). 474 This reading of Romans is supported by the way in which εὐαγγελ- recurs in Paul’s final summary of his apostolic authority and activity in Rom 15:15–21. 469 470

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the important statement on his apostolic self-understanding in 15:15–21.475 Of the recurring quotations of and allusions to Isaiah in Romans,476 two are especially important for our purposes by clearly demonstrating how Paul sought to root his εὐαγγέλιον in the Isaianic ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος tradition: In 10:14–21, Paul quotes Isa 52:7 with an implicit reference to his own ministry and in a context that debates πίστις and νόµος and the relationship between Jews and Greeks after the Christ event. This quotation, along with the ensuing reference to the actual prophet of Isaiah’s dealings with the elect people at his time, clearly suggests that Paul here seeks to clothe his own preaching ministry in Isaianic fabric as one of οἱ πόδες τῶν εὐαγγελιζοµένων [τὰ] ἀγαθά (10:15), seeking to make all obedient to the gospel (πάντες ὑπήκουσαν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ, 10:16).477 The same foundational role of Isaiah in Paul’s εὐαγγελ- ministry is evident in 15:15–21, in which Paul summarizes his own view on his apostolic calling. As in Romans 10, Paul here also hovers around the fusion of Jews and nonJews into a single, worshipping body as something rooted in the book of Isaiah. His repeated reference to the foreign nations/the gentiles (ἔθνη, 15:9–12) prompts the summary of his own role within the new ‘evangelic’ period. The grace (χάρις) given to Paul by God has been given with the purpose of making Paul “a minister of Christ Jesus to the nations, performing priestly service to God’s gospel, so that the nation’s offering may become acceptable, sanctified by the Holy Spirit” (λειτουργὸν Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ εἰς τὰ ἔθνη, ἱερουργοῦντα τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ, ἵνα γένηται ἡ προσφορὰ τῶν ἐθνῶν εὐπρόσδεκτος, ἡγιασµένη ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ, 15:16). Paul now sees this mandate as completed in the Eastern regions. The work of Christ has through him brought the foreign nations into obedience (ὑπακοή) in profession and deed (λόγῳ καὶ ἔργῳ) by the power of the Holy Spirit (15:18), so that from Jerusalem and full circle round to Illyricum, Paul has “completed the gospel of Christ” (πεπληρωκέναι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ, 15:19). This has been obtained by ‘gospeling’ (εὐαγγελίζεσθαι) in places where Christ’s name has not been preached before (15:20). That we in these verses are at the heart of Paul’s ministry to foreign nations is obvious, and the quotation of Isa 52:15 in the next verse (15:21) once ––––––––––––––––– 475 See, in particular, Florian Wilk, Die Bedeutung des Jesajabuches für Paulus, FRLANT 179 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 198), 404; Shiu-Lun Shum, Paul’s Use of Isaiah in Romans, WUNT 2/156 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 173–264; J. Ross Wagner, Heralds of the Good News: Isaiah and Paul “In Concert” in the Letter to the Romans, NovTSup 101 (Leiden: Brill, 2002); and recently Daniel M. I. Cole, Isaiah’s Servant in Paul: The Hermeneutics and Ethics of Paul’s Use of Isaiah 49–54, WUNT 2/553 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021), 121–84. 476 For an overview over Paul’s use of Isaiah in Romans, see Mireia Ryšková, “The Reception of the Book of Isaiah in Paul’s Letter to the Romans,” AUCTh 9.2 (2019): 100–1. 477 See further the discussion below.

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again signifies how Paul saw his ministry as an embodiment and eschatological enaction of the Isaianic ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος tradition. From these two places, that pinpoint Paul’s εὐαγγέλιον as Isaianic in an overt manner, we may link back to the dense use of the εὐαγγελ- notion in Rom 1:1– 17. Paul here signifies himself as “separated to the gospel” (ἀφωρισµένος εἰς εὐαγγέλιον θεοῦ, 1:1), a ministry he designates as a cultic service (λατρεύειν) “in the gospel of his [God’s] son” (ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ τοῦ υἱοῦ αὐτοῦ, 1:9), and one that he now wishes to extend to Rome (εὐαγγελίζεσθαι, 1:15). This prompts the thesis of the letter and the closest Paul comes to a definition of his gospel, in which he states how he is not ashamed (ἐπαισχύνεσθαι) of the gospel (τὸ εὐαγγέλιον), since it is “God’s power to salvation for all who believe; to the Jew first, then to the gentile” (δύναµις γὰρ θεοῦ ἐστιν εἰς σωτηρίαν παντὶ τῷ πιστεύοντι, Ἰουδαίῳ τε πρῶτον καὶ Ἕλληνι, 1:16). While the latter part of this thesis (1:17) contains a quotation of Hab 2:4, there are several echoes of motifs from Second Isaiah in 1:16 that in the light of the aforementioned obvious correlation between Paul’s εὐαγγέλιον and Second Isaiah provide an Isaianic setting of Paul’s opening of the letter as well. These include the notion of the εὐαγγέλιον as δύναµις,478 the focus on the salvation to the nations,479 the notion of shame, and not least the notions of σωτηρία and δικαιοσύνη.480 Thus, while Paul’s first clear quotation of Isaiah is found in 2:24, it is likely that the setting of the letter echoes Isaiah as well.481 (b) Looking closer into Paul’s use of Second Isaiah in Romans and elsewhere reveals that Paul not only quotes the ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος tradition of Second Isaiah in a random or superficial manner but in reality stages his own ministry to the nations as the actual fulfilment thereof. This position has been argued most thoroughly by J. Ross Wagner, who notices how in Romans we find a Paul who saw “himself playing a pivotal role in this drama of cosmic redemption,”482 by describing himself as the one “playing the crucial part of a herald who announces the good news”483 to Jews and gentiles alike. In other ––––––––––––––––– See especially Isa 42:13 but also the notions of Yahweh’s “arm” and warrior strength in 40:10; 49:6, 8; 52:7, 10; 53:1; see further the discussion above in Sections 3.3.2 and 3.3.3. 479 See especially Isa 42:1–6; 43:9; 49:6–8; 51:4–5; 52:10, 15. 480 See, e.g., Isa 51:5–8; 52:7, 10. 481 See B. J. Oropeza, “Paul’s Use of Deutero-Isaiah in Romans 2:24 and the Gospel of Romans 1” (paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the SBL, Denver, 2018), 9–13. 482 Wagner, Heralds of the Good News, 359. 483 J. Ross Wagner, “The Heralds of Isaiah and the Mission of Paul: An Investigation of Paul’s Use of Isaiah 51–55 in Romans,” in Jesus and the Suffering Servant: Isaiah 53 and Christian Origins, ed. William H. Bellinger and William R. Farmer (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1998; repr. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2009), 222, emphasis original. For a similar position, see Stuhlmacher, “Pauline Gospel”; Dickson, Mission-Commitment, 167. 478

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words: Paul not only preaches ‘the gospel.’ His apostolic mission is Isaianic shaped ‘gospel.’ This reading is backed by the following: The quotation of Isa 52:7 in Rom 10:15 not only suggests that when Paul initially stresses in Rom 1:1–2 that his εὐαγγέλιον is according to the promises given beforehand ἐν γραφαῖς ἁγίαις, he is primarily thinking of the Isaianic ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος tradition, but it also enacts the fulfilment of this tradition in the missionary activity of the apostles. This is suggested by the use of the plural οἱ πόδες τῶν εὐαγγελιζοµένων (Rom 10:15) rather than the singular (οἱ) πόδες εὐαγγελιζοµένου of Isa 52:7 LXX/Nah 2:1 LXX.484 While Paul is possibly lifting the plural construction from Joel 3:5 LXX (εὐαγγελιζόµενοι), cited just previously in Rom 10:13,485 Paul likely does so in order to relate the fulfilment of Isa 52:7 “to the apostles of Jesus Christ.”486 This is seen by the context in Romans 9–11, dealing with the response to the mission of the early church by Jews and non-Jews. It also follows from the ensuing reference to the message (ἀκοή) of the ‘gospel messengers’ as authorized διὰ ῥήµατος Χριστοῦ (Rom 10:17), which likely refers to “the instructions of the exalted Christ.”487 Thus, the apostolic ‘gospeling’ is Isaianic and christological in one blend. When Paul in Rom 15:15–21 returns to explain his gospel ministry as Isaianic, he not only quotes from Isaiah 52 again, he this time overtly presents his own ministry in the singular (πεπληρωκέναι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ, 15:19) as a fulfilment of how the message, be it the εὐαγγέλιον or the ἀκοή, is proclaimed to gentiles (15:20–21). In other words, Paul depicts his apostolic mission as a fulfilment of the Isaianic ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος tradition and himself as an eschatological prophet.488 The direct manner in which Paul in these two passages in particular stages his and the other apostles’ mission as a prophetic fulfilment of the herald tradition of Isaiah sheds light on a number of other passages in which Paul describes his apostolic missionary travel activity in evangelic terminology: In Gal 1:15–17, Paul describes in terms similar to Rom 1:1 his being “set apart” (ἀφορίζειν) as having the preaching of Jesus among the gentiles (εὐαγγελίζωµαι αὐτὸν ἐν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν, 1:16) as his purpose and how this commission is related “to the apostles before me” (πρὸς τοὺς πρὸ ἐµοῦ ἀποστόλους, 1:17).489 A similar ––––––––––––––––– As noticed by Dickson, the change to plural is sudden and unexpected, given the singular construction in Rom 10:14 (πῶς δὲ ἀκούσωσιν χωρὶς κηρύσσοντος;), see Dickson, Mission-Commitment, 172. 485 For evidences of a wider attestation of a host of eschatological prophets or heralds of good news, see Karl Olav Sandnes, Paul – One of the Prophets?, WUNT 2/43 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1991), 166–70. 486 Stuhlmacher, “Pauline Gospel,” 163. 487 Stuhlmacher, “Pauline Gospel,” 165. See also Sandnes, Paul, 162–64. 488 For an in-depth argumentation for this reading, see Sandnes, Paul. 489 That Paul saw his calling as a continuation of the scriptural, prophetic tradition is also evident from the notion of being “set apart from my mother’s womb” (ὁ ἀφορίσας µε ἐκ 484

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connection between the gospel and Paul’s travels as an apostle is found in the summary of his and his team’s entrance/reception (εἴσοδος) in Thessalonica as Χριστοῦ ἀπόστολοι, preaching τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ (1 Thess 2:1–9). In 1 Cor 1:17, Paul plainly states that “Christ did not send me to baptize but to evangelize” (οὐ γὰρ ἀπέστειλέν µε Χριστὸς βαπτίζειν ἀλλ᾽ εὐαγγελίζεσθαι). The dense use of εὐαγγέλιον and εὐαγγελίζεσθαι in 1 Cor 9:12–23 (9x) is likewise found in a context where Paul describes, or rather defends, his apostleship (ἀπόστολος, ἀποστολή, 9:2), which prompts another instance wherein Paul describes his handling of the εὐαγγέλιον on his apostolic travels. The important exposition of the content of Paul’s gospel found in 1 Cor 15:1–11 likewise harks back to Paul’s initial arrival in Corinth and the reception of his message by the congregation (τὸ εὐαγγέλιον ὃ εὐηγγελισάµην ὑµῖν, ὃ καὶ παρελάβετε, 15:1). 2 Cor 2:12 narrates another instance in which Paul arrived at a certain place to preach the gospel, this time in Troas (ἐλθὼν δὲ εἰς τὴν Τρῳάδα εἰς τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ), just as the relationship between mission travels and the gospel is evident in 2 Cor 8:18, 10:14–16, and 11:7. Looking outside the generally accepted letters, especially Ephesians is of interest for clothing the missionary movement of the εὐαγγέλιον in another echo of Isa 52:7 LXX, labelling the good news to be preached as an ἀκοὴ εἰρήνη and σωτηρία. A clear echo thereof is found in Eph 1:13 (τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τῆς σωτηρίας ὑµῶν), 2:17 (εὐηγγελίσατο εἰρήνην ὑµῖν), and 6:15 (τοῦ εὐαγγελίου τῆς εἰρήνης). The context of these places is likewise clearly the missionary movement from the Jewish nation to an inclusion of the gentiles, those who used to be µακράν.490 (4) The manner in which Paul uses Isaiah in a deep-seated way to scaffold his apostolic mission among gentiles, leads to the final question to ask, namely whether we find accordance between Paul’s Isaianic-shaped use of the εὐαγγελ- notion and the way it is used otherwise in the texts analysed above. This seems certainly to be the case: (a) The way in which Paul’s εὐαγγέλιον is used with an epoch-making connotation is readily evident in a number of places: In Philippians, we encounter the noteworthy formulation ἐν ἀρχῇ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου (4:15) in a context where Paul describes his first missionary activity in Macedonia. Ἐν ἀρχῇ might therefore be used as a mere temporal marker, as when Paul in 1:5 recalls “your [the Philippian’s] fellowship for the gospel from the first day until now” (τῇ κοινωνίᾳ ὑµῶν εἰς τὸ εὐαγγέλιον ἀπὸ τῆς πρώτης ἡµέρας ἄχρι τοῦ νῦν). Without negating the temporal connotation of these formulations, the way in which Paul uses εὐαγγέλιον in the letter seems to indicate that ‘the beginning in time’ likewise signifies ‘the beginning of a new era’ on ––––––––––––––––– κοιλίας µητρός µου, Gal 1:15), which features prominently in the Servant Song in Isa 49:1, 5, among other places. See further Johannes Munck, Paul and the Salvation of Mankind (Richmond: John Knox Press, 1959), 24–33 and Sandnes, Paul, 62–65. 490 See further Dickson, Mission-Commitment, 168–70.

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a foundational level. In 1:27, Paul urges the congregation to conduct their way of living in a manner worthy of the gospel (ἀξίως τοῦ εὐαγγελίου τοῦ Χριστοῦ πολιτεύεσθε). In a Roman, imperial world order, the term πολιτεύεσθαι does imply a multifaceted and thoroughgoing allegiance and conduct of life. In essence, the day the Philippians heard and received ‘the gospel,’ (ἐν ἀρχῇ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, 4:15), they became members of a new, heavenly colony (τὸ πολίτευµα ἐν οὐρανοῖς, 3:20) to which they now owe their allegiance and their ‘fighting capacity in their faith(life) of the gospel’ (συναθλοῦντες τῇ πίστει τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, 1:27).491 Needless to say, in the context of the Roman colony of Philippi, language like this would indeed be considered ‘epoch-making.’ Another way in which the epoch-making new conduct of life of the εὐαγγέλιον is expressed is by the peculiar notion ὑπακοὴ πίστεως. As often noticed, this notion intercalates Romans (see 1:5 and 16:26) and encapsulates the purpose of Paul’s ministry among the gentiles.492 What is important here is the way in which ὑπακοή is a product of the εὐαγγέλιον. In Rom 1:5, the apostleship that Paul has received by grace to bring τὰ ἔθνη into ὑπακοή has already been defined as an apostleship εἰς εὐαγγέλιον θεοῦ (1:1). In Rom 10:16, Paul continues his joyous citation of Isa 52:7 in the preceding verse by lamenting that “not all became obedient to the gospel” (οὐ πάντες ὑπήκουσαν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ) as prophesized by Isaiah.493 In Paul’s important description or, perhaps, defence of his apostleship in Rom 15:15–21, the obedience produced by the acceptance of the gospel likewise features prominently. When cut to the core, Paul defines the purpose of his priestly, apostolic calling as being “for the obedience of nations, in profession and deed” (εἰς ὑπακοὴν ἐθνῶν, λόγῳ καὶ ἔργῳ, 15:18). In 2 Cor 9:13, Paul provides an example of the congregation’s new, evangelic conduct of life by praising their obedience (ὑποταγή) in bearing witness “unto the gospel of Christ” (εἰς τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ Χριστοῦ) by showing generosity in the collection for the poor in Jerusalem.494 In short, the foundational or aeonic impact of the gospel is detectable by the way in which parenesis is “an essential component of Paul’s gospel,” to quote Stuhlmacher.495 Further, an epoch-making ‘before and after’ is felt in the way in which Paul describes ‘the gospel’ as the sphere or locus for his ministry and life. This shines through by Paul’s use of various prepositions that incorporate his own life and mission into the εὐαγγέλιον, as when he writes about how he serves ––––––––––––––––– 491 For an implied connotation of ‘colonial citizenship’ in πολιτεύεσθαι and πολίτευµα, see Moisés Silva, Philippians, BECNT (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 80, 88. 492 See, e.g., Joseph A. Fitzmyer, Romans, AB 33 (Garden City, NY; New York: Doubleday, 1993), 237. 493 See also Rom 11:28. 494 In Col 1:5–6, the epoch-making effect of the truth of the gospel (τῆς ἀληθείας τοῦ εὐαγγελίου) is said to be “bearing fruit and growing in the entire world” (ἐν παντὶ τῷ κόσµῳ ἐστὶν καρποφορούµενον καὶ αὐξανόµενον). 495 Stuhlmacher, “Pauline Gospel,” 159.

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God “in my spirit, in the gospel of his son” (ἐν τῷ πνεύµατί µου ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ τοῦ υἱοῦ αὐτοῦ, Rom 1:9),496 the notion of “living from/by the gospel” (ἐκ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου ζῆν, 1 Cor 9:14), or the all-out statement on doing “all for the gospel, so that I can be its fellow-participant” (πάντα … διὰ τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, ἵνα συγκοινωνὸς αὐτοῦ γένωµαι, 1 Cor 9:23).497 To this may be added the way in which Paul at times describes his travels as a coming εἰς τὸ εὐαγγέλιον (2 Cor 2:12), a notion also used to denote his and his co-workers entire ministry just as it is used as a locution to designate the congregational life.498 Finally, in my judgement, the most emphatic way in which Paul uses εὐαγγέλιον with an epoch-making sense is to be found in the two peculiar statements of 1 Cor 4:15 and Rom 2:16 describing the life-giving and life-determining power of the gospel. As part of his effort to maintain his authority in the congregation in Corinth, Paul claims a maternal right over it on basis of having birthed it “by the gospel” (ἐν γὰρ Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ διὰ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου ἐγὼ ὑµᾶς ἐγέννησα).499 Though speaking figuratively, one would be hard-pressed to find a better way of describing the epoch-making capacity of the gospel. Yet, Paul does that in the latter instance in which he makes τὸ εὐαγγέλιόν µου διὰ Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ the protocol according to which (κατά) people will be judged. (b) In the same way, it is readily evident that to Paul τὸ εὐαγγέλιον is a message of perseverance in battle unto victory. Actually, this is part and parcel of Paul’s εὐαγγέλιον as Isaianic and epoch-making as just outlined. To this, the following may be highlighted: The ongoing battle of the gospel and its perseverance is especially evident in the Letter to the Philippians. From prison, Paul labels his defence speech (ἀπολογία) as a solidification of the gospel (βεβαιώσει τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, 1:7) and claims that his difficult situation in realty has led to the advancement of the gospel (εἰς προκοπὴν τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, 1:12). It is in the same letter that Paul twice uses the term συναθλεῖν to describe the life in the gospel as an ongoing battle (1:27; 4:3). The unrestricted statement in 1 Cor 9:23 of doing “all for the gospel, so that I can be its fellow-participant” (πάντα … διὰ τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, ἵνα συγκοινωνὸς αὐτοῦ γένωµαι) is likewise one with strong connotations of perseverance in battle unto victory. In the following verses, Paul compares his ‘gospel fight’ with Greek combat sports, an arena in the Greco-Roman world overflowing with notions of battle, agony, and much-sought victory. ––––––––––––––––– Other places using the phrase ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ include 1 Cor 9:18; 15:1; 2 Cor 8:18; 10:14; Phil 4:3; 1 Thess 3:2. 497 For other places using the phrase διὰ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, see 1 Cor 4:15; 15:2; Eph 3:6; 2 Thess 2:14; 2 Tim 1:10; also Rom 2:16. For various notions of being a fellow of or incorporated with (σύν), see Phil 1:27; 4:3; 2 Tim 1:8. 498 See 2 Cor 9:13; Phil 1:15; 2:22. 499 Paul uses a similar argumentation in Gal 4:19, likewise in a context in which Paul’s ‘gospel’ and authority are threatened. 496

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In the same way, Paul recalls his time in Thessalonica as a time of preaching the gospel “under much fight” (ἐν πολλῷ ἀγῶνι, 1 Thess 2:2). As part of this perspective, the aforementioned places in which Paul associates the gospel with words such as δύναµις, δόξα, and ἐξουσία should also be mentioned. The victorious power of the gospel has manifested itself through Paul’s ministry ‘in the gospel’ and not “by word alone” (ἐν λόγῳ µόνον), but “in power and in the Holy Spirit” (ἐν δυνάµει καὶ ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ, 1 Thess 1:5), just as Paul describes it as “a gospel light of the glory of Christ” (τὸν φωτισµὸν τοῦ εὐαγγελίου τῆς δόξης τοῦ Χριστοῦ, 2 Cor 4:4).500 Finally, that the εὐαγγέλιον is to Paul a message of victory is particularly evident in Rom 1:1–17 and 1 Cor 15:1–11. In Romans 1, Paul defines εὐαγγέλιον θεοῦ as the scriptural promise of the Messiah from the line of David according to birth and God’s son according to his resurrection ἐν δυνάµει, leading to the new situation in which gentiles have become heirs to the scriptural promises (1:6). This is precisely due to the salvational power of the gospel to Jews and Greeks alike, as epitomized in Paul’s heartfelt claim in 1:16: Οὐ γὰρ ἐπαισχύνοµαι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, δύναµις γὰρ θεοῦ ἐστιν εἰς σωτηρίαν παντὶ τῷ πιστεύοντι, Ἰουδαίῳ τε πρῶτον καὶ Ἕλληνι. Similarly, it is the victory in forgiveness and resurrection that forms the content of the summary Paul provides of his gospel proclamation in 1 Cor 15:1–11. (c) Lastly, Paul likewise ascribes a cultic connotation to εὐαγγέλιον, though to a lesser extent, numerically speaking. This is evident in a dual way: Firstly, it follows from Paul’s language not least in Romans that he saw his service to the gospel as a priestly service. In an important passage in Rom 15:15–21, Paul honestly admits that his letter is in part written with the purpose of establishing his own part, role, and authority in the mission of the early church,501 an issue of considerable nervousness to him, as evident not least in 2 Cor 10–13, and one that cuts to the core of his apostolic authority. It is precisely this situation that Paul addresses by naming himself “a minister of Christ Jesus to the nations, performing priestly service to God’s gospel, so that the nations offering may become acceptable, sanctified by the Holy Spirit” (λειτουργὸν Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ εἰς τὰ ἔθνη, ἱερουργοῦντα τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ, ἵνα γένηται ἡ προσφορὰ τῶν ἐθνῶν εὐπρόσδεκτος, ἡγιασµένη ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ, Rom 15:16). While Paul does not use the exact concept of εὐαγγέλια θύειν,502 it is clear from the fivefold combination of λειτουργός, ἱερουργεῖν, προσφορά, εὐπρόσδεκτος, and ἁγιάζειν that Paul understands the acceptance of the gospel ––––––––––––––––– See similarly Rom 15:19; 1 Cor 1:17–2:4, besides also 1 Cor 9:18. See Rom 15:15 (τολµηρότερον δὲ ἔγραψα ὑµῖν ἀπὸ µέρους ὡς ἐπαναµιµνῄσκων ὑµᾶς διὰ τὴν χάριν τὴν δοθεῖσάν µοι ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ). 502 See, though, Phil 2:17, in which Paul writes about being “poured out as a drink-offering” (σπένδοµαι ἐπὶ τῇ θυσίᾳ). For the notion of εὐαγγέλια θύειν, see further the discussion in Section 3.2.3. 500 501

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among the nations as a ‘cultic’ event. In other words, Paul saw his apostolic ‘gospeling’ among the nations as a sacral service. In reality, Paul strikes this cultic tone from the first line of his letter when he defines his apostleship as “being set aside for the gospel” (ἀφωρισµένος εἰς εὐαγγέλιον θεοῦ, 1:1) and continues to define his ministry by stating that “I serve [God] in my spirit, in the gospel of his son” (λατρεύω ἐν τῷ πνεύµατί µου ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ τοῦ υἱοῦ αὐτοῦ, 1:9). While ἀφορίζειν has a wider semantic range than cultic separation, λατρεύειν is used only as cultic service in the Septuagint and New Testament, favouring a cultic connotation of ἀφορίζειν as well.503 That Paul in this way understood himself as ‘a priest for the gospel’ also explains why Paul defends his apostleship and life in the gospel in 1 Corinthians 9 by comparing it to “those who serve the holy things” (οἱ τὰ ἱερὰ ἐργαζόµενοι, 9:13), whether he is here referring to the priests in the Hebrew Bible or priests in a Greco-Roman tradition.504 Secondly, that Paul thus understood his apostleship unto the gospel as a cultic duty also explains why the sanctification of the nations is utterly central to his ministry. It has already been outlined how obedience (ὑπακοή) of the nations “in profession and deed” (λόγῳ καὶ ἔργῳ, Rom 15:18) forms the inner core of Paul’s calling and how Paul expected his congregations to receive the gospel as an epoch-making entity, resulting in a new conduct of life “worthy of the gospel” (ἀξίως τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, Phil 1:27). Besides Rom 15:15–21, this relationship between acceptance of the gospel and a sanctified life is most clearly evident in Eph 2:11–22 in the wider corpus Paulinum. Besides the notions of epoch-making proximity for those who had previously been “alienated from citizenship in Israel” (ἀπηλλοτριωµένοι τῆς πολιτείας τοῦ Ἰσραὴλ, 2:12) but have now been brought “near” (ἐγγύς, 2:13), we here find a strong echo of Isa 52:7 and 57:19 in the notion of Christ preaching the gospel of peace to those afar and near (εὐηγγελίσατο εἰρήνην ὑµῖν τοῖς µακρὰν καὶ εἰρήνην τοῖς ἐγγύς, 2:17). This inclusion into the πολιτεία of Israel (2:12) as συµπολῖται τῶν ἁγίων καὶ οἰκεῖοι τοῦ θεοῦ (2:19) is described as an event that “grows into a holy temple in the Lord” (αὔξει εἰς ναὸν ἅγιον ἐν κυρίῳ, 2:21), a “dwelling-place of God in the Spirit” (εἰς κατοικητήριον τοῦ θεοῦ ἐν πνεύµατι, 2:22). Thus, while the investigation of Paul’s ‘gospel’ should not in a circular way be used to prefigure our ensuing reading of Mark’s ‘gospel,’ it is nevertheless of importance and worth noting how the most frequent user of our word group in the New Testament in a surprisingly clear way roots his εὐαγγέλιον in an interpretation of the Isaianic visions and how this connotes an epoch-making transition for Jews and gentiles alike through the victory and cultic renewal in and through the gospel – an epoch-making event within which Paul depicts his ––––––––––––––––– 503 For a cultic use of ἀφορίζειν, see, e.g., Exod 19:12, 23; Lev 10:15; 13–14 (mult.); 20:25; Isa 52:11; 56:3; 2 Cor 6:17; Gal 2:12. 504 For an argument for the former, see Fitzmyer, Romans, 365.

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189

own apostolic role as an Isaianic, eschatological prophet as well as a priest of ‘the gospel.’

3.5 Partial Conclusion The fundamental aim of the investigation in this chapter has been to establish a comprehensive overview of the use of the gospel nomenclature in Jewish, Greek, and Roman texts prior to the Gospel of Mark in order to re-evaluate the discussion of the root the New Testament εὐαγγελ- word group. As outlined in the previous chapter, the research on this matter has ended in a cul-de-sac despite brilliant investigations, largely due to the perception of the incompatible categories of profane und religiöse Verwendungen. In order to bypass this, I have in this chapter provided a fresh evaluation of the material on the basis of the recent discussion of the use of ancient concepts and categories which highlight the inseparability of ‘politics’ and ‘religion,’505 two categories often viewed so distinct in older investigations of the εὐαγγελ- word group that they were used as outline for the discussion. Bypassing this straitjacket, my evaluation of the source material has arrived at the following results: (1) First, in none of the ancient text groups is the gospel word used frequently. In the Hebrew Bible, we find thirty occurrences; in the Septuagint twenty-eight plus variant readings; in the entire Greek corpus of texts up until the second century CE roughly one hundred occurrences while the Qumran library attests around sixteen occurrences in non-biblical manuscripts. (2) Second, this restraint in the usage stands in stark contrast to the importance and emphatic nature the word group is made to carry when used. The most important conclusion from the investigation is the corroboration of the projected thesis that the gospel word group carries a thoroughgoing sense of epoch-making change which the gospel messenger proclaims to the parties involved. While there is an ongoing debate as to whether these epoch-making changes could be for the better or worse, they are even in the few and explainable instances of Trauernachrichten always epoch-making. For instance, in the Greek corpora of texts, εὐαγγελ- communicates who returned from the war alive, which party won the battle, the reward for bringing the long-awaited news of relief, the news of the proclamation of a new king or emperor, or, in a deflected sense, the birth of a son, the news of a marriage, or the like. Even if it is used in situations which are not a matter of life or death, the epoch-making connotation of our word group is easily discernable by a distinct before and after involved, for example, in the rise of the sun, a nestling flapping it wings about to fly, or the formation of the stars heralding the time for harvest.506 The ––––––––––––––––– 505 506

See Section 1.3.2. See Section 3.2.3.

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select use in the Hebrew Bible and the Septuagint fully comply to this picture. In the Historical Books, all occurrences are used in connection with proclamations of the outcome of battles and wars and in the Psalms the three select instances are reserved for situations of ‘new songs’ after epoch-making changes of fortunes for the better for the individual Israelite or in connection with a great hallel to Yahweh for his decisive victories and status as king.507 In the prophetic books, especially Isaiah 40–66 attracts interest, not least Isa 40:1– 11, in which we find the first attestation of the word group in connection with the grand opening vision of the Book of Comfort, which heralds the decisive epoch-making changes about to take place: the return of Yahweh to the ruined Zion with his liberated people.508 (3) Going one step further, this epoch-making nature of the gospel word group reveals itself as a message of what I have labelled Krieg, König und Kult. Fundamentally, the antique gospel proclamation was a war message, a “Botschaft vom Schlachtfeld,”509 to borrow a formulation from Schniewind. In the Greek corpora, the by far most frequent use is in connection with news from the battlefield, as humorously narrated by Aristophanes when he has the sausage-seller burst into the council building packed with the politicians of Athens waiting for news from the battle against Sparta, only to “herald” the news of the all-time low price on sardines, a crack playing on the εὐαγγελ- message as a war message. Deflected from this, we find the word group used in connection with political victories and personal victories of defining magnitude, such as the death of an evil stepmother. Being fundamentally a war message, it is in the same breath in the antique world also a kingly message proclaiming who will be the ruler in the next epoch. This is the reason why, for example, we find it in Plutarch used in connection with messages brought to the general, and why there is some evidence for its usage in connection with the imperial cult to communicate the proclamation of a new emperor. In the Hebrew Bible as well as the Septuagint, the notion of kingly victory almost completely covers the entire range of attestations. Even if accepting Schniewind’s Begriffsgeschichte of a development over time from a secular use to a religious and eschatological use, with Psalm 68 as “Übergang vom profanen zum religiösen Sprachgebrauch unseres Verbs,”510 it would still in its ‘religious’ clothes be a message of a decisive, kingly victory; in reality only more pronounced, now as Yahweh’s eternal victory over all opposing forces and his enduring status as ‫ֶמֶלְך‬/βασιλεύς. (4) Being an epoch-making message of war victory, the investigation above has made it surprisingly evident to which degree this message came with a ––––––––––––––––– See Sections 3.2.1 and 3.2.2. See Section 3.3 in particular. 509 See Schniewind, Euangelion, 48. 510 Schniewind, Euangelion, 49. 507 508

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cultic connotation at the core level. While the sense of epoch-making war victory is the unifying theme, and while the cultic connotation is not present each and every time, the important thing is to notice how its cultic core comes to expression across the various text groups and epochs. In the Greek corpora, εὐαγγέλια θύειν may aptly be labelled “der stehende Ausdruck.”511 Again, Aristophanes’s parody only works if his punchlines are caricatures of well-known realities, and Kleon’s promise to sacrifice a hundred oxen to Athena reflects the expected and proper response to an announcement of εὐαγγέλια. The notion of ‘sacrificial gospel festivals’ and games in response to the epoch-making news of victories tell the same story. As phrased by Schniewind: “Jede gute Botschaft ist eine Gabe der Götter.”512 In the Hebrew Bible, the Philistines’ gospel proclamation “in their houses of idols” (1 Sam 31:9) of their victory over Saul blurs the distinction between a profane and religious use and makes probable that the connection between war victory and cultic celebration was a common trajectory. (5) This brings us to the distinct use of the nomenclature in Isaiah 40–66. In essence, the argument presented here is that the ‫ בשׂר‬message in Isa 40:1– 11 and onwards is part and parcel of the grand vision of the restoration of the presence of Yahweh. The Isaianic ‘gospel’ is a message of the renewed proximity to the divine through which redemption, liberation, salvation, justice, and a renewed covenant is to be experienced when the glory of Yahweh will return to Zion and become visible to all nations. This is most emphatically encapsulated in the vision of 52:1–10 of the great ‘gospel festival’ for Jerusalem, having the ‫ ִה ֵנּ ִני‬as the fundamental proclamation of Yahweh himself and the ‫ָמַלְך‬ ‫ ֱאֹלָה ִיְך‬as the fundamental content of the proclamation of the ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬. It has in this connection been discussed if the label ‘new exodus’ is a proper description for the vision of Isaiah 40–55 in particular. The discussion above arrived at the conclusion that, while ‘new exodus’ covers some aspects of the visions of Second Isaiah, the label is not comprehensive enough to cover the intensified rhetoric. The return is not only of the exiled but of Yahweh himself. In this transposition, the theme of new exodus is eclipsed by a theme of new creation, in which the temple itself becomes subsumed by the vision of Jerusalem as such as a holy city, a new Eden. The important point is that the use of the gospel word group in Isaiah should be understood as an integral part of this grand vision. Read within this framework, we find a meaning and a use highly similar to the general established understanding of an epoch-making vision that in essence is kingly and cultic. The kingly theme is the dominant of the two, to the degree that the paraphrasing remarks in Tg. Isa. 40:9 of Yahweh’s kingdom become understandable. Nevertheless, the cultic sub-theme is present throughout, a conclusion I arrived at ––––––––––––––––– 511 512

Molland, Euangelion, 21. Schniewind, Euangelion, 169.

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by entering into the debate between Baltzer and Blenkinsopp in particular. On the one hand, it must be admitted that the specific temple and cultic nomenclature is meagre in Second Isaiah as opposed to Isaiah 56–66. On the other hand, the cult and the temple are present in Isaiah 40–55, and if we factor in the concept of Steigerung, the downplayed appearance thereof explains itself: the fundamental idea of the vision presented is not the earthy temple, nor its priests, but the proximity of Yahweh. Still, the rebuilding of the temple is part of the vocation of Cyrus (44:28), just as the fundamental idea of the temple as a house for the glory of Yahweh is part and parcel of the eschatological re-creation of Jerusalem ‫ְכֵּﬠ ֶדן‬/ὡς παράδεισον (51:3). The intertwined nature of Yahweh’s kingly victory and cultic renewal may be perceived on the background of three concepts of Second Isaiah. First, as even Baltzer admits, the ‫ְכּבוֹד ְיה ָוה‬/ἡ δόξα κυρίου of Isa 40:5 has a military as well as its cultic dimension, very similar to Isa 63:10–19, combining the militant exodus led by Moses with the restoration of the temple. Further, the distinct Stichwort of Second Isaiah, ‫( גאל‬LXX: λυτροῦν or ῥύεσθαι), may have been favoured on behalf of ‫ פדה‬in order to communicate the vision of complete restoration of the lost inheritance, a return to the complete wholeness of Eden. However, such restoration is not envisioned apart from the lifting of guilt and forgiveness of sin, which play a role throughout Isaiah 40–66 and especially in the fourth Servant Song. Third, this intertwined nature of restoration in the mundane sphere of life along with cultic renewal is likewise the essence of the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬notion of Isa 53:10, which has attracted much debate and divided scholars over a secular or cultic use. The discussion above produced the conclusion that it works in both directions. As argued by Averbeck on the basis of Milgrom, just as ‫ גאל‬was chosen to communicate the fullness of the restoration envisioned, so was ‫ ָאָשׁם‬rather than ‫ ַחָטּאת‬chosen as a way of communicating the Steigerung of Second Isaiah in which a full restoration is in sight. Further, as the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬was sacrificed upon the healing of a person suffering from a skin disease in order to re-consecrate him or her as part of the Israelite community, so is the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬the preferred sacrifice to describe the ministry of the servant of Isaiah 53 in order to fulfil the full restoration and re-consecration of Jerusalem in Isaiah 52. In other words, the ‫ בשׂר‬message of Isaiah 40–66 is part and parcel of the extreme epoch-making shift envisioned of the kingship and enthronement of Yahweh in which his presence will be available in Jerusalem afresh in a renewal of his covenant; a restoration that will be carried out through the intertwined process of kingly victory and cultic renewal. (6) This reading of Isaiah’s ‫ בשׂר‬message was found to be corroborated by the utilization of Isaiah in Jewish texts of the late Second Temple period. Not only was it obvious that the use of the gospel word group was inspired by Second Isaiah either through direct quotations or discernible echoes. Apart from the single attestation in Joseph and Aseneth and the use found in Josephus and Philo, which is better grouped with Greek and Roman texts in general, the

3.5 Partial Conclusion

193

Jewish texts from this period display a distinct usage, always in connection with epoch-making proclamations of a new era about to be experienced. Highly interesting is the result that the intertwined nature of kingly victory and cultic renewal was found to be present in text groups as different as the sectarian writings of Qumran, Josephus’s descriptions of the rebel leaders, and the rebel coinage. For instance, in its pesher of the Isaianic ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬notion, 11Q13 attests a highly noteworthy conflation of the scriptural exodus tradition with the Jubilee and the Day of Atonement as an expression of the comprehensive content of the Isaianic visions. In the same way, Josephus’s heartfelt polemics against the various rebel groups provide a negative imprint of their vision of a full restoration of Israel and Jerusalem, the kingdom, and the temple. This is seen from the peculiar use of the wilderness as staging ground for at least five rebel figures, just as Josephus’s polemics reveal how the rebel leaders at one and the same time referred to the kingly, Davidic notion alongside a promise to protect the temple, its cult, and the ancestral tradition. While Josephus does not provide scriptural citations in his “counter polemics” against these figures, the collected evidence of wilderness, kingly aspirations, and restoration of Jerusalem alongside the notion of freedom and not least “redemption” in the year four coin make it an obvious option that Second Isaiah was evoked by these leaders. In short, the late Second Temple period bears witness to how Second Isaiah’s vision of the restoration of Jerusalem and its temple was a strong source of inspiration able to attract sizeable masses and provide fuel even for a war against the superpower of Rome. (7) Under the rubric of ‘late Second Temple Jewish texts,’ an overview and discussion of Paul’s use of the gospel notion was presented as well. This investigation yielded several noteworthy results: Firstly, Paul roots his εὐαγγελin the visions of Second Isaiah in a surprisingly clear and suggestive way. Not only is Isa 52:7 in the centre hereof, but Paul also stages his own apostolic vocation as an eschatological, prophetic fulfilment of the ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος tradition. Secondly, for this reason the comprehensive use of εὐαγγελnomenclature in the Pauline corpus provides an apt test case for the understanding of the ‘gospel’ concept argued throughout this chapter, not least the Isaianic part thereof. It was argued that Paul’s usage may readily be understood as providing another example of how ‘gospel’ in our texts of focus denotes an epoch-making availability of the nearness of God through victory and cultic renewal. Finally, it was also discussed to which degree Paul’s use of εὐαγγέλιον should be allowed to colour our reading of Mark. It was concluded that this is not advisable due to the risk of circular reasoning. (8) Finally, the texts that seemingly contradict my reading by providing evidence for an Alltagsgebrauch, to borrow Schniewind’s wording, may readily be explained as derived from and dependent on the implied notion of changes of epoch-making dimensions in the gospel word group. This is the case when

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used to proclaim the birth of a son,513 a wedding or the finding of a bride,514 the death of the evil stepmother,515 or the almost proverbial use attested by Philo in which εὐαγγελίζεσθαι is used to express the move from one state to another, like the shift from night to day, from preparation to harvest or just the state in which “the complete good is proclaimed.”516 The rather few examples of the word group from the mundane sphere of life only serve to prove the point of εὐαγγελ- as an epoch-making message. In sum, the investigation of the sources has provided an imprint of a word group that across the various periods, cultures, and languages was reserved to communicate epoch-making changes of fortunes, by far for the better, which in essence was connected to the decisive victories of kings and rulers and as gifts from the gods were celebrated by cultic thanksgiving. Particularly, in the Hebrew Bible, the notion was spiralled to new heights by Second Isaiah, which presented a vision of the ultimate transference from one state to the other through the intertwined process of kingly victory and cultic renewal. In the late Second Temple period, this vision became the cornerstone through various Jewish renewal movements or sects, who sought to take hold of the ultimate fulfilment thereof by laying claims to being the Isaianic place of fulfilment thereof.

––––––––––––––––– See Jer 20:15. See, e.g., P.Oxy. 3313; Chariton, Chaer. 2.1.1. 515 See Heliodorus, Aeth. 1.24. 516 Philo, Praem. 161, further examples above in Section 3.2.3. 513 514

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Mark’s Prologue between Promise and Proximity 4.1 Introduction and Research Questions As argued in Chapter 2, the research on the gospel nomenclature has after more than a century-long debate arrived at a cul-de-sac in which neither repeated rounds of quests for the root of the εὐαγγελ- word group nor the recent investigations based on postcolonial and/or anti-imperial reading strategies have produced satisfying answers. With reference to the quest for the root, Stuhlmacher frankly admits that “eine direkte Analogie”1 is yet to be found for the precise Stichwort of Mark and Paul: τὸ εὐαγγέλιον. In the same way, the highly diverse and conflicting readings of Mark’s purpose in the light of postcolonial and/or anti-imperial perspectives have an almost imploding effect on the enterprise. For these reasons, the aim of the preceding chapter was to lay the foundations for reading Mark’s gospel notion afresh by establishing a grand perspective of its usage in the disparate sources available to us up until the first century CE, without presupposing an artificial division between profane and religious usage of our word group. It was found that this comparatively rare word group is used to communicate epoch-making changes, in most cases, by far, for the better. Fundamentally, the word group carries a meaning of kingly war victory with an implied cultic notion due to the understanding that decisive victories are given by the gods. In the Hebrew Bible, the centre of gravity is found in Isaiah 40–66, where the epoch-making victory is the ultimate and decisive victory of Yahweh which brings his presence back to Zion in what amounts to a full restoration of all former glory, a new exodus indeed, but even more than that, a new creation and reestablishment of the covenant. The potency of Isaiah’s great visions was harvested by a number of different Jewish factions or sects in the late Second Temple period, revealing the multi-facetted nature of the gospel word group and the visions of especially Isa 40:1–11 that served as rally point for groups as different as the writers of sectarian manuscripts at Qumran and various wilderness rebel leaders during the Roman period. In essence, ‘gospel’ was a composite notion that encapsulated some of the most vivid scriptural prophecies of the proximity and victory of Yahweh, which at one and the same time meant war victory and cultic cleansing. In other ––––––––––––––––– 1

Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 134.

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words, εὐαγγελ- was not either politics or religion, Rome or Jerusalem, cleansing of the land or cleansing of the temple. In all contexts of which we are awar, it was a ‘polysemy,’ to borrow a phrase from Pokorný. The task ahead is to establish an understanding of Mark’s use of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον within this spectrum of integrated and composite interpretations. The thesis to be tested is if Mark, as suggested, narrates a story with the Isaianic restoration as the controlling paradigm, which would expectedly propel the theme of proximity to the divine to the foreground as the projected intertwined process of kingly victory and temple cultic renewal through which God’s presence is secured. If this case can be verified, Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον is from one perspective not unique nor ground-breaking but one among some, if not many, who laid claim to Isaiah’s visions. It is, as stressed in particular by Marcus,2 a sectarian narrative, written as part of the quest for the identity as God’s people, having access to God’s presence. At the same time, as stressed in particular by anti-imperial and postcolonial readings, the place of Mark was the locus imperium. Any ‘gospel claim’ would in one or several ways be part of the power struggles brewing beneath the pax Romana of the imperial hegemony. These considerations lead to the fundamental research question of the present chapter, namely how Mark defines his τὸ εὐαγγέλιον in his opening paragraphs of 1:1–15 in which the phrase is used more extensively than anywhere later. In particular, how is the relationship between the εὐαγγέλιον and the qualifying genitive Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ of v. 1 and the intrinsic relationship to ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ of v. 15 to be understood? Since this question has been a focus of intense debate, I will prepare the discussion thereof by investigating a number of other questions related to our fundamental research question: (1) First, four questions related to Mark’s structure in general and 1:1–4 in particular need to be discussed. Can a convincing outline of Mark be established? Are Mark’s first verses a prologue or rather a less defined beginning? How long is Mark’s prologue or beginning? How should the grammatical construction of 1:1–4 be understood? The common denominator of these questions concerns how to understand the role of Mark’s first verses in relation to Mark’s overall narrative. (2) Next, we shall discuss the composite scriptural quotation in 1:2–3 and in particular the role of Isaiah in Mark. Why is the quotation labelled Isaianic, and why is it placed where it is? (3) Third, on this basis we shall discuss four elements of Mark’s beginning that arguably are part of the Isaianic dressing of his narrative, namely the ways in which the Isaianic theme of proximity to the divine is evoked through the notion of ἀρχή (1:1), the preparation in the wilderness by John (1:4–8), the rending of the heavens in the baptism (1:9–11), and the testing in the wilderness (1:12–13). ––––––––––––––––– 2

See Section 2.5.3.

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(4) Finally, we return to the question of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον as it is proclaimed in 1:14–15 and 1:1. How does Mark present and qualify his εὐαγγέλιον in the light of the established understanding of εὐαγγέλιον in the previous chapter as an epoch-making concept and the surrounding framework of Mark’s first verses in the present chapter?

4.2 Structure and Outline of Mark’s Prologue 4.2.1 Can a Convincing Structure of Mark be Established? We begin with a question akin to the question of date and provenance, asking if an overall structure of Mark can be established. Judged from the conflicting views in research, this does not seem to be the case and much like in the case of provenance, the entire enterprise can be viewed as fuelled by a desire for interpretative control. As claimed by Dewey, “a scholar’s outline of Mark tells us more about which aspect of the Gospel narrative is his or her focus than it does about Mark’s structure.”3 This raises the question of whether Mark has a well-crafted structure or is only “a loose disposition of materials,” as stated by Gundry.4 This question has attracted considerable attention, to the extent that it has become a research topic of its own.5 One might even argue for a distinct connection between the methodological approach taken and the structure favoured in the sense that a loose or even clumsy collection of independent pericopae could be viewed as a product of form criticism,6 a linear structure, either geographical or topical, as a product of redaction criticism,7 and recent complex structures with elaborate literary devices or non-linear structures as products of literary or narrative criticism.8 This is not the place to review this discussion afresh but only to provide the overview needed to be able to discuss the role of ––––––––––––––––– 3 Dewey, “Interwoven Tapestry,” 235; see also Kevin W. Larsen, “The Structure of Mark’s Gospel: Current Proposals,” CurBS 3.1 (2004): 141. 4 Gundry, Mark, 1048. 5 See the overviews in Larsen, “Structure,” and Joel Williams, “Does Mark’s Gospel Have an Outline?,” JETS 49.3 (2006): 505–25. 6 For a reaction to a full-fledged form-critical rejection of any governing principle in Mark’s structure during the heydays of form criticism, see C. H. Dodd, “The Framework of the Gospel Narrative,” ExpTim 43.9 (1932): 396–400. Gundry’s position is not to be taken as influenced by form criticism but rather governed by Papias’s remark of lack of order in Mark’s account (see οὐ µέντοι τάξει, Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 3.39.15). 7 See Marxsen, Markus, who reworked the idea of Lohmeyer of Galilee as the place of approval versus Jerusalem as the place of resistance into a ecclesiological scheme in which Mark was written to comfort a persecuted community located in Galilee. See further the discussion in Section 2.3.2 and Lohmeyer, Galiläa und Jerusalem. 8 See, e.g., Dewey, “Interwoven Tapestry.”

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Mark’s introduction in the overall narrative. If we follow the presently widespread assumption that Mark is crafted with an intentional structure, the first question is to decide by which principle: topography, geography, thematic interests, or literary devices such as intercalations, summary statements, and rhetorical devices. The next is to decide if Mark follows a simple, linear template or if the narrative possesses a complex, non-linear structure, for example comparable to “an oriental carpet with crisscrossing patterns” with “multiple overlapping structures and sequences, forecasts of what is to come and echoes of what has already been said.”9 To provide some highlights from the discussion: Opting for a linear approach, the main point of dispute concerns whether to accept a two-part or three-part division of Mark. The recent trend is to favour a three-part structure, singling out the ‘way’ section of 8:22/27–10:45/52 between the Galilee section (1:14/16–8:21/26) and the Jerusalem section (10:46/11:1–16:8),10 though a minority continues to stress a two-fold division along 8:27 as the decisive turning point.11 If stressing a division based on Mark’s topographical and geographical notions, the question is whether Mark merely “takes us hither and yon with little or no discernible pattern”12 or whether Mark’s spatial markers are the only “clearly recognizable structural”13 composition technique of the narrative.14 Concerning structures based on thematic breaks and developments, the survey by Larsen demonstrates how different foci produce different results. For instance, a focus on Mark’s christological theme naturally emphasizes 8:27 as the tipping point of the narrative,15 whereas a focus on Jesus’s relationship to his disciples leads Vernon K. Robbins to suggest a completely different threefold outline of initiation (1:14–3:6), a teaching and learning phase (3:7–12:44), ––––––––––––––––– Dewey, “Interwoven Tapestry,” 224. According to the survey Dewey performed on seventeen outlines of Mark in studies from the twentieth century, 82% of these include a middle section (see Dewey, “Interwoven Tapestry,” 221). According to Donahue and Harington, a tri-part division “reflects a growing consensus” in research (see John R. Donahue and Daniel J. Harrington, The Gospel of Mark, SP 2 [Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2002], 46). For an elaborate example, see Hartvigsen, Prepare the Way, 99–110. 11 See, e.g., the recent contribution of Williams, “Outline,” who argues that the shift in characterization of Jesus along this line is Mark’s main structure. See further Larsen, “Structure,” 142–43. 8:27 as the “hinge” of Mark’s two main sections is criticized by Gundry for thematic reasons (see Gundry, Mark, 1048) and Hedrick for geographical reasons (see Charles W. Hedrick, “What Is a Gospel? Geography, Time and Narrative Structure,” PRSt 10 [1983]: 265–66). Boring has provided a significant defense for a bipartition of Mark with a number of different theological motifs that are mirrored between Galilee and Jerusalem (see Boring, “Mark 1:1–15,” 46). 12 Gundry, Mark, 1046. 13 Hedrick, “Geography,” 265, emphasis original. 14 See further Larsen, “Structure,” 143–45. 15 For a recent example of this approach, see Williams, “Outline,” 509. 9

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and farewell and separation (13:1–15:47).16 Watts’s and Marcus’s focus on the ‘new exodus’ motif or the ‘way’ theme, respectively, prompt them to suggest a three-part structure, highlighting 8:22–10:52 as the middle section in order to organize Mark according to God’s grand deeds towards Israel in the first deliverance from exile (1:15–8:20), leading the blind people towards the promised land (8:21–10:52), before the final stage of arrival in the promised land (11:1–16:8).17 Another approach is to see the early missionary preaching18 as the fundamental structure upon which Mark shaped his Gospel. This standpoint is argued by C. H. Dodd, who concludes that the primitive church in all probability did “transmit an outline of the Ministry of Jesus” that contained a basic topographical and chronological framework, which is to be found “in fragmentary form in the framework of Mark.”19 The search for compositional devices has witnessed a true boom with the advent of literary criticism,20 but while there is little doubt that intercalations are observable,21 along with summaries,22 repetitive patterns,23 foreshadowing techniques,24 besides a characteristic Greek style,25 to mention a few, the question remains if they serve as outline markers in the text or rather emphasize the rhetorical skills of the author. In sum, outlining Mark has become a perilous affair, and, if nothing else, the trend in recent research of detecting an elaborate structure has done its best to undo Papias’s subtle critique of lack of τάξις.26 The important bearings for ––––––––––––––––– See Vernon K. Robbins, “Summons and Outline in Mark: The Three-Step Progression,” NovT 23.2 (1981): 97–114. 17 See Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 370–74; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 62–64. 18 See especially Acts 10:37–43, 13:23–31, and 1 Cor 15:3–7. 19 Dodd, “Framework,” 399. 20 See the discussion of Mark as ‘literary narrative’ in Section 1.3.1. 21 See, e.g., 3:20–35 (family/Beelzebul/family), 5:21–43 (Jairus/woman/Jairus), 6:7–32 (sending of disciples/John the Baptist/receiving of disciples), 11:12–23 (fig tree/temple/fig tree), 14:1–11 (betrayal/anointment/betrayal), and 14:53–72 (Peter/trial/Peter). 22 As discussed by Larsen, there is no consensus on which statements in Mark qualify as a summary statement and the list is in the end too long to be helpful, see Larsen, “Structure,” 151–52. 23 See, e.g., the pattern of approval–rejection in 1:14–3:6, 3:7–6:6a, and 6:6b–8:21; the pattern of passion prediction, misunderstanding, discipleship exhortation in 8:30–9:1, 9:30– 50, and 10:32–45; or the pattern of revelatory events focussing on sonship in 1:9–11 (baptism), 9:2–8 (transfiguration), and 15:37–39 (crucifixion). 24 See, e.g., the execution of John the Baptist, foreshadowed in 1:14; the role of blasphemy in the passion (14:63–64; 15:29), foreshadowed in Capernaum (2:6–7); the foreshadowing of the passion and resurrection itself (8:31; 9:31; 10:32–34). 25 For an introduction to the Greek style of Mark, see James W. Voelz, Mark 1:1–8:26, ConcC (St. Louis: Concordia, 2013), 2–39. Voelz finds that “the complexity and sophistication of Mark’s Greek” seriously questions the assumption of Mark as a “primitive” gospel (see Voelz, Mark 1:1–8:26, 22). 26 See Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 3.39.15. 16

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the present study are twofold. On the one hand, it must be admitted that the establishment of too elaborate structures runs the risk of introducing circularity when such outlines are applied as hermeneutic lenses.27 Outlining Mark is part of the interpretative process. On the other hand, the minimalistic approach of Gundry, viewing Mark as a simple narrative with “no ciphers, no hidden meanings, no sleight of hand,”28 is weakened considerably by the results of studies detecting patterns and repetitive schemes that are too obvious to be accidental, especially those on a minor level, not expanded to encapsulate the entirety of the text. In finding the middle ground between these two opposites, we shall work from the assumption that Mark possesses a basic but overarching intended structure and makes use of a number of literary techniques. This basic pattern consists of a prologue, a Galilee section, a Jerusalem section, and an epilogue from which the following may be deduced: – Mark’s introduction and ending are structurally and theologically important. – Mark tells a story that begins in Galilee and moves towards Jerusalem after which it is foretold to continue in Galilee. This means at one and the same time that both places are of crucial importance to Mark’s narrative. This is the case whether or not a ‘way’ section is singled out, and whether or not non-linear patterns are emphasized. – Mark’s literary techniques are used to emphasize important motifs and themes. 4.2.2 Is Mark’s ‘Prologue’ a Prologue? Focussing now on Mark’s beginning, the first question to be asked is if it may rightfully be deemed a ‘prologue,’ as has become standard in recent research. In an article from 2009, Becker set forth weighty arguments against the entire concept of ‘prologue’ in relation to Mark, a designation she argues has become widespread due to the studies of Wolfgang Feneberg and especially Hans-Josef

––––––––––––––––– Adela Collins rightfully notices that the more than one hundred pericopae in modern text-critical editions of Mark are the result of the enduring influence of form criticism rather than a witness of the appearance of the original text written in one flow (see Collins, Mark, 86–87). Also Robert Gundry cautions in his own frank way against researchers’ hunt for “fine-tuned chiasm and concentricity” that produces “unnatural combinations of materials, unnatural divisions, strained correlations, arbitrary selectivity, and inconsistency of treatment” (see Gundry, Mark, 1048). 28 Gundry, Mark, 1. 27

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Klauck,29 though it can be traced back to Benjamin W. Bacon.30 Instead, Becker argues that 1:1–3 should be viewed as a prooemium after which the narrative as such begins.31 The main reason for this conclusion is the incongruence in terminology with Greek rhetoric as defined by Aristotle, who reserved πρόλογος for drama or epic texts. For this reason, Becker prefers Vorgeschichte, Einleitung, introduction, or the like, which signals a less distinct character of Mark’s beginning and takes “the ancient literary terminology seriously.” Abiding to this, “we cannot use the term ‘prologue’ for defining a para-text in the field of prose-literature, such as the Markan Gospel.”32 When she further limits Mark’s Einleitung to the first three verses, it is due to the lack of any “narratological, semantic, or syntactic shift” between vv. 13 and 14 or 15 and 16, something only present between vv. 3 and 4.33 According to Becker, the choice of wording is not mere cosmetics. On the one hand, Becker concurs with Robert A. Guelich, who argues that ‘prologue’ “connotes a more self-contained section,” whereas ‘introduction’ or ‘beginning’ “signal a more integral relationship between this material and the rest of the Gospel.”34 On the other hand, Becker detects an impetus behind the designation ‘prologue’ from a characterization of Mark as an ancient biography in which vv. 1–15 serve as a setting for the story of Jesus. Instead, Becker would characterize Mark as “a historiographical piece of ancient literature,”35 focussed on the history of the gospel rather than the life of Jesus.36 In evaluation, Becker’s case is well-argued, but objections can be made to both of her main points. Concerning the term ‘prologue,’ there are, as Becker ––––––––––––––––– See Wolfgang Feneberg, Der Markusprolog: Studien zur Formbestimmung des Evangeliums, SANT 36 (Munchen: Kösel, 1974); Hans-Josef Klauck, Vorspiel im Himmel? Erzähltechnik und Theologie im Markusprolog, BThSt 32 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1997). 30 See Benjamin W. Bacon, “The Prologue of Mark: A Study of Sources and Structure,” JBL 26 (1907): 84–106. As Becker likewise notices, Pesch estimates that the label ‘Prolog’ has been the standard designation in research “seit langem” (see Rudolf Pesch, Das Markusevangelium, I. Teil, HThKNT 2/1 [Freiburg: Herder, 1976], 71). See, e.g., Robert Henry Lightfoot, The Gospel Message of St. Mark (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1950), 15. For further examples, see Robert A. Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, WBC 34A (Nashville: Nelson, 1989), 3. 31 See Eve-Marie Becker, “Mk 1:1 and the Debate on a ‘Markan Prologue,’” FN 22 (2009): 95–97. 32 Becker, “Markan Prologue,” 96. 33 See Becker, “Markan Prologue,” 97. In order to entertain this argument, Becker refers to the minority reading of Codex Sinaiticus, καὶ ἐγένετο, which would break the possible connection between καθώς and ἐγένετο in vv. 2 and 4, just as she refers to the minority reading of v. 14, καὶ µετά, which would smoothen the more abrupt µετά δέ construction. 34 Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 4. 35 Becker, Markus-Evangelium, 98. 36 See further Section 1.3.1. 29

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also recognizes, scholars who indeed would describe Mark as a tragedy according to Aristotle’s conventions. Becker refers to Dennis R. MacDonald’s rather recent study,37 but also Hooker’s considerations are worth noting, in which she concludes that “Mark’s prologue, too, does precisely what a dramatic prologue is meant to do: it provides the information that is essential to our understanding of the story, before the main action of the drama begins.”38 On the one hand, Becker is correct in objecting that Mark’s “drama” has already begun, since his beginning presents a packed sequence of events, already initiating the storyline of the narrative, and thus is more closely connected to what follows than the para-textual category ‘prologue’ would signal. Unlike, for instance, the Gospel of John, the narrative has already begun. This is well captured by the designation by Collins as “narrative introduction.”39 On the other hand, Mark’s beginning does indeed provide the reader access to special knowledge and stands apart from the narrative proper. This duality creates the fuzz, and many researchers simply use the term ‘prologue’ in a non-technical sense, interchangeable with ‘introduction’ without implying a special genre.40 Concerning Becker’s demarcation of the Einleitung to vv. 1–3 exclusively, several objections can be raised. As mentioned, and to be discussed further below, there are reasons to understand at least vv. 1–13, and perhaps vv. 14– 15 as well, as separate from the narrative proper that begins with v. 16, where a distinct shift from preparation to action takes place, just as there is a notable shift from a heavenly or cosmological perspective to an earthly point of view. Another problem concerns Becker’s argument of “a shift visible between Mk 1:3 and 1:4,” which in part is based on the extreme minority reading in v. 4 of Codex Sinaiticus.41 As will be discussed below, a majority of commentators instead follow the punctuation of Nestle-Aland who specifically ties ἐγένετο to καθώς as a somewhat awkward apodosis/protasis construction. On top of this, the question is if Becker is correct in indicating a wish to understand Mark as a biography, as the underlying impetus which would be be corroborated by a demarcation of the introduction to vv. 1–8, as in Westcort and Hort’s textual edition. For instance, Marcus connects his understanding of 1:1–15 as “prologue” with an understanding of Mark as more than a biography of Jesus. According to Marcus, Mark did not write a ‘mere’ biography of Jesus but narrated the events as the long awaited “salvation-historical fulfillment,”42 an understanding akin to Becker’s Ereignisgeschichte. These considerations lead to a ––––––––––––––––– See Dennis R. MacDonald, The Homeric Epics and the Gospel of Mark (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000). 38 Morna D. Hooker, “The Beginning of the Gospel,” in The Future of Christology, ed. Abraham J. Malherbe and Wayne A. Meeks (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 20. 39 Collins, Mark, 133. 40 See, e.g., Lightfoot, St. Mark, 15. 41 See n. 33. 42 Marcus, Mark 1–8, 137. 37

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less defined and interchangeable use of ‘prologue’ and ‘introduction’ throughout this study. 4.2.3 How Long is Mark’s Prologue? The next question of importance concerns the length of the prologue or introduction. This has been an issue of debate at least since Robert Henry Lightfoot took issue with Westcort and Hort’s decision to place a major break in their critical edition of the Greek New Testament after 1:8.43 In a few pages, Lightfoot brilliantly suggests a reason behind Westcort and Hort’s paragraphing of Mark and argues for his own suggestion of reckoning 1:1–13 as the prologue. This may be described as a move from understanding Mark as a plain biography of Jesus, for which reason its main section would begin with the first mention of him, to an understanding of Mark as a theological treatise in which the prologue serves as “the key,”44 much in the same manner as the prologue in the Gospel of John. Read in this way, Mark used his prologue to root Jesus in the past as the promised Messiah but also in the future by revealing to the reader the identity of Jesus as the fulfilment of the past promises. Then in 1965, Leander E. Keck published an article providing argumentation for prolonging the prologue to 1:15,45 bringing in the first summary statement, which Lightfoot also admitted “are closely connected”46 to the preceding paragraph. In recent years, commentators have swung back and forth between excluding and including vv. 14–15 in the prologue proper, with a majority following Keck47 and a minority following Lightfoot,48 while Westcort and Hort’s suggestion is

––––––––––––––––– 43 See Lightfoot, St. Mark, 15–20. While Wescort and Hort was followed by Nestle and later Nestle-Aland up until the twenty-sixth edition, this division was not accepted by all. For instance, Benjamin Bacon identified 1:1–13 as the “prologue” of Mark (Bacon, “Prologue,” 88) whereas Julius Wellhausen referred to 1:1–15 as “Einleitung” (see Wellhausen, Marci 1–9). For further examples, see Becker, “Markan Prologue,” 92–93. 44 Lightfoot, St. Mark, 17. 45 See Leander E. Keck, “The Introduction to Mark’s Gospel,” NTS 12.4 (1965): 352–70. 46 Lightfoot, St. Mark, 20. 47 See, e.g., Klauck, Vorspiel, 22–23; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 137–38; Collins, Mark, 134– 35, see further Frank J. Matera, “The Prologue as the Interpretative Key to Mark’s Gospel,” JSNT 34 (1988): 4; Boring, “Mark 1:1–15,” 55. 48 See, e.g., R. T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 54; David E. Garland, “The Gospel of Mark,” in Zondervan Illustrated Bible Backgrounds Commentary, ed. Clinton E. Arnold, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2002), 1:201–3.

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still kept alive,49 just as minority views include 1:1–3;50 1:1–11;51 and even 1:1–20.52 The value of this discussion comes from the theological gravity of the prologue to be discussed below. If the introduction is Mark’s ‘interpretive key,’ does it then merely connect Jesus to John in a promise-fulfilment pattern, or does it on top of that designate him the Son of God and the bringer of the kingdom of God (1:14–15)? Before an examination of the various proposals is undertaken, it should first be stressed that some of the pointed argumentation attached to this matter is weakened by two observations. One is that no matter how we twist or turn it, Mark’s introduction consists of several minor units, such as v. 1 (or vv. 1–3), vv. 2–3, 4–6, 7–8, 9–11, 12–13, and 14–15. As noticed by Becker, the particular “Markan paratactical narrative style”53 is already in place, and we are thus not looking at a single unit but at a chain of events. Another is Mark’s possible preference for ‘hinges’ that at one and the same time link backwards and forwards, making an exact demarcation difficult and possibly irrelevant.54 This said, the main arguments for the various proposals are: The restriction of Mark’s beginning to 1:1–3 by Becker rests on, as outlined above, an understanding of the shift from scriptural quotation to the first narrative event between vv. 3 and 4 as the only “visible”55 division in the introduction. According to Becker, her view serves to underline the Markan narrative as a “history of the Gospel”56 rather than a biography of Jesus. While it is obviously correct that Mark’s first historical event begins in v. 4, Becker’s characterization of the transition as typical of one of Mark’s paratactical style is weakened by the need for a reference to the minority reading of Codex Sinaiticus. The case for Westcort and Hort’s ‘biographical’ delimitation of the prologue to vv. 1–8, restated for example by Gundry,57 rests mainly on the repetition of ἐγένετο in v. 9, which arguably marks a new section with a focus on Jesus. However, this repetition might well serve to underline a diptychal presentation ––––––––––––––––– 49 See, e.g., Gundry, Mark, 29–30; Voelz, Mark 1:1–8:26, 91; see further Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 4. 50 See Becker, “Markan Prologue.” 51 See Feneberg, Der Markusprolog. 52 See Myers, Binding the Strong 2nd ed., 112; Klauck, Vorspiel, 19–21. 53 Becker, “Markan Prologue,” 103. 54 See Chapter 1 n. 59. 55 Becker, “Markan Prologue,” 102. 56 Becker, “Markan Prologue,” 105, emphasis original. 57 See Gundry, Mark, 31. See further the discussion in Thomas R. Hatina, In Search of a Context: The Function of Scripture in Mark’s Narrative, JSNTSup 232 (London: Sheffield Academic, 2002), 95–96.

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of John and Jesus.58 Further, Gundry ties v. 1 to the following καθώς sentence, arguing that the compound quotation only covers the verses about John and not further sections or indeed the entire book to follow. Lightfoot’s argumentation for extending the prologue to v. 13 was mostly drawn from consideration of content. Though Jesus is introduced in v. 1, the reader is only informed about his place of origin and divine sonship in vv. 9– 11. Further, two other features bind vv. 1–13 together, namely the setting in the ἔρηµος (vv. 3, 4, 12, 13) and the role of the πνεῦµα (vv. 8, 10, 12). This also serves to demarcate between vv. 13 and 14, where a shift in locality as well as in time is introduced with µετά δέ.59 From the point of view of literary criticism, Frank J. Matera further contends that a break between vv. 13 and 14 is produced by the nature of the knowledge provided to the reader. Whereas the first section is non-public and provided solely as background for the reader, Mark shifts gear when in 1:14 he introduces Jesus as a public person.60 From a rhetorical perspective, Tolbert has argued that the repeated use of ἐγένετο in vv. 4, 9, and 11 not only serves to demarcate 1:1–13 as the prologue but also produces the four subsections of vv. 1–3, 4–8, 9–10, and 11–13.61 This structure produces, however, a highly artificial break in the section on Jesus’s baptism.62 Finally, the arguments for including vv. 14–15 in the introduction were forcefully presented by Leander Keck in an article from 1965.63 Keck’s main ––––––––––––––––– For John’s successive role in Mark, see n. 69. See also Garland, Mark, 201–2. 60 See Matera, “Prologue,” 5. For further arguments for 1:1–13, see the discussion in Keck, “Introduction,” 353–56. 61 See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 109. For other researchers that demarcate the introduction to 1:1–13, see, e.g., Vincent Taylor, The Gospel According to St. Mark (London: MacMillan & Co., 1953), 151; C. E. B. Cranfield, The Gospel According to Saint Mark, CGTC (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 33; William L. Lane, The Gospel of Mark, NLC (London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1974), 39; James R. Edwards, The Gospel According to Mark, PilNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 23; Camille Focant, The Gospel According to Mark: A Commentary, trans. Leslie Robert Keylock (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2012), 23–25. 62 See also Boring, “Mark 1:1–15,” 59. 63 Keck was not the first to propose this outline of Mark, as he readily admits by listing a number of researchers, beginning with Julius Wellhausen, who arrive at the same, see Keck, “Introduction,” 358. For the researchers that demarcate the introduction to 1:1–15, see, e.g., Rudolf Pesch, “Anfang des Evangeliums Jesu Christi: Eine Studie zum Prolog des Markusevangeliums (Mk 1, 1–15),” in Die Zeit Jesu: Festschrift für Heinrich Schlier, ed. Günther Bornkamm and Karl Rahner (Freiburg: Herder, 1970), 108–44; Gerhard Dautzenberg, “Mk 1, 1–15 und die Konzeption des Markusevangeliums,” BZ 21 (1977): 219–34; Joachim Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus (Mk 1–8,26), EKKNT 2/1 (Zürich: Benzinger, 1978), 39–40; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 3–5; P. J. Sankey, “Promise and Fulfilment: Reader-Response to Mark 1.1–15,” JSNT 58 (1995): 3–18; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 137–38; Collins, Mark, 134; Richard J. Dillon, “Mark 1:1–15: A ‘New Evangelization’?,” CBQ 76 (2014): 1–18. 58 59

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argument is the role of εὐαγγέλιον which he, following Marxsen, sees as central to Mark’s overall narrative. For this reason, the εὐαγγέλιον inclusio of vv. 1, 14, and 15 is “decisive” and “the rubric under which Mark wants to place his material.”64 Further, Keck opposes the split between John and Jesus often seen in the µετά δὲ τὸ παραδοθῆναι τὸν Ἰωάννην statement of v. 14. This is not to be understood chronologically but serves only a theological purpose, that is, Mark binds the faiths of John and Jesus together (see 9:31) rather than separating them, which is proved by the role John plays in the succeeding narrative.65 Moreover, following Schniewind, Keck views the Isaianic background of Mark’s gospel notion to be one of victory. This emphasis binds together the battle taking place in vv. 12–13 with the announcement of victory taking place in vv. 14–15.66 Still further, Keck presents an argument from his overall understanding of Mark and Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as bent on discipleship, which would explain why 1:16–20 is the proper way for Mark to begin his first main part.67 This leads Keck to a presentation of Mark’s prologue as one consisting of two equal parts: vv. 1–8 deals with John, and vv. 9–15 deals with Jesus.68 This latter point is elaborated upon by Eugene M. Boring, who singles out 1:1 as the title for the entire narrative and argues for a detailed, three-fold mirror image of John’s and Jesus’s ministries in vv. 2–8 and 9–15, consisting of a heavenly identification, wilderness activity, and preaching.69 In conclusion, the first thing to be noticed is that there is no compelling reason to choose one demarcation of Mark’s introduction over the other, either drawn from the Greek construction or from narrative analysis, for which reason the decision is ultimately part of the interpretative process. Secondly, there is good reason to ascribe the difficulty in this matter to Mark’s construction, in which the scenes are chained together on the sentence level through a paratactic construction (καὶ ἐγένετο, καὶ εὐθύς, καί) or on the structural level by a ‘hinge’ that closes off and opens up at one and the same time. Thirdly, for this reason, when in this chapter I label Mark 1:1–15 as ‘the staging of Mark’s Gospel,’ ‘prologue,’ or ‘introduction,’ it is not to demarcate it from the following – quite the contrary. This opening is like the overture that provides the grand scenic view and feeling of the entire symphony to follow. In this perspective, we can justifiably talk about a defined opening of Mark in which he presents his overarching themes of gospel, Messiah, son, prophetic vision, John as the forerunner, kingdom, and more. In another perspective, the narrative has already ––––––––––––––––– Keck, “Introduction,” 359. 6:14–29; 8:28; 9:13, see Keck, “Introduction,” 360–61. 66 See Keck, “Introduction,” 361–62. 67 See Keck, “Introduction,” 362–67; see also Marcus, Mark 1–8, 177. 68 See Keck, “Introduction,” 367. 69 See Boring, “Mark 1:1–15,” 59–61. A diptychal structure is also argued by, for example, Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 4 and Klauck, Vorspiel, 107–27. For a critique, see Garland, Mark, 200. 64 65

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begun, for which reason the εὐαγγέλιον of vv. 14–15 is just as much a heading for the Galilee section as it forms an inclusio with the opening statement. 4.2.4 How Does 1:1 Function in Mark’s Introduction? The final question to ask in relation to the structure of Mark’s introduction concerns the function of 1:1. It is a longstanding crux, and Allen Wikgren’s more than half-a-century old evaluation that “its real meaning still remains a problem”70 holds true despite much scholarly effort. One way of detecting the uncertainty of the position of the first line in Mark is by observing the different punctuation in modern text-critical editions.71 While most place a full stop after v. 1,72 other place a semi-colon,73 a comma,74 or bracket vv. 2–3 in parentheses.75 Another way is to consult the accumulation of conflicting suggestions and readings amassed by scholars. For instance, C. E. B. Cranfield lists ten different solutions to “the relation of v. 1 to what follows.”76 Boring tops this with eleven different suggestions,77 whereas Wikgren comes last with a list of a mere six different proposals.78 In essence, these can be grouped into two,79 namely if v. 1 serves as an independent heading (inscriptio/superscriptio) of Mark and should be followed by a full-stop, or if v. 1 is Mark’s first sentence (incipit) that (with an implied, copulative verb) is connected to either vv. 2–3, after which a full-stop should be supplied, or v. 4, making vv. 2–3 a parenthesis. On top of this comes a third category of readings viewing v. 1 as a secondary gloss. In detail: (1) The view of Mark 1:1, or even 1:1–3, as a secondary gloss has been proposed a number of times in modern research as the only feasible solution to the magnitude of problems concerning Mark’s opening. In an article from 1904, Friedrich Spitta rejects the solution of viewing v. 1 as a title since καθὼς γέγραπται is never used as “Vordersatz” but always refers back to a preceding paragraph when used as a “Zitationsformel.” This suggests that vv. 2–3 got ––––––––––––––––– Allen Wikgren, “Ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου,” JBL 61 (1942): 11. According to Wikgren, the same uncertainty is present in medieval manuscripts, see Wikgren, “Ἀρχή,” 11–12. 72 See, e.g., WH (1881), Nestle (1898 and following), NA 25 (1963 and following), SBLGNT (2010). 73 See, e.g., TR, Tregelles (1857), Scrivener (1881), Tyndale House Greek New Testament (2017). 74 See Tischendorf (1869). 75 See Lachmann (1831). For this tradition among church fathers, see C. H. Turner, “A Textual Commentary on Mark 1,” JTS 28 (1927): 150. 76 Cranfield, Mark, 34. 77 See Boring, “Mark 1:1–15,” 48–49. 78 See Wikgren, “Ἀρχή,” 11–12. 79 See N. Clayton Croy, “Where the Gospel Text Begins: A Non-Theological Interpretation of Mark 1:1,” NovT 43.2 (2001): 110; Collins, Mark, 87. 70 71

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placed “an falscher Stelle,” either by scribal mistake or by the loss of a longer prologue, “vielleicht eine Kindheitsgeschichte.”80 In two recent studies, Spitta’s suggestion has been carried forward considerably. J. K. Elliott finds the number of unique features of vv. 1–3 so many, being so significant, that “the non-Markan character of Mark 1.1–3 is more pronounced than that of Mark 16.9–20.” This leads to “the logical conclusion” that “Mark 1.1–3 is not from Mark.”81 These are, for instance, the seemingly non-temporal use of ἀρχή, the pronounced scriptural citation coming from the author, the καθὼς γέγραπται formula, and the verbless construction of v. 1. Elliott speculates that the beginning and the end might have been lost at the same time if the original Mark circulated as a codex. While he admits that a removal of vv. 1–3 “would be without any manuscript support,”82 he nevertheless finds such a conjectural emendation to be better than to leave a text of secondary nature in place. In another study, N. Clayton Croy confines his focus to 1:1 and tries to establish a case for it as title of later origin. Besides outlining the problems concerning the grammatical construction of vv. 1–4, Croy highlights two other problems. One is the variant readings of v. 1, which Croy amounts to nine, “suggesting that Mark circulated from the beginning of its existence without any stable form of Mark l:1.”83 Another is the use of ἀρχή in comparative texts to mark the beginning of a book. This is seen in some late manuscripts of the gospels as well as in several LXX manuscripts, especially of the Pentateuch, with the point being that these “superscriptions were secondary.”84 In evaluation, while these different proposals of a defective beginning have gained some supporters, they have not been generally accepted and are on the whole also more suggestive than persuasive, fundamentally flawed by the lack of text-critical support.85 (2) The case for seeing 1:1 as the incipit of Mark, as its first (verbless) sentence, has in recent times mainly been defended in connection with the proposal

––––––––––––––––– Friedrich Spitta, “Beiträge zur Erklärung der Synoptiker,” ZNW 5 (1904): 306–7. J. K. Elliott, “Mark 1.1–3: A Later Addition to the Gospel?,” NTS 46 (2000): 586. 82 Elliott, “Mark 1.1–3,” 587. 83 Croy, “Mark 1:1,” 110. 84 Croy, “Mark 1:1,” 125. 85 See also Becker, who deems that this view is “allein redaktionskritisch begründet” with “keinen Anhalt an der Textüberlieferung” (Becker, Markus-Evangelium, 103). 80 81

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of 1:1–3 as Mark’s first pericope,86 most vividly so by Guelich.87 The main argument is, as already outlined, the use of καθὼς γέγραπται, which, as noted by Spitta,88 always refers to the preceding paragraph when used as a citation formula. Restating this case, without reaching Spitta’s conclusion that the original prologue of Mark has been lost, Gerhard Arnold has outlined a number of relevant Greek and Latin texts that, besides the use of the formula in the New Testament, warrant the conclusion that it always “beziehen sich auf den unmittelbar vorhergehenden Kontext.”89 Mary Ann Tolbert has added an argument from literary criticism by observing how 1:1–3 makes use of altogether thirteen instances of words with an -ου ending.90 Nonetheless, the incipit view is not without problems, as realized by Guelich, who enumerates the problems with this position which he otherwise champions. One is the verbless nature of vv. 1–3, which makes an awkward beginning if v. 1 is not a title but the first sentence. Another is the anarthrous ἀρχή, ––––––––––––––––– 86 The suggestion to keep 1:1–4 together, making vv. 2–3 a parenthesis, as suggested for instance by Turner (see Turner, “Mark 1,” 150), may be seen as a variation thereof, see Feneberg, Der Markusprolog, 186–87. For the difficulty in keeping a clear distinction between the various proposals, Joel Marcus’s successive treatments are telling. In his commentary, it is unclear whether he has abandoned his earlier appraisal of Guelich’s case for viewing 1:1–3 as one sentence. On the one hand, he sides with Guelich against Taylor and still treats 1:1–3 under one heading (see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 141–42). On the other hand, he has changed his translation (in comparison with Marcus, Way of the Lord, 18), now placing vv. 2–3 in parenthesis, calling 1:1 “title” and stating: “Grammatically, 1:2–3 is in the nature of a parenthesis since the real ‘beginning of the good news’ comes in 1:4” (Marcus, Mark 1–8, 145). 87 See Robert A. Guelich, “‘The Beginning of the Gospel’: Mark 1:1–15,” BR 27 (1982): 5–15 and Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 6–12. Another important and often quoted study for this view is Gerhard Arnold, “Mk 1,1 und Eröffnungswendungen in griechischen und lateinischen Schriften,” ZNW 68 (1977): 123–27. Apparently, Guelich arrived at his conclusions independently of Arnold in his article from 1982, whereas it is referenced in Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 7. Researchers following Arnold/Guelich count Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 108–13; Marcus, Way of the Lord, 17–18; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 55–57; Klauck, Vorspiel, 27–30; Rodney J. Decker, Mark 1–8: A Handbook on the Greek Text, BHGNT (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2014), 3. 88 Spitta, “Synoptiker,” 306–7. 89 Arnold, “Mk 1,1,” 123. Guelich likewise refers to the ‫ כאשר כתוב‬formula used in a number of places in Qumran of which 1QS V, 17 and VIII, 14 also introduces Isa 40:3 and always by referring to the preceding statement (see Guelich, “Beginning,” 6, and Marcus, Way of the Lord, 18 n. 22). Guelich likewise rejects Taylor’s references to Luke 11:30, 17:26, John 3:14, and 1 Cor 2:9, where καθώς precedes the main sentence, since they all represent a different usage of καθώς implying a καθώς/οὕτως construction (see Vincent, St. Mark, 153; Guelich, “Beginning,” 6 n. 25; see also Marcus, Mark 1–8, 141–42). 90 See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 111. According to Klauck, Tolbert’s list can be expanded by “das auslautende -ω von ἐρήµῳ in V. 3a” which in classical rhetoric is known as a “homoeoptoton” (see Klauck, Vorspiel, 30).

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which makes up “a clumsy heading”91 if understood as an incipit. There is also a theological objection to this proposal since it ostensibly identifies John the Baptist as the ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου. Guelich tries to counter this by accepting the entire section of 1:1–15 as Mark’s prologue in which Mark deliberately moved the Isaianic quotation up front, making it part of the combined opening statement of 1:1–3, so that in this new shape and place compared to Q it now relates “to the Baptist as the one who ‘prepares the way’ (1:4–8) and to Jesus as the ‘Lord’ who is the coming one (1:3 see 1:9–15).”92 It is clear that the proponents of the incipit view struggle with giving the ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου of 1:1 relevance for the entire narrative, as is the case if perceived as title. For instance, while Rikki Watts accepts Arnold’s argument that “die ἀρχή bezieht sich jedoch nicht auf das Ganze der Darstellung, sondern auf deren Beginn allein,”93 he expands the argument of Guelich by stating that since the incipit introduces not only John but also Jesus, the entire prologue as such “introduces the concerns and themes of the body of the work.” Rather than understanding v. 1 as solely controlled by the following verses, it is the introduction to the entirety of Mark to which the καθὼς γέγραπται should be understood as an “epexegetical”94 explanation of what this gospel is, that is, the gospel derived from Isaiah. (3) The understanding of 1:1 as the inscriptio/superscriptio of Mark is not only favoured by the principal critical editions of the Greek text95 but also by “the overwhelming majority of translations and commentators.”96 The arguments for this reading are basically three: First, taking 1:1 as an example of an absolute nominative negates the need for an implied, copulative verb which would, as already noted, be “an unusual and unparalleled” construction in the first sentence of a narrative since no preceding context allows the reader to ––––––––––––––––– Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 7. Guelich, “Beginning,” 9. 93 Arnold, “Mk 1,1,” 127. See also Feneberg, Der Markusprolog, 186, arguing that the incipit view entails that v. 1 “nur auf V 4–8, nicht aber aufs ganze Evangelium bezogen sein kann,” and further Guelich, “Beginning,” 9. 94 Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 56. See also Klauck, who upon accepting Arnold’s arguments, still states: “Sicher ist es auch zuwenig, den ‘Anfang’ als bloßes incipit zu interpretieren: Jetzt geht es los, hier fängt das Evangelium an” (Klauck, Vorspiel, 29). Also following Guelich, Marcus states: “Mark begins his work with a title (1:1) that introduces both the prologue (1:1–13 or 1:1–15) and the Gospel as a whole; this title then flows seamlessly into a conflation of three OT citations” (Marcus, Mark 1–8, 143). 95 See n. 72. 96 Robert G. Bratcher and Eugene A. Nida, A Translator’s Handbook on the Gospel of Mark, UBSHS (New York: United Bible Societies, 1961), 2. See, e.g., Vincent, St. Mark, 152; Cranfield, Mark, 35; Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 74–75; Dieter Lührmann, Das Markusevangelium, HNT 3 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1987), 33; Boring, “Mark 1:1–15,” 50; Collins, Mark, 87. 91 92

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understand the ellipsis.97 Second, a verbless construction as well as the use of an anarthrous noun as opening word is a known feature of book-titles.98 Especially, Hos 1:2 LXX is often presented as proof-text due to similar wording (Ἀρχὴ λόγου κυρίου πρὸς Ωσηε), which provides “die beste Parallele,”99 as argued by Pesch. The objection by Guelich that “the analogy breaks down when one recognizes that Hos 1:1 rather than 1:2 is the title of the book”100 is not compelling if Hos 1:1 is understood in parallel with Mark 1:0 (ΚΑΤΑ ΜΑΡΚΟΝ).101 Third, from a theological perspective, a restriction of the εὐαγγέλιον in v. 1 solely to the appearance of John is hardly convincing due to the immediate genitive construction (Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ) as well as the repetition of the nomenclature in vv. 14–15, both of which connect the εὐαγγέλιον of Mark to Jesus. This provides a sense of the first line as a title for the entire narrative. On the other hand, the inscriptio view produces its own ‘clumsiness,’ namely, as already discussed, the otherwise unknown prefixed καθὼς γέγραπται. The parallels provided by Taylor do not hold up to scrutiny.102 While Dieter Lührmann in defence of this view simply states that such a construction is not “grammatisch unmöglich,”103 Boring has another take on the problem and states that “a document that ends with γάρ, ‘for,’ can well begin with καθώς.” In order words, “just as Mark brings his narrative to an end in mid-sentence, so that the reader must write the conclusion in her or his own life…, so Mark begins in medias res, with the action of God long since underway and in fact coming to its fulfilment (1:14!).”104 Thus, while the serious scholarship of Spitta, Elliott, and Croy demands recognition, the suggestions of 1:1 or 1:1–3 as a later gloss remain speculative and rest mainly on the awkwardness or ‘clumsiness’ of the construction, and, as outlined above, while good arguments can be marshalled for the inscriptio view as well as the incipit view, both are unable to do away with the feeling of a surprising if not clumsy construction. The unprecedented use of καθὼς γέγραπται, if not related to 1:1, needs a stronger explanation than a reference to Mark’s final γάρ, just as a verbless first sentence with an anarthrous ἀρχή comes across as awkward. These considerations lead to the suggestion which I will entertain. Accepting that Mark’s construction is striking and surprising, it is, if measured against ––––––––––––––––– See Croy, “Mark 1:1,” 113. See, e.g., Matt 1:1; Rev 1:1; Prov 1:1; Eccl 1:1; Song 1:1. For further examples, see Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 75. 99 See Pesch, “Anfang,” 138; Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 75. 100 Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 7. 101 See Croy, “Mark 1:1,” 123 n. 49. 102 See n. 89. 103 Lührmann, Markusevangelium, 34. 104 Boring, “Mark 1:1–15,” 50. 97 98

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his style and theological agenda, a more clever than clumsy way of instantly bringing his project up to full speed. Concerning style, it has already been pointed out how Mark makes use of hinges to densely interlock his pericopes in a ‘chain-like’ style. To the question if vv. 2–3 should be connected to v. 1 or v. 4 the answer to consider is: yes. This understanding is in essence similar to what is proposed by Watts and other proponents of the incipit view who nevertheless wish to see this as a heading for all of Mark. Concerning Mark’s theological agenda, my argument is that this takes control of his Greek grammar. I will elaborate more on this in the next section, but a straightforward, theological solution to the uneven grammar of 1:1–4 is to understand Mark’s prefixing of vv. 2–3 as the result of an almost eager wish to root his story about Jesus as well as John in the Isaianic trajectory of the exodus through the wilderness and the coming of the king. The theological line of thought driving the structure of the entire prologue thus becomes: – Ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου is the bold opening and subscript of Mark. The force of the construction gravitates towards understanding it as a title. – It is immediately connected to and rooted in Jewish Scripture, most notably Isaiah. – It is further immediately connected to and explicated by the two parallel constructions in, first, ἐγένετο Ἰωάννης (v. 4), and then, καί ἐγένετο … Ἰησοῦς (v. 9). – Finally, the εὐαγγέλιον of v. 1. is resumed in vv. 14–15, providing closure to the prologue as well as opening to the rest of the narrative. This chain-like construction at one and the same time highlights εὐαγγέλιον as a preeminent keyword of Mark as well as intimately connects the ministry of Jesus and John to Isaiah. Grammatically, the correct order would have been to postpone the καθὼς γέγραπται until after v. 11, where its full content has become obvious, as is the case in Q (see Table 2). Theologically, however, Mark has in this way made a move more clever than clumsy by emphatically signalling how the ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου is tied to the Isaianic visions and epochmaking beyond grammatical conventions. To this we now turn. Table 2: Mark’s citation of Isa 40:3 compared to Q Mark

Matthew

Luke

D: 1:2: Exod 23:20; Mal 3:1

A: 3:1–2: John’s ministry

A: 3:1–3: John’s ministry

B: 1:3: Isa 40:3

B: 3:3: Isa 40:3

B: 3:4–6: Isa 40:3–5

A: 1:4–8: John’s ministry

C: 3:13–17: Jesus’s baptism

C: 3:21–22: Jesus’s baptism

C: 1:9–11: Jesus’s baptism

D: 11:10: Exod 23:20; Mal 3:1

D: 7:27: Exod 23:20; Mal 3:1

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4.3 Mark’s Epoch-Making Use of Isaiah’s ‘Gospel’ 4.3.1 Research Overview With eagerness and ‘clever clumsiness’ Mark thus goes out of his way to single out Isaiah as a key to his opening words. Before analysing the theology of the introduction in general and Mark’s use of εὐαγγέλιον in particular, we therefore need to take a close look at Mark’s use of Isaiah, the Hebrew Bible in general, and the composite citation of vv. 2–3. Mark’s relationship to and use of the Hebrew Bible has been an issue of some discussion in recent times.105 From one perspective, the prefixed citation formula suggests a high interest in rooting the message in Jewish Scripture. From another perspective, the opening quotation is the only editorial quotation in the entire narrative. Further, as will be discussed in detail below, Mark’s opening quotation differs in several respects from Q, revealing a heavy editorial process in which Mark’s theological agenda shines through. Seemingly conflicting impetuses like these have resulted in various interpretations of the immediately obvious Markan interest in the Hebrew Bible, which in relation to the initial composite citation broadly speaking may be grouped into three. The first is represented by Alfred Suhl, who in his dissertation from 1965, under the direction of Marxsen, argued that in essence Mark was uninterested in scriptural fulfilment as such. At first, this view seems to be refuted by Mark’s overt scriptural reference in his first verses. According to Suhl, however, Mark’s quotation formula does not conform to a typical Weissagung und Erfüllung construction. To prove his point, Suhl argues for a similar interest in Scripture from the side of Mark as in the case of Paul in 1 Cor 15:3–4. Here, the use of κατὰ τὰς γραφάς does not conform to a typical prophecy–fulfilment scheme in that Paul does not quote any Scripture in reality. Actual proof is not needed for Paul, he is content with an outer description of the Jesus event as being in accordance with Jewish tradition, which Suhl labels “Schriftgemäßheit.”106 Though Mark actually cites Scripture, Suhl laments that Mark does not, like Matthew and Luke, place it purposely after the story of John as a conscious reflexion over its “Erfüllung.” Instead, Mark has prefixed his citation “in auffälliger Stellung,”107 in order to present Scripture as “die Norm,”108 according to which his Jesus story is told. It is not a ‘prophecy–fulfilment’ story that intends to prove Scripture (that is, Schriftbeweis), but a story that limits itself to postulating an outer reference to Scripture (that is, Schrift––––––––––––––––– Research overviews are available in Marcus, Way of the Lord, 2–5; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 9–28; Hatina, Context, 8–47. 106 Suhl, Zitate, 38. 107 Suhl, Zitate, 135. 108 Suhl, Zitate, 136. 105

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gemäßheit).109 On an overall basis, Suhl’s reading has not been well received.110 As suggested by Marcus, Suhl was influenced by “a dogmatic application”111 of Marxsen’s thesis that Mark wrote solely to meet the needs of his community. Suhl translated this into a Markan indifference towards application of Scripture to Jesus’s life due to the expectation of an immanent Parousia in Galilee. Interest in salvation history only arose after the delay thereof.112 The second major category reads Mark’s introductory citation as a reference to the role and ministry of John, stripping it of a broad, hermeneutical role for Mark as such. Gundry and Thomas R. Hatina are two examples representing this approach. Gundry does not provide much argumentation for his view that the citations only cover “those verses whose subject matter corresponds to the OT quotations, that is, vv. 4–8,” except that an extension to the whole of Mark would “violate” the antecedent of the καθώς clause, namely the ἀρχή of v. 1, which refers only to the pericope of John.113 In-depth argumentation, on the other hand, is provided by Hatina, who refutes the majority view understanding Isa 40:3 as “the hermeneutical key not only for the prologue, but more importantly for the entire narrative,” a view that according to Hatina “overshadows the programmatic function” of Jesus’s initial kingdom statement in 1:15.114 Instead of using external evidence in the form of contemporary Jewish readings of Isa 40:3 pointing to a “long-awaited exodus,”115 Hatina focusses on reading the citation cluster narrowly within its context in Mark. Here it is “primarily concerned with the work of the Baptist, and indirectly with the coming of Jesus and his announcement of the kingdom.”116 Hatina argues his case by stressing the connection forward to the ministry of John, who serves as “the ethical forerunner to the coming of God.”117 While Jesus indeed is the reference of the σου in v. 2, the stress is on the ἄγγελος (v. 2) and his preparation (κατασκευάζειν, ἑτοιµάζειν) of ‘the way’ (ὁ ὁδός). Especially, Hatina objects to Marcus’s vertical reading of John’s baptism that stresses it as a “divine gift” and even an ––––––––––––––––– See Suhl, Zitate, 137. See, e.g., Marcus, Way of the Lord, 2–3; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 16–17; Hatina, Context, 25–29; Evans, “Beginning,” 83–87. 111 Marcus, Way of the Lord, 2; see also Evans, “Beginning,” 83–87. 112 In some ways, Suhl was pre-empted by Siegfried Schultz, who in an article from 1961 argued that the Gospel of Mark evolved from a kerygmatic, Hellenistic Christianity and not from a Jewish, promise-fulfilment perspective. For this reason, Mark is focussed not on particular prophecies but on the obedience of Jesus towards the will of God, even to the death on a cross, as stated in the pre-Pauline formula of Phil 2:8 (see Siegfried Schultz, “Markus und das Alte Testament,” ZTK 58.2 [1961]: 184–97). 113 Gundry, Mark, 31. 114 See Hatina, Context, 138. 115 Hatina, Context, 139. 116 Hatina, Context, 139. 117 Hatina, Context, 164. 109 110

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“eschatological sacrament”118 in which forgiveness is granted. According to Marcus, this precludes any emphasis on ethical repentance and improvement in John’s baptism, something also not present in Jesus’s baptism that should serve as the controlling paradigm of John’s water baptism. According to Hatina, such “theological wrangling” and “sacramental theology” is “foreign to the thrust of the narrative.”119 Instead, Hatina interprets John’s ἑτοιµάζειν ministry as ethical and backs this with reference to the ethical emphasis of the synoptic parallel and the precedence in Scripture and early Judaism, especially Qumran.120 Thus, the Isaianic setting is not Mark’s hermeneutical key. Instead, it signifies the ministry of John as the one “who prepares Israel ethically for the coming of their God,”121 which happens with Jesus’s preaching of the kingdom. The third approach ascribes to Mark’s prefixed καθὼς γέγραπται the full force of explanatory power as the backbone of the entire narrative. Bypassing some of the older studies, a noteworthy contribution in this trajectory is Marcus’s investigation of the ‘way’ metaphor. Marcus highlights the number of editorial changes made during the process of moving the composite citation to its place in Mark, which reveals Mark’s “theological intention.”122 One such is Mark’s intention of bringing the Isaianic prophecy closer to the initial gospel proclamation, which in essence makes Mark’s reference to Isaiah “an elaboration” of his “central theme, for it provides the proper context for understanding the gospel’s beginnings.”123 The prefixed καθὼς γέγραπται and its reference to the Isaianic ‘way’ motif thus becomes “the controlling paradigm”124 for Mark. A similar understanding is presented by Rikki Watts, the most outspoken champion of reading Mark through the scheme of an Isaianic ‘new exodus,’ as outlined above.125 It is Watts’s thesis that Mark through his opening editorial citation lays out his “fundamental hermeneutic for interpreting and presenting Jesus” that follows two trajectories, namely “a positive schema, whereby Jesus’ identity and ministry is presented in terms of Isaiah’s New Exodus” and “a negative schema by which Jesus’ rejection by the nation’s leaders and his action in the Temple is cast in terms of the prophet Malachi’s warning.”126 The ––––––––––––––––– Marcus, Way of the Lord, 31. Hatina, Context, 167. 120 See Hatina, Context, 174–81. Hatina points to the water ritual at Qumran, for instance, “where sprinkling of water signified a cleansing from sin, and in so doing prepared the practitioners not only for the eschaton but for the establishment of the community’s new covenant with God” (Hatina, Context, 170, with reference to 1QS III, 7–10). 121 Hatina, Context, 183. 122 Marcus, Way of the Lord, 17. 123 Marcus, Way of the Lord, 18. 124 Marcus, Way of the Lord, 47. 125 See Section 3.3.1 and further below, Section 4.3.3. 126 Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 4. 118 119

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composite citation thus provides the two poles within which the entire Markan narrative is to be read: the comfort of Isaiah and the “ominous counterpoint” of threat and judgment provided by Mal 3:1 and Exod 23:20, preaching “purging judgment”127 if the messenger (Elijah/John) is not received. Like Marcus, Watts also follows Guelich in connecting καθώς to v. 1, with the result that vv. 2–3 stand epexegetically to τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ and that vv. 1–3 as such serve as the thematic superscriptio to “the entire work.”128 4.3.2 Mark 1:2–3: Analysis In order to evaluate these different positions, we now return to the text to discuss its function in Mark’s narrative. Four features of the Markan text need to be taken into consideration: First, the different placement as well as the unique conflation of Exod 23:20/Mal 3:1 with Isa 40:3 in comparison with Q has already been outlined in Table 2. On top of this comes, secondly, the change made in the citation of Mal 3:1 in the use of pronouns from “the way before me” (‫ ֶדּ ֶרְך ְלָפ ָני‬/ὁδὸν πρὸ προσώπου µου) to “your way” (τὴν ὁδόν σου), which typically is understood with an implied reference to Jesus, “expressing the messianic interpretation of the passage,”129 though it could in light of Exod 23:20 also be understood as a reference to the people/the congregation.130 In the same way, thirdly, the ‫ֱאֹלֵהינוּ‬/τοῦ θεοῦ ἡµῶν of Isa 40:3 is changed to αὐτοῦ.131 Again, the precise identification of the reference of the pronoun constitutes a problem with opinions vexed between God or Jesus as the κύριος entailed in the Markan αὐτοῦ. Snodgrass, for instance, refers to 1QS VIII, 13 in which Yahweh’s name is circumscribed with an intensified form of the third person personal pronoun as an argument for God as the Lord of v. 3.132 Marcus represents a mediating position in which, based on the shift from second to third person between vv. 2 and 3, he argues for a shift in reference between σου and αὐτοῦ, going from Jesus to God, while he at the same time accepts that Mark in other places refers to Jesus as κύριος and that the connection between vv. 2 and 3 represents such a “close connection with distinction”133 between God and Jesus. In this way, ––––––––––––––––– Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 90. Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 56. 129 Cranfield, Mark, 39. This reading is identical with Matt 11:10/Luke 7:27, except both add ἔµπροσθέν σου, see the scribal harmonization of Mark 1:2 represented by a few majuscules and a number of minuscules. 130 See Snodgrass, “Streams of Tradition,” 34. 131 This reading is likewise identical with Matt 11:10/Luke 7:27. Some Western manuscripts read τοῦ θεοῦ ἡµῶν. It should be noted that a minority of manuscripts to Isa 40:3 LXX read αὐτοῦ, possibly influenced by the synoptic rendering (see Hatina, Context, 148). 132 See Snodgrass, “Streams of Tradition,” 34. Another option, though, is to view ‫הואהא‬ as a variant form of Yahweh, see Hatina, Context, 149. 133 Marcus, “Jewish War,” 39. 127 128

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the bottom line to Mark is that “where Jesus is acting, there God is acting.”134 The general opinion, however, is to read both of Mark’s editorial changes as being motivated by Christology.135 This opens up what may be termed a ‘metonymic gap’ in which epithets of Yahweh or acts of Yahweh are transferred to Jesus. While the exact nature of the Christology of Mark is not the specific focus of the current investigation, the way in which Mark lets Jesus captivate the names and roles of God is a theme of central importance for understanding his gospel notion and one which culminates in the βασιλεύς designation in Mark 14–15.136 Finally, as Hatina writes, it “remains a puzzle”137 why Mark retained the Isaianic identification of his composite citation.138 What do these four features communicate concerning Mark’s “theological intention”?139 Based on the research discussion outlined above, I suggest the following: (1) Being the only editorial citation of the Hebrew Bible, Mark locates his narrative in the Isaianic vision of eschatological restoration. Obviously, many other books of the Hebrew Bible are cited or echoed, as will become clear below, but Isaiah is prefixed, thereby providing the colour gamut of the picture to be painted. In this, I agree with Guelich that the Isaianic reference is not solely to the actual quotation but in reality to the series of events chained together in the introduction, taking place in the wilderness and climaxing in the kerygmatic announcement of the kingdom.140 (2) This theological agenda of Mark likewise provides the key to the awkward relocation of the two scriptural quotations of Q. In order to elevate them from being references to John solely, Mark placed them in a position where regardless of the exact determination of the grammatical construction, they function epexegetically to the first line. (3) Since Jesus is the only introduced character of Mark’s story, the natural flow of the two citations also readily identifies the implied references of the citations. God is the second person speaking in v. 2 with Jesus as the immediate reference of σου. The change to third person in v. 3 naturally introduces a link ––––––––––––––––– Marcus, Mark 1–8, 148. For a similar conclusion, see Bärbel Bosenius, Der literarische Raum des Markusevangeliums, WMANT 140 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Theologie, 2014), 24–25. Bosenius refers to the scene embedded in the Markan composite as a heavenly Thronsaal. 135 See, e.g., Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 77; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 62; Hatina, Context, 149–52. 136 See, e.g., Bosenius, Literarische Raum, 25–28. 137 Hatina, Context, 143. 138 As evidenced by a strong textual tradition reading τοῖς προφήταις instead of τῷ Ἠσαΐᾳ τῷ προφήτῃ, this was puzzling to many scribes as well. 139 Marcus, Way of the Lord, 17. 140 Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 10, see, e.g., Watts, who labels Isa 40:3 “the overall conceptual framework” of Mark (Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 90). 134

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forwards to John, while the reference of αὐτοῦ remains the same: Jesus.141 This said, the ‘linking together’ is a key to Mark’s style. As outlined by Marcus,142 Mark will in his narrative use κύριος with a dual reference to God as well as Jesus, just as his εὐαγγέλιον is labelled Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ as well as τοῦ θεοῦ within fourteen verses. In essence, while the minute details of Mark’s initial scriptural quotation have generated much discussion and conflicting interpretations, I suggest that the thrust of the matter is readily discernible: Mark embarks on a story labelled εὐαγγέλιον, which is immediately connected to Jesus, messianic expectations, and the Isaianic description of the ultimate, eschatological gospel-victory of Yahweh the King. The abrupt, clumsy style effectively communicates the epoch-making notion inherently present in the gospel word group. 4.3.3 A ‘New Exodus’ in Mark? Finally, concerning the composite citation, we return to the question of ‘new exodus.’ This notion has already been discussed in connection to Second Isaiah,143 reaching the two-sided conclusion that Second Isaiah indeed does evoke texts and symbolic language of the first exodus while at the same time eclipse the notion of exodus with new creation language. This duality is reflected in the Markan use of Isaiah as well, as will become clear in the continued analysis below. Here we shall deal with the critique of this concept in relation to Mark raised by Smith and Hatina. As noticed in Chapter 3, Smith rightfully calls for caution against a uniform conception of ‘the Isaianic new exodus.’ At least, it should be used unarticulated, considering the lack of the terminology in Isaiah as well as in the New Testament along with the fluid way the term is defined by scholars.144 Specifically, Smith asks why Mark does not cite more examples from Isaiah with evident exodus imagery (such as 43:2, 51:9–11, and 52:4–12), a lack that leads to the most pertinent question, namely, if we should rather understand Mark’s Isaianic connection as an “Isaianic Restoration, Renewal or New Creation.”145 Hatina, for his part, delivers a partly uneven criticism against this concept. His main concern is that a focus on ‘new exodus’ “overshadows the programmatic function of Jesus’ initial statement in Mk 1.15”146 and thereby the role of the kingdom in Mark. As he is well aware,147 however, researchers like Marcus, Guelich, and Watts emphasize the sequence of Isaianic echoes in Mark’s ––––––––––––––––– See Hatina, Context, 150. See Marcus, Way of the Lord, 38–41. 143 See Section 3.3.1. 144 See Smith, “New Exodus,” 236. 145 Smith, “New Exodus,” 225. 146 Hatina, Context, 138; see also Hatina, Context, 182–83. 147 See Hatina, Context, 154–55. 141 142

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219

beginning and thus infer that Mark is not quoting Isa 40:3 in isolation apart from the gospel notion of 40:9 and the kingly theme present in Second Isaiah in general. Specifically, the kingly clothing of Isa 40:9 is readily discernible in Mark 1:14–15 as an inherent notion of a new exodus motif.148 In the same manner, it is puzzling that Hatina questions whether Mark’s quotation of Isa 40:3 necessarily implies a reference to the broader, kingly context of Isaiah 40,149 while he at the same time seeks to integrate the kingly message of Mark 1:14– 15 as a fulfilment of Mark’s Isaianic quotation, exactly as do those he criticizes.150 Nevertheless, Hatina might have a point in claiming that Watts’s insistence on ‘Isaianic new exodus’ runs the risk of downplaying other possible trajectories in Mark’s structure, such as references to the first exodus (for instance 14:24) or other books in the Hebrew Bible.151 This granted, the way in which Mark prefixes his Isaianic composite citation to the degree of ‘awkwardness’ certainly warrants the full force of Second Isaiah to be at least a very important interpretative key to the entire narrative. To sum up: No matter how this is categorized more precisely, the composite quotation, awkwardly placed and awkwardly labelled Isaianic, is defining for Mark’s narrative and theology. It evokes the epoch-making ‘gospel’ proclamation of Yahweh’s kingly victory and the reestablishment of his presence at Zion. As we shall now see, the remainder of Mark’s beginning is tailored to communicate such a message in which the εὐαγγέλιον Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ translates into the epoch-making new beginning of renewed proximity to the divine in the light of the Isaianic promises of a full restoration.

4.4 Proximity Begun, Prepared, Received, Tested 4.4.1 Epoch-Making Proximity Begun: Ἀρχή (1:1) A discussion of the use of εὐαγγέλιον in Mark rightfully begins with the first word of the narrative to which εὐαγγέλιον functions as a genitive qualifier. Unfortunately, the role and meaning of ἀρχή in Mark’s first line is much debated, and at least four different suggestions are at hand. They may be grouped into two, understanding ἀρχή either in a temporal sense as ‘beginning,’152 or rather ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Marcus, Way of the Lord, 20; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 102. See Hatina, Context, 157–61. 150 See, e.g., Hatina, Context, 183. 151 See Hatina, Context, 23. 152 See, e.g., Gundry, Mark, 32; J. K. Elliott, “Mark and the Teaching of Jesus: An Examination of λόγος and εὐαγγελίον,” in Sayings of Jesus: Canonical and Non-Canonical; Essays in Honour of Tjitze Baarda, ed. William L. Petersen, Johan S. Vos, and Henk J. De Jonge, NovTSup 89 vol. 89 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 37–45; Becker, Markus-Evangelium, 105– 6. 148 149

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more profound in an epochal sense such as ‘rudiments,’ ‘essentials,’ ‘norm/canon,’153 or ‘foundation,’ ‘creation,’154 or even ‘imperium,’ mimicking and mocking the imperium of the emperor.155 Not surprisingly, several scholars opt for a composite solution.156 This variety reflects the wide semantic range of ἀρχή. Gerhard Delling seeks to capture its variety by stating that ἀρχή always signifies “Primat, sei es der Zeit: Anfang, principium, sei es de Ranges: Macht, Reich, Amt.”157 Moisés Silva explains that this basic two-fold sense of beginning and dominion was a natural development with the temporal sense as being the original, which “by natural extension … came to indicate superiority.”158 Observing the nuances in the spectrum between these two senses, BDAG notes seven categories in total, among which we find the Greek philosophical concept of beginning as ‘the first cause,’ a notion reflected also in Gen 1:1 (‫ְבּ ֵראִשׁית‬/ἐν ἀρχῇ). LSJ lists some thirteen different nuances, grouped into the two main categories of beginning/origin and first place/power/sovereignty. Aristotle provides a noteworthy outline (ἀρχὴ λέγεται) in which he begins by defining ἀρχή as the point from which something begins after which follows six other senses, including “the point from which each thing is best brought into being” (ἡ δὲ ὅθεν ἂν κάλλιστα ἕκαστον γένοιτο) and “the point from which a thing is begotten” (ἡ δὲ ὅθεν γίγνεται πρῶτον).159 How is ἀρχή used in Mark 1:1 within this spectrum of senses? A temporal understanding – “Here begins the gospel …” – is supported by several weighty observations. One is that Mark’s three other uses of ἀρχή are temporal. The notion of “the beginning of the birth pains” (ἀρχὴ ὠδίνων) in 13:8 is clearly temporal. So are the two uses of the phrase “from beginning of creation” (ἀπ᾽ ἀρχῆς κτίσεως) in 10:6 and 13:19.160 Another is the aforementioned close parallel formulation in Hos 1:2 LXX in which ἀρχὴ λόγου κυρίου πρὸς Ωσηε is used to mark the beginning of the prophetic message. In a detailed analysis of parallel Greek and Latin texts, Arnold has sought to expand this argument into general usage of ἀρχή as “den Ausgangs- und Anfangspunkt einer schriftlichen

––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Wikgren, “Ἀρχή,” 15–20; Boring, “Mark 1:1–15,” 53. See, e.g., Dillon, “Mark 1:1–15,” 5–6. 155 See, e.g., Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 89–97; Leander, Discourses, 191. 156 See, e.g., Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 76; Weder, “Evangelium,” 401; Focant, Mark, 30. 157 Gerhard Delling, “ἀρχή,” TWNT 1:477, emphasis original. 158 Moisés Silva, “ἀρχή,” NIDNTTE 1:412. 159 Aristotle, Metaph. 5.1, 1012b34–1013a7. 160 See Elliott, “Mark and the Teaching,” 43. 153 154

4.4 Proximity Begun, Prepared, Received, Tested

221

Darstellung.”161 However, looking through Arnold’s nine attestations, only Tacitus’s initium mihi operis162 constitutes a convincing parallel.163 However, the lack of clear attestations of ἀρχή as a notion of a book beginning, an introduction, combined with an interpretation of its placement in Mark as more than “eines Bloßen incipit,”164 has produced the second group of interpretations, attributing foundational significance to Mark’s use. Wikgren proposes that its use in Mark 1:1 should be understood as “‘first thing’ in the sense of ‘rudiments’ or ‘elements’ or ‘essentials’ of the gospel.”165 Wikgren refers to an attestation found in a third- or fourth-century papyrus church letter describing a church member as a καθηκούµενον ἐν ἀρχῇ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, which he argues on the basis of places like Ps 10:10, Sir 29:21, and Heb 5:12 should be understood as ‘the principles of the gospel’ or ‘the essentials of the gospel.’166 This sense is argued by Boring as well, stating that Mark deliberately choses this word as the first word of his entire narrative since it “means not only ‘beginning’ and ‘first principle’ but ‘rule, norm.’”167 In a recent study, Richard Dillon stresses that the use of ἀρχή in Mark indicates more than a temporal starting point but in reality “a normative, trendsetting event,”168 moving from one aeon to another, as in the references to creation (10:6; 13:19) and the eschatological birth pains (13:8). Thus, ἀρχή should be understood as “foundational.”169 In light of this, it is worth considering if there is an echo of the opening phrase of Gen 1:1 LXX, ἐν ἀρχῇ. While the similarity is imperfect and thus often rejected,170 the placement is not, and if an echo is accepted, the notion of the beginning of time as well as the foundation of a new epoch in Gen 1:1 throws light on the significance of the ἀρχή in Mark 1:1.171 Finally, one may also refer to the calendar inscription from Priene/Asia Minor, where εὐαγγέλια and ἄρχειν are combined in a context that in the very same manner communicates a temporal beginning (that is, a New Year’s day) as well as an epochal transition (that is, into a new calendar system as a transition into a new organization of the year).172 ––––––––––––––––– Arnold, “Mk 1,1,” 126. Tacitus, Hist. 1.1.1. 163 See also the evaluation in Boring, “Mark 1:1–15,” 15 n. 14. As noted by Boring, ἀρχή as introduction to a book is also not one of the uses listed in LSJ. 164 Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 76. 165 Wikgren, “Ἀρχή,” 17. 166 See Wikgren, “Ἀρχή,” 16–20. 167 Boring, “Mark 1:1–15,” 53. 168 Dillon, “Mark 1:1–15,” 6. 169 Dillon, “Mark 1:1–15,” 6 n. 16, emphasis original. 170 Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 8. 171 A connotation of creation is comprehensively argued by C. F. Burney, “Christ as the ἀρχή of Creation,” JTS 27.106 (1926): 160–77. 172 See Section 2.2.2. 161 162

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In light of the spectrum of senses carried by ἀρχή, it carries most weight to understand the Markan use in 1:1 in a composite manner. To follow Aristotle, ἀρχή denotes the point a line begins as well as the place from which a thing is begotten. In the case of Mark 1:1, ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου certainly carries the notion of a temporal beginning, but at the same time the sense of a foundational beginning of a new epoch is likewise corroborated by the reference to Isaiah in the ensuing verse. While Second Isaiah LXX does not use the word group in a profound way, the notion of an epoch-making new beginning is part and parcel of its gospel proclamation. Thus, to borrow the wording of Pesch, ἀρχή should in Mark 1:1 be understood “als Beginn und Grundlage”173 of a new era. 4.4.2 Epoch-Making Proximity Prepared (1:4–8) As argued above, the insertion of the composite citation before the introduction of John serves to highlight the role of Jesus in the Isaianic cast of Mark’s narrative. As will become clear below, this does not mean that John is left out of the picture. To the contrary, from the subservient position he is given, he is ascribed an extremely important role in what may be termed the preparation of nearness of the epoch-making proximity to the divine, which again is an exposition of how Mark understood his ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου. In other words, while John is not ascribed the role of preacher or bringer of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, he is an intrinsic part of its ἀρχή by being its first act, an act of preparation. In detail, John’s preparatory role is highlighted by Mark in four ways: (1) Preparation by Scripture: In each of the three main cases for understanding the grammatical construction of 1:1–4, the role of John is framed scripturally. Though the grammatical connection is most explicit if we follow the punctuation of Nestle-Aland, a full stop after v. 3 would not remove the connection. Not only does the abrupt, asyndetic ἐγένετο Ἰωάννης serve to keep the distance short,174 the immediate repetition of ἔρηµος and the notion of John’s kerygmatic activity identifies who the φωνὴ βοῶντος ἐν τῇ ἐρήµῳ is. (2) Preparation of the Isaianic eschatological stage: This intimate relationship between the ‘Isaianic’ citation and John is bolstered through a number of echoes and references to Second Isaiah, which combined serve to provide a dramatic scene for the arrival of the eschatological proximity to the divine, the central nerve in the Isaianic visions of a full restoration: (a) ἔρηµος (v. 4): As discussed in Section 3.4, there is strong evidence in late Second Temple Jewish texts for the magnetic attraction to the wilderness as the eschatological stage for the fulfilment of Isa 40:3. From the role ascribed to the wilderness as the place of preparation by the Qumran people to the five mentioned instances in Josephus of ‘wilderness rebels,’ we grasp how the ––––––––––––––––– 173 174

Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 76. See Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 18.

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ἔρηµος had attracted a “foundational significance,”175 especially in connection with the Jordan river. This is especially emphasized in Josephus’s description of Theudas, the “cheater” (γόης), who persuaded people to follow him down to the river, which he as a prophet (προφήτης) would divide (σχίζειν) and provide safe passage through to a new state of existence.176 In the text of Mark 1:4–8, the point not to be missed is the identification of John as the Isaianic φωνή in the ἔρηµος. (b) κηρύσσειν (vv. 4, 7): As noted by Cranfield,177 the reference to κηρύσσειν in this context likely preserves another Isaianic reference since the notion of κηρύξαι αἰχµαλώτοις ἄφεσιν in Isa 61:1 LXX falls in a context of εὐαγγελproclamation. If this echo is intended by Mark, it opens the questions of who Mark identifies as the ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος. Jesus is identified as Χριστός and John as the ἄγγελος, but neither is specifically labelled εὐάγγελος or ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος (Isa 40:9). As discussed by Stuhlmacher, there is a certain ambiguity concerning who is the ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬in late Second Temple Jewish texts. Various eschatological characters are identified as such, like “der endzeitliche Prophet wie der Messias, Elia wie ein Ungenannter, jo sogar eine (unbestimmte) Anzahl endzeitlicher Propheten.”178 In Isa 40:9 LXX, the change from feminine to masculine opens up for the possibility that the φωνὴ βοῶντος ἐν τῇ ἐρήµῳ of 40:3 is the same as ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος Σιων in 40:9. That Mark refrains from identifying the voice in the desert with the messenger to the city could be taken to indicate a subjective understanding of Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ in 1:1 in that Jesus, not John, is ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος to Mark. On the other hand, while Jesus is certainly identified as the preacher of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον in 1:14, Mark does not label Jesus ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος. Instead, the yahwistic connotation ascribed to Jesus by αὐτοῦ in v. 3 opens a ‘metonymic gap’ in which the exact role of Jesus in Mark’s worldview is yet to be fully explained.179 This inconsistency works the other way around as well, opening up a space for John as the staged Isaianic messenger and part of the proclamation of the gospel. That this indeed is part of the picture is evidenced by the shared vocabulary of κηρύσσειν and ἄφεσις with Isa 61:1 LXX and thereby the ‘gospel’ proclamation (εὐαγγελίζεσθαι). (c) µετάνοια and ἄφεσις (v. 4): As discussed in the previous chapter, the question of guilt (‫ָﬠוֹן‬/ταπείνωσις) and sin (‫ַחָטּאת‬/ἁµαρτία) is woven into the theme of Second Isaiah right from the beginning and recurs consistently as the ––––––––––––––––– Collins, Mark, 142. See Josephus, Ant. 20.97–98. It might be mentioned that though Josephus does not provide us with the locality of John’s activities, Herod Antipas takes him to Machaerus located north-east of the Dead Sea, which suggests that Josephus understood him somewhat parallel to the wilderness rebels, see Ant. 18.116–119. 177 See Cranfield, Mark, 42. 178 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 151. 179 See also Francis J. Moloney, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2002), 32. 175 176

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reason for the exile.180 In particular, the fourth Servant Song is packed with references to various kinds of guilt, sin, and transgression. In our survey of the reuse of the visions of Isaiah 40–66 in late Second Temple Jewish texts, 11Q13 was found to be especially striking in binding together the Isaianic visions with themes from the Day of Atonement and the Year of Jubilee with the notions of forgiveness of inequities (‫עון‬, II, 6) and atonement (‫לכפר‬, II, 8) in a context of return from exile and full restoration.181 Likewise is the theme of repentance a theme deeply interwoven into Isaiah 40–66 with the concept of ‫שׁוב‬, that in the Septuagint is translated with ἀποστρέφειν/ἐπιστρέφειν when used in context of repentance and return to Yahweh,182 and which eventually became synonymous with µετάνοια/µετανοεῖν.183 In this connection, the suggestion of Cross to view the vision of Yahweh’s march on the way just as much as a pilgrimage as march for battle is worth recalling.184 In Isa 40:3–11 and 52:1–10, we find intertwined notions of war and cult that are reflected there as well. (d) ὁ ἰσχυρότερος (v. 7): Another intrinsic theme of Second Isaiah is the power and might of Yahweh to be put on display as part of his victorious return to Jerusalem as the one “who comes in strength” (µετὰ ἰσχύος ἔρχεται, Isa 40:10 LXX).185 Naturally, as outlined for example by Francis Moloney, ὁ ἰσχυρός is at times used as an epithet of God in the Septuagint, just as the theme of Yahweh as ‘the Mighty One’ is widespread.186 However, as laid out in detail in Section 3.3, the description of Yahweh as the strong, victorious warrior-king is at the very heart of Isaianic restoration. The φωνὴ βοῶντος ἐν τῇ ἐρήµῳ is one proclaiming the advent of the stronger one, returning victoriously from the battlefield, a trajectory that is brought to its zenith in Isa 52:1–10, just as might and recognition is the destiny for the weakened and suffering servant.187 This is the main theme of the next chapter, but it may be noted here that several Jewish texts from the late Second Temple period envision God’s deliverance of his people to be mediated by a ‘strong man’ such as Melchizedek or a messiah.188 ––––––––––––––––– See Isa 40:2; 42:24; 43:24–27; 44:22; 46:8; 48:8; 50:1, see further Section 3.3.2. For an instructive overview of the relationship between repentance and return from exile in late Second Temple Jewish texts, see further Tucker S. Ferda, “John the Baptist, Isaiah 40, and the Ingathering of the Exiles,” JSHJ 10 (2012): 157–67. 182 See Isa 44:22; 45:22; 46:8; 55:7; 59:20. 183 See Cranfield, Mark, 44–46. 184 See Cross, “Council of Yahweh,” 274–77, see the discussion in Section 3.3.2. 185 See, e.g., Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 63; Collins, Mark, 146. 186 Cf, e.g., 2 Kgdms 22:31, 33; Neh 1:5; 9:32; Job 22:13; 33:29; 36:22, 26; 37:5. See Moloney, Mark, 34. 187 See Isa 52:13–14; 53:10–12. 188 See most notably Pss. Sol. 17:21–46; 11Q13; T. Levi 18:12, see Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 146–52. 180 181

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(e) πνεῦµα (v. 8): The notion of πνεῦµα, in contrast to ὕδωρ, will be discussed further below. Here it will suffice to say that while I agree with the consensus in finding Ezek 36:25–28 as the most obvious intertext for this constellation, the connection between restoration and spirit is evident in Isaiah as well. The three passages of Isa 11:1–16, 42:1–9, and 61:1–3 are particularly important for promising the bestowment of πνεῦµα κυρίου to an end-time figure.189 Again, this theme is elaborated on by other Jewish texts from the late Second Temple period in contexts quoting or echoing Isaiah.190 (f) Elijah Redivivus: Though only tangibly connected with the specific Isaianic visions of restoration,191 the echo of the Elijah Redivivus expectations drawn from Mal 3:23–24 (3:22–23 LXX; 4:5–6 ET) is likewise incorporated into the picture of John in order to furnish the eschatological stage. As outlined for instance by Markus Öhler, there is some attestation in late Second Temple Jewish texts for such expectations of Elijah’s return before the eschatological Day of Judgment,192 which were clearly important to address through the Synoptic Gospels.193 While it is not important for our purposes if it was a novum that Elijah is staged as a forerunner for the Messiah as well in the Synoptic Gospels,194 the cast of John as Elijah is highly important for Mark, which may be seen from three things: the initial citation of Mal 3:1; the way in which Elijah is a recurring theme, reflected in the interpretations of Jesus and elaborated on in the transfiguration scene, in which it may be inferred that John in identified as the coming Elijah;195 and, finally, the way in which Mark provides ––––––––––––––––– 189 For the role of the Spirit in Isaiah, see Rodrigo J. Morales, The Spirit and the Restoration of Israel: New Exodus and New Creation Motifs in Galatians, WUNT 2/282 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 15–28. 190 See most notably Pss. Sol. 17:37 (“God made him strong by holy spirit,” ὁ θεὸς κατειργάσατο αὐτὸν δυνατὸν ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ); 4Q521 2 II+4, 6 (“and his spirit ( ‫ )רוחו‬will hover upon the poor, and he will renew the faithful ( ‫ )בכחו‬with his strength,” after DSSSE 2:1045); 11Q13 II, 18 (“And the messenger ( ‫ )המבשר‬i[s] the anointed of the spir[it],” after DSSSE 2:1209). 191 While Elijah plays no role in Isaiah, Sir 48:10 enhances Elijah’s role from solely family reconciliation (‘turning a father’s heart to his son’) to also “restore the tribes of Jacob” (καταστῆσαι φυλὰς Ιακωβ), which may, as argued by Markus Öhler, be under influence of the expansive role ascribed to the servant in Isa 49:6. This process of enhancement is also seen in Mal 3:23 LXX, including the neighbor (πλησίον) in the reconciliatory process. See further Marcus Öhler, “The Expectation of Elijah and the Presence of the Kingdom of God,” JBL 118.3 (1999): 462. 192 See, e.g., Mal 3:23–24 (3:22–23 LXX; 4:5–6 ET); Sir 48:10; Sib. Or. 2:187–89, see Öhler, “Expectation of Elijah,” 461–64. 193 Mark 6:15 par.; 8:28 par.; 9:4–5 par.; 9:11–13 par.; 15:35–36 par. 194 See, e.g., Morris M. Faierstein, “Why Do the Scribes Say That Elijah Must Come First,” JBL 100.1 (1981): 75–86; Dale C. Allison, “Elijah Must Come First,” JBL 103.2 (1984): 256–58; Öhler, “Expectation of Elijah,” 463–64. 195 See Mark 6:15; 8:28; 9:4, 11–13; 15:35–36.

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us with two pieces of background information that serve to cast John as Elijahlike in terms of clothing and diet. 4 Kgdms 1:8 describes Elijah as “a hairy man” (ἀνὴρ δασύς) “with a belt of leather around his wrist” (ζώνην δερµατίνην περιεζωσµένος τὴν ὀσφὺν αὐτοῦ), the last information reused almost verbatim in Mark and the first mirrored by the τρίχας καµήλου.196 In other words, Mark draws on Malachi’s expectation of the return of Elijah before Yahweh’s day (‫יוֹם ְיה ָוה‬/ἡµέρα κυρίου) in order to set the stage for an immediate impact of and exposure to the presence of the divine. Combined, these features of 1:4–8 unfold the preceding scriptural citations and set the Isaianic stage of the εὐαγγέλιον Mark is about to unfold. (3) Preparation of the people: Coming now to the content of John’s ministry, it is uncontroversial to understand his task of κατασκευάζειν and ἑτοιµάζειν as having two objects: the people and Jesus. Apart from this consensus, the vast scholarship on John the Baptist is fuelled by points of dispute, ranging from historical questions of the background and inspiration behind John’s baptism to its theological nature as either an apocalyptic in-break and divine gift or an eschatological, ethical preparation of the people. The crux of the matter is the exact relationship between repentance and forgiveness of sin entailed in the notion of βάπτισµα µετανοίας εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁµαρτιῶν. This is not the place to rehearse these debates in any detail.197 Instead, I will highlight a peculiar agreement across the spectrum, from those understanding the baptism ‘sacramentally’ as God’s eschatological in-break198 to those understanding it as a part of an ethical purification in line with Josephus’s description of John199 or the specific suggestion to understand John’s baptism as akin to the cultic “extra immersion for consecration” performed “before encountering the holy in the Temple.”200 In each projected thesis, John’s task is understood as a preparation for the immediate impact of and close encounter with the divine presence. John is not understood just as ‘a forerunner’ in the sense of a temporal prequel to Jesus or a mere announcer; his role is understood as far more profound, as a necessary mediator with the task of preparing the people to partake in the inbreaking proximity. For example, according to Collins, John’s baptism was “a ––––––––––––––––– 196 As argued by Collins, the tradition of prophetic figures wearing hairy dresses was a later invention under influence of Zech 13:4, see Collins, Mark, 145, pace Gundry, Mark, 37. 197 Research overviews are available in Robert L. Webb, “John the Baptist and His Relationship to Jesus,” in Studying the Historical Jesus: Evaluations of the State of Current Research, ed. Bruce Chilton and Craig A. Evans, NTTS 19 (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 179–85; Albert I. Baumgarten, “The Baptism of John in a Second Temple Jewish Context,” in Wisdom Poured Out Like Water: Studies on Jewish and Christian Antiquity in Honor of Gabriele Boccaccini, ed. J. Harold Ellens et al., DCLS 38 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2018), 399–414. 198 See, e.g., Marcus, Way of the Lord, 29–31; Collins, Mark, 140. 199 See, e.g., Hatina, Context, 165–69. 200 Baumgarten, “Baptism of John,” 412.

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transformation of the Levitical type of immersion in light of eschatological expectation based on prophetic texts.”201 Webb describes John’s ministry and baptism among other things as a “returning to a relationship with God,” which mediated “divine forgiveness” and “purified from uncleanness.”202 Marcus describes it as an “eschatological sacrament” in which “forgiveness of sins is granted.”203 Hatina, who otherwise disagrees with Marcus, also understands John’s ministry “eschatologically” and emphasizes that Israel is “to prepare themselves not only for the visitation of God, but also for following his commands.”204 In the following, I will further strengthen the understanding of John’s preparation of the people as a preparation for an epoch-changing impact of the proximity of the divine by three observations: (a) First, the compact scene of 1:4–8 is densely loaded with features and references that serve to build up tension before impact: As already discussed above, no matter how we understand ἐγένετο, it provides a sense of immediate expectation: If it begins a new sentence, the asyndetic structure builds a sense of urgency.205 If it should be tied to v. 1, it becomes an intimate part of the gospel announcement. If it should be tied to the composite citation, it becomes the first event in the Markan narrative to usher in the new epoch of scriptural fulfilment upon which Jesus will follow structurally aligned (καὶ ἐγένετο). Further, the setting of the stage ἐν τῇ ἐρήµῳ mirrors the Isaianic ἐν τῇ ἐρήµῳ, just as the ἐν τῷ Ἰορδάνῃ ποταµῷ probably draws on the “symbolic significance”206 the river had in Jewish tradition, not only as the place of crossing into the promised land but also as the place particularly connected with Elijah and Elisa as the place of Elijah’s ascension and Elisa’s cleansing of Naaman.207 Finally, into this highly charged scene, two groups are introduced, whose act and words mirror each other: When John “preaches” (κηρύσσειν), the people from πᾶσα ἡ Ἰουδαία χώρα καὶ οἱ Ἱεροσολυµῖται πάντες “come out” (ἐκπορεύεσθαι). When the people “confess” (ἐξοµολογεῖν) their sins, John “baptises” (βαπτίζειν) them.208 ––––––––––––––––– Collins, Mark, 140. Webb, “John the Baptist,” 189–92. 203 Marcus, Way of the Lord, 31. 204 Hatina, Context, 182. 205 See Voelz, Mark 1:1–8:26, 17. 206 See Collins, Mark, 142. 207 See 2 Kgs 2:1–14 and 5:1–24 (pace Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 20), besides Josh 3. 208 The parallelism between John’s preaching and baptizing is spelled out already in v. 4 by a weighty manuscript tradition by the removal of the article (A K P W Γ ƒ1.13 565. 579. 1241. 1424. 2542. ℓ 844 𝔐 syh sa?) or by a change of word order into βαπτίζων καὶ κηρύσσων (D Θ 28. 700. ℓ 2211 lat syp). Metzger explains its inclusion as a result of the widespread synoptic tradition for using ὁ βαπτίζων as a name, including Mark 6:14, 24, and thus 201 202

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In other words, it is the perfect scene for a breakthrough of epoch-making dimensions. The place is perfect and there is full correspondence between the messenger and the people. (b) Further, the prophetic outline of John’s ministry has produced a number of suggestions as to which scriptural background best serves as interpretative framework of John’s ministry besides the embedded amalgamation of Exod 23:20, Mal 3:1, and Isa 40:3 that also in Mark is part of the staging of John. A wide array of texts from the Hebrew Bible have been considered since no obvious Vorlage is found incorporating all elements attached to John, such as the prophetic call to repentance (‫)שׁוב‬, the reference to ἄφεσις ἁµαρτιῶν, the entire people of Israel, some kind of water ablution, and, finally, the spirit of Yahweh.209 In particular, the following texts may be considered: – Exod 19:6, 10, 14: Mark’s repetition of πᾶς in v. 5 combined with the notion of water ablution is shared with the initial climax of the exodus event as described in Exodus 19, in which the people as preparation for the experience of the presence of Yahweh on the mountain wash (‫כבס‬/πλύνειν) their clothes in order to obtain a state of holiness and purity210 as “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (‫ַמְמֶלֶכת כֲֹּה ִנים ְוגוֹי ָקדוֹשׁ‬/βασίλειον ἱεράτευµα καὶ ἔθνος ἅγιον).211 – Ezek 36:25–28: Ezekiel 36–37 draws on Exodus 19 in presenting a vision of an eschatological renewal of the entire people in new-creation language.212 After a promise of a new exodus and gathering in the land, the central vision in 36:25–28 brings together the notions of sprinkling (‫זרק‬/ῥαίνειν), pure water (‫ַמ ִים ְטהוֹ ִרים‬/ὕδωρ καθαρόν), purification (‫טהר‬/καθαρίζειν), a new heart (‫ֵלב ָח ָדשׁ‬/καρδία καινή), and finally also a new spirit (‫רוּ ַח ֲח ָדָשׁה‬/πνεῦµα καινόν) that is Yahweh’s spirit (‫רוִּחי‬/τὸ πνεῦµά µου). While the notions of impurity and sin should be distinguished, as stressed

––––––––––––––––– probably not original, see Bruce M. Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, 3rd ed. (Stuttgart: United Bible Societies, 1971), 62; see also Klauck, Vorspiel, 24– 25; Collins, Mark, 133. 209 For instance Lev 14:5–6, 50–52; Num 19:13, 20–21; Ps 51:7; Isa 1:16; 55:7; Jer 18:11; Zech 1:4; 3:11–15; 12:10–13:1; Jonah 1:2; 3:2, see, e.g., Vincent, St. Mark, 155; Cranfield, Mark, 42–47; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 18–19; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 154; Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 62. 210 Interestingly, the LXX uses ἁγιάζειν and ἁγνίζειν interchangeably to translate ‫ קדשׁ‬in Exod 19:10, 14, which emphasizes the close affinity between purity and holiness. 211 See, e.g., Edwards, Mark, 30–31. 212 See Walther Eichrodt, Ezekiel: A Commentary, OTL (London: SCM, 1970), 492–505. The same idea is also expressed in Ezek 11:18–20 and Jer 31:31–34, see Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–48, Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), 249.

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229

for example by Jonathan Klawans,213 there is evidence in late Second Temple texts of an increasing overlap between the two.214 Especially Klawans’s notion of “moral impurity” denotes a kind of impurity that was always deemed sinful. The overlap between purity concerns and sin heightens the possibility of an echo of Ezekiel’s καθαρισθήσεσθε ἀπὸ πασῶν τῶν ἀκαθαρσιῶν ὑµῶν in Mark’s notion of ἄφεσις ἁµαρτιῶν.215 – Zech 12:10–13:2: The fusion of impurity and sin is likewise observable in the eschatological vision of Zechariah 12–14, promising “a spirit of grace and supplication” (‫רוּ ַח ֵחן ְוַתֲחנוּ ִנים‬/πνεῦµα χάριτος καὶ οἰκτιρµοῦ) to the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to which there will be opened a spring (‫“ )ָמקוֹר‬for sin and uncleanness” (‫)ְלַחַטּאת וְּל ִנ ָדּה‬.216 According to Marcus, this is a likely intertextual link since “God here baptizes (that is, envelops and immerses) the people in a wave of eschatological repentance and spiritual cleansing.”217 – Isaiah: One of the themes shared across Isaiah’s different parts concerns the need for purity and forgiveness of sins through repentance, purity, and holiness, upon which Yahweh will impart his spirit to the people or a servant figure. In particular, in connection with the eschatological restoration and return from exile, there is an emphasis on separation from the unclean (‫ָטֵמא‬/ἀκάθαρτος),218 cleansing (‫טהר‬, ‫ברר‬/καθαρίζειν, ἀφορίζειν),219 holiness (‫קֹ ֶדשׁ‬/ἅγιος),220 repentance for sin,221 and the spirit of Yahweh.222 While none of these Isaianic texts feature the number of similarities with Mark’s description of John’s ministry as does Ezek 36:25–28, the thrust of the matter is present: The eschatological breakthrough encompasses forgiveness, cleansing, purity, holiness, and spirit to a new degree. Taken together, it must be admitted that no single scriptural tradition explains the composite nature of John’s ministry. It rather seems to be the case that Mark ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Jonathan Klawans, Impurity and Sin in Ancient Judaism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000); Jonathan Klawans, “Moral and Ritual Purity,” in The Historical Jesus in Context, ed. Amy-Jill Levine, Dale C. Allison Jr., and John Dominic Crossan, Princeton Readings in Religion (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006), 266–84. 214 See Ferda, “John the Baptist,” 171. 215 See also Collins, Mark, 139; Ferda, “John the Baptist,” 171. 216 The LXX differs substantially from the MT in this verse in translating spring or source ( ‫ )ָמ קוֹר‬with “place” (τόπος), just as the purpose phrase is omitted in some weighty manuscripts (Q W) and, if included, paraphrased as “for transformation and for separation/cleansing” (εἰς τὴν µετακίνησιν καὶ εἰς τὸν χωρισµόν/ῥαντισµόν, e.g., ℵc.b A). 217 Marcus, Mark 8–16, 156. 218 See, e.g., Isa 35:8; 52:1, 11; 64:5. 219 See, e.g., Isa 52:11; 66:17. 220 See, e.g., Isa 35:8; 41:14; 52:1, 10; 56:7; 62:12; 65:5. 221 See, e.g., Isa 6:7; 40:2; 43:22–28; 53:11–12; 59:1–3. 222 See, e.g., Isa 11:2; 42:1; 44:3; 45:22; 48:16; 59:21; 61:1; 63:11. 213

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depicts John in the light of several scriptural traditions, as evident by the number of suggested Vorlagen, which in a combined manner serve to highlight the profound nature of John’s ministry. (c) Thirdly, it has been intensively discussed if John’s baptism was a novum or if historical precedents can be established. Especially two suggestions have been marshalled to proove the latter, namely a connection to the spirit baptism of Qumran and the proselyte baptism: The overlap between Mark’s description of John’s ministry and the prescriptions for purity in the Community Rule are considerable. As part of the regulation of different offices in the ‫יחד‬, 1QS III deals with the case of the one who refuses to be part of the new covenant by rejecting the laws of righteousness. He is unclean (‫ )טמא‬to the degree that no flowing water is able to purify him.223 Only “by the holy spirit” (‫ )ברוח קדושה‬can he obtain atonement (‫ )כפר‬and purification (‫“ )טהר‬for all his sins” (‫)מכול עוונותו‬.224 “Through a spirit of uprightness and humility” (‫)ברוח יושר וענוה‬, he can sanctify himself “by purifying waters” (‫)במי נדה‬.225 In essence, 1QS connects true repentance, water ablution, atonement, and forgiveness of sins with the holy spirit in a context where the eschatological restoration of the brotherhood, the community of Israel in the desert, is the theme of interest. In the words of Collins, “the similarities … are indeed striking.”226 But, as Collins continues, so are the differences. The repeated nature of the ritual immersions of Qumran is often pointed out, as is the absence of a certain ‘baptizer’ to administer the immersions.227 Collins also emphasizes the differences in setting and rejects the suggestion that the discussion in 1QS III–IV concerns initiation in the Qumran community. Instead, it describes the way in which a true member of the community, who is already morally cleansed, can secure perfect cleansing by the “purifying waters” and the holy spirit in order to be part of the daily communal meal. In contrast, John’s baptism was public and initiatory. On the other hand, it is questionable whether Collins’s distinction between Mark and 1QS and Josephus holds up to scrutiny when it comes to the relationship between ritual and moral purity. According to Collins, 1QS contains “a sophisticated reflection on the relationship between regular ritual washing and moral conversion,” contrary to Mark’s description of John, but similar to Josephus’s, in which he states that John would only baptize those whose “souls were already purified by righteousness” (τῆς ––––––––––––––––– See 1QS III, 4–6. See 1QS III, 6–7. 225 See 1QS III, 8–9. The process of purification by the Holy Spirit through “purifying waters” is mentioned as well in III, 7–9; IV, 20–21, see further Joel Marcus, John the Baptist in History and Theology (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2018), 69. 226 Collins, Mark, 140; see also Adela Yarbro Collins, “The Origin of Christian Baptism,” StLi 19.1 (1989): 31–32. 227 See, e.g., Gnilka, Markus 1–8,26, 45–46; John P. Meier, The Roots of the Problem and the Person, 5 vols. (Garden City, NY; New York: Doubleday, 1991), 1:50–51. 223 224

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231

ψυχῆς δικαιοσύνῃ προεκκεκαθαρµένης).228 While Josephus indeed ascribes a necessary sequence between morally and bodily purity to John, 1QS III, 6–9 simply combines the act of the spirit with the attitude of humility of the penitent in a manner closely resembling the connection between βαπτίζειν and ἐξοµολογεῖν in Mark 1:5.229 The other much discussed and at least in previous scholarship often accepted precursor to John’s baptism is the Jewish proselyte baptism, which was a singular event administered by Jewish authorities. Unfortunately, it has proven difficult to establish clear reference to the practice before the second half of the first century or the early second century, before which circumcision was the sole marker of conversion.230 This lack of a clear historical match to John’s baptism may be seen as an argument for the Christian baptism as a novum.231 It is more likely, however, following Collins, to view it as a fusion of several ideas in vogue at the time, for instance of Levitical purity ablutions with a prophetic-apocalyptic anticipation of eschatological purity as evidenced by Ezekiel and other of the texts discussed above.232 Unfortunately, it falls without the scope of the present investigation to deal with purity issues in late Second Temple Judaism, but stated in overview there is widespread evidence in late Second Temple Jewish sources as well as in the archaeological records for an expansionist purity trend in which priestly purity was adopted by regular Jews in what Eyal Regev aptly labels “non-priestly purity.”233 ––––––––––––––––– Josephus, Ant. 18.117. The exact relationship between baptism, repentance, and forgiveness implied in (a) the genitive phrase βάπτισµα µετανοίας, (b) the purpose phrase εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁµαρτιῶν, and (c) the participial ἐξοµολογούµενοι τὰς ἁµαρτίας αὐτῶν of Mark 1:4–5 is difficult to judge and open to the interpreter’s theological preferences, see, e.g., Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 19–20; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 156. It should be accepted, though, whether one understands confession as a prerequisite to baptism and forgiveness (the ethical view), or whether one rather depicts it as a product of the eschatological in-break (the ‘sacramental’ view), that baptism and repentance are intimately connected as evident in the genitive phrase βάπτισµα µετανοίας. See also the theological musings in Meiers, Marginal Jew 1, 54–55. 230 For a review of the research and the relevant texts, see Collins, “Christian Baptism,” 32–35; see also Gnilka, Markus 1–8,26, 45; Meiers, Marginal Jew 1, 51–52; Marcus, John the Baptist, 78–80. 231 See, e.g., Gnilka, Markus 1–8,26, 45; Morna D. Hooker, The Gospel According to St Mark, BNTC (London: Black, 1991), 39–43; Meiers, Marginal Jew 1, 52–53. 232 See Collins, “Christian Baptism,” 35–36. For the role of purity as part of John’s baptism; see also Webb, “John the Baptist,” 192–93; Ferda, “John the Baptist,” 170–71; Baumgarten, “Baptism of John,” 409–13; Marcus, John the Baptist, 62–80. 233 See, e.g., Eyal Regev, “Pure Individualism: The Idea of Non-Priestly Purity in Ancient Judaism,” JSJ 31.2 (2000): 176–202. See also Collins, “Christian Baptism,” 35–36; Jensen, “Purity and Politics,” 31. 228 229

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To sum up this part on John’s preparation of the people, a number of particular devices in Mark’s staging of John’s ministry are detected, which when combined testify to the case presently argued in which John is more than a forerunner, but fundamental to the flow of Mark’s narrative with the preeminent task of preparing the people for the immediate exposure to the epochchanging divine presence. (4) Preparation of Jesus: The final way in which John’s ministry serves a preparatory role is the way in which he prepares the way for Jesus. This is, as often pointed out in research,234 a deep-seated element in Mark’s narrative, which may be viewed by the way in which Jesus’s ministry is both similar and superior to John’s and in both respects portrayed as a succession. In overview, this tripartite relationship is outlined in Table 3, and the following details may be noted: (a) The similarities include: – The position of the composite citation serves to provide a similar scriptural basis for Jesus and John. – On the formal side, they are introduced with similar formulas: ἐγένετο.… Καὶ ἐγένετο. – Both have a ministry of κηρύσσειν. – Both are active in the wilderness. – Both baptize. – Both preach repentance. – Both share the destiny of being handed over. – Both gather πᾶς of the people around them.235 (b) At the same time, the number of dissimilarities unequivocally subjects John to Jesus: – John labels Jesus ὁ ἰσχυρότερος and describes him as highly superior to himself (1:7–8). – The ‘eschatological’ difference between baptism ὕδατι and ἐν πνεύµατι (1:8). – John preaches baptism of forgiveness, but Jesus preaches τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ (1:4, 14–15). – John is fed by the wilderness, Jesus by the angels (1:6, 13). – The epoch-changing time of fulfilment is ahead of John but at hand and fulfilled for Jesus (1:7, 15).

––––––––––––––––– 234 See, e.g., Matera, “Prologue,” 6–7; Hooker, Mark, 38; Klauck, Vorspiel, 21–27; Hatina, Context, 171–74; Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 68–69. 235 For a survey of the continuity between John and Jesus in other texts as well, see Dale C. Allison, “The Continuity Between John and Jesus,” JSHJ 1.1 (2003): 6–27.

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– Most pointedly, John is ὁ ἄγγελός µου, whereas Jesus is ὁ υἱός µου ὁ ἀγαπητός (1:2, 11). (c) Crucially, the way Jesus is similar and yet superior to John serves to portray his ministry as a succession to John’s. The importance of this theme to Mark is made clear in the introduction pursued throughout to the cross scene: – The composite citation intimately connects Jesus’s ministry to the preceding ministry of John by the notions of preparation. – John preaches Jesus as the one coming ὀπίσω µου.236 – John is instrumental in Jesus’s baptism, which provides him with the spirit. – Jesus’s ministry in Galilee only begins after John is handed over. – After the introduction, Mark persistently returns to the interdependent relationship between John and Jesus at crucial junctures in which the christological identity of Jesus is at stake. A correct identification of the relationship between the two serves as a hermeneutical key to the ministry and death of Jesus, and those who do not get it right will unavoidably misinterpret John and Jesus’s “relationship, their identities, and their missions.”237 This is the case with the disciples of John and the Pharisees (2:18–19), Herod Antipas (6:14–16), the crowds (8:28–29), maybe even the core of the disciples (9:11–13), the high priests, the scribes and the elders in Jerusalem (11:27– 33), and the people gathered for the crucifixion (15:35). Table 3: Similarity, superiority, and succession between John and Jesus Similarity

Superiority

Succession

Scriptural basis: 1:2–3

ὁ ἰσχυρότερος: 1:7

1:2–3: κατασκευάζειν, ἑτοιµάζειν

ἐγένετο: 1:4, 9

ὕδατι vs. ἐν πνεύµατι: 1:8

1:7: ὀπίσω µου

κηρύσσειν: 1:4, 7, 14, etc.

βάπτισµα µετανοίας εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁµαρτιῶν vs. τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ: 1:4, 14

1:9–11: ὑπὸ Ἰωάννου

ἔρηµος: 1:4, 12–13, etc.

ἐσθίων ἀκρίδας καὶ µέλι ἄγριον vs. οἱ ἄγγελοι διηκόνουν αὐτω: 1:6, 13

1:14: µετά δὲ τὸ παραδοθῆναι τὸν Ἰωάννην

βαπτίζειν: 1:8

ἔρχεται vs. πεπλήρωται: 1:7, 15

2:18–19: Different attitude to fasting

––––––––––––––––– 236 Dillon suggests that Mark, in letting John use this phrase, presents Jesus as a disciple of John since ὀπίσω µου is used to indicate discipleship in 1:17; 8:34 (see Dillon, “Mark 1:1– 15,” 7). Jesus’s rebuke of Peter in 8:33, however, demonstrates a multiple use of the phrase. 237 Matera, “Prologue,” 7.

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µετάνοια, µετανοεῖν: 1:4, 15

ὁ ἄγγελος µου vs. ὁ υἱός µου 6:14–16: Herod Antipas misὁ ἀγαπητός: 1:2, 11 interprets Jesus as John redivivus, others as Elijah or as a prophet

παραδιδόναι: 1:14, 9:31, etc.

8:28–29: The crowds are misinterpreting Jesus as John redivivus, Elijah or a prophet

πᾶς: 1:5, 1:37, 2:13, etc.

9:11–13: The disciples struggle with the correct identification of John as Elijah 11:27–33: The question of the connection between Jesus’s ἐξουσία and John’s βάπτισµα 15:35: The bystanders at the cross think Jesus is calling to Elijah

To conclude this part, the εὐαγγέλιον presented by Mark is prepared and bridged by John in a way that is hard to overestimate and that expands far beyond the introduction. In short, John provides the Isaianic stage in preparation for the epoch-changing proximity to the divine by preparing the state of the people and by preparing the ὁδός for Jesus as well as mediating his reception of the spirit.238 4.4.3 Epoch-Making Proximity Received (1:9–11) Needless to say, as in the case of John, the baptism of Jesus has been treated extensively in research with a focus on issues like genre, the relationship between John and Jesus, the differences between the evangelists, the historicity of the scene, and identification of the echo from the Hebrew Bible embedded in the heavenly voice.239 Pursuing the suggestion that Mark presents his εὐαγγέλιον as an epoch-making intrusion of the presence of God, the focus in what follows will be on the following three questions: First, what does the ––––––––––––––––– 238 As outlined in Section 2.4, postcolonial and/or anti-imperial readings of Mark often limit their discussion to certain proof-texts. Rarely, if ever, is the role of John part of the picture, which serves to exemplify the criticism I leveled against these approaches for lack of explanatory power. The emphasis on John’s role in Mark cannot be explained apart from the horizon of Jewish expectations and scriptural readings in the late Second Temple period. In turn, a comprehensive understanding of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον needs to engage the scriptural basis for Jesus’s as well as John’s ministry as presented in vv. 2–3 as well as the portrayal of John’s ministry in vv. 4–8, which combined serve to define Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as a cast from the Isaianic visions of eschatological restoration. 239 See, e.g., Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 30. For an older research overview, see Fritzleo Lentzen-Deis, Die Taufe Jesu nach den Synoptikern: Literarkritische und gattungsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen, FTS 4 (Frankfurt am Main: Knecht, 1970), 3–25.

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σχιζοµένους τοὺς οὐρανούς imply in this pericope in particular in connection to the projected thesis of epoch-making proximity, and does this event foreshadow the rending of the veil in 15:38? Second, what is the reference point for the notion of the spirit’s descending ὡς περιστεράν, and does it include the idea of eschatological purity, or does it rather signify an alternative to the Roman emperor? Third, what does the triadic heavenly utterance σὺ εἶ ὁ υἱός µου, ὁ ἀγαπητός, ἐν σοὶ εὐδόκησα signify? (1) Beginning with the notion of σχιζοµένους τοὺς οὐρανούς (v. 10), it may first be noted that from a structural point of view, the emphasis in vv. 9–11 is on the vision in v. 10 and the audition in v. 11. While the process of belittling John’s role in Jesus’s baptism is continued further in the other canonical gospels, even in Mark, John is pulled back in the picture of the actual baptismal scene in v. 9 by the passive construction, making Jesus the subject of all action.240 Further, Mark’s first use of εὐθύς, which generally “serves to focus the readers’ attention,”241 draws attention to what comes next, namely the vision of the rending of the heavens, the descending of the spirit ὡς περιστεράν, and the heavenly voice. These three events combined scale the question of importance for our purposes, namely to which extent the rending of the heavens serves to expound Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as the arrival of epoch-making divine proximity. In order to clarify this, we shall pay particular attention to the significance of ὁρᾶν and σχίζειν by discussing the following issues: (a) First, if σχιζοµένους τοὺς οὐρανούς echoes ἀνοίξῃς τὸν οὐρανόν of Isa 63:19 LXX (64:1 ET and others), why did Mark use σχίζειν and not ἀνοίγειν, as is the case in the parallel places?242 In LXX as well as in NT, σχίζειν is used relatively infrequently. Its basic meaning is that of dividing, tearing apart, cutting.243 In the Septuagint, it is generally used to translate ‫( בקע‬six times),244 though in Isa 36:22 and 37:1 it translates ‫קרע‬. Of these eight attestations of σχίζειν, three are found in places of salvation with historical significance: In Exod 14:21 with the splitting of the sea; in Isa 48:21 in connection with Yahweh’s leading of his people to Zion through the wilderness, where he will split the rocks to make water flow; and in Zech 14:4 with the splitting of the Mount of Olives. This leads us to Isa 63:19 LXX, where ‫ קרע‬is translated with ἀνοίγειν in the phrase in question: ‫לוּא־ָק ַרְﬠָתּ ָשַׁמ ִים‬/ἐὰν ἀνοίξῃς τὸν οὐρανόν. This translation is a surprise since the two earlier uses of ‫ קרע‬in Isaiah (36:22; 37:1) are both translated with σχίζειν, and since ‫ קרע‬generally means to tear apart, not ––––––––––––––––– Pace Dillon, “Mark 1:1–15,” 7. Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 65. 242 See Matt 3:16; Luke 3:21. 243 Either non-figuratively of wood, clothes, etc. (see, e.g., Gen 22:3; 1 Kgdms 6:14; Isa 36:22; 37:1; Luke 5:36; John 19:24) or figuratively of people in factions, parties (see, e.g., 1 Cor 1:10; 11:18; 12:25 using σχίσµα). 244 Gen 22:3; Exod 14:21; 1 Kgdms 6:14; Eccl 10:9; Isa 48:21; Zech 14:4. 240 241

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only to open.245 The translation in the Septuagint possibly reflects a wish to elevate the petition of the MT to a request for a theophany or an epiphany since ἀνοίγειν is the technical term used to translate ‫ פתח‬as the common word for opening of the heavens.246 While this incongruence in words obscures a straightforward echo of Isa 63:19 LXX in Mark 1:10,247 a good argument can be made for an intended echo. For instance, Guelich refers to Mark’s knowledge of Hebrew, which may have prompted him to choose a more literal translation of ‫ קרע‬in concurrence with the two earlier uses in Isaiah.248 More compelling, however, are the other similarities between Isaiah 63–64 and the baptism of Jesus, not least the reference to the katabase of the spirit of Yahweh in Isa 63:14 (κατέβη πνεῦµα παρὰ κυρίου) but also the references to the way of Yahweh, sin, and repentance.249 If an intended echo of Isa 63:19 LXX is accepted, together with the pointed use of σχίζειν it constitutes a dramatic heightening of Mark’s scene in combining a notion of theophany with the epoch-changing notion of exodus. The heavens are not just opening only to be closed again as in a regular theophany. They are rent apart in an ultimate and epoch-changing exodus event bringing near the temple cultic proximity of Yahweh, which is precisely the prayer of the disappointed people of Isa 63:15–64:11: That Yahweh will re-establish his presence in “the house, our holy place and the glory that our forefathers praised (ὁ οἶκος τὸ ἅγιον ἡµῶν καὶ ἡ δόξα ἣν ηὐλόγησαν οἱ πατέρες ἡµῶν),”250 which now lies in ruins. In Mark, this temple cultic imagery of the re-established divine ––––––––––––––––– Generally, LXX translates ‫ קרע‬with διαρρηγνύναι or ῥηγνύναι, reflecting the sense of breaking apart. 246 See, e.g., Ezek 1:1 and Mal 3:10. The ‫פתח‬/ἀνοίγειν combination is also used in a number of places in connection with heavenly blessing, see Deut 28:12; Ps 78:23 (77:23 LXX); Ezek 37:12–13; Isa 41:18, just as ἀνοίγειν is found in a number of Greek texts in connection with the opening of the heavens, see LAE 35:2; T. Levi 2:6; 5:1; 18:6; T. Jud. 24:2; Herm. Vis. 1.1.4 (1.4). As often noticed, the most verbatim parallel using σχίζειν is found in Jos. Asen. 14:3 describing an epiphany of Aseneth, who sees “the heaven torn open” (ἐσχίσθη ὁ οὐρανός) near the morning star and a great light appearing (ἐφάνη). LAE 32–38 also constitutes an interesting parallel to several themes of Mark’s prologue: (a) Confession of sins and repentance (32–34, ἁµαρτάνειν, µετάνοια); (b) opening of the seven heavens (35:2, τὰ ἑπτὰ στερεώµατα ἀνεῳγµένα); (c) washing in water in front of God (37:3, ἀπέπλυνεν αὐτὸν ἐνώπιον τοῦ θεοῦ); (d) reestablishment of life in paradise (37:5, see Mark 1:13), see, e.g., Collins, Mark, 148. 247 See Lentzen-Deis, Taufe Jesu, 102–3, who rejects a direct “Hinweis” but accepts “vielleicht eine Allusion” (see also Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 90–91). 248 See Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 32. 249 See Isa 64:4–9. For acceptance of an intentional allusion, see Ivor Buse, “The Markan Account of the Baptism of Jesus and Isaiah LXIII,” JTS 7 (1956): 74–75; Gnilka, Markus 1– 8,26, 52; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 32; Marcus, Way of the Lord, 49–50; Hays, Gospels, 18. 250 Isa 64:10. 245

4.4 Proximity Begun, Prepared, Received, Tested

237

presence drawn from Isaiah 63–64 is vastly reinforced by the use of σχίζειν in connection with the exodus events listed above. (b) Next, the significance of Mark’s adaptation of Isa 63:19 LXX is further considerably heightened if an inclusio is intended between 1:10 and 15:38, the only two attestations of σχίζειν in Mark. While this suggestion is often left undiscussed in older research,251 it has become fashionable in recent times, undoubtedly under influence of the view of Mark as a creative narrator.252 As a matter of fact, we do have quite a number of similarities: – The repeated use of σχίζειν in theophanic and/or apocalyptic scenery in which a holy place is rent. – The dramatic effect of a downwards movement in the katabase of the spirit and the rending of the veil ἀπ᾽ ἄνωθεν ἕως κάτω. – The identification of Jesus as God’s son (1:11//15:39). – The theme of John as Elijah, which is initiated in the prologue and finalized in the cross scene (15:35). – The connection between baptism and death (10:38). – To this may be added the suggestion that the temple veil was a known representation of the heavenly realm on earth, in which case the rending of the temple veil constitutes a second rending of heavens.253 The inclusio is not, however, accepted by all. For instance, Fritzleo LentzenDeis argues that whereas the tearing of the heavens in 1:10 leads to interaction between heaven and earth, then “niemand kommt heraus, niemand tritt ein” in 15:38.254 Narratively speaking, this seems much to ask of Mark in an already densely packed scene, and the question is if such an interaction is detectable after all in the surprising description of the spirit’s entering ‘εἰς’ Jesus (1:10) and the ‘ἐκ’ movement of the ‘spirit’ in his death (15:37), in which instance what comes from the heavens in 1:10 is catapulted back in 15:37–38.255 While ––––––––––––––––– 251 For instance, the suggestion is not discussed by Wellhausen, Marci; Erich Klostermann, Das Markusevangelium, 4th ed., HNT 3 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1950); and Ernst Lohmeyer, Das Evangelium des Marcus, 17th ed., KEK 2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1967). 252 See, e.g., Buse, “Markan Account”; S. Motyer, “The Rending of the Veil: A Markan Pentecost?,” NTS 33 (1987): 155; Howard M. Jackson, “The Death of Jesus in Mark and the Miracle from the Cross,” NTS 33 (1987): 16–37; David Ulansey, “The Heavenly Veil Torn: Mark’s Cosmic Inclusio,” JBL 110 (1991): 123–25; Marcus, Way of the Lord, 57; Klauck, Vorspiel, 92; Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 65; Caneday, “Baptism and Crucifixion,” 70– 81; Daniel M. Gurtner, “The Rending of the Veil and Markan Christology: ‘Unveiling’ the υἱὸς θεοῦ (Mark 15:38–39),” BibInt 15 (2007): 294–96; Voelz, Mark 1:1–8:26, 128–29. 253 Josephus famously makes this identification (J.W. 5.214), see Ulansey, “Heavenly Veil,” 125. See further the discussion below in Section 6.3.4. 254 Lentzen-Deis, Taufe Jesu, 281. 255 See Iersel, Mark, 477. In regard to Mark’s choice of rendering the spirit’s interaction with Jesus with εἰς αὐτόν (see the parallel ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν in Matt 3:16; Luke 3:22), two solutions

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Klauck might be right that in the details some of these arguments for an intended inclusio are not free of exaggerations,256 Lentzen-Deis’s position loses its validity in the light of the combined structural similarity between 1:10 and 15:38. We will return to the implications of this reading in Section 6.3.4, but it may be noticed already that in the same way as John’s βάπτισµα µετανοίας εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁµαρτιῶν introduces a cultic notion in Mark’s understanding of the fulfilment of Isa 40:3, so does the σχιζοµένους τοὺς οὐρανούς through the echo of Isa 63:19 LXX as well as the inclusio with 15:38. (c) Finally, the Gattung of the scene has proven a difficult issue to fit into the proposed scholarly categories of theophany, epiphany, and vision. According to Lentzen-Deis, the genre of theophany should be reserved for instances where the god or gods transcend into the earthly realm and the consequences thereof are immediately experienced.257 The epiphany is confined to the visibility of the divine, which in combination with rending of the heavens is evidenced rather late in Jewish texts.258 In contrast, the vision does not necessarily signify an objective reality, but is defined as ‘the view’ an elected person receives, signalled by a form of ὁρᾶν or its equivalents as keyword.259 LentzenDeis finds that Mark’s baptismal account is best described as a vision, though he accepts certain “Anspielungen” on the theophany.260 So does Pesch, who like Lentzen-Deis labels it a Deutevision, a sub-group in which the emphasis is placed on identifying the receiver, which often happens through a scriptural echo.261 While the singular εἶδεν points in the direction of a typical vision for the elected one, several Anspielungen on the theophany are present, blurring the picture. One is the aforementioned echo of Isa 63:19. Another is the katabase of the spirit into (εἰς) Jesus and not simply ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν,262 which provides a theophanic character to the scene when read in correlation with the notion of an eschatological outpouring of the spirit of Yahweh into his people.263 In this instance, the katabase is more than a mere Deuten of who Jesus is but an actual ––––––––––––––––– have been offered. One is to see a significant implication in terms of the spirit’s union with Jesus as in Hellenistic traditions. Another is to weaken its implication with reference to the fluctuating use and meaning of εἰς and ἐπί in Koine Greek (see Marcus, Way of the Lord, 50 n. 8; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 160). 256 Klauck, Vorspiel, 92. An example of this is found in Caneday, “Baptism and Crucifixion.” 257 In the Hebrew Bible, examples include Judg 5:4; Ps 68:8–9; Mic 1:3–4; Amos 1:2, see Lentzen-Deis, Taufe Jesu, 100–101. 258 2 Macc 3:24–26; 3 Macc 6:18, see Lentzen-Deis, Taufe Jesu, 103–5. 259 See Lentzen-Deis, Taufe Jesu, 105–7. 260 See Lentzen-Deis, Taufe Jesu, 127. 261 See Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 88. 262 Mark 1:10; see Matt 3:16; Luke 3:22. 263 See especially the notion of ‫רוִּח י‬/τὸ πνεῦµά µου in Ezek 36:27 but also other places discussed above, e.g., Isa 32:15; 44:3; 61:1–2; Joel 2:28–32.

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239

transference of God’s presence and power εἰς Jesus.264 This is further corroborated by the wordplay between Jesus’s ἀναβαίνων and the spirit’s καταβαῖνον, which paints a scene of a true interaction between heaven and earth that “stresses this transmission of heavenly power”265 and ushers in the epochchanging new reality of Jesus’s preaching of ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ and his ministry in ἐξουσία.266 To sum up, Mark’s σχιζοµένους τοὺς οὐρανούς incorporates an echo of Isaiah 63–64 as well as a foreshadowing of the cross scene into the description of Jesus’s baptism. This intensifies the scene, lifting it from a personal vision to an epoch-changing event in the Markan narrative. As argued by Marcus, Mark paints the contour of “an apocalyptic theophany” in order to stress how “the eschatological theophany foretold in the Old Testament has occurred.”267 From the context in Isaiah as well as in Mark’s text itself, this epoch-changing event consists precisely of the two intertwined themes found in connection with the use of gospel nomenclature in the previous chapter, namely kingly victory and cultic presence. On the one hand, the rending of the skies in ancient cosmology is used to “symbolize the possibility of divine-human communication,”268 just as there is a profound before and after in Mark’s narrative: “Jetzt können Menschen sich Gott wieder ungehindert nahen.”269 As I will argue in Chapter 6, this is ultimately a cultic event connected to the rending of the temple veil and the opening of the grave. On the other hand, and at the same time, this is a promise and a foreshadowing of the power negotiation that is going to be a focus of Jesus’s ministry in Galilee, culminating in the cross scene in which Jesus acts as Yahweh’s divine warrior and ultimately as the βασιλεύς with the ἐξουσία of the βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ.270 (2) The next question to address concerns the question of a possible reference to purity, perhaps even eschatological purity, in the dove-like description of the spirit. The notion of the spirit’s katabase (τὸ πνεῦµα ὡς περιστερὰν καταβαῖνον, v. 10) has prompted considerable research and multiple sugges––––––––––––––––– While the precise meaning of εἰς in Mark 1:10 is disputed, a strong case for motion towards and possibly “into” Jesus are mustered by, e.g., Gundry, Mark, 48 and Edward P. Dixon, “Descending Spirit and Descending Gods: A ‘Greek’ Interpretation of the Spirit’s ‘Descent as a Dove’ in Mark 1:1,” JBL 128.4 (2009): 771–72. 265 Gundry, Mark, 48. 266 Others accepting either a theophanic or epiphanic character of Jesus’s baptism in Mark count Lohmeyer, Markus, 23; Marcus, Way of the Lord, 56–58; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 102–8. 267 Marcus, Way of the Lord, 58. 268 Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 65. 269 Klauck, Vorspiel, 91. 270 For this theme of Jesus’s baptism, see Joel Marcus, “Jesus’ Baptismal Vision,” NTS 41 (1995): 512–21. 264

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tions271 for a convincing simile since no “indisputable antecedent”272 has been found in any known Jewish text that combines the three notions of spirit, dove, and descent.273 Suggestions of similes in Jewish texts include a reference to the dove of Noah,274 Hosea’s description of Israel’s return from Assyria ὡς περιστερά,275 and in particular the motif of the πνεῦµα θεοῦ “hovering” (‫)רחף‬ over or “being brought over” (ἐπιφέρειν) the waters in Gen 1:2. Especially the last interpretation is favoured among researchers, not least since the discovery of 4Q521, which in line 6 echoes the hovering (‫ )רחף‬of Yahweh’s spirit in creation, only relocated from the waters to being over “the humble” (‫)ענוים‬. According to Allison, this discovery has provided the first “clear precedent for the creative application of the language of Genesis 1:2 to eschatological matters and for picturing the spirit as hovering over people.”276 Looking outside Jewish texts, similes drawn from Egyptian, Greek, and Roman traditions have been proposed. For instance, Edward Dixon has recently proposed that the only true similes of gods descending as birds come from the Homeric tradition, where these are found “on multiple occasions”277 and would have provided a well-known imagery for gods ascending and descending otherwise unknown in Jewish tradition. Exploring the Roman background, Peppard has provided multiple points of contact between the Roman, imperial tradition of sonship through adoption and specifically the Augustean utilization of divine sonship.278 According to Peppard, the best explanation of the dove is to understand it as a reflection of Mark’s intention of presenting Jesus as a “counter-emperor”279 to Augustus and his claim of divine sonship. To this end, the dove was the perfect antipole of ––––––––––––––––– 271 According to Keck, “probably no detail of the account of Jesus’ baptism has evoked so diverse a range of suggestions as has the dove” (Leander E. Keck, “The Spirit and the Dove,” NTS 17 [1970]: 41). 272 Dixon, “Descending Spirit,” 759, see France, Gospel of Mark, 78–79. 273 See further Lentzen-Deis, Taufe Jesu, 170–83; Keck, “The Spirit and the Dove”; Stephen Gero, “The Spirit as a Dove in the Baptism of Jesus,” NovT 18.1 (1976): 17–35; Dixon, “Descending Spirit,” 761–65. 274 See Gen 8:8–12. 275 See Hos 11:11. 276 Dale C. Allison, “The Baptism of Jesus and a New Dead Sea Scroll,” BAR 18 (1992): 58–60. For others accepting this simile, see, e.g., Vincent, St. Mark, 161; Cranfield, Mark, 54; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 159–60. 277 Dixon, “Descending Spirit,” 767. 278 See Michael Peppard, The Son of God in the Roman World: Divine Sonship in its Social and Political Context (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011); Michael Peppard, “The Eagle and the Dove: Roman Imperial Sonship and the Baptism of Jesus,” NTS 56 (2010): 431–51; Michael Peppard, “Son of God in Gentile Contexts (That Is, Almost Everywhere),” in Son of God: Divine Sonship in Jewish and Christian Antiquity, ed. Garrick V. Allen et al. (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2019), 135–57. 279 Peppard, “Roman Imperial Sonship,” 433.

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the bellicose eagle. Josephus makes clear how a representation of the Roman Empire as the eagle was well-known by the Jews of Judea, as evidenced in the story of Herod’s golden eagle ‘hovering’ above the entrance to the temple and the capture of the legionary eagle from the twelfth legion during the initial stages of the war, on which occasion Josephus describes the eagle as ruling (ἄρχειν) all Roman legions, being the king (βασιλεύς) of all predators.280 Since nothing could be further from “the spirit of the pure, gentle, peaceful, and even sacrificial dove,”281 as it is perceived in some Jewish texts,282 Mark’s ὡς περιστεράν constitutes a perfect example of a “colonial mimicry,” an “almost the same, but not quite” with which Mark begins his narrative and thus characterizing Jesus “as a counter-emperor.”283 Finally, in this brief research overview it should be mentioned that the lack of a full or satisfying match has prompted some researchers to avoid looking for a symbolic significance due to the obscurity of the matter.284 While not suggesting a new solution to this crux of old, I will highlight two overlooked issues of importance. On the one hand, there is an obvious common denominator between the various suggestions of similes, namely the transcendence of the divine whether in the act of new creation, a visitation by a god, or a bird omen. Read against each of these backgrounds, the implication of the spirit descending as a dove or in a dove-like manner285 remains the same: proximity to the divine. Another way of seeing this is by emphasizing ὡς as “die spezifische apokalyptische Vergleichspartikel” through which the otherwise hidden heavenly reality “sichtbar vorgestellt wird.”286 On the other hand, it is hardly ever noticed how Mark’s use of περιστερά might provide another example of a foreshadowing inclusio between the prologue and Jerusalem. In reality, Mark makes only two references to περιστερά: the baptism and the incident in the temple (11:15). As will be discussed in Section 6.3, there is a string of notions only in Mark that specifically contrast Jesus to the temple, suggesting a temple cultic interpretation of Jesus’s death by Mark. That Mark’s only other reference to the dove is in connection with its capacity as a sacrificial animal underscores the suggestion that this notion is at play in 1:10 as well.287 According to Lev 1:14, only doves and turtledoves are fitting birds for burnt offerings. The cultic connotation of the dove, as well ––––––––––––––––– Josephus, J.W. 3.123. Peppard, “Roman Imperial Sonship,” 450. 282 See the collection of the scant evidence by Peppard, “Roman Imperial Sonship,” 448– 280 281

50. Peppard, “Roman Imperial Sonship,” 450–51. See, e.g., Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 33; Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 65; Robert H. Stein, Mark, BECNT (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008), 57. 285 As often noted, ὡς περιστεράν can be read adjectivally or adverbially. 286 Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 91; see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 159–60. 287 See, e.g., Gundry, Mark, 49. 283 284

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as the foreshadowing of the temple incident further emphasizes the already discussed connection between the outpouring of Yahweh’s spirit and eschatological purity. While John’s baptism “in water” (ὕδατι) was only able to ‘prepare’ the people, the baptism of ὁ ἰσχυρότερος “in the holy spirit” (ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ) is able to ‘fulfil’ and usher in a grand new state of purity as the prerequisite for enjoying the proximity of the approaching victorious king, first, and the access to the temple, second. That the focus in Mark is on the transition from a preliminary state of purity and proximity to the final, eschatological state of purity and proximity is highlighted by the repeated shift from water to spirit, first in the speech of John (1:8), then enacted in the baptism of Jesus (1:10). In a stylistic manner, Jesus here first ascends from the water (ἀναβαίνων ἐκ τοῦ ὕδατος) after which the spirit descends upon him (καταβαῖνον εἰς αὐτόν). In essence, I am suggesting the following two implications of Mark’s notion of τὸ πνεῦµα ὡς περιστερὰν καταβαῖνον εἰς αὐτόν. One is that while it is not possible to establish an obvious external background to the likening of the spirit to a dove, the implications of the best argued cases are the same: Mark’s scene signals an epoch-changing reorganization of the relationship between heavens and earth. The other is to emphasize the connection between the dove and temple purity. Since Mark only uses περιστερά here and in the temple incident, it is possible that a foreshadowing is intended (1:10//11:15). In the same way a katabase is present in the baptism and in the rending of the veil (1:10//15:38). Both similes suggest an eschatological restructuring of the temple that in the flow of Mark’s prologue is likely to be understood as a reflection of the Steigerung Jesus represents compared to John, which includes a kind of eschatological purity ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ, leading to an extreme level of proximity to the divine. (3) Finally, the heavenly voice and its triadic utterance proclaiming σὺ εἶ ὁ υἱός µου, ὁ ἀγαπητός, ἐν σοὶ εὐδόκησα is of hermeneutical importance for the entire scene. Being another point of intense research,288 two questions in particular have been discussed: On the one hand, it has come to be generally accepted that, while Mark uses υἱός in various contexts,289 three of Mark’s son sayings are placed so pivotally that their revelatory significance is hard to miss ––––––––––––––––– 288 For investigations of Mark’s son sayings, see especially I. Howard Marshall, “Son of God or Servant of Yahweh? A Reconsideration of Mark I. 11,” NTS 15 (1968–1969): 326– 36; Hans-Jörg Steichele, Der leidende Sohn Gottes: Eine Untersuchung einiger alttestamentlicher Motive in der Christologie des Markusevangeliums, BU 14 (Regensburg: Pustet, 1980); Marcus, Way of the Lord, 48–79; Adela Yarbro Collins, “Mark and His Readers: The Son of God Among Jews,” HTR 92.4 (1999): 393–408; Adela Yarbro Collins, “Mark and His Readers: The Son of God Among Greeks and Romans,” HTR 93.2 (2000): 85–100; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 108–18; Peppard, Son of God, 86–131. 289 See (a) exclamations from evil spirits (3:11; 5:7); (b) Son of David sayings (10:47– 48; 12:35, 37); (c) Jesus’s own self-designation as “son of man” (2:10, 28; 8:31, 38; 9:9, 12, 31; 10:33, 45; 13:26; 14:21, 41; 62) or just “son” (12:6; 13:32).

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and could even be described as the “pillars on which his Gospel rests.”290 Besides the heavenly voice in 1:11, these are the second heavenly voice on the high mountain (9:7) and the centurion’s exclamation upon the death of Jesus (15:39). To this list, I would like to add the high priest’s question to Jesus, if he is ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ εὐλογητοῦ (14:61). Though it differs by not being a proclamation or revelation, it becomes so with Jesus’s ἐγώ εἰµι (14:62). On the other hand, no consensus has been reached concerning the second main point of focus, the discussion of convincing reference points for the triadic utterance. Traditionally, most researchers have searched through the Hebrew Bible and opted for a combination of Ps 2:7 (LXX: υἱός µου εἶ σύ ἐγὼ σήµερον γεγέννηκά σε) with Isa 42:1 (LXX: Ιακωβ ὁ παῖς µου ἀντιλήµψοµαι αὐτοῦ Ισραηλ ὁ ἐκλεκτός µου προσεδέξατο αὐτὸν ἡ ψυχή µου).291 Some have depicted the notion of Isaac as ‫ ָיִחיד‬/ἀγαπητός in Gen 22:2, 12, 16 as the dominating background292 while others accept a combination of all three or more.293 The best solution is to understand the audition as a quote of Ps 2:7 due to the almost verbatim wording despite the different word order (υἱός µου εἶ σύ//σὺ εἶ ὁ υἱός µου), to which Mark adds the two distinguishing labels ἀγαπητός and εὐδόκησα taken from Genesis 22 and Isaiah 42, respectively, turning the utterance into another composite citation having a “surplus of meaning.”294 Concerning εὐδόκησα and Isaiah 42, it is correct, as noted by Sharyn Dowd and Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, that there is “no overlapping vocabulary”295 between 1:11 and Isa 42:1 LXX, but since in reality εὐδοκεῖν semantically overlaps better with ‫ רצה‬of Isa 42:1 MT than the preferred προσδέχεσθαι of LXX,296 and since the idea of granting the servant Yahweh’s spirit is expressed in Isa 42:1 as in Mark 1:10,297 the suggestion that Mark is paraphrasing the Isaianic ‫ ֶﬠֶבד‬tradition is compelling. Concerning ἀγαπητός, Genesis 22 suggests itself not only by the notion of ἀγαπητός but of υἱός as well.298 This reference may be strengthened by the close parallel in T. Levi 28:6–7, combining the opening of ––––––––––––––––– Aloysius Ambrozic, M., The Hidding Kingdom: A Redactional-Critical Study of the References to the Kingdom of God in Mark’s Gospel, CBQMS 2 (Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1972), 23, see Marcus, Way of the Lord, 54–55 n. 31; Collins, “Son of God among Jews,” 406. 291 See, e.g., Marcus, Way of the Lord, 51–53; Collins, Mark, 150. 292 See, e.g., Sharyn Dowd and Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “The Significance of Jesus’ Death in Mark: Narrative Context and Authorial Audience,” JBL 125.2 (2006): 273–74. 293 See, e.g., Marshall, “Son of God,” 335; Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 92–94; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 33–34; Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 65; Dillon, “Mark 1:1–15,” 9–10. 294 Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 65. 295 Dowd and Malbon, “Jesus’ Death,” 274; see also Peppard, Son of God, 96. 296 See Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 34. There is marginal attestation of εὐδοκεῖν in hexaplaic witnesses as well; see also Matt 12:18. 297 See ‫ ָנ ַת ִתּ י רוִּח י ָﬠ ָל יו‬/ἔδωκα τὸ πνεῦµά µου ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν (Isa 42:1c). 298 See Gen 22:2 LXX: λαβὲ τὸν υἱόν σου τὸν ἀγαπητόν ὃν ἠγάπησας. 290

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heavens (οἱ οὐρανοὶ ἀνοιγήσονται) with a voice from the father in the temple (ναός) to the son “as from father Abraham to Isaac” (ὡς ἀπὸ Ἀβραὰµ πατρὸς Ἰσαάκ), stating that “the spirit of understanding and holiness shall rest upon him in the water” (πνεῦµα συνέσεως καὶ ἁγιασµοῦ καταπαύσει ἐπ’ αὐτὸν ἐν τῷ ὕδατι).299 Finally, it should also be noted that the Augustean notion of divi filius has been surveyed and suggested as a background and reference point. As already outlined above, this has recently been advocated by Michael Peppard. In doing so, Peppard is not negating the role of the Hebrew Bible behind Mark’s notion of divine sonship, but rather emphasizing that “the titles and ideologies of the emperors are second only to the Psalms in contextual relevance.”300 In evaluation it must be accepted that the Markan text does not allow for a clear-cut case to be argued. On the one hand, it is a reasonable suggestion that any claim of divine sonship in the context of the Roman Empire would have had some kind of backdrop in imperial ideology. On the other hand, as also Peppard accepts, even if Mark’s triadic utterance in 1:11 was ‘counter-imperial’ by intention, it is served with a primary echo from Israelite scriptures. Thus, the question remains regarding which echo(es) and which implications to draw from this. A reference to the Servant Poem in Isaiah 42 readily posits itself within the general framework of the Isaianic setting of Mark’s introduction. The son of God echo of Psalm 2 has generated considerably more discussion. One issue concerns whether this epithet was conspicuously avoided in late Second Temple Jewish texts.301 Another issue is whether this epithet was interpreted messianically before the gospels. While this is denied by Fitzmeyer,302 discussions of evidence in Jewish texts of the period by, for example Horbury,303 Zimmermann,304 as well as Collins and Collins305 argue the opposite position convincingly. This case rests especially on an understanding of 4Q174 and 4Q246 as interpretations of 2 Samuel 7, Psalm 2, and possibly Daniel 7, positioning “son of God” and “son of man” as Jewish, kingly, messianic ––––––––––––––––– See Marshall, “Son of God,” 334. Peppard, “Gentile Contexts,” 137–38. 301 So Steichele, Der leidende Sohn, 141–48; see also the discussion in Marcus, Way of the Lord, 77–79. 302 See Joseph A. Fitzmyer, “4Q246: The ‘Son of God’ Document from Qumran,” Bib 74 (1993): 170–74. According to Fitzmyer, the first clear evidence in the Hebrew Bible of a messiah in the sense of a future anointed agent of Yahweh is to be found in Dan 9:25–26, which, if accepted, would certainly exclude a messianic understanding of the Davidic “son of God” notion in the Hebrew Bible otherwise. 303 See William Horbury, Jewish Messianism and the Cult of Christ (London: SCM, 1998), 98–99. 304 See Zimmermann, Messianische Texte, 99–113, 128–70. 305 See Collins, “Son of God among Jews,” and Adela Yarbro Collins and John J. Collins, Son of God: Divine, Human, and Angelic Messianic Figures in Biblical and Related Literature (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008). 299 300

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figures before the New Testament.306 While it remains to be seen how Mark interacts with certain elements of the Davidic, messianic expectations,307 the echo of Psalm 2 in the context of Mark’s introduction would certainly evoke kingly notions of the victorious warrior of Yahweh, which would support the Isaianic dress of the prologue. This becomes evident not least in the immediate ensuing confrontation in the wilderness ὑπὸ τοῦ σατανᾶ (1:13), a theme to be resumed particularly in the saying of Beelzebul (3:22–27), which will make perfectly clear that the announcement of the kingdom of God (1:14–15) is intrinsically a proclamation of war victory. Finally, if an echo of Genesis 22 is accepted, it would introduce another reference to the death of Jesus as sacrificial as possibly entailed in the preceding ‘dove’ reference. While it remains to be discussed how precisely Mark envisions the relationship between the death of Jesus and temple cultic sacrifices,308 the idea that Abraham should present Isaac as a burnt offering (‫עָֹלה‬/ὁλοκαύτωσις) is lurking in the background if ὁ ἀγαπητός is accepted as an echo of the Akedah tradition of Genesis 22.309 This interpretation is further strengthened by the repeated use of ἀγαπητός in Mark 9:7, in a context where John as Elijah is discussed,310 and not least in 12:6, where the Akedah tradition is most likely resumed,311 and where the only beloved son soon becomes the dead son. To sum up this section on Jesus’s baptism in its entirety, the thesis of εὐαγγέλιον as the epoch-making proclamation of the proximity of God advancing through war victory and cultic renewal has been vividly corroborated despite the inconclusiveness of some the issues discussed. In overview: – Proximity: While John was only able to prepare people for the coming nearness of the divine through repentance and water, Jesus is able to elevate proximity to the divine to a whole new degree (Steigerung) through baptism ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ. In an irreversible action, the heavens are ripped apart (σχίζειν) and the heavens and the earth unite in the anabase of Jesus and the katabase of the spirit (ἀναβαίνων … καταβαῖνον), infused into Jesus (εἰς). In this way, the baptismal scene accumulates to more than a mere Deutevision. In reality, it is the unfolding of the coming of Yahweh µετὰ ἰσχύος as envisioned in Isa 40:1–11 and eagerly requested in Isaiah 63–64. As summarized ––––––––––––––––– 306 See especially Zimmermann, Messianische Texte, 169–70; Collins and Collins, Son of God, 65–74. 307 See Section 6.2.1 for Mark’s use of the Son of David designation. It is possible that Mark distances his presentation of Jesus from expectations of a royal, warrior Messiah as presented in, e.g., Pss. Sol. 17:21–46 and clearly behind Josephus’s description of some of the wilderness prophets, see the discussion in Section 3.4.2 and Collins, “Son of God among Jews,” 403–5; Marcus, Way of the Lord, 59–66. 308 See especially Section 6.3.5. 309 See Dowd and Malbon, “Jesus’ Death,” 274. 310 See Mark 9:4–5, 11–13 and the final reference to Elijah in the cross scene, 15:35–36. 311 See ἕνα εἶχεν υἱὸν ἀγαπητόν.

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by Marcus: “After ages of alienation, heaven itself has drawn near; the barrier between it and earth has been ripped apart, the power of the new age has begun to flood the earth.”312 – Victory: As ὁ υἱός µου, Jesus is at the same time a kingly, divine warrior, who will embody the powers of the kingdom and enter into battle with the forces opposing the kingdom of God equipped with the powers of the spirit. This is foreshadowed in 1:12–13 and unfolded from 1:14–15 and onwards. – Cult: Finally, though less evident than the two themes above, I suggest that there are in Mark’s text a number of foreshadowings of the role that the temple is going to take in the Jerusalem section in terms of the ripping of the temple veil (15:38), the role of the dove in the clash in the temple (11:15), and the way in which the designation of Jesus as υἱός culminates in the cross scene through the final son proclamation (15:39) along with possible references to the Akedah tradition in which ὁ υἱός ὁ ἀγαπητός becomes ὁ υἱός ὁ ἐσταυρωµένος (12:6, 16:6). In the next chapter, I will discuss the role of the temple in Mark’s Galilee section, a theme that naturally climaxes in the Jerusalem section. 4.4.4 Epoch-Making Proximity Tested (1:12–13) Mark’s brief account of Jesus’s temptation in the wilderness has puzzled scholars for centuries,313 particularly due to its unique reference to ἦν µετὰ τῶν θηρίων.314 Before entering into this debate, three uncontroversial elements of the pericope may be observed: First, by repeating the καὶ εὐθύς of v. 10, Mark intends the pericope to be closely united with the preceding, a point also emphasized by the repetition of τὸ πνεῦµα (1:10//1:12) and the stylistic duplication of εἰς τὸν Ἰορδάνην and ὑπὸ Ἰωάννου with εἰς τὴν ἔρηµον and ὑπὸ τοῦ σατανᾶ (1:9//1:12–13). Second, the location of the scene in ὁ ἔρηµος is emphatically ––––––––––––––––– Marcus, Mark 1–8, 166. See Erich Fascher, who himself notes how it has “viel Kopfzerbrechen gemacht” and refers to David-Friedrich Strauß, who in his biography of Jesus (1835) despairingly remarked: “Was Markus mit den Thieren will, ist schwer zu sagen,” see Erich Fascher, “Jesus und die Tiere,” TLZ 90.8 (1965): 561. 314 See especially the recent contributions by Fasher, “Tiere”; Richard Bauckham, “Jesus and the Wild Animals (Mark 1:13): A Christological Image for an Ecological Age,” in Jesus of Nazareth: Lord and Christ, ed. Joel B. Green and Max Turner (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 3–21; Jeffrey B. Gibson, “Jesus’ Wilderness Temptation According to Mark,” JSNT 53 (1994): 3–34; Jan Willem van Henten, “The First Testing of Jesus: A Rereading of Mark 1.12–13,” NTS 45 (1999): 349–66; Ardel B. Caneday, “Mark’s Provocative Use of Scripture in Narration: ‘He Was with the Wild Animals and Angels Ministered to Him,’” BBR 9 (1999): 19–36; John Paul Heil, “Jesus with the Wild Animals in Mark 1:13,” CBQ 68 (2006): 63–78; Charles A. Gieschen, “Why Was Jesus with the Wild Beasts (Mark 1:13)?,” CTQ 73 (2009): 77–80; Jason Kees, “Where the Wild Animals Are: The Inauguration of the Last Days in Mark 1:12–13,” MiJT 18.2 (2019): 75–85. 312 313

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247

repeated twice to the point of being superfluous.315 Third, after the prolonged period of forty days, Jesus returns as the victor in triumph εἰς τὴν Γαλιλαίαν from where he originally came. While Jesus’s victory in the wilderness has been questioned in readings of Mark’s brief description as either indecisive,316 if about temptation at all,317 I count a victorious outcome an obvious fact on basis of the notion of the angel’s serving (διακονεῖν) Jesus and his immediate (µετά δέ) return to Galilee in the capacity as a preacher of victory (κηρύσσων τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ) and as an exorcist, defeating the allies of ὁ σατανᾶς (1:23–27). With this, we run out of self-evident features, and Mark’s peculiar ἦν µετὰ τῶν θηρίων has generated two opposing interpretations of the role of the wild animals that may be labelled the paradisiac and the satanic interpretation.318 In essence, the question revolves around two issues: First, intertextually, ἦν µετὰ τῶν θηρίων can be read against the background of the Isaianic theme of reversal to a paradisiac relationship between man and animal, implying an Adam–Jesus typology,319 or against another role of the wild animals as evil and unclean also found in Isaiah, Psalm 90 LXX, and not least the exodus tradition, implying an Israel–Jesus typology.320 Second, structurally, the question is whether v. 13 describes one or two scenes. If one, Jesus’s forty-days stay in the desert is one of continuous tempting by Satan, while being surrounded by wild beasts and served in the sense of being protected by the angels. If two, Jesus is tempted first, after which he enters a period of (paradisiac) peace and rest catered for by the angels while enjoying the fellowship of animals.321 The problem is that ––––––––––––––––– See the minority reading of ἐκεῖ in v. 13 (K ƒ1 28*. 69. 565. 700. 1424. 2542 sys). See Gibson, “Wilderness Temptation,” 3–4. 317 See France, Gospel of Mark, 83. 318 According to Bauckham, a third should be recognized, in which the animals are considered as a hendiadys to ἔρηµος, an unimportant background information (see Bauckham, “Wild Animals,” 5). One example of this is found in Wellhausen, Marci, 7, who labels the wild animals “die Staffage” of the otherwise empty dessert. Kees likewise labels Van Henten’s suggestion that the wild animals symbolically refer to Roman persecution in Rome under Nero (see Kees, “Wild Animals,” 76 n. 5). This is, however, only a variant of the satanic interpretation. 319 See Isa 11:6–9; 43:18–20; 65:17–25, see Job 5:22–23; Hos 2:20 (2:18 LXX); 2 Bar 73:6; Sib. Or. 3:787–795. 320 See Isa 35:9; Ps 90:13 LXX; Deut 8:1–16; Ez 34:25; see also T. Benj. 3:5, 5:2; T. Naph. 8:4, 6 and T. Iss. 7:7; Mark 16:18; Luke 10:19. 321 While the question of a satanic or paradisiac interpretation of θηρίον will be the main focus of our discussion, it should be noted that a number of other questions are debated in regard to possible symbolic meanings. For instance, is there an exodus theme in the notion of forty days and the repeated use of ἔρηµος (e.g., Ulrich Mauser, Christ in the Wilderness: The Wilderness Theme in the Second Gospel and its Basis in the Biblical Tradition, SBT 18 (London: SCM, 1963), 98–99)? If so, do the forty days imply a reference to Moses’s forty days in the desert or Israel’s forty years (e.g., France, Gospel of Mark, 85), or should we 315 316

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the Isaianic tradition and Mark’s context allow for both interpretations. As outlined in Section 3.3, Isaiah appeals to new creation as well as new exodus themes, just as θηρία are depicted as opposing enemies as well as signs of the full restoration. In Mark, the theme of a new exodus is readily apparent in his introduction, as discussed throughout this chapter, but so is the theme of new creation. While it is correct, as often claimed against an Adam–Jesus typology, that Mark nowhere directly refers to the fall of Adam, the theme of new creation hovers in the background in the ἀρχή of 1:1 as well as in the descent of the spirit in 1:10, as discussed above. Despite this flexibility, the two positions have been sharply argued. For instance, Jeffrey Gibson and Bauckham each published a substantial article in the same year, arguing the exact opposite, which I will use in the following as showcase.322 Gibson’s main point to prove is that Mark only supplies us with one scene, which is one of continuous testing of the obedience of Jesus when confronted with the evil powers of σατανᾶς and the θηρία.323 Against the paradisiac interpretation (Adam–Jesus typology), Gibson rejects that the ἦν µετά construction implies close communion. Instead, without further argument, he takes it to signify “subordination rather than communion,”324 just as he rejects the suggestion that the angels’ διηκόνουν αὐτῷ implies table service. This was suggested by Joachim Jeremias as a common Jewish understanding of the paradisiac situation before the fall.325 Instead, Gibson interprets the θηρία as part of the scene setting the temptation. From a structural viewpoint, Gibson follows Lohmeyer326 in placing the wild beasts over and against the angels by interpreting καί as adversative (“but the angels served him”). Further, he states that an Adam Christology does not surface later in Mark, as one would suspect if intended here. Against the background of this, it comes as no surprise that Gibson appeals to traditions in the Hebrew Bible and later Jewish writings of wild animals as part of the evil forces that must be overcome.327 It is a longstanding ––––––––––––––––– rather avoid symbolic speculation in regard to the ‘forty days,’ simply understanding it as “the conventional biblical round number, indicating a long period” (Hooker, Mark, 50, see Stein, Mark, 63)? And is there a reference to Elijah, who also spent forty days in the desert being catered for by an angel (1 Kgs 19:4–8)? 322 Another telling difference of interpretation is found in TWNT, where J. Jeremias and W. Foerster interpret Mark 1:13 in opposite directions in their entries on Ἀδάµ and θηρίον, respectively, see Joachim Jeremias, “Ἀδάµ,” TWNT 1:141–143 and Werner Foerster, “θηρίον,” TWNT 1:133–136. 323 Gibson, “Wilderness Temptation,” 33. 324 Gibson, “Wilderness Temptation,” 20. 325 See Jeremias, TWNT 1:141–143. Jeremias suggests that the angels serve Jesus “himmlische Speise” and that “Jesus erschließt das Paradies neu, das sich der erste Mensch verscherzt hatte.” 326 See Lohmeyer, Markus, 27–28. 327 See especially Ps 91:13 (90:13 LXX): “You will trample upon lion and dragon/snake” ( ‫מ ס ְכִּפ יר ְוַת ִנּין‬ ֹ ‫ִתּ ְר‬/καταπατήσεις λέοντα καὶ δράκοντα) and for instance T. Benj. 5:2: “If you

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tradition to understand Mark’s θηρία as hostile, if not evil and satanic, in the light of Psalm 90 LXX.328 Collins has further substantiated Gibson’s argument by referring to its reception at Qumran in which it is used in formulas for exorcism.329 The thrust of Bauckham’s defence of the paradisiac interpretation330 is found in the emphasis of Jewish texts speaking of a reversal to the paradisiac peaceful state between humans and animals, including a vegetarian lifestyle (see Gen 1:29–30), not only annulling the Noahic covenant outstretching human dominion over animals to killing for food (Gen 9:3, see Josephus Ant. 1.102), but also reversing the adverse situation in which humans became food for wild animals in the ‘dominion of animals.’331 This tradition has its locus classicus in the eschatological, messianic vision of the spirit-filled off-shoot from the root of Jesse of Isaiah 11 (especially vv. 6–9, see 65:25), which constitutes the final restoration of the peaceful human–animal relationship destroyed by the fall of Adam and Eve. Bauckham here distinguishes between the Isaianic ultimate restoration and a preliminary state in which Yahweh will protect his faithful. According to Bauckham, the texts cited by Gibson and others as proof of the evilness of animals and the ensuing (holy) war between men and animal all describe this preliminary state.332 This phase should be sharply distinguished

––––––––––––––––– do good, even the unclean spirits will flee from you, and even the wild animals will fear you” (ἐὰν ἦτε ἀγαθοποιοῦντες, καὶ τὰ ἀκάθαρτα πνεύµατα φεύξεται ἀφ᾿ ὑµῶν καὶ αὐτὰ τὰ θηρία φοβηθήσονται ὑµᾶς). 328 See, e.g., Foerster, TWNT 1:134; Lohmeyer, Markus, 27–28; Mauser, Wilderness, 100–101; Vincent, St. Mark, 164; Van Henten, “First Testing”; Caneday, “Provacative Use,” 31–36; France, Gospel of Mark, 86–87; Heil, “Mark 1:13”; Collins, Mark, 151; Stein, Mark, 64. 329 See Collins, Mark, 152. Collins also refers to the nickname of Ps 91 in the Babylonian Talmud, the “song against evil occurrences,” and to a Greek, magical amulet from the Crimean peninsula meant to protect against πᾶν πνεῦµα καὶ φάντασµα καὶ πᾶν θηρίον (see Collins, Mark, 151–53). It may also be added that Ps 91 (90 LXX) is cited in Q’s version of the temptation (see Matt 4:6//Luke 4:10–11). 330 Others arguing a paradisiac interpretation of ἦν µετὰ τῶν θηρίων count Jeremias, TWNT 1:141–143; Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 95; Guelich, “Beginning,” 9; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 38–39; Klauck, Vorspiel, 55–60; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 168; Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 66; Gieschen, “Mark 1:13”; Focant, Mark, 47–48; Kees, “Wild Animals.” 331 See Bauckham, “Wild Animals,” 10–11. This theme is played through vividly in the Apoc. Mos. 10–12, where Seth is attacked by a θηρίον, as he and Eve leave paradise. When Eve yells at the animal, it answers her that it is her own fault that the dominion of beasts has begun (ἡ ἀρχὴ τῶν θηρίων ἐκ σοῦ ἐγένετο, 11:1). 332 Bauckham recounts Job 5:22–23; Ap. Mos. 12:1–2; T. Naph. 8:4, 6; T. Iss. 7:7; T. Benj. 5:2; Gen. Rab. 8:12. For some reason, Bauckham does not include Ps 91:13 in this list. Following Bauckham’s suggestion of Yahweh’s protection of the righteous against the wild animals as a first stage of reversal, Ps 91 fits the bill perfectly.

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from the phase envisioned in Isa 11:6–9 to which a number of late texts refer.333 Which arguments does Bauckham present for Mark 1:13 being spun over this latter tradition and not the first? First, Bauckham finds that Mark portrays Jesus “not as merely an individual righteous person, but as the messianic Son of God,”334 anointed with the spirit (see Isa 11:2) empowered for the eschatological restoration. Further, Bauckham sees proof against a hostile relationship in the µετὰ τῶν θηρίων construction, since the εἶναι + µετά combination often, and particularly in Mark, denotes “close association in friendship or agreement or assistance.”335 Likewise, the angels’ service of Jesus (διακονεῖν) does not fit a scene of continuous fighting well but better a peaceful situation of catering.336 To Bauckham’s arguments, Marcus has added a structural analysis by posing an A-B-A’-B’ structure of v. 13 with two contrasting scenes, namely ἦν ἐν τῇ ἐρήµῳ with ἦν µετὰ τῶν θηρίων (A–A’) and πειραζόµενος ὑπὸ τοῦ σατανᾶ with οἱ ἄγγελοι διηκόνουν αὐτῷ (B–B’).337 With the two main interpretations outlined, it is obvious that both provide a plausible “Erklärung des kurzen, dunklen Textes.”338 It is further obvious that they are presented as mutually exclusive with sharp antitheses in terms of typology (Adam–Jesus vs. Israel–Jesus), structural understanding (one or two scenes), and scriptural background. The suggestion I wish to entertain is in essence that this is the type of deadlock that is best untied by repositioning the forces, making the old trenches obsolete in the process. In an effort to do so, I suggest the following: ––––––––––––––––– See Hosea, who speaks of a covenant with the θηρία (2:20, 2:18 ET). Also, Sib. Or. rephrases the Isaianic vision (3:788–795), as does 2 Bar. 73:6 and Philo (Praem. 87–90). Bauckham likewise refers to the interesting Papias fragment found in Irenaeus (Haer. 5.33.3) in which Jesus is quoted through the transmission of John the Elder to have spoken of the renewed paradise as producing fruits that will make animals peaceful towards each other and subject to men. 334 Bauckham, “Wild Animals,” 19. 335 Bauckham, “Wild Animals,” 5, see Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 95; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 39; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 168. Obvious examples in the New Testament count Matt 5:25; 12:30; 26:29; Mark 3:14; 4:36; Luke 1:66. Gundry contests this interpretation by arguing that the reverse word order is needed in order to understand the relationship as friendly (that is, ‘and the wild beasts were with him’). As it stands now, Gundry suggests that Jesus was the object of the beasts (see Gundry, Mark, 58). In my evaluation, the semantic implication of friendship in the εἶναι + µετά combination outweighs the verse order, see BDF § 227.1 (BDR § 227.2). 336 See Bauckham, “Wild Animals,” 5. 337 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 169. Heil has criticized Marcus’s chiasm as flawed for the lack of incorporation of v. 12 as well, in which instance another chiasm can be argued in which both καὶ ἦν (with Satan and the wild animals) are part of the hostile scene, see Heil, “Mark 1:13,” 65. 338 Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 95. 333

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251

As already recounted, the entire scene is of crucial importance to Mark and deeply embedded in the flow of his introduction by the repetition of the key notions of ἔρηµος, καί εὐθύς, and τὸ πνεῦµα, besides the structural duplication of coming εἰς somewhere and being treated ὑπό someone. This suggests that Mark understands the temptation scene within the overarching Isaianic framework of the entire prologue.339 It is further obvious and shared ground between the two readings that Jesus is victorious. The overarching flow of Mark’s introduction takes us from the initiating proclamation of εὐαγγέλιον to its scriptural background, to the preparation for proximity by John, to Jesus’s reception of proximity including the empowerment with the spirit, to the test of his status and powers in the desert after which (µετά δέ) he returns victoriously as the rightful announcer (κηρύσσειν) of the εὐαγγέλιον in Galilee. As a matter of fact, the scene in the ἔρηµος of vv. 12–13, combined with the proclamation in vv. 14–15, constitutes the perfect example of the Greek notion of the εὐάγγελος returning from the battlefield with the long awaited message of relief,340 as well as the perfect example of the Isaianic notion of the ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬arriving at the gates of Zion with the news of Yahweh’s victory and immediate return.341 The only difference, christological in nature, is that Jesus has taken the role of the victorious general as well as the dispatched messenger. In consequence, though the actual content of the battle and the temptations are shielded behind the participle πειραζόµενος, the result of battle is clear: Jesus prevails. This finally brings us to the exact understanding of ἦν µετὰ τῶν θηρίων, which I will approach through the two foregoing observations combined, that is, Mark’s presentation of Jesus as the victorious Isaianic warrior. In reality, in the light of the concept of the Steigerung of Second Isaiah’s presentation of the restoration as moving beyond a duplication of the return from exile to an actual new creation, the disagreement between the two interpretations disintegrates into a question of whether Jesus as Yahweh’s warrior is prevailing or has prevailed. The difference is whether Mark is envisioning an exodus scene of prolonged battling, in which the wild beasts are the unclean, opposing enemies that are to be eradicated,342 or whether he proleptically envisions the new creation. In the latter case, the Israel–Jesus typology involved in an exodus scene has morphed into an Adam–Jesus typology. Here, the ultimate goal is the restoration of the ruins of Zion ὡς παράδεισον343 with the wild beasts as part of the choir praising Yahweh.344 ––––––––––––––––– See Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 37. See the discussion and examples provided in Section 3.2.3. 341 See especially Isa 40:9 and 52:7 LXX. 342 See especially Isa 35:9 but also 5:29; 13:21; 18:6. 343 Isa 51:3. 344 See Isa 43:20; 56:9, besides also 11:6–9; 65:25. 339 340

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In conclusion, both readings can be thoroughly substantiated. For my case, the important point is that in both instances, the understanding of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον, I am arguing, is corroborated since the two proposed readings precisely mirror the intertwined nature of the Isaianic gospel notion of war victory and cultic renewal, bringing proximity to the divine. Either Mark’s scene describes the battle leading to the return in one continuous scene, or it ends in a unique manner, compared to Q, with a proleptic description of the restoration of the Edenic peace ἐπὶ τῷ ὄρει τῷ ἁγίῳ µου (Isa 65:25).

4.5 Proximity Proclaimed 4.5.1 The Gospel of Genitives It is by now established that Mark shapes his εὐαγγέλιον in the mould of the Isaianic vision of restoration providing an acute sense of the long awaited yet crucially new and epoch-making proximity of and to God, a process envisioned to be brought about through victory and cultic renewal. It is also obvious that from a narrative point of view Mark emphasizes the role of εὐαγγέλιον in an extreme manner by prefixing it,345 by making it the most pronounced Stichwort of the introduction through the inclusio or sandwich structure of v. 1 and vv. 14–15, and by the way in which he immediately strings it together with the sayings and events of the introduction, which become the immediate context for the ἀρχή now begun. But the main question of the present chapter still remains: How does Mark precisely define this to him obviously important Stichwort? The key to this question is buried in the two genitive constructs Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ [υἱοῦ θεοῦ] (1:1) and τοῦ θεοῦ (1:14), which are closely related to the preaching of ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ in 1:15. In other words, we now return to the question of the innerbegrifliche definition of the New Testament εὐαγγελ- word group, one of the two questions vividly discussed in the first wave of εὐαγγέλιον studies in the wake of the discovery of the Priene inscription.346 Concerning Mark, the question at the centre of the discussion is the genitive Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ in 1:1. With Harnack, this may be read in the light of Jesus’s preaching of the εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ in 1:14–15, where Jesus is clearly the bringer of the gospel (subjective genitive), or it may with Wellhausen be understood differently, as the content ––––––––––––––––– 345 A comparison with the Gospel of Matthew, the only other Gospel to use the noun, is telling. Firstly, Mark’s first εὐαγγέλιον in 1:1 is exchanged with βίβλος γενέσεως; secondly, Mark’s third εὐαγγέλιον in 1:15 is likewise removed in the shortening of µετανοεῖτε καὶ πιστεύετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ to µετανοεῖτε (Matt 4:17); thirdly, Mark’s second use in 1:14 is moved from being an introduction to Jesus’s first preaching to a less pronounced place as part of Matthew’s first Sammelbericht of Jesus’s ministry (Matt 4:23). 346 See Section 2.3.

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of the gospel (objective genitive).347 In this case, the shift from “God’s gospel” (v. 15) to “the gospel of Jesus” (v. 1) seemingly delivers a showcase of the development from a vorösterliche to a nachösterliche perspective in which the proclaimer becomes the proclaimed, to use Bultmann’s famous dictum: “Aus dem Verkündiger ist der Verkündigte geworden.”348 The possible implications are profound. A ‘subjective’ reading would underline a ‘low Christology,’ favoured by liberal theology, whereas an ‘objective’ reading would underline a ‘high Christology’ in which Jesus is understood as the core content of the gospel, favoured by kerygmatic theology. To phrase the question with more recent examples than Harnack and Wellhausen: Is Marxsen on point when he argues, in line with Bultmannian kerygmatic theology, that Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον is meant as a “Repräsentation” in which Jesus through “der Verkündigung seinen hörern Gegenwart wird”349 since he is “das Evangelium Gottes” in the full sense?350 Or is Kelber correct when, against Marxsen, he claims that “the sum and substance of the gospel proclamation is the Kingdom”?351 Or even more recent: Is Guelich to be followed when he claims that a subjective reading of 1:1 “generally results from the misplaced emphasis on 1:14,”352 or are Donahue and Harrington better balanced when they estimate that “the recovery of Jesus’ vision of the kingdom of God was one of the great achievements of theology in the twentieth century”?353 In all cases, the tension between a kingdom-oriented and a christological gospel is played out in full force in the interpretation of 1:1 and 1:14–15. To deepen the implications even further, as mentioned in the introduction,354 it has been attempted to pinpoint the specific contribution of Mark, his Leistung, as editing the Jesus tradition into a narrative. For instance, Schweizer suggests that early Christianity at the time of Mark’s writing was divided into three groups on the question of how to relate to the life and death of Jesus, all which Mark sought to rectify with his εὐαγγέλιον. One was primarily interested in the sayings of Jesus (Logionquelle), represented by the Jewish communities which if isolated would evolve into Ebionitism. At the other end of the spectrum, communities influenced by the preaching of Paul were preoccupied with the death and resurrection of Jesus which if isolated would evolve into Gnosticism or docetism in which “die Einzelheiten des Wirkens Jesu” became less

––––––––––––––––– See Section 2.3.1. Bultmann, Theologie, 35. 349 Marxsen, Markus, 86–87. 350 Marxsen, Markus, 88. 351 Kelber, Kingdom in Mark, 12. 352 Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 9. 353 Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 72. 354 See Section 1.2.2. 347 348

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important, in contrast to “den schon gegenwärtigen, himmlischen Herrn.”355 A third group presented Jesus in rivalry with the Greek tradition of the divine man, θεῖος ἀνήρ, which if isolated would lead to paganism in which the death of Jesus would be understood “nur als tragisches.”356 If 1:1 is read objectively, as does Schweizer, and if 1:14 is read in the light of Isa 52:7 as a summary of Jesus’s preaching of the gospel, Mark would be a mediating answer to the pitfalls of all three and surely “eine theologische Leistung ersten Ranges.”357 However, can such a reading be substantiated exegetically in the text of Mark, or is it dogmatic, wishful thinking? The question is thus: Should we understand Mark’s ‘gospel of genitives’ as Christology or rather as theology concerned with God’s inauguration of his kingdom with Jesus as the mediator? 4.5.2 The ‘Gospel,’ God, Jesus, and the Kingdom (1:14–15) Beginning with 1:14–15, the definition or understanding of the gospel notion in these verses is buried in four aspects, namely the intimate connection between the εὐαγγέλιον and God, the kingdom, and Jesus, with the fourth being the epoch-making aspect and transition to a new era embedded in the preaching and appearance of Jesus. (1) First, Mark’s understanding of εὐαγγέλιον is defined by the genitive τοῦ θεοῦ which, like the genitive of 1:1, may be understood as subjective358 or objective, denoting either God’s coming (objective sense) or God’s sending of something (subjective sense): his kingdom or his Messiah, Jesus. The decision has often been based on arguments drawn from tradition history,359 linking the phrase τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ either to Paul’s similar wording, favouring a subjective understanding in the sense of God sending Jesus,360 or to the ––––––––––––––––– 355

Schweizer, Markus, 212. Also Harnack warned against this, see Harnack, Entstehung,

216. Schweizer, Markus, 212; see also Heinrich Baarlink, Anfängliches Evangelium: Ein Beitrag zur näheren Bestimmung der theologischen Motive im Markusevangelium (Kampen: Kok, 1977), 44. 357 Schweizer, Markus, 213. Hans Weder argues a similar view of the intention behind Mark’s shift from a subjective to an objective understanding of the gospel and sees in this move “den Grundvorgang neutestamentlicher Theologie” (Weder, “Evangelium,” 399). 358 In variation, Stein labels it an ablative genitive, see Stein, Mark, 71. 359 See, e.g., Wellhausen, who grounds his christological reading of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον on the assumption that the content of Mark 1:14–15 would have been “völlig unverständlich” in the context of the historical Jesus (see Wellhausen, Marci, 8), and Stuhlmacher, who finds τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ to be a “Characteristikum der paulinischen Begriffssprache” (Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 236). Precisely opposite, targeting Wellhausen, Harnack claims that this notion “keineswegs unverständlich waren, vorausgesetzt daß Evangelium die frohe Botschaft von der Nähe des Reiches bedeutet” (Harnack, Entstehung, 202). See also Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 101. 360 See, e.g., Rom 1:1; 15:16; 1 Thess 2:2, 7–8; 2 Cor 11:7. 356

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palästinische Evangelieterminologie favouring an objective understanding in analogy with Second Isaiah’s proclamation of Yahweh’s coming. Putting this aside and instead looking at the text,361 the following may be established: An objective understanding of the εὐαγγέλιον as God’s own coming is suggested by the Isaianic setting of Mark’s prologue. The proclamation of ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος in Second Isaiah is precisely the coming of God and the initiation of his reign,362 or, as rephrased by the Psalms of Solomon, his visitation to Jerusalem.363 The main problem with this reading is the close parallel between τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ and ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ of v. 15 with the latter clearly denoting the kingdom coming from God.364 A subjective reading, favoured by most commentators,365 is suggested by three things: first, by the flow of the introduction, to be discussed below, in which Jesus adopts a superior role to that of a messenger; second, by the flow of v. 14–15 in which καὶ λέγων epexegetically provides the content of the gospel coming from God; and, finally, by the aforementioned parallel between τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ and ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ suggesting that as the kingdom is coming from God, so is the gospel. In this sense, τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ denotes the kingdom coming from God, which is closely related to if not identical with the coming of Jesus as Messiah. While there is good reason to follow the majority of commentators and to understand καὶ λέγων epexegetically with v. 15, explaining the content of the gospel, the Isaianic or palästinische Evangelieterminologie should not be left out of sight, in which God’s own coming to Jerusalem is the core content of ‘the gospel.’ The torn skies and temple curtain later promise a true, unmediated theophany. In weighing the arguments, I arrive for these reasons at an intertwined and composite understanding τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ. On the one hand, the role of Jesus in the prologue supersedes that of a mere messenger, pointing towards a subjective understanding of the gospel as something coming from God. On the other hand, the Isaianic background of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον ensures that to Mark the gospel is never less than the coming of Yahweh himself. In essence, this tension or intertwined nature of the notion of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ cuts to the core of Mark’s adaptation of Jewish, prophetic tradition: How is the gospel of ––––––––––––––––– 361 For succinct remarks on the priority of the Markan narrative over redaction history, see Ambrozic, Hidden Kingdom, 8–13. 362 See Isa 40:9: ἰδοὺ ὁ θεὸς ὑµῶν and 52:7: βασιλεύσει σου ὁ θεός. 363 See Pss. Sol. 11:1: κηρύξατε ἐν Ιερουσαληµ φωνὴν εὐαγγελιζοµένου ὅτι ἠλέησεν ὁ θεὸς Ισραηλ ἐν τῇ ἐπισκοπῇ αὐτῶν. 364 Decker tries to reinforce BDAG’s objective interpretation of Mark 1:14 (see BDAG, s.v. “εὐαγγέλιον,” 1bβ‫ )א‬by positing 1:1 (ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ) rather than 1:15 as the closest parallel, which is unconvincing, see Decker, Mark 1–8, 17. 365 See, e.g., Cranfield, Mark, 62; Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 101; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 43; Stein, Mark, 71–72.

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God’s visitation connected to the cross, the darkness, and the abandonment of Jesus if in reality Jesus is the gospel or at the very least intimately part of it as the bringer of the kingdom? This is precisely where Mark’s theology becomes Christology. (2) Next, the gospel notion of Mark 1:14–15 is connected to ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ. While accepting that the strong variant reading τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τῆς βασιλείας τοῦ θεοῦ of v. 14 is a scribal harmonization under influence of the Gospel of Matthew,366 two observations strongly suggest this conclusion: On the one hand, as already mentioned, καὶ λέγων of v. 15 epexegetically expounds Mark’s headline for the summary of v. 14: κηρύσσων τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ. This makes v. 15 the content of the εὐαγγέλιον.367 On the other hand, the summary of Jesus’s preaching is so well crafted that not only does καί pair the verbs two by two horizontally (πεπλήρωται/ἤγγικεν, µετανοεῖτε/πιστεύετε), but the asyndetic relationship between the two parts of the saying emphatically connects them in a chiastic A-B-A’-B’ structure that binds together βασιλεία and εὐαγγέλιον on a vertical level.368 Following Marcus, this structure may be illustrated as in the following way:369 πεπλήρωται ὁ καιρὸς µετανοεῖτε

καὶ καὶ

ἤγγικεν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ πιστεύετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ

Even if this is not accepted, the key notion of ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ is introduced in a sentence that is sandwiched by εὐαγγέλιον, making it part and parcel of Mark’s gospel definition without the need of further stylistic proof.370 In ––––––––––––––––– 366 See Matt 4:23; 9:35; 24:14 besides Luke 4:43; 8:1; 16:16; Acts 8:12. See, e.g., Philip Wesley Comfort, A Commentary on the Manuscripts and Text of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Kregel Academic, 2015), 179–80; Metzger, Textual Commentary, 64. 367 This would be the case even if following the minority reading (most prominently ℵ*) that omits καὶ λέγων, in which case ὅτι would be sufficient to secure v. 15 as content of the gospel preaching of Jesus. 368 See Gundry, Mark, 66. 369 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 175. 370 Unconvincingly, Betz has tried to avoid this conclusion by downplaying the influence of Isa 52:7 on Mark’s gospel understanding, which in the Hebrew, Greek, and especially Aramaic text of the targum defines the gospel message as the establishment of Yahweh’s rule and kingdom. Instead, Betz argues that Mark, in contrast to Matthew and Luke, portrays the gospel in the light of Tg. Isa. 53:1, reading ‫( בסוֹ ְרת‬report/gospel) for ‫ְשׁ מוָּﬠה‬, projecting the death and vindication of the servant as the central point of the gospel and establishing a definition of Mark’s ‘gospel’ in analogy with Kähler as “the passion history of the Messiah – and son of God – complete with a lengthy introduction” (Hans Dieter Betz, “Jesus and Isaiah 53,” in Jesus and the Suffering Servant: Isaiah 53 and Christian Origins, ed. William H. Bellinger and William R. Farmer (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1998), 68). However, as discussed in Section 3.3.3, the exact point of Isa 52–53 is the surprising combination of kingly rule and the surprising death of the righteous servant.

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essence, Mark’s gospel notion is on par with the variety of late Second Temple Jewish texts in understanding “gospel” as the epoch-making message of victory and vindication through the establishment of God’s kingdom.371 It is the proclamation that “the new age of God’s rule is about to begin.”372 (3) Third, the argued emphasis on βασιλεία as defining for Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον only serves to highlight the question of the role of Jesus in Mark’s gospel understanding. Obviously, a connection is present in 1:14–15 as evidenced by the temporal marker µετά δέ … ἦλθεν and not least κηρύσσων ... λέγων, tying εὐαγγέλιον firmly to the acts and utterings of Jesus. The crucial question concerns the absolute πιστεύετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ. In essence, is Jesus in Mark preaching himself or the kingdom? Again, bypassing arguments from tradition history, the arguments drawn from the text should be given precedence: The best argument for the interpretation of Jesus preaching the kingdom is the just outlined close affinity if not a hendiadys connection between βασιλεία and εὐαγγέλιον, namely, the sandwich structure εὐαγγέλιον–βασιλεία–εὐαγγέλιον of vv. 14–15, the chiastic structure of v. 15 through which kingdom defines the otherwise undefined εὐαγγέλιον, and not least the way in which both βασιλεία and εὐαγγέλιον are qualified by τοῦ θεοῦ. Indeed, looking ahead in Mark, Jesus is preaching the βασιλεία, which is at the core of Markan theology.373 At the very same time, however, Mark does not only present Jesus as preaching the βασιλεία but as the βασιλεύς himself; a notion that is proleptically foreshadowed here in the prologue and at the centre stage of the cross scene.374 Again, we are hitting the Christology of Mark, and it must suffice here only to recount the way in which Mark presents Jesus as more than the Isaianic herald through, first, the changes made in the composite citation of vv. 2–3 elevating the role of Jesus into the core drama of the fulfilment of the Isaianic restoration; second, John’s naming of Jesus as ὁ ἰσχυρότερος; third, John’s preaching of Jesus resulting in the situation that Jesus is not only preaching the gospel but already being preached;375 fourth, the anabase and katabase of Jesus in the baptism placing the role of Jesus in the spotlight of the fulfilment of the torn heavens; and, finally, the way in which Jesus assumes Yahweh’s role as coming in strength in the temptation scene. It is not necessary to enter the debate of Mark’s Christology being adoptionist or pre-existent to see that Mark’s focus on the role of Jesus in the coming and proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον opens ––––––––––––––––– See especially 11Q13; Pss. Sol. 11:1, see the discussion in Section 3.4.1. Marcus, Mark 1–8, 175, see Julius Schniewind, Das Evangelium nach Markus (Munich: Siebenstern, 1968), 31; Ambrozic, Hidden Kingdom, 7. 373 See Kelber, Kingdom in Mark, 4; G. R. Beasley-Murray, Jesus and the Kingdom of God (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986), 71; Christopher D. Marshall, Faith as a Theme in Mark’s Narrative, SNTSMS 64 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 34. 374 See Section 6.2.2. 375 See Theißen, “Evangelium,” 72. 371 372

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a metonymic gap or, more precisely, a metonymic door in which the hendiadys connection between the kingdom and the εὐαγγέλιον is expanded to Jesus as well. That this is indeed the case is secured by Mark’s two following uses of εὐαγγέλιον in 8:35 and 10:29 in which the equation between Jesus and the gospel is ensured by the phrases ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου/ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ ἕνεκεν τοῦ εὐαγγελίου. Further, Harnack’s logic for once fails him when he claims that in arguing for a christological reading of τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ (that is, to believe ‘in me’) Wellhausen must assume that εὐαγγέλιον in v. 15 must mean “etwas anderes”376 than in v. 14. As outlined above, the “gospel” coming “from God” in v. 14 can be understood christologically as well (that is, Jesus coming from God), negating the need for two different understandings of εὐαγγέλιον in vv. 14–15. Thus, the Sammelbericht of 1:14–15 – arguably Mark’s most important, serving as a summary as well as an introduction to his entire presentation of Jesus – prepares the reader’s mind to engage the crucial question of the role of Jesus in the inauguration of ‘the gospel of the kingdom.’ There is an unresolved tension between Mark’s Christology and kingdom vision, which at the present point excludes single-minded either–or readings, while at the same time awaits further clarification. (4) Fourth, the εὐαγγέλιον in Mark 1:14–15 is defined by the epoch-making aspect and transition to a new era of nearness and proximity embedded in the preaching and appearance of Jesus. This is seen, firstly, by the way in which v. 14 pointedly provides a new time and space. Concerning space, with v. 14 we leave the four times emphasized ἔρηµος and now come with Jesus εἰς τὴν Γαλιλαίαν, embarking on the first major part of Jesus’s ministry that stretches onwards to 10:1 with Jesus going εἰς τὰ ὅρια τῆς Ἰουδαίας. Concerning time, the µετά δέ decisively breaks with the paratactic structure of vv. 4–13, using καί as much as eighteen times, stringing the events of John, Jesus, and the spirit together. As suggested by Collins, after the first stage with the appearance of John (ἐγένετο Ἰωάννης, 1:4) and the appearance of Jesus (καί ἐγένετο … Ἰησοῦς, 1:9), we are now with the handing over of John entering the final period of “eschatological fulfilment,”377 and this fulfilment is for Mark precisely the coming and proclamation of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον. Secondly, the themes of proximity, nearness, and arrival represent the core issues of v. 15, where the temporal and spatial aspects of πεπλήρωται ὁ καιρὸς καὶ ἤγγικεν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ constitute a case of vivid discussion, contrasting interpretations, and mediating suggestions. In overview, the complexity of this discussion may be broken down to the interpretation of ἤγγικεν and the interpretation of the relationship between the two bipartite parts of the saying: ––––––––––––––––– 376 377

Harnack, Entstehung, 202. Collins, Mark, 154.

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(a) Beginning with ἤγγικεν, the main point of discussion has revolved around if the semantic range of ἐγγίζειν will allow for a wider sense than “approach, nearness, imminence” but also “arrival,” and secondarily if it should be understood in a temporal or spatial sense as the nearness/arrival of a new (eschatological) epoch or the approach to or contact with a certain (cultic) space: The temporal aspect of ἐγγίζειν was projected to the centre of the discussion of Jesus’s kingdom-sayings when Dodd in his book Parables of the Kingdom378 argued for a close similarity if not identity between the kingdom-sayings of Mark 1:15 (ἤγγικεν) and Matthew and Luke’s saying of the arrival of the kingdom, since demons are expelled (ἔφθασεν).379 Dodd builds his case on the variating translation of ‫ נגע‬in the LXX which is most often rendered with ἅπτειν to encompass the sense of full contact but at times with φθάνειν as well as with ἐγγίζειν,380 which in his view justifies “arrival” as translation, a position often referred to as ‘realized eschatology.’ Dodd’s brief remark was immediately questioned by J. Y. Campbell, who in a brief article in Expository Times traversed through the relevant material in the LXX, stating that, firstly, each of the six to seven uses of the perfect forms of ἐγγίζειν always translate ‫קרב‬, which denotes proximity and nearness, not arrival; secondly, going through the places where ἐγγίζειν is used to translate the Hebrew ‫ נגע‬or the Aramaic ‫ מטא‬in reality favour “nearness” as translation, with Jonah 3:6 as the only undisputable place demanding “arrival”; and, thirdly, when looking at the New Testament material, the perfect ἤγγικεν always denotes “nearness.”381 Dodd promptly restated his case in the next issue of the journal,382 and in the decades to follow the discussion was kept alive by scholars reinforcing either Dodd’s realized eschatology383 or Campbell’s future eschatology.384 While opposing interpretations are certainly present, it is highly noteworthy how the minute formulations reveal considerable overlaps and agreements. For instance, accepting that ἐγγίζειν basically denotes “approach towards” or “nearness,” Dodd argues that “if you are approaching a point and keep on approaching, in the end you will arrive,” and refers to the grammatical category of “durative-punctiliar” in which a perfect may describe action and arrival at the same time, as represented ––––––––––––––––– See C. H. Dodd, The Parables of the Kingdom (New York: Scribner’s Sons, 1938). See Matt 12:28; Luke 11:20. 380 See Pss 31:6; 37:12; 87:4; 106:18 LXX; Jer 28:9; Jonah 3:6. Likewise, in Dan 4:11, 22 ἐγγίζειν is used to translate the Aramaic ‫מטא‬, another verb denoting completion. 381 J. Y. Campbell, “The Kingdom of God Has Come,” ExpTim 48.2 (1936): 91–94. 382 See C. H. Dodd, “The Kingdom of God Has Come,” ExpTim 48.3 (1936): 138–42. 383 See, e.g., Matthew Black, “The Kingdom of God Has Come,” ExpTim 63.9 (1952): 289–90; Ambrozic, Hidden Kingdom, 21; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 44; Gundry, Mark, 64–65; France, Gospel of Mark, 92; Stein, Mark, 73. 384 See, e.g., Kenneth W. Clark, “‘Realized Eschatology,’” JBL 59.3 (1940): 367–83; Robert F. Berkey, “Ἐγγίζειν, φτάνειν, and Realized Eschatology,” JBL 82.2 (1963): 177–87. 378 379

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by the graph ─•.385 In the same manner, in his reinforcement of Campbell’s position, Clark argues that φθάνειν and ἐγγίζειν are “synonymous in the meaning ‘to draw near, even to the very point of contact,’”386 just as Berkey searches for a middle-ground when claiming that “imminent nearness and actual arrival do frequently overlap; thus it is extremely difficult to speak of the one without also speaking of the other, and practical distinctions break down.”387 The same tension is found in Aloysius M. Ambrozic’s investigation, who opts for a realized understanding of ἐγγίζειν but continues to argue “that the present Kingdom is hidden.”388 As rightfully remarked by Dodd, a mediating position can be sought by accommodating φθάνειν to ἐγγίζειν or the other way round, stressing a future or a realized eschatology, resulting in notable nuances.389 This is a real enigma. One solution is to give up upon ἤγγικεν and conclude with Kelber that it “is a subtle and ambiguous phrase, devoid of any self-explanatory power.”390 Another is to accept that Mark’s description of the βασιλεία is inherently twosided. At places like 9:1 and 14:25, the kingdom is decidedly non-realized, whereas its realized nature is emphasized at other places,391 a duality that at times is labelled ‘inaugurated eschatology.’ While ἐγγίζειν/ἐγγύς in the Septuagint is clearly used in eschatological contexts, for example in connection with ἡ ἡµέρα κυρίου,392 it is likewise used spatially in cultic contexts, as Dodd is also well aware,393 as a technical term alongside προσάγειν and προσφέρειν for approaching a holy place, translating ‫ קרב‬or ‫נגשׁ‬.394 Focussing specifically on the visions of Second Isaiah, ἐγγίζειν is used in a number of key verses to describe the spatial proximity of Yahweh’s justice (δικαιοσύνη) and salvation (σωτηρία) to Zion, singled out as the locus for the spatial encounter between Yahweh and his people.395 The care and correct manner with which to approach the holy place is reflected throughout in later Jewish texts, such as in Josephus’s description of the four spheres of holiness surrounding the temple,396 or the considerably more elaborate description in ––––––––––––––––– See Dodd, “Kingdom of God,” 141. Clark, “‘Realized,’” 381. 387 Berkey, “Realized Eschatology,” 184. 388 Ambrozic, Hidden Kingdom, 24. 389 Dodd, “Kingdom of God,” 138. 390 Kelber, Kingdom in Mark, 9. See also Guelich’s concluding remark: “Thus one is left with a context denoting ‘arrival’ and a Greek verb which generally denotes ‘nearness’ – an apparent syntactical contradiction” (Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 44). 391 See, e.g., 4:11, 26, 30; 10:14–15. 392 See, e.g., Isa 13:6; Ezek 30:3; Joel 1:15; 2:1; 4:14; Zeph 1:7, 14; Obad 1:15; Zeph 1:7. 393 See Dodd, Parables, 29, with reference to Mark 12:34. 394 See, e.g., the story of Moses at the burning bush (Exod 3:5), Mt. Sinai as a holy place (Exod 19:21–22; 24:2), and the Levitical legislation of priestly access to the holy place (Lev 21:21, 23, see Ezek 40:46; 42:13; 43:19: 44:13; 45:4). 395 See Isa 46:13; 50:8; 51:5: 55:6; see also 56:1; 57:19; 58:2. 396 See Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.102–104, see Ant. 15.417–419. 385 386

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Mishnah of the circles of growing holiness limiting the approach to the temple step by step.397 Another interesting example of a spatial cultic connotation of “nearness/approach” is found in the instructions in 1QS VI, 13–23 of the way in which a novice would qualify to “come near” (‫ )קרב‬to the “purity” (‫)טהרת‬, being the community meal that serves as a cultic meal in “the holy temple of Israel” (‫)בית קודש לישראל‬.398 In essence, while ἐγγίζειν in the light of eschatological traditions denotes the epoch-making temporal transition to a new era, it likewise denotes the spatial encounter with the holy place and Yahweh himself and thus intrinsically bears a cultic connotation. In the light of Second Isaiah, this cultic notion should be considered when dealing with Mark 1:15 and the way in which ἤγγικεν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ despite how the uncertainty of the Hebrew and Aramaic background of ἤγγικεν bears an unmistakable whiff of a process sat in motion towards an encounter in time and place with the divine. (b) Even if this diachronic investigation of ἐγγίζειν would be deemed inconclusive, a synchronic interpretation of the two bipartite parts of the saying of v. 15 would arrive at the same conclusion through an observation of the tenses of the four verbs and the already outlined syntactical parallelism through which the four parts of the saying are bound together and vertically as well as horizontally interpret each other: Looking at the tenses of the verbs, the rhetorical force of the construction is extremely strong and also unique in Mark 1:14–15 by stringing together two perfect verbs, one way or the other highlighting completion, followed by the two present imperatives highlighting the necessity for current action. Mark ascribes to Jesus’s appearance “µετά δέ” a decisive in-break in time of the nearness of the kingdom which is so acute that no “Zeitzwischenraum mehr bleibt.”399 Thus, this construction strongly emphasizes the newness represented by the preaching of the εὐαγγέλιον, once again underlining its epoch-making capacity. This finally brings us to the question of how the parallelism in the verse works. Most commentators argue along the lines of Ambrozic that a “synthetic parallelism” is in play for which reason “the second member of the parallel can be seen as interpreting the first.”400 According to Marcus, this argument “misunderstands biblical parallelism, which can imply anything from identity to contradiction.”401 The last is certainly not the case here, and there is good ––––––––––––––––– See m. Kelim 1:6–9. 1QS VIII, 5, see 4Q174 1–2 I, 6 (“temple of man/Adam,” ‫)מקדש אדם‬. 399 Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 102. 400 Ambrozic, Hidden Kingdom, 21, see, e.g., Franz Mussner, “Gottesherrschaft und Sendung Jesu nach Mk 1,14 f.,” in Praesentia Salutis: Gesammelte Studien zu Fragen und Themen des Neuen Testaments, ed. Franz Mussner (Düsseldorf: Patmos, 1967), 81; Schnackenburg, “Das Evangelium,” 320; Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 102; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 44; Marshall, Faith, 35; Gundry, Mark, 65. 401 Marcus, Mark 1–8, 173. 397 398

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reason to understand πεπλήρωται ὁ καιρός as the fulfilment of all preparations for the end act, and thus underlining how the parallel καὶ ἤγγικεν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ denotes the irreversible proximity of the kingdom including its imminent arrival, much like the opening prophecy of the Book of Comfort in Isaiah speaking of the completion (πιµπλέναι) of the humiliation of Israel leading to the imminent but secured arrival of Yahweh.402 Bringing together these considerations regarding Mark’s presentation of his εὐαγγέλιον in 1:14–15, the permeating common denominator is the epoch-making notion of the renewed proximity of the divine, represented by Jesus who in a unique way as ὁ ἰσχυρότερος administers the εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ, which understood as a subjective genitive comes from God and is now entrusted to the spirit empowered ὁ υἱός µου ὁ ἀγαπητός. While it is still an open metonymic question if Jesus himself is identical to the εὐαγγέλιον, he is certainly presented as the one having the capacity to proclaim the time and place when and where contact with ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ is again possible, which through the vertical parallelism of v. 15 is presented as part and parcel of the εὐαγγέλιον. This also means that the dominating tone in these verses, as in the entirety of Mark’s introduction, is that of kingly war and victory. The κηρύσσειν of Jesus in line with the Isaianic vision of restoration is a proclamation of war if not victory.403 However, as seen throughout, there is a subtle foreshadowing of the cultic theme, which will increasingly grow in strength. Here, it is represented by the notion of the τὸ παραδοθῆναι of John and by the way in which ἐγγίζειν is one of the technical terms for spatial proximity to the holy place. Finally, the muchdebated issue of nearness or arrival of the kingdom should not be overstated. Mark is presenting an action set in motion but not yet completed. As emphasized by Dodd’s reference to the ‘punctiliar perfect,’ the nearness is set for arrival. As readers, we do not yet know when and where the εὐαγγέλιον will see ultimate completion and how the βασιλεύς of the βασιλεία will be fully identified.404 4.5.3 The ‘Gospel’ and Jesus the Messiah (1:1) In the effort to analyze Mark’s understanding of his εὐαγγέλιον in the prologue, we now finally return to the postponed discussion of Mark’s initial statement in 1:1: Ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ. The central question remains whether this should be understood in a subjective or objective sense. In the light of the preceding discussion, the question may in reality be narrowed down to if Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ on exegetical grounds can be understood otherwise than in a subjective manner – if the way in which Mark in the remaining part of the ––––––––––––––––– See Isa 40:2 LXX. See, e.g., Isa 40:9–10. 404 The discussion thereof will be a focus throughout the next two chapters, most importantly in Section 6.2.4. 402 403

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prologue indeed, as argued, stages his ‘gospel’ as the fulfilment of the Isaianic vision of the return of Yahweh as victorious king. God is gospel to Mark, and the questions is if, with the repeated use of τοῦ θεοῦ in vv. 14–15, there is any room left for Jesus to be more than the messenger who announces the epochmaking transition to God’s kingdom. This is exactly the viewpoint voiced by Gerhard Dautzenberg against the objective reading. According to Dautzenberg, an objective understanding of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον is only defensible by way of an assumed setting of Mark derived from redaction criticism and “nicht aus einer immanenten Textanalyse.”405 Instead, a subjective reading offers a unified understanding of εὐαγγέλιον in the prologue if not all of Mark. The last is the case with Harnack, who works his way through Mark from 1:14–15 as the only place in which Mark provides a definition of εὐαγγέλιον, namely that “die Zeit erfüllt und die Gottesherrshacft nahegekommen ist.”406 When projected to the remainder of attestations, this reveals that Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον throughout is a statement “von der Nähe des Reichs,”407 preached by Jesus, and not a statement von Christus. It must be granted as a strong point of the subjective reading that εὐαγγέλιον does not mean one thing in v. 1 and yet another in vv. 14–15, just as it must be granted Dautzenberg that an objective reading needs better grounding than Marxsen’s and his followers’ suggested ecclesiological Sizt im Leben.408 Thus, the core of the matter is if an objective reading can be established through textual analysis of Mark’s introduction. Considering the following points, it may indeed be argued as the case: (1) First of all, as argued by Hans Weder, an interpretation that has Mark using εὐαγγέλιον with two different shades of meaning is warranted in the text by the shift from Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ to τοῦ θεοῦ. “Dieser Unterschied ist von höchster Bedeutung.”409 If Jesus is not part of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον, Mark could have avoided the possibility of this understanding simply by defining it with τοῦ θεοῦ in the first verse as in v. 14. ––––––––––––––––– Dautzenberg, “Mk 1, 1–15,” 224. Harnack, Entstehung, 202. 407 Harnack, Entstehung, 205. 408 If for no other reason, this is evident from how a subjective reading has likewise been argued by way of redaction criticism. For instance, Kelber suggests that Mark’s community was not urged to believe in “the risen Christ” but in “the presence of the Kingdom in Galilee” constituting “the gist of the gospel program” (Kelber, Kingdom in Mark, 11). Strecker likewise arrives at a subjective reading of 1:1 by projecting a historical situation of Mark’s narrative, which he understands to be one in need of a corrective in which Mark sought to provoke a “Kehre” in terms of a “Historiesierung” of the gospel into Jesus’s preaching of the kingdom at the expense of an un-historical Hellenistic (Pauline?) understanding of the gospel (see Strecker, “Das Evangelium,” 537–39). 409 Weder, “Evangelium,” 403. 405 406

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(2) Further, the nature of the genitive in 1:1 is basically determined by the Christology of Mark, and as discussed above, if we look narrowly at the text of the introduction, the role assigned to Jesus expands far beyond the role of the Isaianic ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬by, for instance, taking the place of Yahweh in the composite citation as the one coming, being the one preached by John, and by being the one coming in strength. (3) Third, while Harnack is correct that it is only in the prologue that εὐαγγέλιον is “völlig klar determiniert,”410 we are not left without clues for how to understand the remainder of Mark’s uses. As the formulations ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου/ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ ἕνεκεν τοῦ εὐαγγελίου in 8:35 and 10:29 include and equate Jesus in and with the εὐαγγέλιον, the two missionary statements of 13:10 and 14:9 are textually tied to the impending Passover or the post-resurrection preaching of Jesus’s “Leiden, Sterben und Auferstehn.”411 (4) Fourth and finally, Harnack’s claim that 1:14–15 should be the prism through which all of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον sayings should be interpreted is open for questioning. Though 1:14–15 “seit langem” is determined as “ein markinisches Summarium,”412 Guelich’s statement that the subjective reading is a result of a “misplaced emphasis on 1:14” at the expense of 1:1 as an equal expression of Mark’s theology has merit to it.413 This issue is in essence identical with the redaction-critical focus on die Leistung des Markus. Without the need of postulating a specific situation of Mark’s recipient congregations in Galilee or derailed christological tendencies in the early churches, the question to be investigated in the chapters to follow is if Mark intentionally creates a fusion between Messiah, kingdom, and gospel. It has so far been argued that εὐαγγέλιον and βασιλεία are merged in 1:14–15 and closely connected to Jesus as the proclaimer thereof. But as the role of Jesus throughout the introduction exceeds that of a messenger, the destiny of John foreshadows the key role of the destiny of Jesus and the intentional Verschmelzung of βασιλεία and βασιλεύς in Mark 14–15.414 Reading 1:1 in the light of this trajectory, Johannes Weiss’s observation provides a strong argument in saying that when you place such a profound sentence as 1:1 “an der Spitze,” it has to entail an objective sense. Mark is not simply writing “die Geschichte des Anfangs der Mission,” but “etwas ‘von Christus.’” And, as Weiss pointedly remarks, even if Mark had meant it otherwise, the first readers would have come to understand the genitive “als objektiven.”415 ––––––––––––––––– Harnack, Entstehung, 205. Wellhausen, Marci, 116. 412 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 236. 413 See Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 9. 414 See especially Mark 14:25; 15:32, 34. 415 Johannes Weiss, Das älteste Evangelium: Ein Beitrag zum Verständnis des MarkusEvangeliums und der ältesten evangelischen Überlieferung (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1903), 26–27. 410 411

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To sum up, the above paragraph may be encapsulated in two points. The one is that various notions in the text of Mark warrant a portrait of its εὐαγγέλιον as a composite concept. Being a ‘gospel of genitives,’ there is a qualifying tension between Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ and τοῦ θεοῦ that mirrors the tension between John’s ἐκήρυσσεν λέγων about Jesus (1:7) and Jesus’s κηρύσσων … καὶ λέγων about the kingdom (1:14–15). Jesus is clearly a messenger, but throughout the introduction he is elevated beyond the position of a traditional messenger, and a ‘metonymic door’ is opened to the rest of the narrative forcing the question upon the reader to which extent Jesus is included in the gospel message that he himself is a messenger of. For this reason, Weiss is spot on when he laconically remarks that even if we argued back and forth bis in Ewigkeit, we just have to admit that Mark’s first readers came to understand the genitive of 1:1 in an objective sense. For our part, we will for now limit ourselves to observe how Mark in his presentation of Jesus’s relationship to the εὐαγγέλιον foreshadows how Jesus himself will one way or another be synonymous with it. The other point is that despite the differences in an emphasis in Christology or kingdom theology, there is a common denominator between the various approaches in the theme of proximity. The εὐαγγέλιον proclaimed in 1:1 and 1:14–15 is a notion of the epoch-making transition to a new era in which God’s presence is drawing near, unstoppably set on arrival.

4.6 Partial Conclusion Mark’s prologue or introduction has been a focus of scholarly investigation for some time now, but despite the efforts quite a number of issues remain unresolved and disputed, such as the role of the first line, the length and demarcation of the introduction, the role of Isaiah, the scriptural echoes, besides a number of other minute details. The objective of the investigation in this chapter was primarily to clarify how Mark understands and defines his εὐαγγέλιον notion used three times in the first fifteen verses, particularly with reference to the two genitives Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ and τοῦ θεοῦ and the closely connected notion of βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ. As outlined in Chapter 2, various options have been argued for more than a century. Based on the fresh investigation in Chapter 3 of the disparate pre-Markan sources using the gospel nomenclature without the previous artificial distinction between politics and religion, the aim of the present investigation has been to clarify how Mark’s use of εὐαγγέλιον compares with the argued sense of an epoch-making proclamation of a kingly victory and cultic celebration. The following may be concluded: (1) First and foremost, it has become evident how Mark indeed presents his εὐαγγέλιον as Isaianic from beginning to end. This is seen from the following: (a) While the structure of Mark’s first four verses has been variously understood, the most convincing approach is to view Mark’s different

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organization of the material compared to Q as forced by his eagerness to define the ἀρχη τοῦ εὐαγγελίου as Isaianic. Neither of the two most favoured options, understanding Mark’s first line as a verbless heading (inscriptio) or part of the first sentence together with vv. 2–3 (incipit), can explain Mark’s grammar adequately. The construction remains awkward. What is not uncertain, though, is the way in which, to the point of being ‘clumsy,’ Mark is able to communicate the role of Isaiah 40 for his understanding of Jesus as Messiah. (b) Concerning the composite citation specifically, it is concluded that the re-positioning as well as the specific changes of pronouns serve to elevate the citations from solely covering the role of John as in Q to Jesus primarily. At this point, Jesus is the only introduced reference point for σου and αὐτοῦ, and these changes create a ‘metonymic gap’ foreshadowing the intimate role of Jesus in the bringing of the Isaianic ‘gospel.’ (c) The ministry of John taking place in the wilderness is likewise moulded by an Isaianic cast. Though he is labelled ἄγγελος and not εὐάγγελος or ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος, he partakes in the proclamation of the gospel, as evidenced by the shared vocabulary of κηρύσσειν and ἄφεσις with Isa 61:1 LXX, besides the role of repentance and sin in Second Isaiah, the epithet ὁ ἰσχυρότερος, and the role of the πνεῦµα. While the expectation of Elijah Redivivus is drawn from Malachi, it only serves to fertilize the Isaianic theme of ultimate restoration. (d) The tearing of the heavens is best understood as an echo of Isa 63:19 LXX. (e) The voice identifying Jesus as ὁ υἱός µου ὁ ἀγαπητός, ἐν σοὶ εὐδόκησα likely incorporates the notion of the servant of Isa 42:1 among its other echoes of the Hebrew Bible. (f) The temptation scene echoes the Isaianic confrontation between Yahweh and the evil forces and likely through the motif of Steigerung morphs from an Israel–Jesus typology set in the wilderness to an Adam–Jesus typology, echoing the ultimate restoration ὡς παράδεισον. (g) Finally, and most obviously, the Isaianic cast of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον is present in the identification of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ with ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ, which evokes the vision of Yahweh’s ruling kingship of Isa 52:7 in particular but also Yahweh’s approach to and ultimate arrival at Jerusalem as the one coming in strength, depicted in Isa 40:9–10. (2) Further, flowing from this conclusion is the observation of how Mark’s reshaped use of the Isaianic visions and gospel nomenclature squarely fits within the projected understanding of the εὐαγγελ- nomenclature as a notion of epoch-making or epoch-changing magnitude, a proclamation of the impending proximity of the divine. This is particularly evident from, first, the highlighted role of ἀρχή, which is best understood in a composite way as the temporal beginning as well as the foundational or epochal beginning of a new era; second, the way in which the quotation of Isa 40:3 evokes the entire notion in Second Isaiah of Yahweh’s coming in strength on the ὁδός in the ἔρηµος; third, John’s

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task of κατασκευάζειν/ἑτοιµάζειν as preparation for the immediate contact with the presence of the divine, whether understood apocalyptically or ethically; fourth, the promise of a baptism of the spirit, elevating the status of the people to a whole new level; fifth, the dramatic scene of the baptism is not adequately explained as a mere Deutevision, but rather amounts to a scene of an epochmaking transition to a new state of interaction between heaven and earth as evident in the irreversible tearing, not opening, of the heavens in combination with the anabase of Jesus, the katabase of the spirit, transferring heavenly powers εἰς Jesus, as well as the heavenly voice casting a spotlight on Jesus; sixt, the confrontation in the wilderness, which may either be read solely as an unleashing of the heavenly powers that have come εἰς Jesus solely or as a proleptic description of the paradisiac, pneumatic proximity of the divine around Jesus; and, finally, by the way in which the preaching of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον by Jesus heralds the proximity of the divine into a whole new sphere, with the kingdom being so ἤγγικεν and the time so πεπλήρωται that the only correct response is to act according to the two present imperatives: µετανοεῖτε καὶ πιστεύετε, namely ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ. (3) This raises the question to which extent Mark’s reworking of the Isaianic ‘gospel’ notion is presented as providing proximity to the divine through kingly victory and cultic renewal. Starting with the kingly theme, this is evident from, first, the underlying theme of the composite citation being about the advent of Yahweh; second, John’s designation of Jesus as ὁ ἰσχυρότερος as an evocation of Second Isaiah’s description of Yahweh µετὰ ἰσχύος ἔρχεται; and, most clearly, third, through the three closely united events of the voice identifying Jesus as υἱός having a kingly, Davidic echo as one of its reference points, the spirit coming εἰς Jesus, after which it εὐθύς expels Jesus to the desert confronting ὁ σατανᾶς and perhaps the wild animals, upon which (µετά δέ) he returns victorious to Galilee proclaiming τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ and ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ, in what amounts to being the perfect example of the gospel nomenclature designating kingly victory. (4) At the very same time, albeit as a more subtle note, the decisive role of the temple later in the narrative is foreshadowed: First, John’s preparation of the people incorporates notions of purity not least through the echo of Ezek 36:25–28, envisioning an eschatological cleansing of the people in preparation for the reception of Yahweh’s spirit, but also places like Isa 52:11 and 66:17, likewise envisioning cultic purity as part of the final restoration. Second, Temple cultic notions were found in several ways in the pericope on Jesus’s baptism including: the echo of Isa 63:19 as a prayer of renewal of the temple cult; the foreshadowing of the tearing of the temple veil; the way in which the notion of the spirit’s katabase ὡς περιστεράν foreshadows the role of the temple in Mark’s interpretation of the death of Jesus through Jesus’s confrontation with those selling doves in the temple courtyard (11:15), the only other reference to doves in Mark; and finally through the likely echo of the Akedah tradition in

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Genesis 22 with the ὁ ἀγαπητός notion, which implies sacrificial understanding of the death of Jesus. Third, if the specific Markan ἦν µετὰ τῶν θηρίων is understood as an Adam–Jesus typology, this would likewise incorporate the notion of cultic renewal since the entire idea of paradisiac existence is unlimited access to the presence of the divine. Fourth, in the light of this, it is not to be overlooked how the notion of ἐγγίζειν serves as one of the spatial metaphors for temple cultic interaction. As noted, such temple cultic notions should not come as a surprise if the underlying Isaianic matrix is understood as one communicating Yahweh’s triumphal march towards Zion as a warrior as well as a pilgrim. (5) It is within this conceptual framework of Isaianic restoration that Mark’s ‘gospel of genitives’ should be understood. It is not narrowly defined as already evident in the shift from the dual genitive constructs Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ and τοῦ θεοῦ, but is a composite notion. As an Isaianic cast, it is a kingly vision of Yahweh as victor presented by Jesus κηρύσσων … καὶ λέγων. In the light of especially Isa 52:7, an ‘Isaianic gospel’ will always be a gospel of ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ. At the very same time, it has been argued extensively above how the presentation of Jesus in Mark’s first fifteen verses foreshadows, how the role of Jesus as Messiah will exceed that of a messenger. This is evident from the ‘metonymic gaps’ created by the elevation of Jesus to partaking in the role of Yahweh as it is envisioned in Mark’s Isaianic prescript, that is, as the one coming in strength, the tearing of the heavens, the fighting of evil powers, and the renewal of the temple. It has been argued on the basis of redaction criticism that die Leistung des Markus is precisely to be found in his fusion of perspectives and emphases before and after the death and resurrection of Jesus. Without the need for proposing a certain ecclesiastical situation to which Mark was a response, it will be a central question in the ensuing chapters to investigate how Mark presents his εὐαγγέλιον as such an intertwined notion of kingdom and cross. (6) Finally, is it justified to understand εὐαγγέλιον as a heading for Mark’s introduction and the introduction as a heading for the entire narrative? As clearly outlined, it has proven a delicate task to establish a convincing outline of Mark, just as good arguments can be presented for understanding Mark’s introduction as 1:1–3 solely, 1:1–13, or 1:1–15, leaving 1:1–8 as a minority position. The investigation above leads to a conclusion that bypasses this impasse on the basis of two observations. One is that through the initial ἀρχη τοῦ εὐαγγελίου and the first summary of Jesus’s preaching as τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ … τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ Mark singles out the gospel notion as a headline of his narrative. The other is that Mark’s paratactic style is marked by the stringing of episodes together in which some serve as hinges that conclude and open at one and the same time. Specifically, 1:14–15 serves as a conclusion of the introduction by narrating how Jesus victoriously returns from the wilderness as well as the grand opening of the remainder of the narrative. In other words, it

4.6 Partial Conclusion

269

is not necessary to establish a clear demarcation of Mark’s prologue to justify the understanding of Mark’s first fifteen verses as laying ground for the entire narrative foreshadowing the important themes to come: the εὐαγγέλιον, Jesus as Messiah and God’s son, the Isaianic cast, the important role of John, the rending of the heavens and the proximity of God’s presence, the establishment of the kingdom through a victorious battle and cultic renewal, the role of Jesus as bringer of the βασιλεία but eventually also βασιλεύς himself, and, subtly, the death of John, first, and Jesus, thereafter as ὁ ἀγαπητός. On the basis of this importance of the εὐαγγέλιον notion in the prologue and the importance of the prologue in the narrative, the task ahead is to clarify how Mark unfolds his presentation of the inauguration of the kingdom in Galilee first, Jerusalem next.

5

The Galilean ‘Gospel’ of Victory and Proximity Chapter 5

The Galilean ‘Gospel’ of Victory and Proximity 5.1 Introduction and Research Questions Arriving with Mark by the shores of the Sea of Galilee sets us up for a bit of a surprise. At first glance, it seems as if he does not continue the themes loudly proclaimed in the grand hinge of 1:14–15. At least not in terms of words. The bold and dense proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία is not repeated in combination again. As a matter of fact, looking at the sheer distribution, the first Galilean section is created without reference to εὐαγγέλιον, which surfaces next in the speeches in the ‘way’ section (8:35; 10:29). While βασιλεία features in the parables (3:24; 4:11, 26, 30), it actually suffers the same destiny of losing ground until the ‘way’ section. But so does χριστός. Surprisingly, in the light of the bold introduction of this theme in 1:1, χριστός is not used again before Peter’s proclamation in 8:29. This obvious observation brings me to the main argument of this chapter: In the same way as the christological theme is part and parcel of Mark’s narrative throughout, though only surfacing overtly at certain junctures, the theme of εὐαγγέλιον is weaved into Mark’s presentation throughout. Further, if we apply the understanding of Mark’s prologue arrived at in the preceding chapter, we will gain a perspective on the inner coherence of Mark’s first ten chapters that at first seem loosely organized. If, as argued, Mark’s prologue is tailored to fit the notion of Yahweh’s triumphal march and pilgrimage towards Jerusalem, it is to be expected that the announcement of this εὐαγγέλιον is followed up by a display of the strength of God at work in Jesus combined with the notion of temple cultic renewal. The revelation or epiphany (ὁρᾶν) of ‫ְכּבוֹד ְיה ָוה‬/ἡ δόξα κυρίου must happen µετὰ ἰσχύος (Isa 40:5, 10), just as it must fulfil the expectation of nearness through a temple cultic renewal. It will be argued that this indeed takes place in Mark 1–10 and to a degree that may offer a perspective on Mark’s organization of his material. In other words, the importance of Galilee as a ‘gospel scene’ springs from the way in which this section serves as a distinct sequel to the prologue. The initial summary of 1:14–15 colours the events to follow as part of the projected εὐαγγέλιον. The objective of the present chapter is therefore to test if the understanding of εὐαγγέλιον as epoch-making message of proximity to the divine through kingly victory and cultic renewal can be brought to bear in Mark 1–10. In order

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to test this thesis, the two overarching research questions of the present chapter concern the way in which Jesus is presented as Yahweh’s divine warrior and temple cultic regenerator. We shall discuss this by asking the following three questions: (1) In which way are the concepts of “newness” (καινός/νέος) and “power, authority, potency” (ἐξουσία) central to Mark’s presentation of the conflict surrounding the actions and sayings of Jesus? Both notions come with distinct echoes of Mark’s Isaianic framework. As outlined below, ‘newness’ is one of the repeated catchwords of Second Isaiah’s comforting visions from the “new song” (‫ִשׁיר ָח ָדשׁ‬/ὕµνος καινός, 42:10) to be sung to Yahweh for the new thing which Yahweh is about to do (‫עֶֹשׂה ֲח ָדָשׁה‬/ποιῶ καινά, 43:19). When it comes to ἐξουσία, it must be admitted that the word itself plays no role in Second Isaiah, but as argued by Scholtissek, there is a close counterpart in the equipment of the servant with the spirit of Yahweh to bring Yahweh’s rightful judgements (‫ִמְשָׁפּט‬/κρίσις) to the nations.1 Nevertheless, it is only in Daniel 7 that ἐξουσία is used eschatologically as part of the central evocation of the one who comes with the clouds and looks like a son of a man (‫ְכַּבר ֱא ָנשׁ‬/ὡς υἱὸς ἀνθρώπου), who is given an everlasting authority/dominion (‫ָשְׁלָטן‬/ἐξουσία) with no end to his kingdom (‫ַמְלכוּ‬/βασιλεία).2 At crucial junctures, Mark precisely uses Daniel to heighten the kingly role of Jesus as being more than a mere messenger for King Yahweh but as king himself.3 (2) In which ways does the newness of Jesus bring him into conflict with the powers of old? While Galilee as a place of intense conflict and clashes is an insight of old, postcolonial and/or anti-imperial readings have brought this issue to the forefront by emphasizing how conflict and resistance may not only take place in an overt manner but also take the shape of covert modes of resistance aiming at subverting colonial structures of power. As evident, however, from the discussion of this approach to Mark in Chapter 2,4 a one-eyed focus on Mark’s adversaries as the Roman Empire readily leads to highly conflicting characterizations. To avoid this, I will in the present chapter discuss the Roman Empire as only one of the ‘empires’ Mark’s Jesus engages throughout his journey in Galilee. Other opposing forces include family structures, ––––––––––––––––– 1 See Isa 42:1–4, see Klaus Scholtissek, Die Vollmacht Jesu: Traditions- und redaktionsgeschichtliche Analysen zu einem Leitmotiv markinischer Christologie, NTAbh 25 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1992), 43–45. 2 See Dan 7:14, 27. In reality, in the LXX, it is only here that ἐξουσία is used eschatologically. This undergirds the connection between Mark’s use and Dan 7, see Scholtissek, Vollmacht Jesu, 55, see further pp. 45–47. 3 See especially Mark 2:10; 8:38; 13:26; 14:62. See recently Robert S. Snow, Daniel’s Son of Man in Mark: A Redefinition of the Jerusalem Temple and the Formation of a New Covenant Community (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2016). 4 See Section 2.4.6.

5.2 The Newness and Potency of the Gospel-Bringer

273

demons, unclean spirits, the Jewish law and traditions, death, and Jewish–gentile divisions. (3) In which way is the temple theme present in Mark 1–10? Contrary to the common position, it will be argued that the central role of the temple in Mark’s Jerusalem section is foreshadowed in Mark’s Galilee section and detectable in at least six ways, as it will become evident through the discussion below.

5.2 The Newness and Potency of the Gospel-Bringer 5.2.1 Subversive Eschatological Newness Before engaging the two trajectories of kingly victory and cultic renewal, we shall investigate two concepts that in an overarching manner prelude and encapsulate the epoch-making reality embedded in the εὐαγγέλιον and βασιλεία proclamation of Jesus, namely the ἐξουσία ascribed to Jesus by bystanders5 or by himself6 and the notion of “newness” (καινός/νέος).7 The interrelation of these two concepts is apparent from the designation of the preaching of Jesus as διδαχὴ καινὴ κατ᾽ ἐξουσίαν8 by the people of Capernaum (1:27) as well as the violent potency of the “newness” as it is described in 2:21–22. Beginning with “newness,” we find the single use of νέος in tandem with καινός9 in the Doppellogion10 of the new patch and the new wine and wineskins ––––––––––––––––– See 1:22, 27. See 2:10 and the impartation to the disciples in 3:15; 6:7; 13:34 besides also the discussion in 11:28–33. 7 See 1:27; 2:21–22; 14:25. 8 Accepting the reading of ℵ B L 33 rather than the Majority text that separates διδαχή and ἐξουσία probably in order not to have the crowd answering its own question right away, see Philip Wesley Comfort, New Testament Text and Translation Commentary (Wheaton: Tyndale House, 2008), 96. The connection between the two is prepared in v. 22, see Metzger, Textual Commentary, 62. 9 In older research, a sharp distinction was upheld between νέος and καινός, defining the first as new in a temporal sense and the latter as new in a qualitative sense (see, e.g., Behm, “καινός,” TWNT 3:450). However, as demonstrated by Harrisville, this distinction is far too rigid, for example in the LXX, which uses the two terms interchangeable, and if a distinction is to be made, the comparable latecomer, καινός, was a literary term, whereas νέος continued to dominate in vernacular contexts (see R. A. Harrisville, “The Concept of Newness in the New Testament,” JBL 74 [1955]: 72). In Mark 2:22, no distinction is observable (see, e.g., M. Eugene Boring, Mark: A Commentary, NTL [Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006], 87 n. 34). 10 For the question of the genre of these two sayings or parables, see Gerald Glynn O’Collins, “Unshrunk Cloth and New Wineskins: Origins in the Experience of Jesus,” ExpTim 132.3 (2020): 122 n. 2. 5 6

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(2:21–22).11 The structural importance of the Doppellogion is obvious from its central placement in the middle of the collection of conflict stories with the Jewish leaders, providing a pointed interpretative maxim for the relationship between the “old” and “new.” Further, as noted by Gundry,12 the two sayings follow the same three-fold pattern of simile, consequence, and result, leading to the final maxim that serves as a conclusion to both sayings and that is likely to be understood as an emphatic slogan: “But, new wine into new wineskins!”13 Table 4: The parallel construction of the New Patch and the New Wine Logion 1: New Patch

Logion 2: New Wine

Simile: Οὐδεὶς ἐπίβληµα ῥάκους ἀγνάφου ἐπιράπτει ἐπὶ ἱµάτιον παλαιόν

καὶ οὐδεὶς βάλλει οἶνον νέον εἰς ἀσκοὺς παλαιούς

Consequence: εἰ δὲ µή, αἴρει τὸ πλήρωµα ἀπ᾽ αὐτοῦ τὸ καινὸν τοῦ παλαιοῦ

εἰ δὲ µή, ῥήξει ὁ οἶνος τοὺς ἀσκοὺς

Result: καὶ χεῖρον σχίσµα γίνεται

καὶ ὁ οἶνος ἀπόλλυται καὶ οἱ ἀσκοι

Maxim: ἀλλ᾽ οἶνον νέον εἰς ἀσκοὺς καινούς

Theologically, the main question is if these sayings or parables in the context of Mark entail “incompatibility” between the old and the new, as most commentators argue, or if they rather denote an eschatological fulfilment, consummation, or transformation of the old into the new. This was strongly argued by Alistair Kee, taking a position contrary to the dominant by reading Mark’s version in concordance with the Gospel of Matthew’s emphasis on πληροῦν of the ‘old’ rather than abolishment.14 According to Kee, emphasis should be given to the implied fact that the old coat is worth repairing and that the distinction between the old and new wine and skins should be made in order not to lose either. Thus, “the double parable deals with danger of loss, not incompatibility.”15 Similarly, Gundry argues that the sayings do not stress “the incompatibility” of the old and new but rather “the irresistible forces” at play in Jesus’s ––––––––––––––––– 11 Apart from this, καινός is also used in the response to Jesus’s ministry in the synagogue of Capernaum (1:27) and in Jesus’s saying about drinking “new” wine in the kingdom of God (14:25). With Nestle-Aland, it is safe to regard the reading τῆς καινῆς διαθήκης in 14:24 as a later scribal addition perhaps prompted by liturgical usage, see Metzger, Textual Commentary, 113; Comfort, Commentary. 12 See Gundry, Mark, 134. 13 This is especially the case if we follow Nestle-Aland in viewing the verbal adjective βλητέος from the majority tradition as a later addition, see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 235. 14 See Alistair Kee, “The Old Coat and the New Wine,” NovT 12.1 (1970): 16, with reference to Matt 5:17. See also the version of the parable of the new wine, which in Matt 9:17 ends with an interpretative assuring καὶ ἀµφότεροι συντηροῦνται. 15 Kee, “Old Coat,” 20.

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newness.16 In the same manner, Boring argues that “new” in the context of Mark connotes “ultimacy,” implying “a dialectical relation” in which “the new is not the replacement of the old, but its eschatological fulfilment.”17 In rejecting these readings, the majority of researchers point to the definite contrast between the old and new. For instance, Pesch argues that the καινός of Jesus represents “das eschatologisch Neue” that “kann sich in den alten Bahnen nicht entfalten,” for which reason “neues Denken, neue Praxis sind gefordert.”18 This discussion cuts to the core of Mark’s theological vision and presentation of Jesus’s εὐαγγέλιον agenda and is, as will be discussed in the next chapter, closely related to the question of the role of the temple in Jerusalem and not least how we understand the role of the fig tree.19 Before discussing the Markan text, the first thing to notice is the evocation of an important theme from especially Isaiah 40–66, but also other places in the Hebrew Bible, loaded with visions of eschatological restoration. As already noticed in our discussion of the Isaianic visions of a new exodus and full restoration,20 the people are urged to forget “the old things” (‫מ ִניּוֹת‬ ֹ ‫ַק ְד‬/τὰ ἀρχαῖα) or “the former things” (‫ ִראשׁ ֹנוֹת‬/τὰ ἀπ᾿ ἀρχῆς, τὰ πρῶτα) since Yahweh is about to do “new things” (‫ֲח ָדָשׁה‬/καινά).21 In Isa 43:18–20, this is connected to Yahweh’s wonders in the wilderness where even the wild beasts (‫ַח ָיּת‬/τὰ θηρία) will honour him. Earlier, in the first Servant Song, the in-break of the new exodus is described as a “new song” (‫ִשׁיר ָח ָדשׁ‬/ὕµνον καινόν, 42:10) to be sung when Yahweh returns as a mighty warrior (42:13). In 48:6, Yahweh again speaks of “the new things,” which in the difficult and much debated v. 16 implies the one sent with “his spirit” (‫רוּחוֹ‬/τὸ πνεῦµα αὐτοῦ).22 Finally, in the last part of Isaiah, this theme is reworked into the vision of “a new heaven(s) and new earth” (‫ָשַׁמ ִים ֲח ָדִשׁים ָוָא ֶרץ ֲח ָדָשׁה‬/ὁ οὐρανὸς καινὸς καὶ ἡ γῆ καινή) where the “former things” (‫ָה ִראשׁ ֹנוֹת‬/ὁ πρότερος) will be forgotten.23 The theme of a “new song” is well known in the Psalms as well and, as we have seen, used in connection with two of the three ‘gospel’ places,24 just as we find the idea of eschatological newness represented in Jeremiah’s distinct and important notion of a “new ––––––––––––––––– See Gundry, Mark, 134. See Boring, Mark, 87. 18 Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 177; see also Gundry, Mark, 118; Marcus, Mark 1– 8, 238; Focant, Mark, 108. 19 See Section 6.3.2. 20 See Section 3.3.1. 21 See especially Isa 41:21–23; 42:9–10; 43:18–20; 44:6; 45:21; 48:6; 62:2; 65:17; 66:22. See also the discussion in, e.g., Anderson, “Exodus Typology,” 186. 22 See, e.g., Childs, Isaiah, 377–78; Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 293–96; Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 294. 23 Here quoting from Isa 65:17. 24 See Pss 40:4, 10; 96:1–2 MT besides also 33:3; 98:1; 144:9; 149:1 MT. 16 17

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covenant” (‫ְבּ ִרית ֲח ָדָשׁה‬/διαθήκη καινή)25 and Ezekiel’s “new heart and new spirit” (‫ֵלב ָח ָדשׁ ְורוּ ַח ֲח ָדָשׁה‬/καρδίαν καινὴν καὶ πνεῦµα καινόν, 36:26, see 11:19; 18:31). Further, the theme of “newness” and in particular “new covenant” plays an important role in the Qumran writings as well, likewise drawing heavily on Isaiah,26 and this should warn against approaching the issue simply by projecting a conflict between ‘Judaism’ and ‘Christianity’ as the issue at stake.27 If we approach the Markan use of καινός/νέος from this angle, the following becomes obvious: First, the notion of καινός/νέος is intrinsically connected to the preaching of the nearness of the kingdom, the belief in the εὐαγγέλιον, and the need for repentance (1:14–15). This is seen by the way in which Jesus’s teaching is labelled as διδαχὴ καινή (1:27), and the way in which the Doppellogion serves as an interpretative maxim for the number of conflict stories collected in 2:1–3:6, focussing on Jesus’s teaching and interpretation of the law, besides also the connection between kingdom and newness in 14:25. In other words, “newness” is in Mark an outworking of the consequences of the fulfilment of the Isaianic visions encapsulated in 1:14–15 and thus intrinsically connected to the “gospel” preached and taught by Jesus. Further, as suggested by Marcus, it is likely that other allusions to Mark’s Isaianic framework in the introduction are at play in the Doppellogion. As the heavens are torn apart (σχιζοµένους), so does the new patch produce a rift (σχίσµα), and as Jesus is expelled (ἐκβάλλει) into the wilderness as the one equipped with the spirit, so is the new wine cast (βάλλει) in the wineskins.28 Finally, it is likewise reasonable, as suggested by Jeremias, to see a connection between the symbol of “wine” and the new, eschatological age,29 something corroborated by the preceding reference to a wedding feast, which is a known eschatological image.30 The “newness” in Mark is thus in essence “das eschatologisch Neue”31 that springs from the Isaianic proclamation of the kingdom and the gospel by the one empowered with the spirit and exorcistic powers (1:27). This surely stands in contrast to the teachings of the scribes (1:22), and the question to be pursued ––––––––––––––––– See Jer 31:31 (38:31 LXX). See, e.g., CD VI, 19; VIII, 21; 1QS IV, 25. See Bilhah Nitzan, “The Concept of the Covenant in the Qumran Literature,” in Historical Perspectives: From the Hasmoneans to Bar Kokhba in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. David Goodblatt, Avital Pinnick, and David R. Schwartz, STDJ 37 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 85–104; Robert Eisenman, “An Esoteric Relationship Between Qumran’s ‘New Covenant in the Land of Damascus’ and the New Testament’s ‘Cup of the New Covenant in (His) Blood’?,” RevQ 21.3 (2004): 439–56. 27 Pace Hooker, Mark, 100; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 238. 28 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 238. 29 See Joachim Jeremias, Die Gleichnisse Jesu (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1952), 96–98. 30 See especially Isa 54:5; 62:5; Hos 2:21–22; Ezek 16:59–63, see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 237. 31 Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 177, see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 238; Guelich, Mark 1– 8:26, 59. 25 26

5.2 The Newness and Potency of the Gospel-Bringer

277

is if this contrast evolves into full-fledged incompatibility which, as mentioned, foreshadows the theme of Jesus’s relationship to the temple and the temple authorities. While it thus remains an open question for now how the relationship between Jesus and the temple will evolve, it should not be overlooked how the connotations of violence involved in the Isaianic eschatological newness foreshadows this to be one of conflict indeed,32 as does the references to rejection and death.33 Though not yet clear in which ways, the forces of the newness at play in Jesus are likely to be impossible to accommodate or assimilate with the old and thus in essence subversive. 5.2.2 Eschatological and Heavenly Derived Potency The other important concept is ἐξουσία, which in the same manner encapsulates the consequences of the proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον as they are about to unfold. Even more than in the case of “newness,” ἐξουσία can be labelled one of Mark’s keywords,34 and we shall not look far to discover that it shares with its counterpart a strong connotation of conflict, battle, and even violence. Though ἐξουσία does not occur often (ten times), its overarching and programmatic role is seen from at least three things: The way Jesus’s public ministry is immediately identified as marked by ἐξουσία (1:22, 27; 2:10), the vital role it plays in the confrontations on the Temple Mount (11:27–33), and the way in which it is programmatically mirrored onto the disciples (3:15; 6:7; 13:34, see the warning against its anti-type, κατεξουσιάζειν, 10:42).35 Focussing on the theological role and importance of ἐξουσία, the following three observations are noteworthy: (1) First, ἐξουσία fundamentally concerns the right, the permission, the office, or the appointment to claim a certain authority or perform a certain act. It ––––––––––––––––– 32 See the textual references of schism and tearing (σχίσµα, αἴρειν, ῥηγνύναι) and destruction (ἀπολλύναι), see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 238. 33 See 1:14 (παραδιδόναι); 2:20 (ἀπαίρειν). 34 See Scholtissek, Vollmacht Jesu, 281–96; Klaus Scholtissek, Vollmacht im Alten Testament und Judentum: Begriffs- und motivgeschichtliche Studien zu einem bibeltheologischen Thema, PaThSt 24 (Paderborn: Schöningh, 1993), 150–62; Anne Dawson, Freedom as Liberating Power: A Socio-Political Reading of the ἐξουσία Texts in the Gospel of Mark, NTOA 44 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), 118–20. 35 As outlined by Per Bilde, several scholars have over the years emphasized the ἐξουσία of Jesus as the most unique element in the descriptions of him in the Gospels. This was, for instance, the view of Harnack, and when Käsemann in 1954 reopened the quest for the historical Jesus, one of his main points was Jesus’s claim of authority as the reason for confrontation with the other authorities of his day: “Wer aber Autorität neben und gegen Moses beansprucht, hat sich faktisch über Moses gestellt und aufgehört, ein Rabbi zu sein, dem ja immer nur von Moses abgeleitete Autorität zukommt” (Ernst Käsemann, “Das Problem des historischen Jesus,” ZTK 51.2 [1954]: 144). See further Per Bilde, The Originality of Jesus (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013), 89, 124.

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is etymologically derived from ἔξεστιν and thus carries the core meaning of the ability to perform an action, to be free to act, to be rightfully allowed to act (Latin: auctoritas).36 Distinct from this, we find the notion of δύναµις, describing the power, the ability to perform an act (Latin: potestas). Thus, while ἐξουσία in classical Greek tradition describes the authority to act, δύναµις describes the potency to act.37 Though this distinction should not be overstated even in the classical Greek tradition,38 the parallel phrase in Luke, ἐν ἐξουσίᾳ καὶ δυνάµει (4:36), serves as an example of awareness of the distinction.39 Mark makes reference to both notions (including δύνασθαι) in connection with Jesus’s miracles, and the question is if a distinction is present. On the one hand, in the confrontations with first οἱ γραµµατεῖς (1:22) and later οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ γραµµατεῖς καὶ οἱ πρεσβύτεροι (11:27–33), there is a sense of the formal side of ἐξουσία, the legal right, authority, or office through which Jesus acts.40 On the other hand, the initial conflict with the Jewish authorities is immediately (εὐθύς) ‘solved’ by reference to Jesus’s actual power and ability as an exorcist (1:23–26), something emphasized by the crowd’s reaction41 and the description of his teaching as διδαχὴ καινὴ κατ᾽ ἐξουσίαν (1:27). Despite the emendation in the Western text tradition (D W it) that reserves the ἐξουσία for the teaching alone, the best readings view it as referring to Jesus’s teaching and his exorcistic ability combined (ℵ B L 33) or solely (TR).42 This duality of Jesus’s legal right to act powerfully (ἐξουσία) and his actual ability to do so (δύναµις) is observed throughout Mark, as in the blending of the ability to forgive sins in 2:7 (τίς δύναται ἀφιέναι ἁµαρτίας) with the authority to forgive sins in 2:10 ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., W. Foerster, “ἔξεστιν, ἐξουσία, κτλ,” TWNT 2:557–72; Scholtissek, Vollmacht Jesu, 54. 37 See, e.g., Scholtissek, Vollmacht Jesu, 52–54; Richard J. Dillon, “‘As One Having Authority’ (Mark 1:22): The Controversial Distinction of Jesus’ Teaching,” CBQ 57.1 (1995): 97–98; Daniel P. Sulmasy, “Exousia: Healing with Authority in the Christian Tradition,” in Theological Analyses of the Clinical Encounter, ed. Gerald P. McKenny and Jonathan R. Sande, ThAM 3 (Dordrecht: Springer-Science+Business Media, B.V., 1994), 95–98. 38 See Foerster, TWNT 2:563. 39 The repeated coupling between the two phrases in the Lucan writings (see Luke 4:36; 9:1; 10:19; Acts 8:19) might also indicate their close resemblance (see Dillon, “Authority,” 97). 40 The attempt by Daube to reinforce this sense by referring to the rabbinic notion of ‫רש ות‬ denoting the formal “authority to lay down such doctrines and decisions as are of binding force” (David Daube, “Ἐξουσία in Mark 1:22 and 27,” JTS 39.1 [1938]: 45) has not been met with approval (see Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 127 n. 50; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 56). 41 See ἐκπλήσσειν, 1:22, and θαµβεῖν, 1:27. 42 Most commentators accept ἐξουσία as covering both Jesus’s teaching and exorcism, see, e.g., Rudolf Pesch, “‘Eine neue Lehre aus Macht’: Eine Studie zu Mk 1,21–28,” in Evangelienforschung: Ausgewählte Aufsätze deutscher Exegeten, ed. Johannes B. Bauer (Graz: Styria, 1968), 271; Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 121; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 58–59; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 189; Stein, Mark, 86–87. 36

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(ἐξουσίαν ἔχει ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἀφιέναι ἁµαρτίας), proven by the ability to heal the paralytic (2:11–12). In the same way, the commission of the disciples to preach is coupled with the ἐξουσία to drive out demons in 3:15–16, understood as the actual exorcistic ability (see 6:7, 13), just as the antecedent of ταῦτα in 11:28–33 might be Jesus’s potency to act in the temple and curse the fig tree (11:12–21).43 (2) Further, Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s ἐξουσία as a comprehensive notion of the freedom or legal right as well as the actual power and ability to act combined produce the question if Mark reveals from where Jesus received it. There are several clues to an answer thereof. One is from the context. Since the reactions in 1:22, 27 are the first recorded verbal responses to Jesus’s public ministry, there is an intimate link to Jesus’s first preaching of the kingdom and the gospel (1:14–15). As stated by Lührmann, “Diese ἐξουσία ist die Nähe des Reiches Gottes, die den Schriftgelehrten eben fehlt.”44 Another clue to the exact source of Jesus’s ἐξουσία is found in Jesus’s counter-question to the Jewish leaders on the Temple Mount questioning his authority: τὸ βάπτισµα τὸ Ἰωάννου ἐξ οὐρανοῦ ἦν ἢ ἐξ ἀνθρώπων; (11:30). The answer is never given but not needed either, being implicitly evident. Since John’s baptism is ἐξ οὐρανοῦ, as emphatically evident from 1:2–6, Jesus’s ἐξουσία is ἐξ οὐρανοῦ as well, evidenced by the baptism, the rending of the heavens, and the impartation of the spirit.45 Combined, the baptism and the announcement of the kingdom locate the source of Jesus’s ἐξουσία in what may be labelled the eschatological fulfilment of the Isaianic visions as understood by Mark.46 However, following the reading of the composite citation in 1:2–3 as analyzed above,47 the source of the ἐξουσία of Jesus may be taken one step further back. If, as argued, the change of pronouns is done to facilitate the impression of a heavenly scene, the authority of Jesus is ultimately derived directly from his unique relationship to God. The heavenly conversation in 1:2 thus provides the ultimate answer to Jesus’s unique monopoly of the power ἐξ οὐρανοῦ (11:30), received in the ––––––––––––––––– 43 The close resemblance between, if not fusion of, ἐξουσία and δύναµις/δύνασθαι suggests that some of the incidents referring to the later should be included in the discussion of Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s potency/authority, such as the healing of the leper (1:40–45); the saying/parable of the house of Satan (3:23–27); the healing of the Gerasene man (5:13); the healing of the haemorrhaging woman (5:30); the wonder works in Nazareth (6:2, 5); Herod’s evaluation of Jesus (6:14); and the healing of the boy with a dumb spirit (9:23–24, 28–29). 44 Lührmann, Markusevangelium, 50. See also Scholtissek: “Die Kräfte der nahen Gottesherrschaft kommen nicht anders zur Geltung und Entfaltung als im Vollmachtswirken Jesus” (Scholtissek, Vollmacht Jesu, 290). 45 See Dillon, “Authority,” 112. As Dillon rightly notices, the intimate connection between Jesus’s acts and heaven’s surfaces in other places as well, see, e.g., Mark 8:33; 12:11. 46 See, e.g., Collins, Mark, 165; Gam Seng Shae, “The Question on the Authority of Jesus,” NovT 16.1 (1974): 28. 47 See Section 4.3.

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baptism and utilized through the proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία and the teaching and healings in Capernaum. As argued by Scholtissek, Jesus’s ministry in ἐξουσία reflects his “enzigartige Teilhabe an der Autorität Gottes.”48 (3) Finally, the question is which immediate effect Jesus’s ἐξουσία produces. In essence, the remainder of this chapter is an answer to this question, but focussing now specifically on the ἐξουσία texts, a general pattern is observable. The unleashing of the eschatological powers in Jesus produces one of two: A new beginning to those accepting the authority and potency of Jesus,49 or conflict and battle with the powers of old, opposing Jesus’s ἐξουσία. The extent to which Mark projects Jesus as being in battle with those possessing ἐξουσία of the old order is profound, as will become clear from the discussion to follow.50 Limiting the scopes for now to the ἐξουσία texts, two groups are singled out: Firstly, the Jewish authorities, namely the γραµµατεῖς (1:22; 2:6; 11:27) along with the ἀρχιερεῖς and πρεσβύτεροι (11:27), which by taking the redactional unity of 2:1–3:6 into account may be enlarged by the remainder of Jewish factions named there.51 Secondly, the unclean spirits (1:27; 6:7) and demons (3:15), clearly including their ἄρχων (3:22–27). On top of these two groups, the question is if Mark contrasts Jesus’s ἐξουσία with Roman authority as well. This is not obvious at first sight. However, two considerations warrant this to be the case. Anne Dawson has pointed to the connection between ἐξουσία and the notion of freedom (ἔξεστιν) and marshalled an argument for an implicit challenge to the libertas provided by the pax Romana and all its gatekeepers.52 Further, one may refer to the logion of Mark 10:42 in which an antithesis is presented between the κατεξουσιάζειν and the κατακυριεύειν of οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν τῶν ἐθνῶν and οἱ µεγάλοι and Jesus’s way of serving. We shall return to the issue of Roman power below53 and for now conclude that inferentially it may be understood as a third power of old that Mark contrasts with the ἐξουσία of Jesus. ––––––––––––––––– 48 Scholtissek, Vollmacht Jesu, 286, emphasis original; see also James R. Edwards, “The Authority of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark,” JETS 37.2 (1994): 232–33. 49 Specifically, in connection with ἐξουσία texts, this group includes people with unclean spirits and demons (1:23–26; 3:15; 6:7), people listening to and receiving Jesus’s preaching (1:27), and people with various diseases (2:10–12). If including the references to δύναµις/δύνασθαι, the list should be enlarged with the groups of people listed in n. 43. 50 See, e.g., Scholtissek, Vollmacht, 150–62; Edwards, “Authority”; Dillon, “Authority”; Dawson, Liberating Power, 121–217. 51 Namely οἱ γραµµατεῖς τῶν Φαρισαίων (2:16), οἱ Φαρισαῖοι (2:24; 3,6), and οἱ Ἡρῳδιανοί (3:6). As correctly noted by Scholtissek, the confrontation between Jesus’s acts according to his ἐξουσία in 2:1–3:6 makes this passage “ein Präludium zur Passion Jesu im Markusevangelium” (Scholtissek, Vollmacht, 152, emphasis original). 52 See Dawson, Liberating Power, 216. 53 See Section 5.3.5.

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To summarize, according to Mark, the ἐξουσία of Jesus is a composite notion, closely connected to his δύναµις/δύνασθαι capabilities, and thus covering his authority as well as his potency. The source thereof is located heavenly and eschatologically, that is, in Jesus’s unique heavenly relationship to God as evident from the composite citation as well as the torn sky, the sonship, and the reception of the spirit in the baptism of John, which sends Jesus on the heavenly ordained eschatological mission proclaiming and ushering in the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία (1:14–15). This mission produces at one and the same time a new beginning to some and battle and opposition to others. In other words, the εὐαγγέλιον proclaimed by Jesus in 1:14–15 is immediately through Jesus’s administration of the eschatological notion of καινός/νέος and ἐξουσία intimately connected to Jesus himself, revealing how according to Mark Jesus transcends the typical role of the ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐάγγελος. Mark’s Jesus is “nicht ’nur’ Bote, sondern zugleich auch Mittler der nahen Gottesherrschaft.”54 In this way, Jesus’s ἐξουσία is a key point of Mark’s presentation of Jesus, his Christology,55 as well as a key explanation to the death of Jesus already, a focus of the chapter to follow. In the same way, and most pertinent for our purpose, Jesus’s ἐξουσία in combination with the καινός/νέος in the Doppellogion should for the reasons presented here be intimately connected to the theme of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία despite the lack of the actual term, as structurally evident from the close connection to especially the hinge passage of 1:14–15 and thematically evident from the understanding of εὐαγγέλιον as an advanced proclamation of God’s kingly victory at hand.

5.3 Galilean ‘Gospel’ Victory 5.3.1 Conflict in Calling: Family and/or Discipleship? The main way in which Jesus’s newness and authority is unfolded in Mark 1– 10 is through the kingly trajectory. To this we now turn by propping four ways in which Jesus on his Isaianic parade and pilgrimage towards Jerusalem clashes with authorities and institutions of old. We begin by looking at the family institution and the clash with Jesus’s demands to follow. There are two reasons for this: This theme is structurally first in line with the callings of the first disciples out from their family business in ––––––––––––––––– Scholtissek, Vollmacht Jesu, 291, emphasis original. As noted by Scholtissek, Mark’s “implizite Vollmachts-Christologie” is “einem Leitmotiv seiner Christologie” (Scholtissek, Vollmacht, 152, emphasis original). See also Malbon, who in several studies has departed from titular Christology focussing on the ways in which Mark’s “narrative Christology” is not just professed but “projected, deflected, refracted, enacted, reflected” (Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “‘Reflected Christology’: An Aspect of Narrative ‘Christology’ in the Gospel of Mark,” PRSt 26.2 [1999]: 142). 54 55

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1:16–20 as the initial consequence of the kingdom proclamation in 1:15. Further, it is the only of the four themes probed in this subsection that is overtly connected to one of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον sayings, thematizing the costs of leaving one’s family ἕνεκεν τοῦ εὐαγγελίου (10:29). As in the other three probes, we are here dealing with a vast topic and thus not aiming for an exhaustive treatment56 but rather a testing of the proposed understanding of the εὐαγγέλιον as the epoch-making new message and reality of proximity to the divine. The preserved Jesus traditions on the family institution contain what has been termed an “apparent contradiction,”57 with the Gospel of Mark as no exception. On the one hand, Jesus demands of the disciples to leave their family and honour his patronage above kinship, as just seen. On the other hand, Jesus confirms the commandment to honour one’s parents and affirms that marriage is protected against divorce, just as family imagery is used to describe the realities in his kingdom. This apparent contradiction is projected into research on the topic, where some researchers claim that the historical Jesus or the Jesus of the Synoptic Gospels in particular possessed a program of rebellion against all hierarchies, including the patriarchal family, in what may be labelled an antifamily stand.58 Other researchers argue that Jesus is rather portrayed as positioning himself supra-family by subjecting the family institution under the eschatological newness presented by him and the call to discipleship without entailing hostility towards the family institution per se.59 In the following, only the relevant texts in Mark are in focus, which may be divided into four: (1) Jesus’s call of the first disciples: 1:16–20; (2:14). (2) Jesus, his own family, and Nazareth: 3:21, 31–35; 6:1–6a. (3) The ‘conflict in calling’ between the disciples and their families: 10:28– 31; 13:12–13. (4) Texts supporting the earthly family as institution: ––––––––––––––––– For this, see Morten Hørning Jensen, “Conflicting Calls? Family and Discipleship in Mark and Matthew in the Light of First-Century Galilean Village Life,” in Mark and Matthew, Texts and Contexts 1: Understanding the First Gospels in Their First Century Settings, ed. Eve-Marie Becker and Anders Runesson, WUNT 271 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 205–32, and the literature cited there. The presentation here is based on that study. 57 Santiago Guijarro, “Kingdom and Family in Conflict: A Contribution to the Study of the Historical Jesus,” in Social Scientific Models for Interpreting the Bible: Essays by the Context Group in Honor of Bruce J. Malina, ed. John J. Pilch, BibInt 53 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 237. 58 See, e.g., Halvor Moxnes, Putting Jesus in His Place: A Radical Vision of Household and Kingdom (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003); Arland D. Jacobson, “Divided Families and Christian Origins,” in The Gospel Behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q, ed. Ronald A. Piper (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 361–80. 59 See, e.g., Stephen C. Barton, Discipleship and Family Ties in Mark and Matthew, SNTSMS 80 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994); John W. Pryor, “Jesus and Family: A Test Case,” ABR 45 (1997): 56–69. 56

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a. Filial piety: 7:10–13 (corban); 10:19 (the commandment to honour parents). b. Prohibition against divorce: 10:2–12. c. Setting in houses: Jesus in houses (1:29; 2:15; 7:24; 9:33 etc.); sending to houses (6:10). d. Family as image: God as father (8:38; 11:25; 13:32; 14:36 etc.); house as image (13:34–37 etc.). In the following, we shall discuss these texts in order to estimate in which way the family institution is part of what Mark applies the ‘gospel’ ἐξουσία of Jesus upon: (1) Jesus’s call to discipleship is emphasized in Mark in at least two ways. One is the pre-fixed position. It is the first application of the preaching of the kingdom. It is also possible to view the next two episodes of calling in 3:13– 19 and 6:7–13 as introductions to new subsections, in which instance the call to discipleship prefixes all subsections in the first main part of Mark after which, through the three calls to suffer the same destiny as Jesus in 8:34–9:1; 9:33–37; 10:42–45, it becomes even more central in the ‘way’ section.60 The other is the stereotyped pattern of Jesus seeing (εἶδεν, 1:16, 19; 2:14), Jesus calling (1:17, 20; 2,14), and an immediate response (1:18, 20; 2:14), which serve to emphasize the sense of an eschatological drama, especially if we consider the pointed use of εὐθύς, the many verbs of motion,61 besides the Anspielung on Elijah’s calling of Elisha, in which sacred family duties were also set aside.62 As pointed out by Marcus, the eschatological urgency is underlined even further by another likely evocation, namely to that of a charismatic leader calling for others to follow him into holy war.63 Thus, the urgency of discipleship is emphasized to the extreme in Mark as the first and prime example of the epoch-making newness and power represented by Jesus’s administration of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία. The question in front of us is thus if the eschatological call to discipleship entails a specific negation of the power of family obligations according to Mark. Beginning with Jesus’s first call of disciples, a break with normal family life seems entailed from a sociological perspective, especially in the calling of James and John in which the leaving of their father is pointed out specifically,

––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 49; Barton, Discipleship, 63; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 177. See παράγων, ἀφέντες, ἠκολούθησαν, προβάς, ἀφέντες, and ἀπῆλθον, see Barton, Discipleship, 65. 62 See 1 Kgs 19:19–21, see especially Marcus, Mark 1–8, 183. 63 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 183–84. Examples can be provided from the Hebrew Bible as well as late Second Temple Jewish texts, of which Mattathias’s cry ἐξελθέτω ὀπίσω µου (1 Macc 2:27) constitutes a very close parallel. 60 61

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thus compromising their filial obligations.64 On the other hand, the radical break with family life entailed in the calling away from family duties is softened right away when Jesus’s first destination appears to be Capernaum and Peter’s and Andrew’s house (1:29). The same pattern seems obvious in the call of Levi in 2:14, leading to a dining party ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ αὐτοῦ, which – judging from the context – must refer to Levi’s house (2:15). Jesus is obviously not calling the disciples out from their primary place of location. (2) The texts describing Jesus’s relationship to his earthly family are, on the other hand, seemingly without mitigating features. Instead, Mark uses these encounters to level an extremely harsh critique of the family institution with sayings that are toned down by Matthew and Luke.65 Mark has, as the only gospel, the saying of 3:21, stating that Jesus’s relatives (οἱ παρ᾿ αὐτοῦ) came to grab him (κρατῆσαι αὐτόν) because they said he was out of his mind (ἔλεγον γὰρ ὅτι ἐξέστη), a statement that most likely has the family as its subject.66 The antagonism between Jesus and his family from Nazareth is pursued further in 3:31–35, in which the καλεῖν by his mother remains unanswered by Jesus. Instead of responding to the plea of his mother, Jesus remains seated with his new circle around him. Interestingly, the adverb κύκλῳ is used three times in Mark and always to designate the parties that receive Jesus.67 In the first two instances, the resistance from the relatives of Nazareth is evident, emphasizing firstly how the new, fictive kinship is placed around Jesus in the typical κύκλῳ fashion,68 and, secondly, how Nazareth ultimately rejects Jesus, forcing him towards villages placed κύκλῳ Nazareth. ––––––––––––––––– See ἀφέντες τὸν πατέρα αὐτῶν Ζεβεδαῖον (1:20). For this reason, Halvor Moxnes, who divides the various logia on family according to the level of their anti-family ethos, places Mark 1:16–20 in the group most in opposition to the old hierarchical family institution, see Moxnes, Putting Jesus, 57. 65 Barton lists the differences in six points (see Barton, Discipleship, 78–79). The clear edge against Jesus’s earthly family in Mark has led some scholars to see an intra-muros conflict in the early church between the Markan community and the congregation in Jerusalem, led by James, the brother of Jesus. For a discussion thereof, and refusal of the idea, see Barton, Discipleship, 82–85. See also Marcus, Mark 1–8, 279–80. 66 It has been discussed whether the subject of the last part of the verse is really the family of Jesus, or whether it should be taken impersonally as a rumour. The difference is minimal, however, since the family of Jesus accepts the verdict on Jesus by seeking to grab him. R. Brown et al. have argued persuasively for Jesus’s family as the subject by pointing to a sandwich structure of 3:20–35 (family-scribes-scribes-family), see Raymond E. Brown et al., ed., Mary in the New Testament: A Collaborative Assessment by Protestant and Roman Catholic Scholars (London: Chapman, 1978), 51–59; see also, e.g., David C. Sim, “What About the Wives and the Children of the Disciples?: The Cost of Discipleship from Another Perspective,” HeyJ 35 (1994): 374–75; Barton, Discipleship, 68–73. 67 See Mark 3:34; 6:6, 36. 68 See, e.g., Ps 127:3 LXX (οἱ υἱοί σου ὡς νεόφυτα ἐλαιῶν κύκλῳ τῆς τραπέζης σου); see also Isa 60:4. 64

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The important question for our purpose is if Mark intends to place Jesus’s earthly family among the evil forces to be targeted intentionally by the newness of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία, or if this is rather an unhappy consequence of its resistance towards his calling and ministry. The first position is represented by, for instance, H. K. Kee, arguing that Jesus’s earthly family is “eradicated in this new concept of the true family.”69 In addition to the stark confrontation noted above, this understanding of Jesus being anti his family can be bolstered by observing Mark’s fondness for the sandwich structure70 through which he intercalates the Beelzebul controversy (3:22–27) as the interpretative key to the question of earthly family. The second position is represented by, for instance, David M. May, reading the stories in the light of honour/shame categories. In a traditional society, Jesus puts his family to shame by leaving his hometown. For this reason, they have to summon him to regain their honour. According to May, Jesus accepts their claim by entering into the discussion, but points to a new and higher order or reality by claiming that it is in the doing τὸ θέληµα τοῦ θεοῦ that one becomes his family. This way, “the family of Jesus and Jesus himself are saved from dishonour and shame by the higher legitimating norm of ‘doing God’s will.’”71 His earthly family is thus not excluded more than it is subjected to this new order. While May focusses solely on 3:20–35, his position may be strengthened by the structural similarity between Jesus preaching in Capernaum (1:21–27) and Nazareth (6:1–6), in which both parties are offered equal access to the εὐαγγέλιον. In the same way, the notions of σκανδαλίζειν and ἄτιµος in 6:1–6 pinpoint the theme of honour/shame as the issue at stake, not the family institution per se. Understood this way, the clashes in the incidents in Capernaum (3:21, 31–35) and Nazareth combined provide an extreme notion of the newness in Jesus, levelling any claim of authority from the family over Jesus. (3) This brings us to the third group of texts concerning the disciples’ relationship towards their own families, which in Mark is limited72 to the conversation between Peter and Jesus about leaving πάντα behind (10:28–31) and Jesus’s prediction of how “brother shall hand over brother to death and father child, and children shall rise against parents and kill them” as the ultimate proof of how the disciples will be hated ὑπὸ πάντων (13:12–13). Both logia should be understood in light of the eschatological re-orientation of family life, to which we as readers are already introduced at this point. In Jesus’s response to Peter’s notion of ἡµεῖς ἀφήκαµεν πάντα (10:28), the eschatological horizon is ––––––––––––––––– 69 Kee, Community, 109. For a similar position, see Fiorenza, In Memory, 147–48; Moxnes, Putting Jesus, 123–24. 70 See Section 1.3.1. 71 David M. May, “Mark 3:20–35 from the Perspective of Shame/Honor,” BTB 17 (1987): 86. 72 For a discussion of especially Matthew’s elaboration of the conflict between discipleship and family, see Jensen, “Family,” 213–15.

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provided by Jesus’s reference to the εὐαγγέλιον in the notion ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ ἕνεκεν τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, overtly connecting the passage to 1:1, 14–15. The important thing to notice in this setting is the way in which Jesus cuts to the root of a traditional, rural agrarian way of life, pillared on stability, accountability, and the subjection of personal preferences to the well-being of the family and its inheritances, its ‫ ַנֲחָלה‬,73 and instead presents himself in the role as supplier and benefactor. Jesus’s warning about the παραδιδόναι to take place in the ἔσχατον is also linked to the εὐαγγέλιον (13:9–13). Since it is necessary first and foremost (πρῶτον δεῖ) to preach the gospel (κηρυχθῆναι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον) to τὰ ἔθνη, various kinds of persecution will follow by Jewish and non-Jewish authorities alike (13:9, 11). The climax of this persecution is found in the way the παραδιδόναι will spread to the family with brother handing over brother and father children,74 until the disciples are eventually hated ὑπὸ πάντων. The eschatological flavour of this second saying is intensified beyond the connection to εὐαγγέλιον by the scriptural tradition of an eschatological breakdown of the family structure,75 a notion echoed in Jewish writings from the late Second Temple period.76 The important point in both sayings is how Jesus and the εὐαγγέλιον constitute a re-orientating power that subverts the old, even the family structure. (4) In light of such profound sayings, it may come as a surprise that Mark has included several texts that obviously support the earthly family as institution as the fourth group of texts listed above shows, including sayings such as ––––––––––––––––– 73 See particularly the reference to οἰκία and ἀγρός. For an introduction to the all-pervasive role of family in traditional rural Mediterranean life, see, e.g., Christopher J. H. Wright, “Family,” ABD 2:761–69; Norman K. Gottwald, The Tribes of Yahweh: A Sociology of the Religion of Liberated Israel, 1250–1050 BCE (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1979; repr., Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999); Philip J. King and Lawrence E. Stager, Life in Biblical Israel, LAI (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001); Carol L. Meyers, “The Family in Early Israel: The Family, Religion, and Culture,” in Families in Ancient Israel, ed. Leo G. Perdue et al. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 1–47. As pointed out by Marcus, it is possible that this logion should be understood in the light of the tradition in Deut 33:9, according to which the higher calling of the Levites exempted them from family duties, a tradition used as pretext by several factions in late Second Temple Judaism (see, e.g., 4Q175 14–20; Josephus, J.W. 2.134; 4 Macc 2:10–12), see Marcus, Mark 8–16, 739. 74 Despite an insightful discussion, Steffen Jöris’s attempt to understand ἀδελφός, πατήρ, τέκνον, and γονεύς in light of the fictive kinship reorientation of 3:35 fails to persuade. If this was the case, the ones performing the act of παραδιδόναι would be fellow members of the congregations and not fellow Jews in general, as Jöris claims, see Steffen Jöris, “More Than Family Dispute: Mk 13:12–13a and Isa 66:5,” RB 121.3 (2014): 359–74. 75 See especially Mic 7:6 but also Isa 19:2; Ezek 5:10; 38:21, see, e.g., Marcus, Mark 8– 16, 887; Jöris, “Family Dispute,” 363. 76 See, e.g., Jub. 23:16, 19; 1 En. 56:7; 100:1–2; 4 Ezra 5:9; 6:24; Sib. Or. 2:154–174; 8:84–85; Jos. Asen. 11:4–6; m. Soṭah 9:16, see, e.g., Rudolf Pesch, Das Markusevangelium, II. Teil, HThKNT 2/2 (Freiburg: Herder, 1977), 286; Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20, 311–12; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 887–88.

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the commandment to honour one’s parents (10:19, see 7:10–13), prohibition against divorce (10:2–12), besides imagery drawn from the family realm (e.g., 8:38; 11:25). As I have argued elsewhere,77 the conflict in calling between Jesus and his family and the disciples and their families is for this reason best depicted as consequential, not intentional. Nevertheless, and to sum up this section, in the structure of Mark’s narrative, the clash with the old family structure is highlighted as the first example of the epoch-making force of the εὐαγγέλιον that is set en route by the preaching in 1:15 with a call to µετανοεῖν. Just how radically this is meant, is chokingly exemplified by the calling of the first disciples (1:16–20) and the rejection of Jesus by his hometown (3:21, 31–35; 6:1–6), a fate projected onto the disciples as a consequence of the way of the εὐαγγέλιον (10:28–31; 13:9–13). In short, Jesus’s relationship towards family in Mark powerfully measures the capacity of Jesus and his epoch-making εὐαγγέλιον. 5.3.2 Controversies with Jewish Authorities A major plot in Mark is Jesus’s controversies with Jewish authorities, and, as can be seen from the list below, this theme is comprehensive and not easy to encapsulate, as it covers all parts of Mark.78 The important point for the argument I am pursuing is to demonstrate how the newness and the power of the εὐαγγέλιον immediately brings Jesus into conflict and controversy with the power of old as it is represented by the various Jewish authorities and their interpretation of Jewish Scripture and tradition. A further way in which this theme is brought into contact with the εὐαγγέλιον proclamation is through its connection to the exodus theme of ‘hardness of heart,’ which is used by Mark in Isaiah’s iteration of it as an explanation of the misunderstood reception of Jesus’s teachings. This vast topic may be outlined as follows: (1) Jesus as teacher (διδάσκειν/λαλεῖν/διδαχή/διδάσκαλος): a. In synagogues: 1:21–27; 2:2 (Capernaum); 6:2–6 (Nazareth). ––––––––––––––––– See Jensen, “Family,” 231. Important contributions to Mark’s as well as the synoptic tradition of conflict stories (also labelled “pronouncement stories,” “controversy-apophthegems,” “Streit- und Schulgespräche,” “Paradigmen”) count Martin Albertz, Die synoptischen Streitgespräche: Ein Beitrag zur Formengeschichte des Urchristentums (Berlin: Trowitzsch & Sohn, 1921); Arland J. Hultgren, Jesus and His Adversaries: The Form and Function of the Conflict Stories in the Synoptic Tradition (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1979); Wolfgang Weiß, “Eine neue Lehre in Vollmacht”: Die Streit- und Schulgespräche des Markus-Evangeliums, BZNW 52 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989); Joanna Dewey, Markan Public Debate, SBLDS 48 (California: Scholars Press, 1980). For research overviews, see, e.g., Hultgren, Adversaries, 25–38; Lührmann, Markusevangelium, 56; Weiss, Streit- und Schulgespräche, 3–18; Collins, Mark, 181–83. 77 78

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b. Of the people outside the synagogue: 1:14–15, 39; 2:13; 4:1–9, 21–34; 7:14–15; 8:34–9:1; 10:1, 17–22. c. Of the disciples: 3:13–19; 4:10–20, 34; 6:7–11; 7:17–23; 8:14–21, 27– 33; 9:1–13, 30–50; 10:23–45; 11:19–26; 12:41–13:37; 14:3–9, 18–25. d. In the temple: 11:17–18; 12:1–40. (2) Controversies with Jewish authorities: a. Οἱ γραµµατεῖς (τῶν Φαρισαίων): 1:22; 2:6–12, 16–17; (18–22). b. Οἱ Φαρισαῖοι: (2:18–22), 23–28; 3:1–6; 8:11–13, 15; 10:2–12; 12:13– 17. c. Οἱ Ἡρῳδιανοί, Ἡρῴδης: 3:1–6; 6:14–29; 8:15; 12:13–17. d. Οἱ γραµµατεῖς (οἱ ἀπὸ Ἱεροσολύµων): 3:22–30; 11:15–18; 12:28–34, 35– 37, 38–40. e. Οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς, οἱ γραµµατεῖς, (οἱ πρεσβύτεροι, τὸ συνέδριον): 11:15–18, 27–33; (12:1–12); 14:1–2, 10–11, 43–65; 15:1, 11, 31. f. Οἱ Σαδδουκαῖοι: 12:18–27. (3) Topics of controversies: a. Διδαχή/law interpretation: 1:21–22, 27. b. Purity, impurity (καθαρίζειν, καθαρισµός, ἀκάθαρτος, κοινός): (1:40–44); 2:15–17; 3:30; 7:1–23. c. Forgiveness and sin (ἀφιέναι ἁµαρτίας): 2:5–12, 15–17; 3:28–30; 4:12; (11:25–26). d. Ἐξουσία: 2:5–12; 11:27–33. e. Βλασφηµία, βλασφηµεῖν: 2:5–12; 14:55–65. f. Fast (νηστεύειν): 2:18–22. g. Τὸ σάββατον: 2:23–28; 3:1–6. h. Exorcism (ἐκβάλλειν): 3:22–27. i. Σηµεῖον: 8:11–13. j. Divorce: 10:2–12. k. Richness: 10:17–31; 12:41–44. l. The temple: 11:15–18; 12:1–12. m. Roman κῆνσος: 12:13–17. n. Resurrection and afterlife: 12:18–27. o. Ἐντολὴ πρώτη: 12:28–34. p. Son of David: 12:35–37. q. Ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων: 15:2–28. (4) Scriptural quotation for justification and explanation: a. David: 2:25–26 (1 Sam 22:20); 12:36 (Ps 109:1 LXX). b. Τὸ µυστήριον τῆς βασιλείας τοῦ θεοῦ: 4:10–12 (Isa 6:9–10). c. Ἡ καρδία: 7:6–7 (Isa 29:13); 8:17–18 (Isa 6:9–10; Jer 5:21), see 2:6–8; 3:5; 6:52; 7:19, 21; 11:23; 12:30, 33. d. Μωϋσῆς: 7:10 (Exod 20:12; Deut 5:16). e. The temple: 11:17 (Isa 56:7); 12:10–11 (Ps 117:22–23 LXX). f. Death: 14:27 (Zech 13:7), 49 (no reference provided).

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In order to remain focussed, we shall deal with this vast amount of material by directing our attention to, first, the way in which Mark highlights the importance of Jesus’s clashes with the Jewish authorities by dressing it in Isaianic clothes and, second, the way in which the section of 2:1–3:6 packs together a string of clashes: (1) First, the importance of this theme to Mark is revealed by the number of scriptural quotations by Jesus through which the aforementioned exodus notion of ‘hardness of heart’ is utilized by Jesus as the hermeneutical key to why the old authorities do not understand the εὐαγγέλιον he brings in διδαχή and ἐξουσία. This is evident by the three pivotal quotations in 4:12 (Isa 6:9–10), 7:6–7 (Isa 29:13), and, directed at the failing disciples, 8:17–18 (Jer 5:21 with echoes of Isa 6:9–10). Besides the connection between εὐαγγέλιον and Jesus’s ἐξουσία as a teacher, which was outlined in Section 5.2.2, the relevance in this section for our endeavours to understand Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον notion lies precisely in this exodus motif, which thereby stages the Jewish authorities as part of the opposing forces to Yahweh’s new and grand deeds as depicted by Isaiah. Three things should be noted to highlight this theme of Mark: (a) The notion of πώρωσις τῆς καρδίας, καρδία πεπωρωµένη, and σκληροκαρδία is peculiar to Mark among the evangelists,79 and as can be seen from the table below, the fate of the καρδία becomes the yardstick with which to measure the reception of Jesus. Table 5: The fate and role of the καρδία Jewish Authorities 2:6–8: Resistance in Jesus’s home in Capernaum, διαλογιζόµενοι ἐν ταῖς καρδίαις αὐτῶν 3:5: Resistance in the synagogue, συλλυπούµενος ἐπὶ τῇ πωρώσει τῆς καρδίας αὐτῶν 7:6: Resistance regarding purity, ἡ δὲ καρδία αὐτῶν πόρρω 10:5: Moses’s divorce letter πρὸς τὴν σκληροκαρδίαν ὑµῶν

The Disciples 6:52: On reception of the bread I, ἡ καρδία πεπωρωµένη 8:17: On reception of the bread II, πεπωρωµένην ἔχετε τὴν καρδίαν ὑµῶν;

In General 7:19, 21: On purity, καρδία vs. κοιλία 11:23: On faith, µὴ διακριθῇ ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτοῦ 12:30, 33: On the first commandment, ἀγαπήσεις κύριον τὸν θεόν σου ἐξ ὅλης τῆς καρδίας σου

(b) Second, the fate of the καρδία is a unifying theme in the three quotations of Isa 6:9–10, 29:13, and Jer 5:21 if the immediate context is included. In Isa 6:9–10, the fate of the ‫ֵלב‬/καρδία is mentioned twice, though not cited by Mark in 4:12. In Isa 29:13, the lip-service of the people is betrayed by the state of ––––––––––––––––– 79

Otherwise only Matt 19:8 (= Mark 10:5) and John 12:40, citing Isa 6:10.

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their hearts being distant (πόρρω), cited verbatim in Mark 7:6. In the citation of Jer 5:21 in Mark 8:18, Mark supplies the reference to καρδία, perhaps by echoing Isa 6:9–10, perhaps by including the context with multiple references to the ‘hardening of hearts’ theme.80 (c) Finally, the theme of ‘hardness of heart’ versus reception by heart in true repentance is a unifying theme of the first exodus and the second exodus as envisioned in Isaiah.81 The problem with Pharaoh, or perhaps for Pharaoh, is that his heart is hardened or even rebellious, hindering him from seeing and understanding Yahweh’s wonders of salvation. Twice, Yahweh tells Moses how he will harden Pharaoh’s heart,82 which becomes an echo in the ensuing explanation of Pharaoh’s resistance towards the power of Yahweh through Moses.83 In the description of the exodus from Egypt, this theme has another trajectory to it, namely the rebellion, protests, and even ‘hardness of heart’ of the people towards Moses and Yahweh.84 In the prophetic tradition, it is especially the second trajectory that is replayed. Focussing here on Isaiah, the prophecy of Yahweh’s hardening of the heart of Israel in 6:9–10 so they may not understand (‫בין‬/συνιέναι) is the great point of reversal in Second Isaiah’s grand opening prophecy of comfort ‫ַﬠל־ֵלב‬/εἰς τὴν καρδίαν of the people. Despite this, and despite Yahweh’s new wonders of power displayed before the eyes of the people, the problem of hardened hearts remains.85 In a manner similar to the sectarian writings of Qumran,86 Mark utilizes this exodus theme to distinguish between the rejection and reception of the great wonders of God in the new ––––––––––––––––– See Jer 5:23–24 besides especially 3:17; 4:14; 7:24; 9:13, 25; 16:12; 17:5, etc. For the theme of ‘hardness of heart,’ see Heikki Räisänen, The Idea of Divine Hardening: A Comparative Study of the Notion of Divine Hardening, Leading Astray and Inciting to Evil in the Bible and the Qur’an, SESJ 25 (Helsinki: Helsingin yliopiston monistuspalvelu, 1976), 45–66; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 249, 253, 306. 82 See Exod 4:21 ( ‫ֲא ַח ֵזּ ק ֶא ת ־ִל בּוֹ‬/σκληρυνῶ τὴν καρδίαν αὐτου); 7:3 ( ‫שׁ ה ֶא ת ־ֵל ב‬ ֶ ‫ַא ְק‬/σκληρυνῶ τὴν καρδίαν). 83 See Exod 7:13–14, 22; 8:15; 9:7, 12, 35; 10:1, 20, 27; 11:10; 14:4, 8, 17; see also 1 Sam 6:6. 84 See Exod 15:24; 16:2, 7–9, 12; 17:3 using various forms of ‫לון‬/(δια)γογγύζειν. The rebellion at Meribah is described in Ps 94:8 LXX precisely as ‘hardening of hearts’ (µὴ σκληρύνητε τὰς καρδίας ὑµῶν ὡς ἐν τῷ παραπικρασµῷ κατὰ τὴν ἡµέραν τοῦ πειρασµοῦ ἐν τῇ ἐρήµῳ); see also Ps 104:25 LXX. 85 See, e.g., Isa 44:18–20; 46:8, 12; 47:7–10; 63:17 and 51:7; 57:15; 61:1 for the comfort of hearts. 86 As noted by K. L. Schmidt and M. A. Schmidt, πώρωσις τῆς καρδίας (Mark 3:5) is semantically as well as theologically close to the notion of ‫ שׁרירות לב‬in 1QS I, 6; II, 14, 26; III, 3; V, 4; VII, 19, 24; IX, 10 (see K. L. Schmidt and M. A. Schmidt, “παχύνω, πωρόω, κτλ,” TWNT 5:1024–1032); see also 1QS IV, 11; CD II, 18; III, 5, 12; VIII, 8; 1QpHab XI, 13; 1QHa IX, 39 and many other places for similar expressions. The particular use of ‫שׁרירות‬ is influenced by Jeremiah, see Aída Besançon Spencer, “ ‫ שׁרירות‬as Self-Reliance,” JBL 100.2 (1981): 247–48; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 249. 80 81

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εὐαγγέλιον era as well as to divide between those ἔξω and ἔσω.87 While from the beginning Jewish authorities display their hardened hearts and thus play the role of Pharaoh,88 the question of growing intensity is if the disciples as prime witnesses to the renewed exodus have hearts able to make the necessary συνιέναι.89 In other words, closely resembling the Isaianic vision of “seeing” (‫ראה‬/ὁρᾶν) the power of Yahweh en route to the kingdom at Zion,90 Mark narrates a story that strongly emphasizes the astonishing (ἐκπλήσσειν, ἐξιστάνειν) nature of Jesus’s acts while at the same time just as strongly divides between those who see and believe and those who see and reject.91 In Second Isaiah, this tension between the visibility of Yahweh’s power on display and the rejection thereof is a theme throughout,92 but with a finale around the final vision of Yahweh’s might at display in Zion (52:1–10),93 which is followed by a rejection of his servant in the fourth poem.94 Taken together, these three points emphasize how crucial the theme of Jesus as a teacher is to Mark as one of the key ways in which the Isaianic plot is unfolded. (2) Below, we shall discuss Jesus’s conflict with the Jewish authorities over purity, sin, and the temple, securing space in this section to focus on two issues in particular: the conflict section in 2:1–3:6 dealing with issues pertinent to the law of Moses and the synagogue as institution. Concerning 2:1–3:6, Martin Albertz is often credited as the pioneer of the view that this section is preMarkan,95 which has since been revised and discussed to some degree.96 The objective here, however, is not to enter into the debates of either form or ––––––––––––––––– See in particular Mark 4:10–12 citing Isa 6:9–10, which plays an extremely important role in Mark’s Isaianic trajectory of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία, see, e.g., Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 183–210. The theme of ἔξω/ἔσω surfaces at many other places (see, e.g., Mark 3:31–35; 4:33–34, 35; 7:17; 8:14–21; 9:30–31, 33–37; 13:3) and remains implicit in the final revelatory statement of Jesus, who will προάγει ὑµᾶς εἰς τὴν Γαλιλαίαν, leaving Jerusalem behind (16:7). 88 See especially 2:6–10; 3:1–6. Marcus suggests that the resemblance between Φαραώ and Φαρισαῖος would have constituted “a tremendously ironic linkage” merging the Pharisees with “the prototypical enemy of God’s people and representative of ungodliness” (Marcus, Mark 1–8, 253). 89 See especially Mark 6:52; 8:14–21. 90 See especially Isa 40:5; 52:8–10. 91 See, e.g., Mark 4:12; 14:62; 15:32, 35–36, 39; 16:7. 92 See, e.g., 42:7, 16–20; 43:8; 44:18. 93 See especially the notions of ἀποκαλύπτειν and ὁρᾶν in Isa 52:10. 94 Following the LXX, this is seen from (a) the repeated use of ὁρᾶν and εἶδός (Isa 52:14– 15; 53:2–3, 10), (b) the question of συνιέναι (52:13, 15), and (c) the various and ambiguous responses to the vision of ὁ παῖς µου, ranging from ἐξιστάνειν over θαυµάζειν to deeming him ἄτιµος (52:13–14; 53:3). 95 See Albertz, Streitgespräche, 5–16, see further n. 78. 96 See, e.g., Hultgren, Adversaries, 151–54; Weiss, Streit- und Schulgespräche, 18–32. 87

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redaction, nor the debate over its precise structure as circular or linear.97 Rather, we shall observe two crucial points: (a) As it presently stands in Mark’s flow, this section forms the first pushback from the opposing old ἐξουσίαι. While the conflict with the scribes and the priests in Jerusalem has at this point already been foreshadowed,98 it is in this section that the opposition against Jesus’s presentation of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία first becomes evident. This is narratively made evident by the four questions posed by Jesus’s adversaries to be followed by a question from Jesus99 in a process of increasing tension until the first decision to kill Jesus is voiced.100 (b) Further, no matter in which way we understand the composition of the unit, the focus is on the legitimacy101 of Jesus’s actions from a halakic point of view which evolves into a violent clash between old and new interpretations of the law in a sequence of five events, focussed on the three topics of sin (2:1– 12 + 2:13–17), eating (2:13–17 + 2:18–22 + 2:23–28), and the Sabbath (2:23– 28 + 3:1–6).102 Combined, emphasis on the σχίσµα between τὸ καινόν and τὸ παλαιόν as well as emphasis on the three crucial themes of the legal interpretation of sin, table fellowship, and Sabbath serve to highlight the force of the conflict scenes. The epoch-making force of this conflict is highlighted even further if this unit is understood as a part of Mark’s presentation of his εὐαγγέλιον of Jesus on the move towards Jerusalem as the warrior of Yahweh. This εὐαγγέλιον is met with fierce resistance from those who are not able to gain the needed ὁρᾶν in order to make συνιέναι. (c) Looking at the role of the synagogue within these clashes, I suggest that the notion of combat and violence is heightened precisely by the use of the synagogue as location for the initial and the final conflict story. Recent decades of excavations of synagogues in Galilee and elsewhere have led to renewed interest in the function of the synagogue in first-century village life. One of the premier fruits thereof is an emerging understanding of the synagogue as the ––––––––––––––––– 97 For an elaborate concentric structure, see Dewey, Markan Public Debate, 109–30. For a linear structure, see Jarmo Kiilunen, Die Vollmacht im Widerstreit: Untersuchungen zum Werdegang von Mk 2,1–3,6, AASFDHL 40 (Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1985), 68–72; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 214–15. 98 See Mark 1:22, 44. This is especially the case if εἰς µαρτύριον αὐτοῖς is interpreted as dativus incommodi, see the discussion below in Section 5.4.2. 99 See 2:7 (τί), 2:16 (ὅτι), 2:18 (διὰ τί), 2:24 (τί), and 3:4 (ἔξεστιν), see Marcus, Mark 1– 8, 212–13. 100 See 2:6 (διαλογιζόµενοι ἐν ταῖς καρδίαις αὐτῶν), 2:16 (ἔλεγον τοῖς µαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ· ὅτι µετὰ τῶν τελωνῶν καὶ ἁµαρτωλῶν ἐσθίει;), 2:18 (καὶ ἔρχονται καὶ λέγουσιν αὐτῷ· διὰ τι), 2:24 (ἴδε τί ποιοῦσιν τοῖς σάββασιν ὃ οὐκ ἔξεστιν;), and 3:2, 6 (καὶ παρετήρουν αὐτὸν … ἵνα κατηγορήσωσιν αὐτοῦ … ἐδίδουν κατ᾽ αὐτοῦ ὅπως αὐτὸν ἀπολέσωσιν), see Marcus, Mark 1– 8, 214. 101 See in particular the use of ἐξουσία (2:10) and ἔξεστιν (2:24, 26; 3:4). 102 See Dewey, Markan Public Debate, 117–19; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 214.

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profound centre of village life with a function much deeper and more central than an institution of ‘law reading’ or ‘bible study.’ It served as a communal centre, integrating all aspects of ancient life and thus all bases of power within a closed village community.103 This complex nature of the synagogue does not entail a de-sacralizing of the institution. At least not if we follow Donald Binder who has argued for a close connection between the distant temple and the local synagogue; a suggestion that has seemingly been vividly illustrated by the discovery of the so-called Magdala stone engraved with cultic temple imagery.104 While the discussion of this peculiar stone is on-going and various details are disputed,105 its figurative reference to the temple in Jerusalem is beyond doubt. Combined, the argument I am presenting is that Jesus as a διδάσκαλος is according to Mark not merely another candidate who it is possible to accommodate within the various factions of Jewish authorities, well-known to the Galileans. Drawing on the epoch-making capacity of the εὐαγγέλιον, Jesus is, according to the reading I am arguing, presented as a recast of the Isaianic ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος, who immediately brings the content of the εὐαγγέλιον near through his διδαχὴ καινὴ κατ᾽ ἐξουσίαν, understood in the intertwined way of teaching and acting. While the conflict surrounding Jesus’s ministry is foreshadowed at the very least from the τὸ παραδοθῆναι of John (1:14), it is with the conflict stories collected in 2:1–3:6 that the profoundness of the resistance is revealed for the first time in a series of events, taking us from grudging to final decision. At this point, Mark has only introduced us to some of the resisting parties, which, depending on how we count, enumerate to eight in total. It is clear from 2:1–3:6 that the core of the matter revolves around the interpretation of the law of Moses (sin, table fellowship, fasting, Sabbath regulations), and as Mark’s story unfolds further, a number of other topics emerge as fierce points of dispute. The important point is that Jesus’s ἐξουσία is not solely used for bringing liberation, it is also engaged in a fierce and violent battle against the opposing forces of old. Within this trajectory, Mark several times directly ––––––––––––––––– 103 For a recent overview, see Jordan J. Ryan, The Role of the Synagogue in the Aims of Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2017), 23–35. See also, e.g., Donald D. Binder, Into the Temple Courts: The Place of the Synagogues in the Second Temple Period, SBLDS 169 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 1987); Anders Runesson, The Origins of the Synagogue: A Socio-Historical Study, ConBNT 37 (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 2001). 104 See Donald D. Binder, “The Mystery of the Magdala Stone,” in A City Set on a Hill: Essays in Honor of James F. Strange, ed. Daniel A. Warner and Donald D. Binder (Mountain Home: BorderStone, 2014), 17–48. 105 See Mordechai Aviam, “The Decorated Stone from the Synagogue at Migdal: A Holistic Interpretation and a Glimpse into the Life of Galilean Jews at the Time of Jesus,” NovT 55 (2013): 1–16; Richard Bauckham, “Further Thoughts on the Migdal Synagogue Stone,” NovT 57 (2015): 113–35. For a recent overview of the various interpretations of the stone, see Gurevich, David, “Magdala’s Stone of Contention,” The Bible and Interpretation, 2018, https://bibleinterp.arizona.edu/articles/2018/08/gur428008.

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and more indirectly reverts to Isaiah as the hermeneutical key to bolster the idea that Jesus, despite his heavenly ἐξουσία, is rejectable. At first, the disciples are chosen to be ἔσω to receive τὸ µυστήριον τῆς βασιλείας directly and not in parables (4:11), but it soon becomes evident that the crucial question of receiving Jesus εἰς τὴν καρδίαν demands a µετάνοια that the disciples have a hard time mustering, despite Peter’s confirmation of having left πάντα (10:28). 5.3.3 Subversion of Demons and Death A major theme in the Isaianic inspired proclamation of God’s advancing presence in Jesus is found in Jesus’s subversion of demons, death, and destruction. If we do the math, stories of exorcisms, healings, and other wonders make up for as much as 40% of Mark 1–10.106 Needless to say, exorcisms and healings have been the object of intense research.107 In overview, we are dealing with the following pericopes:108 (1) Exorcisms: a. Described cases: 1:23–28; 5:1–20; 7:24–30. b. Summaries: 1:34, 39; 3:11–12, (15); (6:7, 13); 9:14–29. (2) Healings: a. Skin disease: 1:40–45. b. Fever: 1:29–31. c. Paralysis, withered hand: 2:1–12; 3:1–6. d. Haemorrhages: 5:25–34. e. Death: 5:21–24, 35–43. f. Deafness, dumbness: 7:31–37. g. Blindness: 8:22–26; 10:46–52. h. Summaries: 1:34; (2:17); 3:10; 6:5; (6:13), 14, (30), 53–56. (3) Other wonders: a. The sea: 4:35–41; 6:45–52. b. Feedings: 6:35–44; 8:1–10. As commonly agreed, the stories of exorcisms and healings have a strong resonance in the Hebrew Bible. According to Achtemeier, “any discussion of ‘sign ––––––––––––––––– See Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 139. Noteworthy contributions include K. Kertelge, Die Wunder Jesu im Markusevangelium: Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung (Munich: Kösel, 1970); Gerd Theißen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten: Ein Beitrag zur formgeschichtlichen Erforshung der synoptischen Evangelien, SNT 8 (Göttingen: Gütersloher, 1974); Graham H. Twelftree, Jesus the Exorcist: A Contribution to the Study of the Historical Jesus, WUNT 2/54 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1993), see the research overview in Andrew J. Kelley, “Miracles, Jesus, and Identity: A History of Research Regarding Jesus and Miracles with Special Attention to the Gospel of Mark,” CurBS 13.1 (2014): 82–106. 108 For a division according to features involved in the material, see Theißen, Wundergeschichten, 53. 106 107

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and wonders’ related to Jewish traditions must begin with the figure of Moses,”109 just as “Elijah and Elisha also suggest themselves to any consideration of miracle traditions in the OT.”110 While it is beyond dispute that Mark used both traditions as a cast for the role of Jesus,111 the motif to be traced here is the Isaianic theme of new creation and/or new exodus. As outlined in Chapter 3, this includes a strong emphasis on liberation and full restoration. The argument I will be making in this section is twofold, namely that Mark overtly ties his presentation of Jesus as a wonder worker to his Isaianic framework, and that in doing so he strongly emphasizes the kingly power of Jesus. Both parts of the argument serve to thoroughly incorporate this part of Jesus’s ministry into Mark’s overall vision of the εὐαγγέλιον as epoch-making.112 (1) First, it is noteworthy how the Isaianic framework is present in Mark’s exorcisms and healings, which serves to underline how this part of Jesus’s ministry is part of Mark’s understanding of the εὐαγγέλιον. This may be seen from the following: (a) The epithet ὁ ἅγιος τοῦ θεοῦ in 1:24 uttered by the demon in the synagogue in Capernaum has generated much discussion and no agreement,113 but in light of the initiating quotation of Isaiah and the general Isaianic framework of the prologue with Jesus as the bringer of the εὐαγγέλιον, it is reasonable to assume an echo of Second Isaiah, where this notion of Yahweh is particularly common.114 (b) The programmatic Beelzebul pericope (3:22–27) is commonly seen as a reflection of Isa 49:24–25. In the final part of one of Yahweh’s salvation oracles promising full restoration of the ruined Zion in his saving act, it is rhetorically asked if “anyone will take spoils from a giant” (µὴ λήµψεταί τις παρὰ γίγαντος σκῦλα, Isa 49:24 LXX), to which Yahweh answers by saying that the one taking “from the strong one” (παρὰ ἰσχύοντος, 49:25 LXX) will be saved.115 While the similarity in wording is rather slim, the thematic overlap is considerable, implying that Jesus identifies with the liberating role of Yahweh, ––––––––––––––––– Paul J. Achtemeier, “The Origin and Function of the Pre-Markan Miracle Cantanae,” JBL 92.2 (1972): 202. 110 Achtemeier, “Origin,” 204. 111 See, e.g., Marcus, Mark 1–8, 265. 112 In Section 5.4.4 below, another aspect of Jesus’s healing ministry will be investigated, stressing how healings and exorcisms likewise have a cultic aspect also drawing on Isaianic expectations. This is often left out in investigations of this part of Jesus’s ministry, see, e.g., Watts’s otherwise thorough discussion in Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 137–82. 113 This discussion will be covered in detail below, see Section 5.4.4. 114 See Gnilka, Markus 1–8,26, 81, see Isa 1:4; 5:19, 24; 10:20; 12:6; 17:7; 29:23; 30:11– 12, 15; 31:1; 37:23; 41:16, 20; 43:3, 14–15; 45:11; 47:4; 48:17; 49:7; 55:5; 60:9, 14 LXX. 115 Due to the combination of σκῦλον and ἀνδρὸς δυνατοῦ, Pss. Sol. 5:3 is often referred to as well, though the figurative speech is used quite differently there. 109

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equating his exorcisms with the liberation of captives.116 The Isaianic framework of this extremely important pericope runs deeper still. If the ensuing saying in 3:28–29 on sin against the Holy Spirit is understood as connected to the Beelzebul saying,117 the combination of Σατανᾶς, ἰσχυρότερος/ἰσχυρός, and πνεῦµα is here combined as it is in the prologue (1:7–13), which does not happen otherwise in Mark. Read in this way, 3:22–30 in its entirety becomes an extremely important explication of Mark’s definition of Jesus in the prologue as the Isaianic Yahweh warrior, ὁ ἰσχυρότερος, who is equipped with the Spirit (εἰς αὐτόν, 1:10). In the light of this passage, he is not just bringing an εὐαγγέλιον as a traditional gospel messenger; he is bringing τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ along with powerful exodus acts, performed in the place of God and centred on the liberation of captives by defeating the strong prince of demons. In other words, the Isaianic framework of the prologue works as a vivid background for the unleashing of the powers of the εὐαγγέλιον on its principal enemy, making Mark 3:22–30 a prime example of how the powers of the εὐαγγέλιον are directed in combat according to Mark.118 (c) Isaianic motifs are arguably present in more than one way in Mark’s two ‘sea miracles’ (4:35–41; 6:45–52). As discussed in Section 3.3.1, several texts in Second Isaiah depict Yahweh entering into a Chaoskampf with the monstrous sea,119 a motif also known from the Psalms, where it likewise evokes the exodus tradition.120 The demonization of the sea in the first crossing is normally deduced from Jesus’s double command σιώπα, πεφίµωσο (4:39), bringing Jesus’s first exorcism to mind, just as the triple use of µέγας makes it a demonstration of Jesus’s robbing of the strong man’s house.121 Likewise, Jesus’s response to the fearful disciples in the wandering on the sea, ἐγώ εἰµι· µὴ φοβεῖσθε (6:50), may be understood as preserving an echo of the number of times in Second Isaiah where Yahweh comforts his people with a pronounced ἐγώ (εἰµι).122 One may also with Marcus refer to 4Q521, which in its Isaianic dressing of the Messiah states that the heavens and the earth will “hear” (‫)שׁמע‬ ––––––––––––––––– See Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 148–50. This is suggested by the editorial remark in 3:30 (ὅτι ἔλεγον· πνεῦµα ἀκάθαρτον ἔχει). Below, further links between the two parts shall be explored and argued, see Section 5.4.3. 118 See Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 150–51. The sense of exorcisms as an outworking of Yahweh’s kingly and epoch-making victory may be strengthened further with reference to late Second Temple Jewish texts such as 11Q13 and 4Q521, depicting the defeat of Belial by Melchisedek or Yahweh’s anointed, see Section 3.4.1. 119 See, e.g., Isa 44:27; 50:2; 51:9–10, see Stuhlmueller, Creative Redemption, 74–94; Cross, Canaanite Myth, 136–44. 120 See, e.g., Pss 77:17–20; 78:13; 89:10–11; 136:13–15, see Cross, Canaanite Myth, 134–36; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 160. 121 See Mark 1:25 (φιµώθητι), see, e.g., Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 161; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 335–39. 122 See, e.g., Isa 41:4, 10, 13–14, 17; 42:6, 8; 43:10–11, 15, 25; 44:6, 24; 45:5–6; 48:12; 51:12, see Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 161. 116 117

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him.123 Finally, Watts also suggests that Mark 4:35–5:20 in several ways displays parallels with the divine warrior tradition of Isa 63:7–65:7, in which Yahweh displays his might in ways that make bystanders fear and tremble.124 While the exodus motif does not exhaust the possible echoes of the Hebrew Bible, Jesus’s subversion of the deadly might of the sea in order to get ashore and conquer a new territory thus aligns well with Mark’s overall Isaianic framework. (d) In Section 5.3.5 it will be discussed if the anti-imperial/postcolonial reading of Jesus’s exorcism of the Gerasene man (5:1–20) is directed towards Roman oppression. Here we shall consider the suggested reference to Isa 65:1– 7 of a people living in graves and eating pork. This is noted in short by Joachim Gnilka125 and worked out in detail by Watts, pointing to the growing tendency in the late Second Temple period to characterize non-Jewish deities as demonic,126 linked to swine sacrifices.127 Marcus, on the other hand, provides a detailed comparison with the original exodus narrative, highlighting a number of thematic and word similarities with Exodus 14–15.128 In both cases, the pagan element is at play, which elevates Jesus’s epoch-making capacity from a local Jewish enterprise to a global enterprise in another example of the typical Isaianic motif of Steigerung. First, Jesus confronts the abyss of chaos at sea; then he defeats the full, legionary force of evil oppression as experienced outside Israel by a man from the people located πέραν. (e) The two feeding miracles will likewise be treated in the next section. Here it should only be noted how dense the Isaianic framework of Mark is, in particular in these two stories, again with a transposition enhancing the perimeter to include those on the other side. (f) This brings us, finally, to the exclamation “he has done everything well” (καλῶς πάντα πεποίηκεν, 7:37) of the bystanders to Jesus’s healing of a deaf and dumb man. As argued by several commentators,129 this exclamation may be understood as an echo of the eschatological healing of deafness and dumbness in combination with blindness expressed in Isa 35:5–7. The evocation of ––––––––––––––––– See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 334–35. See especially the variant readings in Isa 64:2 LXX (64:3 ET) α’, σ’ (ἐπίφοβος), and θ’ (φοβερός), see Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 162–63. 125 See Gnilka, Markus 1–8,26, 203–4. 126 See, e.g., the translation of Ps 95:5 LXX of the gods of the gentiles as “worthless” ( ‫ )ֱא ִליִלים‬with “demons” (δαιµόνια). 127 See Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 157–59, the latter with reference to Franz Annen, Heil für die Heiden: Zur Bedeutung und Geschichte der Tradition vom besessenen Gerasener (Mk 5,1–20 parr.), FTS 20 (Frankfurt am Main: Knecht, 1976), 133–81. 128 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 348–49. 129 See Gnilka, Markus 1–8,26, 298; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 397; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 475– 81. 123 124

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Gen 1:31 in Mark’s formulation of everything being καλόν further transposes this motif of new exodus to new creation. (2) The second issue to be dealt with concerns how Jesus’s exorcisms, healings, and wonders in Mark are among the premiere ways through which the ἐξουσία of Jesus is demonstrated. This is vividly underlined by Mark through the repeated reference to the awe, amazement, and fear of the bystanders.130 As is well known, one of the ways in which Jesus’s miraculous powers have been understood is through the Hellenistic notion θεῖος ἀνήρ, pinpointing Mark’s motif as one of emphasizing Jesus’s charismatic capabilities in competition with quasi-divine characters in the Hellenistic Roman world in order to win converts.131 While fading in popularity since its heyday, being criticized for introducing an anachronistic concept132 as well as providing an unconvincing reading of Mark’s Jesus,133 it has recently rebounded through the number of antiimperial readings, suggesting that Mark emphasized the power of Jesus to outperform the résumé of Vespasian.134 In light of the Isaianic framework detected above, a more convincing reading is to ascribe Mark’s focus on the power of Jesus to the all-pervasive expectation in Isaiah’s vision of a decisive display of the might of Yahweh as the central element of the restoration to take place. This is the case in Second Isaiah as well in late Second Temple Jewish texts echoing the Isaianic visions, as discussed in detail in Chapter 3.135 If Mark’s portrayal of Jesus as well as his understanding of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία is shaped by a new exodus or new creation motif, its portrayal of the might of Jesus runs deeper than a recounting of his charismatic capabilities. In essence, it serves “as signs that by God’s will a new world of plenitude and blessing is miraculously springing into existence through him.”136 According to this understanding, as already mentioned, the process of liberation from captivity is recast into liberation from demonic possessions, invalidating diseases, and lifethreatening destructive forces.137 ––––––––––––––––– 130 See the use of ἐκπλήσσειν (Mark 1:22; 6:2; 7:37; 10:26; 11:18), φοβεῖν (Mark 4:41; 5:15, 33, 36; 6:20, 50; 9:32; 10:32; 11:18, 32; 12:12; 16:8), and θαµβεῖν (Mark 1:27; 10:24, 32). 131 See, e.g., Kelley, “Miracles,” 83–85. 132 See, e.g., Howard Clark Kee, “Aretalogy and Gospel,” JBL 92.3 (1973): 402–22. 133 See, e.g., Theodore J. Weeden, “The Heresy That Necessitated Mark’s Gospel,” ZNW 59 (1968): 145–58. 134 For the role of Vespasian as a foil for Mark’s Jesus, see Section 2.4.4. 135 See Sections 3.3 and 3.4. See also the résumé in Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 140– 43. 136 Marcus, Mark 1–8, 481, see likewise Kazen’s concluding statement that “Jesus’ miracles in general and his exorcisms in particular must be seen in the eschatological context of the kingdom” (Thomas Kazen, Jesus and Purity Halakhah: Was Jesus Indifferent to Impurity?, ConBNT 38 [Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 2002], 327). 137 See Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 168–69.

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To sum up, Mark’s portrayal of Jesus’s powers as an exorcist, a healer, and a magician is closely tied to his Isaianic presentation of his epoch-making proclamation, the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία. In the narrative flow of Mark, this is evident from the immediate application of Jesus’s proclamation on demons and diseases, on the textual links between the metareflection on Jesus’s exorcistic activities in 3:22–30 and the prologue, and from the repeated allusions to and echoes of Mark’s Isaianic framework in Jesus’s miraculous program. In short, to Mark, Jesus’s powerful deeds are intrinsic to his presentation of Jesus’s claim for kingship as part and parcel of Mark’s presentation of his epoch-making εὐαγγέλιον. 5.3.4 Subversion of Gentile Borderland Next, we shall discuss how Jesus utilizes the newness of his ἐξουσία in Galilee to cross boundaries between Jewish and gentile territories. As outlined in Chapter 2,138 the historical validity of Mark’s geographical markers has been vividly discussed, including the question first debated by Lohmeyer and Lightfoot on the tension between Galilee and Jerusalem as a reflection of Mark’s time and place. In more recent times, under the influence of literary criticism Malbon has re-opened the discussion by emphasizing how Mark uses his geographical markers to bridge the otherwise unbridgeable distance between Jews and pagans living with the Sea of Galilee as the dividing border.139 Indeed, from an immediate perspective, an intentional subversion of the borderland is highlighted by a number of things: the notion of going “to the other side,”140 the multiple mentions of “the Sea,”141 including three narrative sequences taking place on the Sea,142 the repetitions of events on both shores such as exorcisms, feedings, and other miracles,143 to which may also be added the notions of enmity or surprise of Jesus’s works of power outside his homeland144 and confessions from non-Jewish characters.145 In reality, Malbon’s fine-tuned establish––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Section 2.5.2. See Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, Narrative Space and Mythic Meaning in Mark, BibSem 13 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991). 140 Mark 4:35; 5:1, 21; 6:45; 8:13 (εἰς τὸ πέραν). 141 See Mark 1:16; 2:13; 3:7; 4:1, 39, 41; 5:1, 13, 21; 6:47–49; 7:31 (θάλασσα). 142 See Mark 4:35–41; 6:45–52; 8:14–21. 143 For this in particular, see the schematic outline in Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “Fallible Followers: Women and Men in the Gospel of Mark,” Semeia 28 (1983): 215. 144 See Mark 5:17; 7:27, 37. 145 Depending on which encounters are counted as set in gentile territory, the list will be longer or shorter. According to Bennema, it includes the Gerasene man (5:20), the Syrophoenician woman (7:27), the Decapolis crowd (7:37), the man with the demon-possessed son (9:24), Pilate and the Romans soldiers, ironically (15:12, 18), and the Roman centurion (15:39), see Cornelis Bennema, “Gentile Characters and the Motif of Proclamation in the 138 139

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ment of seventy-two geopolitical references and twenty-seven spatial categories that again are grouped into the two oppositional categories of Jewish homeland versus foreign lands146 is not needed to detect that Mark is working to expand the perimeter of the epoch-making εὐαγγέλιον beyond the borders of the Jewish nation. For our purpose, the most important point is to highlight how the inclusion of τὰ ἔθνη in the domain of Jesus is a crucial part of Mark’s presentation of his εὐαγγέλιον. I suggest that this may initially be seen from three things: First, two of Mark’s seven εὐαγγέλιον statements concern the preaching of the εὐαγγέλιον to the nations.147 The post-resurrectional expansion of the victory parade to the nations is thus made a prerequisite for the final victory. Further, the preeminent role of the gentiles in the recognition of Jesus is secured by the exclamation of the Roman centurion standing by the cross (15:39). Finally, the expansion of the access to the presence of God is a crucial part of Jesus’s conflict with the temple authorities. Here Mark is the only of the evangelists to cite the vision in Isa 56:7 of the temple as a prayer house for all nations. In other words, to Mark the inclusion of gentiles is part of the proclamation of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ, for which reason the border crossing events in Galilee foreshadow the clashes in the temple (11:17; 15:38) as well as provide rationale and warrant for Mark’s understanding of Jesus’s ministry and death in Jerusalem as εὐαγγέλιον. It is evident from this how Mark’s inclusion of gentiles works at a deep level. What is not always clear, however, is the ethnicity of Mark’s various characters. For this reason, there is some discussion about which instances qualify as cross-border incidents. At the one end of the spectrum, Watts is cautious, pointing to the fact that only the Syrophoenician woman is clearly designated gentile and that people living on the Eastern shore of the Sea of Galilee might have been Diaspora Jews, who had settled there in the wake of the Maccabean expansion under Alexander Janneus. Watts even argues that the Gerasene man from the graveyards might have been “a bound Diaspora Israelite.”148 At the other end of the spectrum, Kelly Iverson argues in his booklength treatment of the subject that Mark has included eleven gentile characters that Jesus interacts with during his four journeys into gentile territory followed by the encounter with the Roman administration in Jerusalem.149 Obviously, ––––––––––––––––– Gospel of Mark,” in Character Studies and the Gospel of Mark, ed. Christopher W. Skinner and Matthew Ryan Hauge, LNTS 483 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 229–30. 146 See Malbon, Narrative Space, 17. 147 See Mark 13:10 (πάντα τὰ ἔθνη πρῶτον δεῖ κηρυχθῆναι τὸ εὐαγγέλιον) and 14:9 (ὅπου ἐὰν κηρυχθῇ τὸ εὐαγγέλιον εἰς ὅλον τὸν κόσµον). 148 Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 166. 149 See Kelly R. Iverson, Gentiles in the Gospel of Mark, LNTS 339 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 3.

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mediating positions have been offered,150 and in the following I will maintain the general consensus in assuming that Mark 4–8 includes two journeys to Decapolis (5:1–20; 7:24–8:10), several healings of gentiles, besides two feeding miracles directed at Jews and gentiles (6:35–44; 8:1–10). In overview, this may be outlined as follows: (1) Sea crossings: 4:35–41; 6:45–52; 8:14–21. (2) The Gerasene demoniac and the Syrophoenician woman: 5:1–20; 7:24–30. (3) The bread cycles: 6:30–8:21. In the following, these incidents will be treated successively: (1) Regarding Jesus’s sea crossings, the θάλασσα is in Jewish tradition connected to Chaoskampf between good and evil and is in Mark part of his new creation motif.151 The question is if θάλασσα also is connected to the motif of crossing the boundary to the gentiles. This is arguably the case from the narrative flow of Mark 4–5. The notion in 4:35 of the sea crossing taking place ἐν ἐκείνῃ τῇ ἡµέρᾳ links it to the cluster of preceding parables taking place παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν (4:1).152 This makes their common theme of the growth of the kingdom a vivid backcloth to the expansion of the perimeter of Jesus’s ministry that is about to take place.153 Likewise, the pericope is connected forwardly by the notion of going εἰς τὸ πέραν, repeated at the beginning and the end of the Gerasene pericope (5:1, 20), just as the treatment of the sea in demonic terms foreshadows the encounter with the Gerasene demoniac. In other words, the first sea crossing in 4:35–41 serves as a bridge or hinge that dramatically heightens the tension of Jesus’s move across. In the case of Jesus’s sea walking (6:45–52) and sea conversation (8:14–21), the bread motif ensures a connection to Jesus’s Isaianic mission, as will become evident below. In the grand perspective, the three sea crossings combined154 serve as highly important instructions of the disciples in Jesus’s gentile mission and his powerful ability to cross over the strong border, expanding his kingdom.155 (2) The two most pronounced encounters with non-Jewish persons are the Gerasene man (5:1–20) and the Syrophoenician woman (7:24–30). While the ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Bennema, “Gentile Characters.” See the discussion above in Section 5.3.3. 152 Malbon rightfully labels the parable of the sower a “Sea sermon,” see Malbon, “Fallible Followers,” 220. 153 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 336. Marcus notes that this pericope has been linked to a gentile mission since Tertullian. 154 For a list of multiple “echo effects” between the three sea incidents and the two feeding miracles, see Malbon, “Fallible Followers,” 221–22. 155 The important Markan motif of συνιέναι is clustered around the three sea events (see 6:52; 8:17, see 4:40) and other happenings relatable to Jesus’s program of a gentile mission (see 4:12; 7:14). Iverson equates the disciples’ lack of understanding with “a willful opposition to the Gentile mission” (Iverson, Gentiles, 96). 150 151

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latter is clearly marked as gentile through the emphatic, twofold identification as Ἑλληνίς, Συροφοινίκισσα, the identification of the Gerasene man has caused discussion. Watts’s reluctance against a gentile identification is primarily argued from the inconsistence it produces between the two stories concerning Jesus’s willingness to heal gentiles.156 However, according to most scholars, the number of gentile references in the text indeed provide a good case for a Markan identification of the Gerasene man as a gentile, perhaps even “one of the most obvious Gentile characters in Mark.”157 These include the geographical identification as Γερασηνός158 and Δεκάπολις, the notion of swine herds, the epithet ὕψιστος, often found in connection with gentile proclamation, besides several narrative markers such as the sandwiching of the story with εἰς τὸ πέραν (5:1, 21), the request of the crowd for Jesus to leave ἀπὸ τῶν ὁρίων αὐτῶν (5:17), the notion of the man being sent to his own people (πρὸς τοὺς σούς, 5:19), and the lack of Jewish leaders as opposed to 5:21.159 The important point to notice for our purpose is the way in which Mark’s vivid descriptions of the strong powers at work in the demon possessed man “linguistically and thematically”160 connect this story to the parable of the strong man, which, as we have seen, is keenly tied to the epoch-making proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον in the prologue.161 As no one can enter the strong man’s house until he is tied (οὐ δύναται οὐδεὶς … δήσῃ, 3:27), no one could bind this man (οὐδεὶς ἐδύνατο αὐτὸν δῆσαι, 5:3). In this way, Mark provides a narrative example of what it means that Jesus is ὁ ἰσχυρότερος, bringing the needed powers that no one had hitherto been able to muster (οὐδεὶς ἴσχυεν, 5:4).162 This ultimately serves to back the connection he is making between Jesus and the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία as projected in the initial statement of 1:14–15 as a heading for the entire Galilee section. In this manner, the Gerasene episode is a provisional climax, foreshadowed in a number of ways, propelling the reader forwards with the question of the limits of the powers of Jesus.163 In comparison, Mark uses the story with the Syrophoenician woman quite differently. Here it is not the might of the demon that is emphasized but the question of the legality of the woman’s request to eat (ἐσθίειν) the crumbs (ψι––––––––––––––––– See Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 165–66. Iverson, Gentiles, 23, see the literature cited there. 158 As noted by Iverson, the important variant readings agree in placing the incident in a non-Jewish area, see Iverson, Gentiles, 21; see also Annen, Heil für die Heiden, 201–2. 159 For details, see, e.g., Annen, Heil für die Heiden, 162–84; Iverson, Gentiles, 21–23. In particular, Annen’s investigation of the role of swine in pagan cults (see, e.g., 1 Macc 1:17; 2 Macc 6:18; 7:1) comprises a weighty argument. 160 Marcus, Mark 1–8, 350. 161 See Section 5.3.3. 162 See Iverson, Gentiles, 26. 163 For the narrative echoes backwards and the connection between John and the Gerasene man as forerunners of Jesus, see Iverson, Gentiles, 35–39. 156 157

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χίον) like the dogs, or perhaps house dogs or puppies (κυνάριον), and not the bread (ἄρτος) at the table of “the children” (παιδίον). Jesus’s encounter with the Syrophoenician woman is puzzling, with a response by Jesus that in itself seems “moralisch anstößig,”164 just as it is surprising from a narrative perspective, given the previous interaction with gentiles from Tyre and Sidon in Galilee and Jesus’s previous journey to Decapolis.165 For this reason, exegetes have produced a variety of explanations of which some are more fanciful than others.166 While some opt to explain Jesus’s prioritization from a redaction critic perspective as a Markan rebuke of a traditional animosity towards Jews from a growing gentile church in the Tyrian regions,167 the approach to be taken here is to investigate the narrative echoes in this pericope from Mark’s motif of the advancing kingdom.168 To this end, at least four issues are of importance: (a) The ἐκεῖθεν serves to link the pericope to the preceding one on purity, warranting the suggestion that purity and especially the question of eating in purity169 is lurking in the background here as well.170 If this is the case, the story serves as a narrative exposition of the teaching on purity presented in 7:14–23.171 (b) The reference to ἄρτος is narratively speaking highly important, linking this episode with the repeated bread motif consisting of a feeding miracle and an ensuing explanation or even reprove of the disciples.172 In this larger context of Mark 6–8, the Syrophoenician woman is presented as a heroine, who “understands Jesus’ riddle and even responds with one of her own,” whereas the ––––––––––––––––– 164 Theißen, Lokalkolorit, 63, see Burkill who judges that “any intelligent Hellenistic woman, addressed in such terms would have immediately reacted by slapping the man’s face,” given the fact that even the nuance between calling her a κυνάριον and not a κύων only amounts to the difference between calling her “a little bitch” and not “a bitch,” see T. A. Burkill, “The Historical Development of the Story of the Syrophoenician Woman (Mark VII: 24- 31),” NovT 9.3 (1967): 172–73. 165 See Mark 3:8; 5:1–20, see Kelly R. Iverson and Christopher W. Skinner, Mark as Story: Retrospect and Prospect, RBS 65 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), 49– 50. 166 For a research overview, see Theißen, Lokalkolorit, 64–67; William Loader, “Challenged at the Boundaries: A Conservative Jesus in Mark’s Tradition,” JSNT 63 (1996): 47– 48. At the more fanciful end, it has been suggested that Jesus’s initial rejection was presented with a wink, see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 468. 167 See, e.g., Theißen, Lokalkolorit, 62–85; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 471. 168 See, e.g., David M. Rhoads, “Jesus and the Syrophoenician Woman in Mark: A Narrative-Critical Study,” JAAR 62.2 (1994): 343–75; Iverson, Gentiles, 40–82. 169 See Mark 7:2, 5. 170 Besides the emphasis of the location as non-Jewish, there is ample and widespread attestation of a Jewish perception of the wild dog being a scavenger and unclean, see, e.g., Marcus, Mark 1–8, 463–64; Iverson, Gentiles, 48. 171 See, e.g., Loader, “Boundaries,” 46; Iverson, Gentiles, 51. 172 See Mark 6:35–44, 52; 8:1–10, 14–21.

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disciples “have failed to understand the riddle”173 of purity and eating as well as the deeper meaning of the two feeding miracles. (c) In a wider perspective, it is possible that the use of πρῶτος in Jesus’s initial answer to the woman’s request evokes the Markan motif of eschatological salvation. Here, it is used to prioritize the Jewish mission, although in 13:10 it is used to prioritize the gentile mission. In particular, it is possible that this notion should be understood as having a reference to Jesus’s binding of the strong man ‘first,’ before robbing his house.174 (d) This brings us to the widest, but also most important, narrative echo for understanding the conversation. This is to be found in the sharp-witted response by the woman. Being a “quite memorable” character, she “steals the scene”175 with a “rhetorical coup”176 through which she turns the humiliation entailed in κυνάριον into a top-ranking asset in the narrative and theological world of Mark: a projection of herself as part of the household of Jesus. As the reader knows, if the woman is recognized as a member of the οἰκία of Jesus, the power of ὁ ἰσχυρός is broken, and the daughter will be healed. In particular, the woman’s request to partake in the table fellowship, despite her diminutive and possible unclean status, suggests that Mark presents her as one of his ‘minor characters,’ who by their words and actions demonstrate the ability to believe and make the much needed συνιέναι, in contrast to the disciples.177 If so, the woman becomes a demonstration not only of the effectiveness of Jesus’s engagement of the strong man (3:22–27) but likewise a demonstration of the effective range of Jesus’s initial proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία with its call to faith. In the light of this, it is of lesser importance to determine whether Mark portrays Jesus as changing his mind, moved by the woman’s petition, or whether his initial statement is meant as a test of her faith.178 The crucial element is the end point through which the woman is granted a place at the table and enjoys the nearness of the ever-expanding kingdom and the epoch-changing proportions of the εὐαγγέλιον Mark’s Jesus preaches and embodies. (3) Finally, the Isaianic framework of the expanding kingdom and the pilgrimage towards Jerusalem is expressed through the two feeding miracles. Two questions have been of importance in the research on this topic. One concerns ––––––––––––––––– 173 Rhoads, “Syrophoenician Woman,” 347; see also Petr Pokorný, “From a Poppy to the Child: Some Problems of Contemporary Biblical Exegesis Demonstrated from Mark 7.24– 30/Matt 15.21–8,” NTS 41 (1995): 330–31; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 469. 174 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 463. 175 Rhoads, “Syrophoenician Woman,” 361. 176 Marcus, Mark 1–8, 469. 177 See Marshall, Faith, 228–29; Rhoads, “Syrophoenician Woman,” 347; Iverson, Gentiles, 52–55. 178 Iverson labels Jesus’s remark as “peirastic irony” (Iverson, Gentiles, 52; see also Marcus, Mark 1–8, 469).

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the structural pattern and the question of whether it is possible to isolate and observe a well-arranged dual cyclic pattern in Mark 4–8.179 The other concerns the question of the profound scriptural resonance of the bread motif, which some relate to an exodus motif, others to an Elijah/Elisha motif, and still others to both.180 While the point of importance for our purpose is not to enter into the discussion of the minute details on the cyclic patterns at play, Malbon’s claim that the two feeding miracles “provide perhaps the most clear and ringing of all Marcan echoes”181 seems warranted not only from the repetition of the miracles with important variations but also from the repetition of a sea miracle (4:35–41//6:45–52) and the repetition of an instruction to the disciples of the meaning of the bread (6:52//8:14–21). Concerning scriptural echoes, multiple evocations of the exodus traditions are detectable, just as Elijah’s miraculous feeding of the widow in Sarepta182 and not least Elisha’s feeding of a poor widow and a hundred men183 might also be part of the tapestry and likewise influenced by the exodus tradition.184 For our purpose, two issues are of importance: The way in which Mark uses the bread motif to include gentiles in Jesus’s mission, and the question of why Mark presents the correct understanding of the two feeding miracles as selfexplanatory (8:14–21): (a) Regarding the first, Mark’s multiple references to bread and eating become one of the most important ways through which he narrates Jesus’s border crossing powers. During the course of two chapters, the theme recurs six times,185 spinning together a sequence of events that takes Jesus from his Jewish homeland across the border to the gentile territories. While Mark does not

––––––––––––––––– 179 See, e.g., Paul J. Achtemeier, “Toward the Isolation of Pre-Markan Miracle Catenae,” JBL 89 (1970): 265–91; Achtemeier, “Origin”; Malbon, “Fallible Followers”; Sun Wook Kim, “An Investigation of a Cyclic Pattern in Mark 4:35–8:21 and Its Theological Significance,” BTB 47.4 (2017): 205–15. 180 See, e.g., Achtemeier, “Origin,” 204–5; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 177–79; Roger David Aus, Feeding the Five Thousand: Studies in the Judaic Background of Mark 6:30–44 par. and John 6:1–15, SJ(L) 18 (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2010); Friedrich Avemarie, “Der Schöpferkraft Jesu trauen: Ein Versuch über die Speisungswunder des Markusevangeliums,” in Neues Testament und frührabbinisches Judentum: Gesammelte Aufsätze, ed. Jörg Frey and Angela Standhartinger, WUNT 316 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 435–36. 181 Malbon, “Fallible Followers,” 216. 182 See 1 Kgs 17:8–16. 183 See 2 Kgs 4:1–7, 42–44. 184 See Achtemeier, “Origin,” 204; Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 178–79. 185 See 6:35–41, 52, 7:1–23, 27–29; 8:1–10, 14–21. To this may be added Antipas’s negative counter-example of a ‘feeding miracle’ (6:21–29) and Jesus’s command to feed Jairus’ daughter (5:43).

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specifically label the 4,000 people in the second feeding miracle as gentiles,186 their identity is revealed by a number of subtle references, such as the initial notion of “in those days” (ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡµέραις), tying the event firmly to the preceding miracle in Decapolis, the notion of the crowd “coming from afar” (ἀπὸ µακρόθεν ἥκασιν) as a reference to gentiles,187 besides the number seven188 and the different type of basket (σπυρίς) as compared to the first miracle (κόφινος).189 In reality, the inclusion of the gentiles in Jesus’s table fellowship becomes the climax of a series of events through which Jesus refuses to maintain a pure table according to the tradition of the elders (7:1–23), includes the Syrophoenician woman in the table fellowship with the homegrown children (7:24–30), expands his ministry of healing to the gentile areas (7:31–36), and receives their Isaianic praise in return, only stripped of its notion of vengeance on the gentiles (7:37).190 (b) This brings us to the question of why Mark presents the theological implications of the two feeding miracles as self-evident and therefore left unexplained in 8:21. Considering the references in the boat conversation to συνιέναι, πωροῦν, καρδία, and the quotation of Jer 5:21 that closely resembles the citation of Isa 6:9–10 in Mark 4:12, there is no need to search for the answer in numerology. Instead, the key to the ‘self-evident’ saying of Jesus is to be found precisely in these keywords in combination with the notion of blind eyes and deaf ears. Combined, this ties the two feeding miracles to Mark’s overarching Isaianic framework of exodus liberation and new creation, which has been overtly explained by Mark since his initial καθὼς γέγραπται ἐν τῷ Ἠσαΐᾳ τῷ προφήτῃ.191 By now it is firmly established that the Pharisees, along with the Herodians, represent the rebellious wilderness generation that demanded signs and tempted Yahweh due to their unbelief.192 The description of their approach as ζύµη is an outright condemnation, foreshadowing the culmination of Jesus’s conflict with the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem. The counterpart to their approach to the powerful demonstration of the advancing kingdom in Jesus is represented ––––––––––––––––– 186 For a rejection of the necessity of a gentile setting, see, e.g., Lohmeyer, Markus, 144, 153 n. 6; Marxsen, Markus, 44; Gnilka, Markus 1–8,26, 304; Hooker, Mark, 188. 187 See Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 404. See also Acts 2:39; 22:21; Eph 2:11–12. 188 While the number twelve is a common Jewish symbol, it has proven difficult to substantiate seven as a gentile symbol. 189 According to Juvenal, Jews were known to travel with κόφινοι (Sat. 3.14; 6.542, see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 411). 190 For an acceptance of a gentile setting of the second feeding miracle, see, e.g., Vincent, St. Mark, 357; Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 404; Walter Grundmann, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 2nd ed., THKNT (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1977), 204; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 402–3; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 497; Iersel, Mark, 256; Iverson, Gentiles, 68–69. 191 For the multiple references to the exodus theme in Mark’s bread motif, see Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 178–79; Marcus, Mark 1–8 (relevant passages). 192 See Mark 8:11 (πειράζοντες αὐτόν) and Exod 17:2 (πειράζετε κύριον), see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 500–501.

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by the gentiles in the form of the Syrophoenician woman and the people of Decapolis, who perceive how the comprehensive renewal (καλῶς πάντα πεποίηκεν, 7:37)193 covers those living εἰς τὸ πέραν as well. Shortly said, the bread motif and the two feeding miracles are the preliminary climax in Mark’s presentation of the powers of Jesus’s εὐαγγέλιον, propelling the reader forward with the question if the ‘blindness’ of the disciples is curable ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ towards Jerusalem. To summarize, the repeated notion of the post-resurrectional preaching of the εὐαγγέλιον εἰς πάντα τὰ ἔθνη (13:10) or εἰς ὅλον τὸν κόσµον (14:9) is proleptically played out in Jesus’s border crossing activities. The three investigated clusters of border crossings to the gentiles are in the light of Mark’s Isaianic framework as well as these two statements important parts of how Mark presents his εὐαγγέλιον as an epoch-making demolishing of one of the strongest powers at play in the Markan narrative world, the border of animosity between Jews and gentiles. 5.3.5 Subversion of Roman Powers? This finally brings us to the question of where Mark places the Roman power of old within the trajectory of Jesus’s kingly victory. As discussed in Section 2.4, we are immediately confronted with the question of which events to consider when looking for interaction with the Roman Empire in Mark. On the one hand, using an anti-imperial and/or postcolonial reading strategy, imperial references or foes have been found hidden in places like 1:1 with its combination of ἀρχή, εὐαγγέλιον, and υἱός θεοῦ;194 1:9–11 with the dove as a counter symbol to the Roman eagle;195 3:22–29 with Beelzebul as a reference to the house of the emperor;196 4:30–32 with the uncontrollable growth of the mustard seed as a counterpart to the empire;197 5:1–20 with the naming of the demon as λεγιών;198 6:14–29 with Herod Antipas as a Roman client ruler;199 6:45–53 with Jesus’s walk on the sea as a sign of divine super powers surpassing any emperor’s;200 7:24–30 with the Syrophoenician woman as a product of colonia––––––––––––––––– See the discussion above in Section 5.3.3. See, e.g., Gerd Theißen, The Gospels in Context: Social and Political History in the Synoptic Tradition (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1992), 258–71; Samuel, “Beginning of Mark,” 405–19; Evans, “Beginning,” 94–95; Leander, Discourses, 185–92. 195 See Peppard, “Roman Imperial Sonship,” 431–51. 196 See, e.g., Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 185–88. 197 See, e.g., Horsley, Hearing, 104; Leander, Discourses, 211. 198 See, e.g., N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, vol. 2 of Christian Origins and the Question of God, (Minneapolis: Fortress, London: SPCK, 1996), 195–96; Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 190–94; Moore, “Mark and Empire,” 70–90. 199 See Gelardini, Christus Militans, 200–201. 200 See Matthew James Ketchum, “Haunting Empty Tombs: Specters of the Emperor and Jesus in the Gospel of Mark,” BibInt 26 (2018): 229–34. 193 194

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lism;201 8:27–33 with the subversion of crucifixion as a Roman symbol of suppression;202 10:17–31 with the incompatibility of wealth acquired in the Roman patron–client system and the kingdom;203 10:42–45 with the references to the rulers of this world,204 besides the references to the emperor, Pilate, and Roman soldiers in Mark’s Jerusalem section. This list, which could be made even longer,205 evidently shows that there is made no overt, unambiguous reference to Rome in Mark 1–10. It is a matter of fact that an unambiguous reference to the empire is first provided in the passion narrative with the question of the emperor’s coin (12:13–17) and Pilate and his soldiers (15:1–45). Further, as revealed by the discussion in Section 2.4.6, there is no agreement among researchers as to what role exactly Mark’s Roman foe is playing, and the approach to detecting places in Mark concerned with the empire drastically varies from almost allegorical approaches to refined postcolonial interpretative frameworks. In order to stay on firm ground in detecting in which way the Roman power is included in the powers of old, renegotiated by Jesus in Mark 1–10, we will for these reasons focus on the instances that are most overt and likely to contain a subtle reference to the Roman Empire, namely: (1) The question of the implied reference in λεγιών (5:9). (2) The role of the anti-type of Herod Antipas (6:14–29). (3) The issue of tyrannical ruler versus ministry (10:42–45). Dealing with these instances in consecutive order, the following is of importance for our purpose: (1) The first question to be discussed is if the reference to λεγιών in Mark 5:9 entails a reference to the Roman occupation that merits its status as “locus classicus for anti-imperial readings of Mark”206 and perhaps even “a ‘hermeneutical key’ with which to unlock the gospel as a whole.”207 While the nature of λεγιών as a Latin loan word is not up for debate, the question of importance centres on its interpretation by Mark: whether the ὅτι πολλοί ἐσµεν implies that it was to Mark a pure numerical term or whether there are enough reference points otherwise in Mark to overpower his own numerical definition. In alignment with his general view on Mark’s narrative as containing “no ciphers, no ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Joy, Subalterns, 143–65. See, e.g., Samuel, A Postcolonial Reading, 128–31; Leander, Discourses, 239–53. 203 See Joy, Subalterns, 130–41. 204 See, e.g., Winn, “Tyrant,” 325–52; Matthew Thiessen, “The Many for One or One for the Many? Reading Mark 10:45 in the Roman Empire,” HTR 109.3 (2016): 447–66. 205 See Gelardini, Christus Militans, in which a political reading of Mark is presented scene by scene. 206 Leander, Discourses, 201. 207 Moore, “Mark and Empire,” 73. 201 202

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hidden meanings, no sleight of hand,”208 Gundry contends that “we have no reason to think of a covert reference to the occupation of Palestine by Roman legions.”209 The arguments for an anti-imperial reading focus the attention on λεγιών rather than more clear-cut numerical terms,210 the possibility of a connection between the herded pigs and the wild boar, which was the symbol for the Legio X Fretensis deployed in the vicinity,211 and suggestions of convergence between demon possessions and military occupation.212 In evaluation, two issues are of importance. On the one hand, given that Mark with ὅτι πολλοί ἐσµεν provides the name with a numerical interpretation, the question is if we should allow for a multi-layered meaning, as argued by Leander.213 This is by far the majority interpretation in recent research, accepted also by scholars who do not otherwise interpret Mark as anti-imperial.214 On the other hand, the real issue at stake concerns if an imperial referent in λεγιών provides the ‘hermeneutical key’ to unlock Mark’s meaning or if it is simply used to dramatize or equate the powers of the demons with the strongest powers known otherwise. For instance, Leander goes to much length to establish the validity of an anti-imperial or postcolonial reading of the pericope by projecting the Roman referent of λεγιών back on the preceding context, viewing for instance the mustard seed as a subversive contrast to the imperial tree.215 Since this is Mark’s first possible reference to the empire, a less strained reading, not gaining its inner rationale from postcolonial theory or anti-imperial allegory, would be that Mark with the four successive stories of the storm at sea, the Gerasene demoniac, the bleeding woman, and Jairus’s daughter is intendedly forging a chain of stories. In this chain, things constantly go from bad to worse in terms of the magnitude of powers that Jesus is confronted with – something expressed with multiple hyperboles in the course of which the λεγιών indeed becomes more than a numerical number but also an expression of the strongest possible attack force known to date. Even if we allow for a connection between demon possession and Roman occupation, the thrust of the ––––––––––––––––– Gundry, Mark, 1. Gundry, Mark, 260. 210 Like, for instance, πολλά (see Mark 1:34) or µυριάς, see Joshua Garroway, “The Invasion of a Mustard Seed: A Reading of Mark 5.1–20,” JSNT 32.1 (2009): 62–63; Leander, Discourses, 204. 211 See, e.g., Marcus, Mark 1–8, 351; Collins, Mark, 267. 212 See, e.g., Theißen, Wundergeschichten, 253–55; Myers, Binding the Strong, 192–94; see also Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 163, citing a number of Jewish sources that may be understood as a spiritualization of political powers. 213 See Leander, Discourses, 204. 214 For instance, Marcus and Collins ascribe λεγιών to a pre-Markan source where it might have had anti-imperial sentiments otherwise not (or possibly not) carried over in Mark, see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 351–52; Collins, Mark, 269–70. 215 See Leander, Discourses, 210–11; see also Myers’s comparison with the exorcism in Mark 1:21–28, see Myers, Binding the Strong, 192–94. 208 209

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presented reading in this chapter so far would make the Roman force one, but only one, of the powers of old subverted by the powers of Jesus. (2) Next, concerning the role of Antipas in Mark 6:14–29, the initial question confronting us is if he should be viewed as ‘Roman’ at all. Rather than evaluating his pedigree as a Herodian offspring with a Samaritan mother against his education in Rome216 or his office as a Roman client ruler, it is accepted that to Mark he is part of the same pool of οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν τῶν ἐθνῶν and οἱ µεγάλοι (10:42) to which also Pilate belongs. In reality, they are the only two named rulers in Mark. Proceeding with the perception of Antipas as part of the Roman hegemony, we are faced with multiple questions surrounding the by any standard noteworthy description of Antipas’s lavish birthday party to which the discussion of the identity of Jesus is added, such as the question of Gattung, the labelling of Antipas as βασιλεύς, important text critical issues, and the relationship to Josephus’s description of John.217 For our purpose, two issues are of importance: (a) The first concerns the role of the Antipas story in Mark’s overall narrative. While from an immediate point of view the pericope reads as a misplaced fairy tale, it possesses a number of strong narrative echoes that substantiate its thorough embeddedness in Mark’s overall structure:218 Antipas is in several ways presented as the antipole to Jesus. Both are labelled βασιλεῖς, but while Antipas, historically speaking, desperately craved the title of his father,219 ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων, it was given to Jesus (15:2, 26). Both host a party, but while Antipas’s δεῖπνον is for the µεγιστᾶνες, χιλιάρχοι, and πρῶτοι and evolves into a scene of erotic pleasure (ἀρέσκειν)220 and “Gothic horror,”221 Jesus’s is for those who are ὡς πρόβατα µὴ ἔχοντα ποιµένα (6:34). Most importantly, as Antipas’s imprisonment of John leads to the inauguration of Jesus’s public preaching of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ//ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ (1:14–15), Antipas now foreshadows the crucial question of Jesus’s ––––––––––––––––– Antipas’s mother was the Samaritan Malthace (J.W. 1.562). According to Josephus, he was raised (τροφὰς εἶχον) in Rome by a certain private man (παρά τινι ἰδίῳ, Ant. 17.20). For Antipas’s relationship with Rome, see Jensen, Herod Antipas, 91–94. 217 See, e.g., the overview in Abraham Smith, “Tyranny Exposed: Mark’s Typological Characterization of Herod Antipas (Mark 6:14–29),” BibInt 14.3 (2006): 259–62, and the detailed discussion in Harold W. Hoehner, Herod Antipas, SNTSMS 17 (London: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 110–71; Theißen, Lokalkolorit, 85–102. 218 Pace Taylor, who finds that it only “fills in the gap” between the sending of the twelve disciples and their return, see Vincent, St. Mark, 307. 219 See Josephus’s description of Antipas’s hopes of becoming king after his father (J.W. 2.20–32; Ant. 17.224–227), an aspiration that finally brought about his downfall and banishment to France by Gaius Caligula, partly due to the interference by Herodias (J.W. 2.181– 183; Ant. 18.240–255). 220 For the question of the nature of the dance, see Theißen, Lokalkolorit, 96–99; Smith, “Tyranny Exposed,” 78–79. 221 Marcus, Mark 1–8, 403. 216

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identity as neither John nor Elijah or one of the prophets but ὁ χριστός (6:14– 16//8:27–30) and βασιλεύς (6:14 vs. 15:26). In the same way, Antipas mirrors and foreshadows the cognitive journey of the disciples, not only through the initial discussion of Jesus’s identity (6:14– 16//8:27–30) but likewise through the lack of understanding and insight (ἀπορεῖν222) after hearing (6:20//6:52; 8:14–21). To this comes the way in which Antipas’s dealing with John’s ministry of δύναµις foreshadows what the disciples are to expect (6:14//6:7–13, 30 and 6:27//8:34–38 etc.). Finally, Antipas also foreshadows the role of Pilate. Like Antipas, Pilate tries to listen and understand, comes to some understanding (15:10, 14//6:20), and has the authority to do the right thing but is compliant to the wishes of his subjects, eventually using those powers to execute.223 The upshot of these narrative echoes is the way in which Mark uses Antipas as one of his prime examples of what it is to be one of those who seemingly rule, but do so to gain rather than to serve, for which reason Antipas becomes an anti-type to Jesus as well as what the disciples are asked to practice (10:42–45).224 (b) The other question of importance concerning the role of Antipas is to which extent Mark depicts Antipas as a tyrannical, Roman ruler. This is, for instance, suggested by Adam Winn, who compares the portrait of Antipas’s and Pilate’s rule with virtues of Roman political ideology such as pietas, prudentia, and iustitia, of which they both blatantly fall short.225 While Winn certainly manages to present a persuasive case for how Mark’s portrait of Antipas possibly would have been understood in a Roman setting, other contextualized readings share the same merit. There is a long tradition for finding the imprints of the stock picture of a tyrant in the Hebrew Bible, such as pharaohs, King Ahasuerus in the book of Esther, and the king in the book of Daniel, or the same in Greco-Roman sources describing similar scenes in the courts of Xerxes, Crassus, and Gaius Caligula.226 In a rather recent study, Abraham ––––––––––––––––– Most text critical editions of Mark and most commentators accept the reading of, among others, ℵ and B (ἠπόρει) as the best witnessed and most difficult, rather than the reading of, among others, A, f1, and 𝔐 (ἐποίει), which, understood as a Semitism, would produce the translation “he heard him often,” see Metzger, Textual Commentary, 76–77; Hoehner, Herod Antipas, 159–60 n. 7; Comfort, Text and Translation, 114–15. 223 See Smith, “Tyranny Exposed,” 282–83. 224 For more on the narrative role of Antipas in Mark, see Morten Hørning Jensen, “Josephus and Mark 6:6b–29: Herod Antipas’s Execution of John the Baptist,” in Reading Mark in Context: Jesus and Second Temple Judaism, ed. Ben C. Blackwell, John K. Goodrich, and Jason Maston (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2018), 23–44. 225 See Adam Winn, “‘Their Great Ones Act as Tyrants over Them’: Mark’s Characterization of Roman Authorities from a Distinctly Roman Perspective,” in Character Studies and the Gospel of Mark, ed. Matthew Ryan Hauge and Christopher W. Skinner, LNTS 483 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 194–214. 226 See, e.g., Hoehner, Herod Antipas, 165–67; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 399–402; Collins, Mark, 309–10 222

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Smith proposes, on the basis of the typical depiction of a tyrant in Greek and Romans sources, that we likewise in Mark find the rhetorical figure synkrisis through which the tyrant was evaluated against and exposed by his antithetical type, such as a virtuous philosopher.227 Further, it may also be considered whether Mark deliberately changed Antipas’s official tetrarch title to βασιλεύς in order to echo the role of the βασιλεῖς in Isa 52:15, who fall silent over what they see in the servant of Yahweh. Thus, nothing necessitates a particularly anti-Roman energy behind Mark’s portrait of Antipas at the expense of an understanding of Antipas as one of the two named examples of a general critique and denunciation of tyrannical hegemony. In short, the character of Antipas plays an important role in Mark’s story by exemplifying one of the impossible positions to take towards the emerging kingdom and its βασιλεύς in spe, who not only fails to identify Jesus correctly but who also fails to use his δύναµις to serve justly. Thereby Antipas becomes a highly important antithetical type to Jesus as well as, perhaps, the disciples, a theme that Mark returns to with full force in 10:42–45, to which we now turn. (3) This brings us, third and finally, to the climactic saying of Jesus in Mark 10:42–45, which certainly is among the most researched and fiercely debated cruces interpretum in Markan research.228 For our purpose, the crucial issue concerns if the hapax legomenon in Mark, λύτρον, denotes compensation as part of an act of liberation from captivity or oppression or if it denotes expiation as part of an act of redemption or atonement from guilt and sin. In relation to our question of Mark’s understanding of εὐαγγέλιον, it can be phrased as a question of whether λύτρον should be understood as a kingly victory or a cultic sacrifice. Both positions have been vividly defended.229 In the following, we shall discuss to which extent it in the context of Mark 10:32–45 connotes a subversive, political, perhaps even anti-Roman message. Later in this chapter, we shall discuss to which extent the cultic interpretation can be verified.230 Finally, it will be part of the discussion in the next chapter of Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death.231 Besides the concept of λύτρον itself, it has been central to the discussion to identify the proper points of reference for “those who seem to rule over the Gentiles” (οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν τῶν ἐθνῶν) and “their mighty ones” (οἱ µεγάλοι αὐτῶν), in contrast to the disciples as servants and slaves (διάκονος, δοῦλος). Exactly what Mark is referring to has proven to be a difficult task to pinpoint, and in recent years, different backgrounds in Greek or Roman texts on ruler ––––––––––––––––– See Smith, “Tyranny Exposed,” 263–77. See, e.g., Kaminouchi, Echoes of Power, 35. 229 For research overviews, see, e.g., J. Christopher Edwards, The Ransom Logion in Mark and Matthew, WUNT 2/327 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 2–10; Thiessen, “Mark 10:45,” 450–53. 230 See Section 5.4.7. 231 See Section 6.3.5. 227 228

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ideology have been presented by David Seeley, Adam Winn, and Matthew Thiessen with important conflicting readings and emphases in between. Seeley, for his part, finds ample evidence in Greek and Roman sources expressing Hellenistic and classical conceptions of the ideal king on which Mark may positively have modelled his view of church government in 10:43–44, including a servile position of the leader.232 That said, he argues that Mark nevertheless departed from the Hellenistic paradigmatic description of the ideal ruler to a substitutionary presentation of Jesus’s death in 10:45 partly influenced by Paul instead.233 While acknowledging Seeley’s approach, Thiessen for his part finds no reason to connect Mark’s substitutionary language to Paul.234 Instead, Mark’s Roman readers would have found resonance and points of comparison in Roman ruler ideology. On the one hand, the various descriptions of Otho’s suicide provide “an illuminating parallel to Jesus’s words in Mark 10:45,”235 by expressing how the death of one ruler may save many subjects.236 On the other hand, Mark’s description of Jesus’s sacrifice of one life for the many may have been intended as a direct hit at the ruler ideology expressed by Seneca, according to whom the masses should be sacrificed to save the one: the emperor.237 In this way, “Mark’s Jesus states the opposite”238 of Seneca’s government advice to Nero. With a fine-tuned distinction, Thiessen further emphasizes how Seneca advises Nero to show clemency but not pity (misericordia), which is precisely what Jesus does in the ensuing story of Bartimaeus who calls upon Jesus to pity him (ἐλέησόν µε, 10:47, 48) and which, according to Thiessen, works “contrary to Seneca’s political wisdom.”239 ––––––––––––––––– 232 Seeley refers to a number of sources for this view, such as Dio Chrysostom’s description of the good king as the one seeking the benefits of “all men” including slaves (1 Regn. 22–23), even to the degree of a servility (δουλεία, 3 Regn. 75), a point also made by Plato (δουλοῦν, Leg. 762e). Especially, Seeley finds Mark 10:43–45 to resemble the Cynic appropriation of the servile king referring for instance to Epictetus’s description of Diogenes as a διάκονος of Zeus (Diatr. 3.24.65), even enduring flogging like an ass for the benefits of others (3.22.54), see David Seeley, “Rulership and Service in Mark 10:41–45,” NovT 35.3 (1993): 235–45. 233 See Seeley, “Rulership,” 245–49. 234 See Thiessen, “Mark 10:45,” 453. 235 Thiessen, “Mark 10:45,” 454. 236 See, e.g., the speech by Otho in Plutarch: “If I was worthy to be Roman emperor, it is needed of me to give my own life unsparingly for the fatherland” (εἰ τῆς Ῥωµαίων ἡγεµονίας ἄξιος γέγονα, δεῖ µε τῆς ἐµῆς ψυχῆς ὑπὲρ τῆς πατρίδος ἀφειδεῖν, Oth. 15.4). Thiessen likewise pulls together disparate sources, from Euripides to Lucan, to show that ransom language was used to portray the ideal rulers’ obligation “to offer their lives in place of their subjects” (Thiessen, “Mark 10:45,” 456). 237 See Seneca, Clem. 1.3.3–4. 238 Thiessen, “Mark 10:45,” 459. 239 Thiessen, “Mark 10:45,” 464.

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Winn, on the other hand, finds evidence in Seneca’s treatise De benificiis that points in the opposite direction, by praising Augustus and other emperors with his character for having “sacrificed themselves to the state” (se rei publicae dicaverunt, 4.32.2),240 for which reason “both Seneca and Jesus are promoting the ideal of a ruler who serves rather than is served.”241 Further, unlike Seeley, Winn finds the admonition in Mark 10:44 to consider oneself as a δοῦλος as “jarring to Roman readers” who “would never have conceived of their ruler or princeps in such lowly terms.”242 Likewise, in contrast to Thiessen, Winn does not find an outspoken critique of Roman ruler ideology embedded in Jesus’s saying in 10:45. Rather, with the saying, Mark went along with the best of Roman ruler ideology, only pushing its inner logic to its extreme by presenting Jesus as having a better résumé than even the best of emperors, in fact being an “ideal ruler.”243 Further, this tactic “ultimately functions in order to subvert the power and propaganda of Rome’s emperors”244 by outbidding the roman emperors on their home turf. The problem remains what precisely the target of critique in 10:42 is, what the positive example in 10:43–45 is modelled after, and what is entailed in the λύτρον statement. It is not possible to focus on all the aspects here,245 and in this section we shall confine ourselves to investigating to which extent antiRoman sentiments are present. This evaluation depends on the understanding of at least three factors: (a) It has been discussed if the notion of οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν should be understood pejoratively or ironically, and if κατα- in κατακυριεύειν and κατεξουσιάζειν provides a semantic tint towards abuse of power. If the latter is the case, it is reasonable to allow some kind of subtle irony embedded in the notion of οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν, considering the intended symmetry that makes κατακυριεύειν epexegetical to the first part of the sentence.246 But the ––––––––––––––––– 240 Translation adapted from LCL, reproduced in Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 105. It may be noted that dico should be understood figuratively in the sense of devoting, dedicating, or consecrating. 241 Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 111. 242 Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 109. 243 Adam Winn, “Resisting Honor: The Markan Secrecy Motif and Roman Political Ideology,” JBL 133.3 (2014): 593. Though admitting he is taking it to the extreme, Winn even argues that “the cross is presented as the ideal way in which a ruler would and should exercise divinely granted authority,” see Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 115. 244 Winn, “Tyrant,” 349, emphasis original. 245 For more comprehensive studies, see besides the already mentioned, e.g., Adela Yarbro Collins, “The Signification of Mark 10:45 among Gentile Christians,” HTR 90.4 (1997): 371–82; Oda Wischmeyer, “Herrschen als Dienen: Mk 10,41–45,” ZNW 90 (1999): 28–44; Kaminouchi, Echoes of Power. 246 See Joachim Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus (Mk 8,27–16,20), EKKNT 2/2 (Zürich: Benzinger, 1979), 2:103; Kaminouchi, Echoes of Power, 122–23, pace Collins, Mark, 499.

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amplifying nature of κατα- is disputed. Typically, it has been understood as ascribing a negative connotation to its compound.247 Kenneth Clark’s survey, however, of κατακυριεύειν in the Septuagint as well as in other Greek sources, where it only occurs in post-New Testament Christian sources, led him to the conclusion that it is not generally used in a negative sense.248 This is a matter of definition, however. As noted by Marcus, while it in some cases comes with a meaning equivalent to κυριεύειν, in others it is connected “with violent conquest.”249 Focussing on the use in Mark, the negative sense seems applicable due to the overt opposition to the disciples in the following verses and not least due to the implied reference back to the only ruler and men of magnitude described in Mark so far, Antipas and his birthday party, where power abuse surely is part of the picture.250 (b) This brings us to the question of λύτρον, where the question of antiRoman sentiments is dependent on its meaning and to whom it is paid. In Section 5.4.7 below, the wider background of this word group will be discussed. Here we shall confine ourselves to the evaluation of the profoundness of the political interpretations of the saying. For example, Dowd and Malbon build their case on an understanding of the word group as relating “to the necessity of setting free those being held captive or enslaved by another.”251 Indeed, λύτρον is derived from λύειν and defined, for example by BDAG, as the “price of release, ransom (esp. also the ransom money for the manumission of slaves).”252 At least two things corroborate a kingly or political understanding of λύτρον as the ransom paid to free a slave. On the one hand, in Isaiah, ὁ λυτρούµενος alongside ὁ ῥυσάµενος are distinct epithets for Yahweh’s act of liberation of his people from captivity.253 On the other hand, the close context in Mark 10:42–44, the extremely close paratactic as well as inferential connection between 10:44 and 10:45 embedded in the καὶ γάρ, and the servanthood if not outright slavery entailed in the notion of δοῦλος254 seem to imply an exchange of fortunes from free to slave, in which instance the ransom is paid to the former slave owner. But who is he according to Mark? If we follow Myers ––––––––––––––––– See Foerster, TWNT 2:572; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 748. See Kenneth Willis Clark, The Gentile Bias and Other Essays, NovTSup 54 (Leiden: Brill, 1980), 207–12. 249 Marcus, Mark 8–16, 748, see, e.g., Num 21:24; 32:22, 29. 250 See Mark 6:21. Further, as noted by Gundry, Luke backwardly confirms a negative sense of κατα- in this connection by removing it “apparently for amelioration” (Gundry, Mark, 579) since the rulers and municipalities are now cast in a favourable light as οἱ βασιλεῖς τῶν ἐθνῶν and εὐεργέται. 251 Dowd and Malbon, “Jesus’ Death,” 283. 252 BDAG, s.v. “λύτρον.” 253 See the discussion in Section 3.3.2. 254 For an instructive discussion of this notion, see Kaminouchi, Echoes of Power, 134– 39. 247 248

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in understanding slave as “a euphemism for the political vocation of martyrdom,”255 the ransom is paid to those responsible for Jesus’s death. Yet who is that according to Mark? Interestingly, Myers refers to Mark 12:2, 4 for an answer, thus pinpointing Israel’s leaders rather than the Romans. Another option is proposed by Dowd and Malbon, who rightly note that besides Barabbas, the only ‘freed’ persons in Mark are those possessed by Beelzebul and his demon. This would make 3:22–27 the primary reference point, in which instance the ransom is paid to the prince of demons.256 Looking ahead, God may be projected as Mark’s implied receiver of the transaction. At the very least, he seems to be the agent behind Jesus’s death, judging from 14:27, and the one moved by Jesus’s death by rending the temple veil in 15:38. We shall return to this discussion below;257 here we shall conclude that while a juridical or political understanding of λύτρον as a transaction to secure liberation from captivity seems to have most in its favour, it is not made clear under whom Jesus is to become a slave in exchange ἀντὶ πολλῶν. Threats to Jesus’s life are up until this point represented by Antipas (1:14; 6:14–29), Judas (3:19), various Jewish factions (3:6; 8:31; (9:31); 10:33), and the gentiles/Romans (10:33–34), to which comes the power battle with ὁ ἰσχυρός (3:27). (c) Finally, the question is to what extent a royal allusion is part and parcel of the designation ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, which according to Daniel 7 is powerfully equipped with the ἐξουσία of the heavens.258 While Jesus accepts the title and uses it at pivotal places, he at the same time subverts its typical royal connotation by relating it to suffering, servanthood, and captivity, while confirming its royal potency.259 This will be discussed further below in Section 5.4.7. Do these three elements amount to enough evidence for an anti-Roman intention behind Mark 10:42–45? The answer is not clear-cut. One may opt to apply postcolonial sentiments, viewing the pericope as a prime example of ‘third place hybridity’ or ‘mimicry,’260 in which instance Rome indeed is the very point of conflict albeit purposefully disguised with ambivalence and inconclusiveness. One may also opt to understand these places in light of Mark’s Isaianic framework, in which instance any type of ἐξουσία of old is being toggled and subverted, making Rome part of οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν τῶν ἐθνῶν and οἱ µεγάλοι, albeit not the only powers of old in focus.

––––––––––––––––– Myers, Binding the Strong, 279. See Dowd and Malbon, “Jesus’ Death,” 284–85. 257 See Sections 6.2.3 and 6.3.5. 258 See Dan 7:14, 27. 259 Compare Mark 9:12, 31; 10:33, 45; 14:41 with 8:38; 13:26; 14:62. 260 See Section 2.4.1. 255 256

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5.4 The Temple ‘Before the Temple’ in Galilee261 5.4.1 The Elusiveness of the Temple ‘Before the Temple’ While the investigation of Mark 1–10 so far clearly and by all measures has shown how Mark portrays Jesus as a kingly warrior who combats strongholds and powers of old, the Isaianic theme of temple renewal is far less obvious in Mark’s Galilean section. This elusiveness of the temple theme may be demonstrated through the following two observations. First, it seems as if Matthew and Luke sought to integrate the role of the temple better than their Vorlage in Mark, if judging solely from the number of references to the temple ‘before the temple,’ that is, before Jesus enters Jerusalem. Matthew refers to the high priests from the very beginning to evaluate the possibility of Jesus being the Messiah (2:4); he specifically situates one of the temptations at the pinnacle of the temple (4:5); during Jesus’s Galilean ministry, he twice refers to the saying against the sufficiency of cultic sacrifices in Hos 6:6, which Mark postpones to the discussions on the Temple Mount (Matt 9:13; 12:7 vs. Mark 12:33), just as he specifically contrasts Jesus and the temple by adding the notion of “here is something greater than the temple” (τοῦ ἱεροῦ µεῖζόν ἐστιν ὧδε) to the discussion on picking heads on a Sabbath (Matt 12:6). Luke is even keener on incorporating the role of the temple from the very beginning. As a matter of fact, he stages the first scene of his story in the temple with Zechariah the priest as the main character (1:5–25), and before he returns to the storyline of Mark with John the Baptist, we hear of Joseph and Mary’s visit to sacrifice in the temple, their meeting with Simeon and Anna (2:22–39), and the pilgrimage to the temple when Jesus was at the age of twelve (2:41–51). Later, Luke incorporates references to the temple in parables (10:31; 18:10) and events taking place in Jerusalem or the temple (9:31; 13:1; 17:14). Also, Luke’s peculiar ‘travel section’ is initiated with the notion of Jesus “fixing his face towards travelling to Jerusalem” (αὐτὸς τὸ πρόσωπον ἐστήρισεν τοῦ πορεύεσθαι εἰς Ἰερουσαλήµ, 9:51), a notion repeated several times, before Jesus finally enters the city (9:53; 13:33–34; 17:11; 18:31; 19:11). In comparison, Mark only offers a few overt references to the temple ‘before the temple,’ which with nuances are all incorporated in Matthew and Luke as well: In connection with John the Baptist, it is noted that “all Jerusalemites” (οἱ Ἱεροσολυµῖται πάντες) came down to him (1:5); at various points people from Jerusalem seek out Jesus (3:8, 22; 7:1); the man inflicted with skin disease is sent to sacrifice in the temple (1:44); Jesus refers to David’s eating of the showbread in the temple (2:25–26); in the three so-called passion predictions, ––––––––––––––––– 261 An earlier version of this section is published as Morten Hørning Jensen, “The Temple ‘Before the Temple’ in the Gospel of Mark: How the Temple Is a Focus in Mark 1–10,” EC 12.3 (2021): 388–420.

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Jesus refers to his destiny in Jerusalem at the hands of the elders and high priests (8:31; 9:31; 10:32–34). Clearly, Matthew and Luke contain more overt references to the temple outside the passion story. This is all the more puzzling, since a weighty argument can be established for the view that the tables have turned when comparing the role of the temple in the Jerusalem sections of the synoptic gospels. Jesus’s polemics against the temple and the role of this in the death of Jesus are highlighted in a number of unique ways in Mark, such as the sandwiching of the story of the fig tree that withers “from the roots” (ἐκ ῥιζῶν, 11:20), the prohibition against carrying “vessels” (σκεῦος) through the temple (11:16), and the critique of animal sacrifices on the Temple Mount (12:33), which altogether serve to emboss the threefold connection between the temple and Jesus’s death voiced by the Jewish leaders (11:18; 14:58; 15:29), Jesus (12:10; 14:24), and finally by God (15:38).262 Second, when assessing studies highlighting the unique role of the temple in Mark, few provide evidence from Mark 1–10 to substantiate their claim of the importance of the temple in Mark. In his benchmark study, Messiah and Temple, Juel completely skips over ‘Galilee,’ concluding that “from chapter 11 to 15:38, Mark seems occupied with the temple.”263 Several other articles focused on the narrative role of the temple in Mark similarly limit their scope to Mark 11–16.264 Of particular importance is Timothy Gray’s rather recent monograph devoted to the theme of the temple in Mark. While he concludes without reservation that “the temple plays a vital role in the plot of Mark’s Gospel and is deeply connected to the story of Jesus,”265 his analysis of Mark is devoted, with the exception of one (important) sub-paragraph, solely to Mark 11–16. Pointedly, in a study of the role of the temple in Mark, Adam Winn claims that “in the first ten chapters of Mark’s gospel, the temple is completely absent. In chapter eleven, the temple and its leadership burst onto the scene with tremendous narrative force and dominate the next two chapters of the gospel.”266 In the investigation to follow, I will make the case that the contrast between the elusiveness of the temple in Mark 1–10 and its pervasive role in 11–16 should not be equated with a lack of importance of the temple theme or temple symbolism in Mark’s Galilee section. In at least six ways throughout the Galilee section Mark foreshadows the role the temple will take in his Jerusalem ––––––––––––––––– 262 To this comes the way in which Mark, partly unique, connects the death of Jesus to the faith of the temple, see Mark 11:18; 14:58, 64; 15:29, 38. This will be discussed below in Section 6.3. 263 Donald Juel, Messiah and Temple: The Trial of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark, SBLDS 31 (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1977), 57. 264 See, e.g., Morna D. Hooker, “Traditions About the Temple in the Sayings of Jesus,” BJRL 70 (1988): 7–19; John Paul Heil, “The Narrative Strategy and Pragmatics of the Temple Theme in Mark,” CBQ 59.1 (1997): 76–100; Wardle, “Mark,” 60–78. 265 Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 198. 266 Winn, “Temple Motif,” 285.

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section as the main interpretive key to the death of Jesus. It is not to be denied that the physical temple in Jerusalem is referred to only once – or twice, if the οἶκος τοῦ θεοῦ in 2:26 is counted as well – but if the temple theme is understood metaphorically as the locus of the encounter between heaven and earth where proximity to the divine is enjoyed, it becomes evident how Mark is already in his Galilee section preparing the fundamental shift he is about to make of the locus of the divine presence from ‘the temple made by hand’ (ὁ ναός ὁ χειροποίητος) to ‘another one not made by hand’ (ἄλλος ἀχειροποίητος, 14:58), which metaphorically speaking will be located outside Jerusalem ‘in Galilee’ (14:28; 16:7). In overview, the six ways to be discussed in the remainder of this section are: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Overt references to the temple in Jerusalem: 1:44; (2:26). Sin, forgiveness, and blasphemy: 1:4–5; 2:5–12; 3:28–30; (11:25). Holiness: 1:24. Purity and impurity: 1:40–44; 2:15–17; 5:1–43; 7:1–23. Theophany at the high mountain: 9:2–8. The question of λύτρον as a sacrifice: 10:45.

5.4.2 Jesus in Galilee and the Temple in Jerusalem Besides the discussion of the role of the temple theme in Mark’s prologue conducted in Chapter 4, we begin our investigation of this issue by treating the one or two instances in which we find an overt reference to the temple in Jerusalem in Mark 1–10: (1) In the story of Jesus’s cleansing/healing (καθαρίζειν/καθαρισµός) of the man with skin disease (1:40–45), an evident reference to the temple in Jerusalem is preserved in Jesus’s command to the cleansed one to “go, present yourself for the priest” (ὕπαγε σεαυτὸν δεῖξον τῷ ἱερεῖ) and “sacrifice for your cleansing what is commanded by Moses” (προσένεγκε περὶ τοῦ καθαρισµοῦ σου ἃ προσέταξεν Μωϋσῆς). While it is possible that some priests resided in Galilee,267 the last part of the command clearly refers to the sacrificial system in Jerusalem, involving the ‫ ַחָטּאת‬sacrifice.268 The most important point for our purpose concerns the meaning of the final εἰς µαρτύριον αὐτοῖς, which has generated two alternative interpretations that construe the dative as dativus commodi or incommodi. Is Jesus subjecting himself to the ultimate authority of priest and temple to declare a person clean from skin disease?269 If so, the ––––––––––––––––– 267 For pro et contra, see Stuart S. Miller, “Priests, Purities, and the Jews of Galilee,” in Religion, Ethnicity and Identity in Ancient Galilee, ed. Jürgen Zangenberg, Harold Attridge, and Dale B. Martin, WUNT 210 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 375–402. 268 See Lev 14:13, 19, 22, 31; 15:15, 30. 269 In Leviticus as well as in later Jewish texts, the prerogative to declare someone clean is strictly under the priestly authority, see Lev 14:2–7 and m. Neg. 3:1. The latter specifically pinpoints that though anyone is allowed to examine plagues ( ‫) ֶנ ַגע‬, it is “by the declaration

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translation should be “as a testimony to them.” Or is Jesus usurping the prerogative of the temple by sending the cleansed one there “as a testimony against them”? Mark’s formulations are ambiguous. On the one hand, καθαρίζειν may be understood as “healing,”270 in which case Jesus is not transgressing the law of Moses but rather reserving the final proclamation of “cleansing” to the priests in accordance with ἃ προσέταξεν Μωϋσῆς.271 On the other hand, the massive four-fold reference to καθαρίζειν/καθαρισµός and especially the notion περὶ τοῦ καθαρισµοῦ as something that has been accomplished rather than something that is to follow might readily imply more than “healing” and amount to a full-fledged “cleansing” in the Levitical sense272 – with the one difference being that it has now been performed by Jesus in Galilee in a way that encroaches on the priestly prerogative to declare clean or unclean.273 In conjunction with the aforementioned Isaianic notion of Yahweh’s pilgrimage, I propose a third reading that resolves this impasse by intensifying the foreshadowing of the temple’s role in Jesus’s ministry: If we understand the cleansed person in Isaianic terms as a ‘gospel messenger,’ a courier from the battlefield, he is dispatched with fresh news of victory to the temple in preparation for Jesus’s own arrival. According to Mark’s storyline, it is in this way placed in the hands of the temple authorities themselves to choose whether to receive or reject this news, thus determining which kind of dative αὐτοῖς will prove to be. Read in this way, Jesus’s command foreshadows the drama of the fundamental plotline of Mark 11–15: When Jesus eventually extends his authority (ἐξουσία) of καθαρίζειν to the temple itself (11:15–18), will Jerusalem and its priestly leaders receive or reject him? (2) The second outright reference to a physical temple, or rather tabernacle, is found in Jesus’s response to the Pharisees when accused of transgressing the Sabbath laws. Jesus here refers to David’s entrance εἰς τὸν οἶκον τοῦ θεοῦ ἐπὶ Ἀβιαθὰρ ἀρχιερέως to eat the showbread in a situation of need (2:25–26). In ––––––––––––––––– of the priest” ( ‫ )ִמ ִפּ י כ ֵֹה ן‬that a person is declared clean or unclean (see the discussion in Edwin K. Broadhead, “Christology as Polemic and Apologetic: The Priestly Portrait of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark,” JSNT 47 [1992]: 24). 270 See Cecilia Wassen, “The Jewishness of Jesus and Ritual Purity,” SIDA 27 (2016): 26, pace Tom Holmén, “Jesus and the Purity Paradigm,” in The Historical Jesus, ed. Tom Holmén and Stanley E. Porter, vol. 3 of Handbook for the Study of the Historical Jesus (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 2715–16. 271 See, e.g., Vincent, St. Mark, 190; Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 146; Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 91; Crispin H. T. Fletcher-Louis, “Jesus the High Priestly Messiah: Part 2,” JSHJ 5.1 (2007): 64. 272 In the extended legal regulations on handling skin disease (λέπρα) in Lev 13–14, various forms of καθαρός, ἀκάθαρτος, and καθαρίζειν are used more than sixty times, and the authority of the priest to declare clean and unclean echoes throughout (see, e.g., Lev 13:6 LXX: καθαριεῖ αὐτὸν ὁ ἱερεύς). 273 See, e.g., Broadhead, “Priestly Portrait,” 24–26 (calling it a “witness of condemnation”); France, Gospel of Mark, 120.

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Mark’s storyline, this saying primarily refers to the tense question of Davidic Christology by elevating Jesus’s position as ‘the Son of Man’ to that of David.274 Secondarily, however, Mark thereby either subjects the holiness of the temple to Jesus’s ministry275 or, as argued by Edwin K. Broadhead, presents Jesus as a priest who “does what any good priest should do”276 – that is, as one who works on the Sabbath. For our purpose, the important thing to notice is that 2:25–26 works to create suspension in Mark’s storyline, foreshadowing the impact Jesus’s ministry is going to have on the temple. 5.4.3 Forgiveness and the Temple The suggestion that Jesus is acting like a priest when working on the Sabbath brings us to the next three topics to consider, namely whether Jesus encroaches on the prerogatives of the priests, the temple cultic service, or even God himself, by forgiving sin, by being designated as ‘holy,’ and through his handling of purity and impure persons. While the temple is not mentioned in any of the relevant pericopes to be discussed, the case to be tested is whether Mark nevertheless foreshadows the role of the temple in Jesus’s death by presenting Jesus as acting in ways that challenge or even usurp the domain and monopoly of the temple and its priests. Beginning with Jesus’s forgiveness of sin, we encounter the peculiar situation that while overt references to the temple are few in Mark 1–10, overt references to sin are conversely few in 11–16 and are largely confined to John’s ministry277 and Jesus’s ministry in Galilee,278 with the exception of the saying in 11:25 concerning mutual forgiveness as a prerequisite for heavenly forgiveness. Despite the paucity of references even in 1–10, the topic has been a focus of longstanding dispute in research, particularly because of the noteworthy exclamation in 2:5 (τέκνον, ἀφίενταί σου αἱ ἁµαρτίαι) and the ensuing discussion of blasphemy, healing, and forgiveness in 2:6–12. While much of the discussion has been dominated by the objective of distinguishing between a historical nucleus and later ecclesiological additions,279 parts of it have engaged ––––––––––––––––– 274 See, e.g., Cho, Royal Messianism, 88–104; see also Max Botner, “What Has Mark’s Christ to Do with David’s Son? A History of Interpretation,” CurBS 16.1 (2017): 50–70. 275 At the very least, Matt 12:6 understands Mark this way and interpretively adds λέγω δὲ ὑµῖν ὅτι τοῦ ἱεροῦ µεῖζόν ἐστιν ὧδε. 276 Broadhead, “Priestly Portrait,” 28. 277 See Mark 1:4–5. 278 See (a) the healed paralytic, 2:5–10; (b) sin against the Holy Spirit, 3:28–30; (c) rejection of repentance and forgiveness, 4:12, in addition to possibly (d) a reference to the ‫ ַח ָטּ את‬sacrifice for cleansing from skin disease, 1:44; (e) the sayings of exchange (ἀντάλλαγµα) and ransom (λύτρον), 8:37; 10:45. 279 See, e.g., the research overviews in Tobias Hägerland, Jesus and the Forgiveness of Sins: An Aspect of His Prophetic Mission, SNTSMS 150 (Cambridge: Cambridge University

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the question theologically to determine the implications of the saying and the scene in Mark’s Gospel. The crucial question is whether a convincing analogy to ἀφίενται in Jewish tradition can be established. Quite a number of suggestions have been propounded, viewing Jesus’s act of forgiveness variously in analogy with either the priestly administration of atonement and forgiveness (‫כפר‬, ‫) ִנְסַלח‬,280 a prophetic authority to offer forgiveness,281 an angelic authority to do the same,282 or as fulfilling an expectation of the Messiah as mediator or even source of forgiveness,283 or as usurping God’s divine prerogatives.284 The problem is that while the passive nature of ἀφίενται is best explained by interpretations understanding Jesus as a kind of mediator rather than the source of forgiveness, two features in the text suggest a Markan understanding of Jesus’s role that goes beyond that of a mere mediator: the way in which the scribes condemn Jesus’s act as blasphemous by contrasting him to God as the sole authority of forgiveness (τίς δύναται ἀφιέναι ἁµαρτίας εἰ µὴ εἷς ὁ θεός; v. 7) and the way in which Jesus appeals to the ἐξουσία of the Son of Man to back his authority. These features have compelled commentators to provide convoluted explanations or unpersuasive reconstructions.285 ––––––––––––––––– Press, 2012), 2–12; Sigurd Grindheim, God’s Equal: What Can We Know About Jesus’ SelfUnderstanding in the Synoptic Gospels, LNTS 446 (London: Continuum, 2011), 60–64. 280 See, e.g., Klaus Koch, “Sühne und Sündenvergebung um die Wende von der exilischen zur nachexilischen Zeit,” EvT 26 (1966): 217–39; Broadhead, “Priestly Portrait,” 26–28; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 216; James D. G. Dunn, The Partings of the Ways: Between Christianity and Judaism and Their Significance for the Character of Christianity, 2nd ed. (London: SCM, 2006), 59–62. 281 See, e.g., Vincent, St. Mark, 200–201; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 86; Hägerland, Forgiveness, 142–66. 282 For an overview, see Hägerland, Forgiveness, 167–76. 283 See, e.g., Gerhard Friedrich, “Beobachtungen zur messianischen Hohepriestererwartung in den Synoptikern,” ZTK 53.3 (1956): 268–75; Klaus Koch, “Messias und Sündenvergebung in Jesaja 53 - Targum: Ein Beitrag zu der Praxis der aramäischen Bibelübersetzung,” JSJ 3 (1972): 147–48. 284 See, e.g., Gnilka, Markus 1–8,26, 100; Otfried Hofius, “Jesu Zuspruch der Sündenvergebung: Exegetische Erwägungen zu Mk 2,5b,” in Neutestamentliche Studien, WUNT 132 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000), 38–56; Grindheim, God’s Equal, 65–76; Beniamin Pascut, Redescribing Jesus’ Divinity Through a Social Science Theory: An Interdisciplinary Analysis of Forgiveness and Divine Identity in Ancient Judaism and Mark 2:1–12, WUNT 2/438 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017). 285 V. Taylor’s treatment is telling in that, on the one hand, he labels Jesus’s act as “prophetic,” while on the other, he clearly distinguishes it from other prophetic analogies since Jesus acts “with divine dynamis … in His own person” (see Vincent, St. Mark, 201, emphasis original). H. Klauck finds that while priestly and prophetic analogies are present, the dissimilarities are stronger, making it a case that fits “das Unähnlichkeitskriterium” (Hans-Josef Klauck, “Die Frage der Sündenvergebung in der Perikope von der Heilung des Gelähmten (Mk 2,1–12 parr),” BZ 25 [1981]: 241). Similarly, C. Sung labels it a “passivum messianicum” rather than a typical passivum divinum (see Chong-Hyon Sung, Vergebung der

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As a way of dealing with this complex and rather deadlocked situation, in the following I will suggest understanding the interchange between the scribes and Jesus as well as Mark’s remaining sayings on forgiveness in the light of Second Isaiah. Here the theme is central, beginning with the initial message of comfort based on the completion of Israel’s time of guilt (‫ָﬠוֹן‬/ταπείνωσις) and retribution for sins (‫ַחָטּאת‬/ἁµαρτία),286 continuing with references to sin and guilt as the explanation for Israel’s/Jacob’s misfortunes,287 and climaxing in the fourth Servant Song in Isaiah 53, which is packed with references to transgressions, guilt, and sin.288 The solution to this dilemma is twofold. On the one hand, the people are called to repent and return to Yahweh (‫שׁוב‬/ἐπιστρέφειν).289 In Mark, repentance is likewise closely tied to sin, as seen in the description of John’s ministry in 1:4–5, which connects µετάνοια and ἄφεσις ἁµαρτιῶν in a setting that immediately follows Mark’s first Isaianic quotation; in the quotation of Isa 6:10 in Mark 4:12, where the refusal to grant forgiveness (ἀφιέναι) is connected to the lack of ἐπιστρέφειν;290 and again in 2:5, where the πίστις of the friends of the paralytic is paramount to Jesus’s proclamation of forgiveness.291 On the other hand, Yahweh’s act of providing forgiveness of sin in Second Isaiah is closely connected to the reversal of the people’s unhappy situation if the ‫ָאָשׁם‬/περὶ τῆς ἁµαρτίας in Isa 53:10 is understood as a temple cultic sacrifice, which effectively brings full restoration and ultimate victory to the servant and the people. This Isaianic combination of the return and repentance of the people with Yahweh’s reestablishment of the temple cult as a way of providing forgiveness ––––––––––––––––– Sünden: Jesu Praxis der Sündenvergebung nach den Synoptikern und ihre Voraussetzungen im Alten Testament und frühen Judentum, WUNT 2/57 [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993], 217). Sanders approaches the problem in a different way by claiming that while mediating forgiveness of sins was not considered blasphemous, the circumstances in the story were since Jesus seemingly did not demand confession and repentance and thereby exceeded the prophetic mandate for pronouncing forgiveness. See E. P. Sanders, Jewish Law from Jesus to the Mishnah: Five Studies (London: SCM, 1990), 60–63. 286 See Isa 40:2. 287 See Isa 42:24; 43:24–27; 44:22; 46:8; 48:8; 50:1. 288 In LXX, ἁµαρτία is used seven times to translate various concepts of guilt, sin, and sickness, see Sections 3.3.2 and 3.3.3. 289 See Isa 44:22; 45:22; 55:7; see also 49:5–6; 51:11. 290 It should be noted that the theme of forgiveness in Mark 4:12 is inserted into the quotation of Isa 6:10, since Mark follows a tradition also shared by Targum Jonathan of translating ‫( רפא‬to heal, to make whole) with “healing” (ἀφιέναι) rather than with the literal ἰᾶσθαι of the LXX. This interchange between ‫( רפא‬MT), ἰᾶσθαι (LXX) and ἀφιέναι (Mark), and ‫( שׁבק‬Tg. Isa.) underscores the Isaianic theme of full restoration of body and soul also present in Mark 2:9–12. 291 Pace Sanders, Jewish Law, 63. In reality, the πίστις of the paralytic’s friends serves as a clear demonstration of the correct response to the opening call µετανοεῖτε καὶ πιστεύετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ (Mark 1:15).

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is discernible in Mark as well. This is evident from the following listing of how Mark consistently interweaves and foreshadows the role of the temple in his treatment of sin: (1) The shadow of Jerusalem may be said to already be present in Mark’s first reference to sin. When John in 1:4–5 preaches βάπτισµα µετανοίας εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁµαρτιῶν, it takes place in Judea, and it is οἱ Ἱεροσολυµῖται πάντες who respond by ἐξοµολογούµενοι τὰς ἁµαρτίας αὐτῶν. This notion of forgiveness of sins outside Jerusalem in essence foreshadows the interplay between the temple in Jerusalem and the death of Jesus.292 (2) Flashing forward to Jerusalem, it should also be mentioned that the connection between the temple and sin/forgiveness explains the location of the seemingly free-floating logion – the command to forgive one another in order that the father in heaven may ἀφῇ ὑµῖν τὰ παραπτώµατα ὑµῶν (11:25) – since it occurs in connection with the discussion of the fate of the fig tree and ὁ ὄρος οὗτος, both being symbols of the temple.293 Again, the prerogative of the temple to administer forgiveness of sins is brought into question. (3) Back in Galilee, the saying about blasphemy against the Holy Spirit in 3:28–30 is another seemingly free-floating logion,294 which I suggest got its location through a thematic connection to the temple theme. In the preceding logion on the robbing of the “utensils/things” (σκεύη) from a strong man’s house (οἰκία, 3:23–27), we find a combination of οἶκος and σκεῦος, which otherwise occur together only in Mark’s description of Jesus’s ‘robbing’ or action in the temple (11:16–17). While the suggestion of an intentional foreshadowing involves a likening on Mark’s part between the house of Beelzebul and the Jewish leaders’ administration of the temple, it explains why specifically sin (ἁµάρτηµα) and blasphemy (βλασφηµεῖν) against the Holy Spirit are named as unforgivable acts at 3:28–30, by pinpointing Jesus as the new ‘house’ of God’s spirit. In Mark’s narrative, the theophany of 1:9–11 uniquely connects Jesus with the presence of God through the spirit entering εἰς Jesus. To reject this connection is to reject the new location of the divine temple presence and thus is truly blasphemous.295 Therefore, as sin and the temple are narratively connected in 11:15–25, so they are connected in 3:23–29, making Jesus’s attack on the οἰκία in 3:25 as well as his usurpation of the exclusive right to pardon or refuse forgiveness in 3:28–30 a foreshadowing of his attack on the temple and its role in his death.296 ––––––––––––––––– 292 See also B. Cho who argues that Mark deliberately pinpoints “the territory under priestly authority” (Cho, Royal Messianism, 121). 293 See Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 48–53. 294 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 283. 295 For the strong contrast in Mark between the temple of Jerusalem and Jesus, see Jensen, “Atonement Theology,” 97. 296 For a similar argument, see Liew, “Mark,” 107–8.

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(4) This brings us to 2:5–12, where I suggest that rather than seeking interpretive help by posing different analogies to mediations of forgiveness in Jewish tradition, the reference to βλασφηµεῖν should be interpreted as a foreshadowing of the connection between blasphemy and the temple put forward twice in the passion narrative, first in the court of the high priest and later by the mocking passers-by.297 Thus, while it is still a matter of debate whether the blasphemy charge was due to usurpation of “the role of God which God had assigned to priest and cult”298 or whether the combined references in Mark 2:5–12 describe Jesus’s act of forgiveness as transgressing the role of any given high priest and indeed encroaching “on a prerogative of God,”299 the important conclusion for our purpose is to take notice of how the accusation of blasphemy connects this incidence with the ensuing two similar accusations in 14:58–64 and 15:29. There the issue at stake is Jesus’s assault on the prerogative or the sanctity of the temple; here it is his assault on the God-given authority to forgive sins. To sum up, I suggest that the intertwined Isaianic notion of repentance and divine temple cultic forgiveness are the key to unlock Mark’s understanding of forgiveness of sin as well. It becomes part and parcel of the initiating proclamation of εὐαγγέλιον with its call to repentance (1:15), as repentance and divine forgiveness is in Isaiah – only now with Jesus as the one with the ἐξουσία to administer its powers (2:10). 5.4.4 Holiness and the Temple The exclamation by the unclean spirit in Mark 1:24 – “I know who you are, God’s holy one” (ὁ ἅγιος τοῦ θεοῦ) – has puzzled researchers for a long time. The precise wording, ὁ ἅγιος τοῦ θεοῦ, is not known outside the New Testament300 and not used elsewhere in Mark. As recently outlined by Max Botner in a study examining the enigma afresh, researchers have suggested several readings,301 of which the two most important are to understand it in light of the Elijah or Elisha traditions302 as an expression of “die charismatische Vollmacht”303 of Jesus or to understand it as encroaching on the holiness of the ––––––––––––––––– See Mark 14:58–64; 15:29. Dunn, Parting of the Ways, 61, emphasis original. 299 Marcus, Mark 1–8, 222. 300 See Luke 4:34; John 6:69. 301 See Max Botner, “The Messiah Is ‘the Holy One’: Ὁ ἅγιος τοῦ θεοῦ as a Messianic Title in Mark 1:24,” JBL 136.2 (2017): 418–19. 302 See the similar exclamation uttered by the widow of Zarephath in 3 Kgdms 17:18 (τί ἐµοὶ καὶ σοί ἄνθρωπε τοῦ θεοῦ), where Elisha is designated as an ἄνθρωπος τοῦ θεοῦ ἅγιος οὗτος. 303 Gnilka, Markus 1–8,26, 81; see also, e.g., Marcus, Mark 1–8, 192–94. 297 298

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temple.304 The weightiest case for the latter is found in Friedrich’s characterization of Jesus as “der Priestermessias”305 with Mark 1:24 as the first and most prominent proof text. On the one hand, Friedrich refers to several passages that describe the holiness of the Aaronic priesthood.306 On the other hand, and this is the central contribution of the study, Friedrich enumerates further passages that suggest a messianic connotation in the ἅγιος designation. Some texts express an expectation of renewed holiness of the priesthood in combination with exorcistic powers as “Taten des Hohenpriesters.”307 Others specifically express an expectation of a priestly messianic figure alongside a kingly messiah; examples may be found in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs308 and the Qumran texts,309 to which may be added the combination of the high priestly and kingly offices by the Hasmoneans as well as in some late Second Temple Jewish texts.310 ––––––––––––––––– 304 Other suggestions include a reference to God as the holy one (see, e.g., Gnilka, Markus 1–8,26, 81) or a reference to a Nazirite institution, which in some LXX manuscripts is rendered as ἅγιος θεοῦ (see LXX B to Judg 13:7; 16:7; see, e.g., Fletcher-Louis, “High Priestly Messiah, Part 2,” 63 n. 11). 305 Friedrich, “Messianischen Hohepriestererwartung,” 294. 306 See Exod 28:36 (ἁγίασµα κυρίου); 4 Kgdms 23:6 (ἅγιοί εἰσιν); Ps 105:16 LXX (Ααρων τὸν ἅγιον κυρίου); Sir 45:6 (Ααρων ὕψωσεν ἅγιον), see Friedrich, “Messianischen Hohepriestererwartung,” 276. 307 Friedrich, “Messianischen Hohepriestererwartung,” 278. In reality, Friedrich’s best references are to (a) T. Levi 18, which envisions God’s evocation of a ἱερεύς καινός, who will shine as a βασιλεύς when the heavens open and “the sanctification will come upon him from the temple glory” (ἐκ τοῦ ναοῦ τῆς δόξης ἥξει ἐπ̓ αὐτὸν ἁγίασµα) and (b) T. Dan 5:10– 13, which describes, as does T. Levi 18:12, how God will rise τὸ σωτήριον κυρίου, who will make war against Beliar. It should be noted that the use of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs is mired by a long-standing debate of their origin as Jewish, Christian, or ‘Jewish Christian,’ see Joel Marcus, “The ‘Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs’ and the ‘Didascalia Apostolorum’: A Common Jewish Christian Milieu?,” JTS 61.2 (2010): 596–626. FletcherLouis, who propounds the same thesis as Friedrich, refers to a number of Qumran texts that describe the holiness of the Aaronic priesthood; see Fletcher-Louis, “High Priestly Messiah, Part 2,” 63 n. 11. 308 See, e.g., T. Reu. 6:10–12; T. Iss. 5:7; T. Dan 5:4, 10; T. Naph. 8:2; T. Gad 8:1; T. Jos. 19:10–11. As an example, T. Sim. 7:2 is fitting, describing how the Lord will raise a high priest from Levi and a king from Juda (ἀναστήσει γὰρ κύριος ἐκ τοῦ Λευὶ ὡς ἀρχιερέα καὶ ἐκ τοῦ Ἰούδα ὡς βασιλέα). In T. Reu. 6:8 he is labelled an ἀρχιερεύς χριστός; see Friedrich, “Messianischen Hohepriestererwartung,” 269–70. 309 See the notion of “the Messiah of Aaron and Israel” ( ‫ )מש יח אהרן ויש ראל‬in, e.g., CD XIV, 19; XIX, 10–11; XX, 1; 1QS IX, 11; 4Q266 10 I, 12; 4Q269 11 I, 2; see Friedrich, “Messianischen Hohepriestererwartung,” 270–71. 310 According to Philo, Moses was “both king and law-giver and high priest and prophet” (βασιλεύς τε καὶ νοµοθέτης καὶ ἀρχιερεὺς καὶ προφήτης, Mos. 2.3; see 2.187, 292), just as Josephus describes Hyrcanus as deemed worthy by God of three great offices: “ruler of the people, the honour of the high priesthood and prophecy” (ἀρχῆς τοῦ ἔθνους καὶ τῆς

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Friedrich’s proposal has not been widely received by researchers,311 but has been corroborated to some extent by Botner in his identification of four noteworthy texts that describe the Davidic messiah as ἅγιος, combining the ideas of a kingly messiah and a messiah empowered by the Holy Spirit to exercise exorcistic powers.312 Specifically, Botner argues that in Mark, the single occurrence of the ὁ ἅγιος τοῦ θεοῦ designation should be understood as communicating more than merely a contrast with the πνεῦµα ἀκάθαρτος. It also draws on the combination of the ὁ υἱός µου designation of 1:11 and the πνεῦµα received by Jesus in the baptism, which specifically empowered him to prevail against ὁ σατανᾶς himself.313 This likely reading brings us back to the temple symbolism thoroughly present in the baptism scene, as discussed above. Without belabouring the details, Mark thereby echoes a connection present in Isaiah, Ezekiel, and other priestly-inspired writings between temple, holiness, and the spirit.314 In sum, several notions are present in the ὁ ἅγιος τοῦ θεοῦ designation. In Mark’s narrative, it serves primarily to identify Jesus’s christological sonship identity and the powers at work in him. Secondarily and compatibly, however, it conveys the temple cultic notion of ἅγιος attestable in a wide array of texts, from Ps 105:16 LXX to late Second Temple Jewish texts expressing expectations of a priestly messiah. This duality is corroborated in Mark’s narrative by the same duality surrounding the Holy Spirit, which is the preeminent marker of Jesus’s nearness to the heavens/God (1:10) as well as the source of his extraordinary powers to confront Satan (1:12–13) as the ὁ ἰσχυρότερος who will baptize in the Holy Spirit (1:7–8). This duality of forceful powers and extreme divine nearness foreshadows the fusion of the themes of temple and king in the passion story.315 Again it is evident how the otherwise unused and unexplained ––––––––––––––––– ἀρχιερατικῆς τιµῆς καὶ προφητείας, Ant. 13.299; see J.W. 1.68); see Friedrich, “Messianischen Hohepriestererwartung,” 273–74. 311 According to Botner, largely because of the critique in Ferdinand Hahn, Christologische Hoheitstitel: Ihre Geschichte im frühen Christentum, FRLANT (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1963), 231–41. 312 See Ps 88:19 LXX; LAB 59:2; Pss 152:4 (5 Apoc. Syr. Pss. 4); 153:3 (5 Apoc. Syr. Pss. 5); see Botner, “Messianic Title,” 420–27. 313 See Botner, “Messianic Title,” 431; see also the next demonic identification of Jesus as ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ (3:11). 314 See, e.g., Isa 6:1–7; Ezek 36:25–28; 1QS IV, 21; VIII, 5; 4Q174 1–2 I, 2–11. 315 It should be noted that the intimate connection between Jesus’s kingly powers of combat and his priestly authority to cleanse is present in the other stories of exorcism in Mark, which may be seen through the interchange between δαιµόνιον and πνεῦµα ἀκάθαρτον. The clearest example is the story of the Gerasene demoniac, which according to Elder and Moscicke may be understood as a cleansing ritual of the land. See Nicholas A. Elder, “Of Porcine and Polluted Spirits: Reading the Gerasene Demoniac (Mark 5:1–20) with the Book of Watchers (1 Enoch 136),” CBQ 78 (2016): 430–46; Hans M. Moscicke, “The Gerasene

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ὁ ἅγιος τοῦ θεοῦ of 1:24 draws from the prologue’s presentation of the εὐαγγέλιον at work in Jesus. 5.4.5 Purity and the Temple Next, we shall discuss if Mark presents Jesus’s handling of purity as implying a rivalry with the temple and its prerogative of Levitical cleansing. The question of purity in relation to Jesus immediately presents us with sizable problems. Thomas Kazen estimates that “there is perhaps no other area in which New Testament scholars have been so accused of misunderstanding and misrepresenting Judaism as in that of purity and impurity.”316 Jonathan Klawans gives as examples of such misunderstanding a “blind identification of impurity and sin” or a typical confusing of impurity with status in the sense that gentiles, blind or lame people, and women were considered to be impure at all times.317 The specific problem concerning Jesus and purity is, stated simply, that the issue provides a perfect battleground for a broader and more ideological discussion of the relationship between Judaism and Christianity.318 Different attitudes towards this fundamental question may also be observed in divergent evaluations of Mark’s portrayal of Jesus and purity, which fall, broadly speaking, into three categories: First, in his famous lecture, “Das Problem des historischen Jesus,” Ernst Käsemann claimed with reference to Mark 7 that “wer bestreitet, daß die Unreinheit von außen auf den Menschen eindringt, trifft die Voraussetzungen und den Wortlaut der Tora und die Autorität des Moses selbst.” In short, Jesus abrogated not only certain purity regulations but the very distinctions between the profane and the temple, that is, between “die Temenos” and “dem heiligen Bezirk.”319 While Käsemann’s position is often criticized as insensitive,320 an understanding of the key statements in Mark 7:15, 19 as communicating a radical or absolute break with the Mosaic ––––––––––––––––– Exorcism and Jesus’ Eschatological Expulsion of Cosmic Powers: Echoes of Second Temple Scapegoat Traditions in Mark 5.1–20,” JSNT 41.3 (2019): 378. 316 Thomas Kazen, Scripture, Interpretation, or Authority? Motives and Arguments in Jesus’ Halakic Conflicts, WUNT 320 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 113. 317 See Klawans, Impurity and Sin, 137. 318 See, e.g., Kazen, who warns against construing Jesus’s attitude towards purity in a way that “runs the risk of becoming an anachronistic Christian construct” (Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 344), and Crossley’s critique of Hengel for importing an “outdated ‘Law versus Gospel’ model” into his reading of the relationship between Jesus and Judaism (see James G. Crossley, “Jesus and the Law: Taking E. P. Sanders to Some Logical Conclusions,” JSHJ 13 [2015]: 124). 319 Käsemann, “Historischen Jesus,” 146. 320 See, e.g., Weiss, Streit- und Schulgespräche, 69; Friedrich Avemarie, “Jesus and Purity,” in The New Testament and Rabbinic Literature, ed. Reimund Bieringer et al., BZNW 136 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 408; Kazen, Scripture, 114.

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dietary laws is still being considered.321 Second, most researchers opt to read Mark 7:15 as a relative statement prioritizing moral purity over ritual purity.322 Third, recently, a number of researchers have argued that Mark’s Jesus is nowhere at odds with Jewish purity rules. Instead, 7:15 should be understood in an absolute sense as a rejection, not of ritual purity as such, but only of Pharisaic expansionism, and 7:19c as a statement from within a Jewish context, saying that all kosher food is clean in the sense that no further cleansing, such as a water ritual, is needed.323 For our purposes, the crucial question concerns if Jesus’s handling of purity matters foreshadows the role of the temple in the passion story. In this connection, the most important issue is the suggestion that Jesus is presented as possessing a kind of ‘dynamic purity’ or ‘offensive purity,’ capable of inverting the power relationship between purity and impurity and constituting the stronger force, able to cleanse impurity by contact.324 This suggestion has attracted many followers by explaining Jesus’s seeming indifference to purity concerns regarding touching and contact with impure persons.325 If this ––––––––––––––––– 321 See, e.g., Jerome H. Neyrey, “The Idea of Purity in Mark’s Gospel,” Semeia 35 (1986): 91–127; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 453–54 (partially); Kasper Bro Larsen, “Mark 7:1–23: A Pauline Halakah?,” in Paul and Mark: Comparative Essays Part II: For and Against Pauline Influence on Mark, ed. Eve-Marie Becker, Troels Engberg-Pedersen, and Mogens Müller, BZNW 199 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014), 174. 322 See, e.g., Roger P. Booth, Jesus and the Laws of Purity: Tradition History and Legal History in Mark 7, JSNTSup 13 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1986), 69–70; Weiss, Streit- und Schulgespräche, 70; Klawans, Impurity and Sin, 147–49; Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 261–62, 343–346; James D. G. Dunn, “Jesus and Purity: An Ongoing Debate,” NTS 48 (2002): 464; Holmén, “Purity Paradigm,” 2726–29. For a list of commentaries adopting this approach, see John van Maaren, “Does Mark’s Jesus Abrogate Torah? Jesus’ Purity Logion and its Illustration in Mark 7:15–23,” JJMJS 4 (2017): 23 n. 5. 323 See, e.g., James G. Crossley, The Date of Mark’s Gospel: Insight from the Law in Earliest Christianity, JSNTSup 266 (London: T&T Clark, 2004), 191–93; Yair Furstenberg, “Defilement Penetrating the Body: A New Understanding of Contamination in Mark 7.15,” NTS 54 (2008): 176–200; Avemarie, “Jesus and Purity”; Daniel Boyarin, The Jewish Gospels: The Story of the Jewish Christ (New York: The New Press, 2012), 102–28; Wassen, “Jewishness of Jesus”; van Maaren, “Abrogate Torah.” For a research overview and discussion of the various approaches, especially to Mark 7:15, see Kazen, Scripture, 113–94. 324 According to Kazen, this was first suggested in Klaus Berger, “Jesus als Pharisäer und frühe Christen als Pharisäer,” NovT 30.3 (1988): 240; see Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 300. 325 See, e.g., Bruce Chilton, Jesus’ Baptism and Jesus’ Healing: His Personal Practice of Spirituality (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1998), 58–97; Bruce Chilton, Pure Kingdom: Jesus’ Vision of God (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 98–99; Craig A. Evans, “‘Who Touched Me?’ Jesus and the Ritually Impure,” in Jesus in Context: Temple, Purity, and Restoration, ed. Bruce Chilton and Craig A. Evans, AGJU 39 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 368; Bruce Chilton, “An Exorcism of History: Mark 1:21–28,” in Authenticating the Activities of Jesus, ed. Bruce Chilton and Craig A. Evans, NTTS 28 (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 234; Marcus, Mark 1–8, 209; Dunn, “Jesus and Purity,” 461; Fletcher-Louis, “High Priestly

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suggestion is correct, Mark’s description of Jesus’s overt contact with impure persons does not reflect a blatant neglect of Jewish purity concerns or abrogation of the Mosaic law but is rather part of a transposition of the purity halakah. As attractive as this reading is, important details are up for debate among its proponents. For instance, while Kazen criticizes the concept of dynamic purity or contagious holiness for lack of “clear evidence,” he nevertheless maintains that the historical Jesus possessed a utopian kingdom-vision in which the power of God’s coming reign “overpowered demons and impurities.”326 In this way, Jesus saw himself as expanding the perimeter of contact with the divine through the power of the spirit. Similarly, Bruce Chilton locates Jesus’s offensive purity paradigm in the “radiance” of the expanding kingdom.327 Others, like Evans and Michael F. Bird, point to the prophetic expectation of an eschatological outburst of purity through which, for instance, King David’s ban against the blind and lame will be reversed,328 or to Zechariah’s vision of an overflow of temple purity.329 On the other hand, Cecilia Wassen has criticized the entire concept from a historical perspective even more clearly than Kazen, finding it unlikely that the historical Jesus would have possessed such “an extremely elevated view of himself as a divine representative.”330 Without suggesting a simple solution to this complex issue, I will argue that Mark’s treatment of purity should also be understood against the background of his Isaianic framework, bringing the question of the advancing εὐαγγέλιον of the kingdom into focus, bend on clarifying how proximity to the divine is obtainable. This will explain why purity is “not exploited at the level of final redaction”331 by Mark, since his main objective is to demonstrate the correct positioning towards the emerging βασιλεία and its central benefit, renewed proximity to the divine – not to abrogate or rectify Levitical or later halakic issues. In essence, Jesus’s ἐξουσία to bring the βασιλεία also answers the question of how God is approached, in effect obviating or consuming the question of Levitical purity. That Mark is in this way applying this Isaianic ‘gospel’ framework to the question of purity may be seen from the following three considerations: ––––––––––––––––– Messiah, Part 2,” 64–70; Michael F. Bird, “Jesus as Law-Breaker,” in Who Do My Opponents Say I Am? An Investigation of the Accusations Against Jesus, ed. Scot McKnight and Joseph B. Modica, LHJS 327 (London: T&T Clark, 2008), 24; Holmén, “Purity Paradigm.” 326 Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 346. 327 See Chilton, Pure Kingdom, 98–99. 328 See Evans, “Who Touched,” 370–74, with reference to 2 Sam 5:8, Isa 35:6, and Zeph 3:19. 329 See Bird, “Law-Breaker,” 24, with reference to Zech 13:1 and 14:8, 20–21. 330 Wassen, “Jewishness of Jesus,” 24; see also Kazen, Scripture, 122 where he dismisses Chilton’s and Holmén’s proposals as fanciful and speculative. 331 See Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 164, said with reference to the bleeding woman.

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(1) By quoting Isa 29:13 in 7:6–7, Mark foregrounds his Isaianic framework at the centre of the purity debate. Through the reference to καρδία,332 Mark links the issue of purity to his general critique of the Pharisees’ failure to perceive how the advancing kingdom is the only way to obtain the needed understanding or insight (συνιέναι).333 Mark thereby highlights Isaiah as the true touchstone, magnifying the contrast between the real issue at stake, “the heart,” and the Pharisees’ touchstone of “the tradition of the elders,”334 which essentially blinds them with “a spirit of stupor.”335 This critique of practice on the basis of Scripture foreshadows Jesus’s penultimate critique of the Jewish leaders’ temple practice on the basis of Isa 56:7 in Mark 11:17. (2) Mark’s Isaianic theme of the approaching kingdom likewise provides an interpretive key to the stories of Jesus’s interaction with and touching of outcasts and/or impure persons, stories whose possible relation to purity concerns has been a matter of debate. While the debate exemplifies how the case can be argued in both directions,336 it is indisputable that Mark preserves a picture of Jesus inviting outcasts, the sick, and wayward people into his Isaianic-shaped kingdom vision, thereby giving them access to the approaching presence of God by re-establishing their status in society. Read in alignment with Mark’s theme of Yahweh’s pilgrimage towards a re-established kingdom and temple, the primary theological purpose of these stories is to question the prerequisites for entering into proximity with the divine and thus likewise to foreshadow the conflict in the temple and the quotation of Isa 56:7, reused by Mark to envision foreign nations as part of the temple service. This pattern of touching (ἅπτειν, κρατεῖν) and the re-establishment of status and place in society can be seen in the following examples: (a) The Levitical characterization of people suffering from the forms of skin disease classified as ‫ָצַרַﬠת‬/λέπρα and consequently impure and under ban from anything pure is widely attested in texts from the late Second Temple period.337 ––––––––––––––––– See Mark 7:6, 19, 21. See Mark 2:6–8; 3:5, in addition to 6:52; 8:17. 334 See the sixfold use of παράδοσις/ἐντάλµατα τῶν πρεσβυτέρων/ἀνθρώπων in Mark 7:3, 5, 7–9, 13. 335 See Isa 29:10 (πνεῦµα κατανύξεως). 336 For instance, Kazen argues that Jesus’s bodily contact (ἅπτειν) with the leper in Mark 1:41, the bleeding woman in 5:27 (ἅπτειν), and the dead girl in 5:41 (κρατεῖν) all contain “remnants of purity issues” (Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 197), which were “not in line with the prevailing legal interpretation” (Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 127). Wassen, on the other hand, follows E. P. Sanders in downplaying the role of purity in Jesus’s conflicts with the scribes and Pharisees (see, e.g., E. P. Sanders, Jesus and Judaism [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985], 174–211) and argues that there is “no example in any of the healing stories that Jesus’ touching them is noted as anything strange, or that he in any way would have challenged contemporary norms concerning ritual purity regulations” (Wassen, “Jewishness of Jesus,” 26). 337 See, e.g., texts from Qumran (4Q396/4QMMTc 1–2 III, 4–11; 4Q274 1 I, 3–4; 11Q19/11QTemple XLVI, 16–18; XLVIII, 14–17; XLIV, 1–4, see 1Q28a/1QSa II, 3–9), 332 333

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This highlights the dramatic effect of Jesus’s sending the man healed of skin disease to the temple with the purpose (εἰς) of his attaining his old place in society through the recognition of even the priests (Mark 1:40–44). (b) In the intense debate over Jesus’s table fellowship with οἱ ἁµαρτωλοὶ καὶ τελῶναι (Mark 2:15–17), the point of disagreement has been not Jesus’s inclusion of these in his community but rather the conditions for their reintroduction. E. P. Sanders famously proposed that the οἱ ἁµαρτωλοί were “the wicked” (‫ ) ְרָשִׁﬠים‬rather than “the people of the land” (‫ )ַﬠם ָהָא ֶרץ‬and argued that the provocative aspect of Jesus’s act was inclusion without conversion.338 The latter point has been strongly opposed from several sides,339 and even if we follow Sanders in the first suggestion, it will only make Jesus’s act of inclusion more pronounced. Thus, while the issue of purity in Mark 2:15–17 depends on the connotations of “sinners and tax collectors” in combination with a historical reconstruction of the Pharisaic tradition of eating in purity,340 the theme of Jesus offering proximity to two groups of pronounced outcasts is not. (c) Finally, if we consider the three successive healing stories in Mark 5, we find the same combination of obscurity on purity with clarity concerning the open fellowship invitation. In the story of the Gerasene man, connotations of impurity may be found in the references to graveyards,341 the pigs, and the non-Israelite location,342 in addition to the πνεῦµα ἀκάθαρτον.343 In the story of ––––––––––––––––– Josephus (J.W. 5.227; Ag. Ap. 2.103–104), and Rabbinic texts (m. Neg. 13:11; 14:1–13; m. Kelim 1:1–7; b. Ber. 25a; 41a); see further Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 109–16. 338 See E. P. Sanders, “Jesus and the Sinners,” JSNT 19 (1983): 429–48; Sanders, Jesus, 174–211. 339 See, e.g., the discussions and research overviews in Tobias Hägerland, “Jesus and the Rites of Repentance,” NTS 52 (2006): 166–87; Cecilia Wassen, “Jesus’ Table Fellowship with ‘Toll Collectors and Sinners,’” JSHJ 14 (2016): 137–57. 340 See the debate between Neusner and Sanders on the role of pure meals in the Pharisaic tradition; see E. P. Sanders, Judaism: Practice and Belief 63 BCE–66 CE, 2nd ed. (London: SCM, 1992), 380–451; Sanders, Jewish Law, 97–254; Jacob Neusner, “Mr. Sanders’s Pharisees and Mine,” BBR 2 (1992): 143–69. See also Martin Hengel and Roland Deines, “E. P. Sanders’ ‘Common Judaism’, Jesus and the Pharisees,” JTS 46 (1995): 1–70, and Dunn, “Jesus and Purity.” 341 For a discussion of the severity of corpse impurity, see Thomas Kazen, Issues of Impurity in Early Judaism, ConBNT 45 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2010), 140–42, and Kazen, Scripture, 143–50. A concern about corpse impurity outside the temple sphere is evident in Josephus’s account of the problem Herod Antipas had populating his new city of Tiberias because Jews from Galilee considered it “apostasy from Jewish tradition, since it was founded on graves” (ἀπὸ τοῦ Ἰουδαίοις πατρίου διὰ τὸ ἐπὶ µνήµασιν, Ant. 18.38). 342 For the much-debated issue of gentile impurity, see Sanders, Judaism, 72–76; Klawans, “Moral and Ritual Purity,” 134–35. 343 For the strong link between demonology and impurity, see Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 300–339, who concludes that it is “reasonable to interpret Jesus’ power struggles with unclean spirits in an impurity framework” (Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 338); see also Collins,

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the bleeding woman, there is ample and widespread attestation in late Second Temple Jewish sources to the severity of the impurity of the ‫ ָזָבה‬, who for instance is regularly mentioned in connection with people suffering from ‫ָצ ַרַﬠת‬ or corpse impurity,344 considered to be the gravest kind of impurity.345 In the story of Jairus’s daughter, a purity issue might be embedded in Jesus’s touching (κρατεῖν) a corpse. However, the focal point of all three stories is not the impurity of the afflicted persons but rather the extremity of their status and Jesus’s ability to restore them to their respective communities. The Gerasene man is clothed, given his senses back (5:15), and sent home to his own people (5:19); the bleeding woman is returned to her people in peace, healed (5:33–34); and Jairus’s daughter is given back to her parents, who are asked to feed her (5:43). While each of these incidents invites speculation as to purity matters, Mark’s focus is on Jesus’s expansion of the kingdom and the epoch-making nature of his εὐαγγέλιον to restore fellowship with the most unworthy and desperate. (3) In the same way, the much-belaboured discussion of the specific interpretation of Mark 7:15, 19 risks becoming obscured if Mark’s overarching theme of the advancing Isaianic kingdom with its ever-widening circles of proximity to the divine is not taken into account. This may be seen from the close connection between the Pharisees’ questioning of Jesus’s purity practice concerning ἐσθίειν in Mark 7:1–5 and the response by the Syrophoenecian woman in 7:28 that even the house dogs eat (ἐσθίειν) crumbs falling from the table, which persuades Jesus to grant her request. In my opinion, this resumption of the theme of ἄρτος and ἐσθίειν and the question of the perimeter of proper table fellowship in the ensuing story of the Syrophoenician woman should be recognized in our interpretation of the crucial statement in 7:19. Though it is possible in the immediate context to understand the paradigmatic “purifying all foods” (καθαρίζων πάντα τὰ βρώµατα) statement in light of 7:1– 5 as only a rejection of the Pharisaic παράδοσις on handling of permitted food – in which instance Jesus’s statement would only imply that it is impossible for all allowed food to render a person impure – the aforementioned resumption of the perimeter of Jesus’s table fellowship tips the balance in the direction of subversion at a deeper level.346 Mark’s Jesus is not solely confronting recent ––––––––––––––––– Mark, 167–68; Jodi Magness, “‘They Shall See the Glory of the Lord’ (Isa 35:2): Eschatological Perfection and Purity at Qumran and in Jesus’ Movement,” JSHJ 14 (2016): 99–119. 344 See, e.g., Josephus (Ant. 3.261, J.W. 5.227), Qumran (11Q19 XLV, 7–17; XLVIII, 14–17; 4Q274 1 I, 1–9), and Mishnah (m. Parah 8:8; m. Miqw. 5:1–4). The interconnection between bodily emissions, skin disease, and corpse impurity in these texts is likely derived from Num 5:2–3. 345 According to rabbinic tradition, it was labelled “father of fathers of impurity” (see Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 164). 346 See Marcus, Mark 1–8, 461; Larsen, “Mark 7:1–23,” 174; Morten Hørning Jensen, “Jesus + loven = MMMc: En undersøgelse af Jesu grundlæggende forhold til loven,” [Jesus

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Pharisaic innovations; he is giving and enacting new orders in light of the Isaianic visions of the eschatological restoration. The crucial thing is not what you eat, but your ability to hear (ἀκούειν) in the sense of understanding (συνιέναι) in one’s heart (καρδία). To return to our main question – does Jesus in Mark act as a temple in his handling of purity? – it would be tempting in light of this to subscribe to the suggestion of ‘dynamic purity.’ However, I must agree with Kazen that issues of purity are generally “not exploited”347 in Mark and the case for dynamic purity is at best inferential. The suggestion I am making is that Mark subjects the question of purity to a controlling idea of the Isaianic vision of proximity to the divine. In this way, purity is connected to the role of the temple. Just as the Markan Jesus criticizes the handling of the demarcation of the temple from the nations (Mark 11:17), so he criticizes the handling of eating in purity with its demarcation of table fellowship from the foreign and the unclean. In essence, Mark’s understanding of the εὐαγγέλιον as providing the much-longed epoch-changing proximity to the divine takes precedence over speculation in Levitical purity. 5.4.6 The Mountain and the Temple This brings us to the hotspot of temple symbolism in Mark 9:2–8. As noted by David S. du Toit, “über kaum eine andere Perikope des Markusevangeliums wurde in der Forschung soviel geschrieben.”348 It follows that the objective here cannot be to treat every aspect of the story, nor to deal with the many proposals of possible backgrounds. Instead, we shall discuss how Mark’s story from one end to the other evokes a temple symbolic scenery, which serves to paint a picture of Jesus as having “der höchstmögliche Grad an Gottesnähe.”349 In overview, this is seen in the following: (1) The reference ἡµέρας ἕξ in 9:2 could be understood as a reference to creation or perhaps to the period between Jesus’s resurrection and his reappearance in Galilee.350 It is more likely, however, that it contains an echo of Exod 24:16, as is evident from the appearance of Moses in the scene and the ensuing echo of the Sinai tradition in Mark 14:24 in particular.351 As David D. Kupp ––––––––––––––––– + the Law = MMMc: A Study on Jesus’s Fundamental Approach to the Law], DTTK 37 (2010): 17–36. 347 Kazen, Jesus and Purity, 164. 348 David S. du Toit, Der abwesende Herr: Strategien im Markusevangelium zur Bewältigung der Abwesenheit des Auferstandenen, WMANT 111 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2006), 339. 349 du Toit, Der abwesende Herr, 347. 350 For an overview of the various proposals, see Collins, Mark, 420. 351 See du Toit, Der abwesende Herr, 350–52; Collins, Mark, 420; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 636; Bosenius, Literarische Raum, 62–63.

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argues, the Sinai tradition in Exodus 19–34 “functions as a primary symbol … of YHWH’s presence among” the people and “its repetition in Israel’s later cultic life.”352 (2) The description of the mountain as an ὄρος ὑψηλόν possibly creates a connection to and foreshadows the crucial role of the Temple Mount in Mark’s story. This is detectable, on the one hand, in the evocation of the Isaianic framework and the command to ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος Σιων to ascend ἐπ᾽ ὄρος ὑψηλόν (Isa 40:9 LXX) to proclaim good news,353 and, on the other hand, in Jesus’s clash with the Temple Mount possibly referred to in Mark 11:23 as τῷ ὄρει τούτω.354 At the very least, Jesus’s choice of this high mountain and God’s affirmation of it through the ensuing theophany foreshadows a question to be answered, namely if the Temple Mount “seiner traditionell exponierten Rolle als bevorzugter Offenbarungsort Gottes beraubt wird.”355 Even if this reference to Zion/the Temple Mount is not accepted, ‘high mountains’ in general evoke theophanic associations as a place for interaction with the divine,356 just as high mountains are associated with heavenly interactions in the cases of Abraham, Moses, and Elijah.357 (3) The setting of the scene as an encounter with the heavenly realm is created through a number of keywords in 9:2–3, most notably µεταµορφοῦν, στίλβειν, and λευκός λίαν, providing Jesus with an outfit that reveals his “himmlische Herrlichkeit”358 and is explicitly contrasted with what is obtainable ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς. A specific evocation of Exod 34:29–35 is likely, in which case the appearance of Moses’s glorified face359 is outbid by Jesus’s total transformation.360 (4) The appearance (ὤφθη) of Ἠλίας σὺν Μωϋσεῖ in that order is puzzling though “probably reflects the greater prominence of Elijah in eschatological contexts.”361 More important is the common denominator of the two as ––––––––––––––––– David D. Kupp, Matthew’s Emmanuel: Divine Presence and God’s People in the First Gospel, SNTSMS 90 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 116–17. 353 See du Toit, Der abwesende Herr, 347. 354 See Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 48–53. 355 Bosenius, Literarische Raum, 58. 356 See Torleif Elgvin, “Temple Mysticism and the Temple of Men,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Text and Context, ed. C. Hempel, STDJ 90 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 228; Bosenius, Literarische Raum, 59. 357 See the fact that while Moses and Elijah are connected to Mt. Sinai (see Exod 18–34; 1 Kgs 19), the LXX notably translates ‫מּ ִר ָיּה‬ ֹ ‫ ֶא ֶרץ ַה‬with τὴν γῆν τὴν ὑψηλὴν (Gen 22:2). 358 du Toit, Der abwesende Herr, 349. 359 See Exod 34:29 (δεδόξασται ἡ ὄψις τοῦ χρώµατος τοῦ προσώπου). 360 It is also possible that these keywords are used to evoke white as “die Farbe himmlischer Herrlichkeit” (du Toit, Der abwesende Herr, 348; see the references given in nn. 95–99). 361 Marcus, Mark 8–16, 637. See the reversal of the order in Matt 17:3 and Luke 9:30. 352

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heavenly figures due to the tradition of their ascension to heaven, providing another aspect of immediate proximity to the divine.362 (5) While no suggestion has won general acceptance as the reference point for Peter’s three σκηναί, the impression in Mark’s text seems to depict a somewhat baffled attempt to respond correctly to the heavenly vision by drawing on the connection between tents and divine interaction, just as most researchers further pinpoint this as alluding to the Feast of Tabernacles, which in itself would contain temple symbolism.363 In the late Second Temple period, Sukkoth imagery was intrinsically connected to the temple and to the hope of an eschatological renewal of the cult, as expressed, for instance, on coins from both wars against Rome.364 Another option is to see Peter’s suggestion as an echo of the ‫ִמְּשָׁכּן‬/σκηνή Moses was instructed to build to house the presence of Yahweh.365 In that case, the scene reproduces the core temple cultic idea of the exodus concerning how to make Yahweh’s presence permanent in the midst of the camp.366 (6) The notion of speechlessness and fear (ἔκφοβος, 9:6) should most likely be seen as a typical reaction to the display of Jesus’s power and might.367 However, it might also contain a reference to the known feature of temple cultic awe reflected in passages like the Gen 28:17 account of how Jacob’s nearness to οἶκος θεοῦ fills him with fear (ἐφοβήθη … φοβερός), the Exod 20:18–21 description of the fear filling the people in the face of Yahweh’s descent at Mount Sinai, and not least the Exod 34:30 description of Aaron’s and the people’s fear when confronted with Moses’s glorious, shining face. (7) Despite the importance of all these temple symbolic associations, the primary way in which the scene is painted as cultic follows in the next verse with the notion of the descending νεφέλη and the φωνή sounding from the cloud. While the primary function of 9:7 is to transfer the teaching authority of

––––––––––––––––– 362 See Josephus Ant. 9.28 (Elijah); 4.325–326 (Moses); see Collins, Mark, 422–23; Bosenius, Literarische Raum, 65. 363 See, e.g., Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20, 37; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 638. 364 The rededication of the temple by Judas is tellingly celebrated with the Feast of Tabernacles (see 2 Macc 10:7–8), and symbols from this feast, such as the lulav and the ethrog, likewise feature strongly on coins from both the first and the second revolt against the Romans. See, e.g., David Hendin, Guide to Biblical Coins, 5th ed. (New York: Amphora, 2010), 349–54; Yonatan Adler, “The Temple Willow-Branch Ritual Depicted on Bar Kokhba Denarii,” INJ 16 (2008): 129–33. 365 See Exod 25–27; see, e.g., Collins, Mark, 424. While the number of tents is an obstacle to this suggestion, it is corroborated by the way in which the LXX renders the purpose of the tent in Exod 25:8 as ὀφθήσοµαι ἐν ὑµῖν; see Mark 8:4: ὤφθη αὐτοῖς Ἠλίας σὺν Μωϋσεῖ. 366 See Durham, Exodus, xxi. 367 See Mark 4:41; 5:15, 33, 36; 6:50; 9:6, 32; 16:8 (φοβεῖν); see also 2:12; 5:42; 6:51 (ἐξιστάνειν).

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Moses to Jesus,368 the point I am belabouring here is how this authority is provided precisely in a context of “der höchstmögliche Grad an Gottesnähe,”369 by evoking the motif of the cloud as the medium of Yahweh’s earthly epiphany. The motif is used especially in connection with the exodus tradition of the pillar of cloud (στῦλος νεφέλης) that serves as a visible locus of Yahweh’s glory,370 the cloud on Mount Sinai,371 and finally the cloud upon the tabernacle.372 The fundamental idea is that the cloud serves as a shield enabling the glory of Yahweh to materialize in the middle of the camp and thus becomes a sign of Yahweh’s nearness in the temple. Similar symbolism is found in a number of other places, such as the cloud upon the ark of the covenant as the place of Yahweh’s epiphany in Lev 16:2,373 the vision of the recreation of the entire mountain of Zion as a temple area covered by the cloud of Yahweh in Isa 4:5, and the circumscription of “from his holy habitation” (‫ )ִמְמּעוֹן ָק ְדשׁוֹ‬to “from his holy clouds” (ἐκ νεφελῶν ἁγίων αὐτοῦ) in Zech 2:17 LXX.374 While clouds as a mark of Yahweh’s presence are also used to denote his presence in the heavenly courtroom,375 the distinction between the heavenly throne and the temple is often blurred in later Jewish tradition.376 In essence, νεφέλη is used as one of the metonyms for the temple and proximity to the divine in the Hebrew Bible as well as in later Jewish tradition.377 Several researchers have pointed to the common themes shared by the interactions between heaven and earth in 1:9–11, 9:2–8, and 15:38.378 Accepting this connection, the argument unfolded here adds that the transfiguration on the ––––––––––––––––– 368 See the climactic ἀκούετε αὐτοῦ echoing Deut 18:15 (αὐτοῦ ἀκούσεσθε); see also the similarity in idea and wording between Mark 9:4 (συλλαλοῦντες) and Exod 19:9 (λαλοῦντος). 369 du Toit, Der abwesende Herr, 347. 370 See especially Exod 16:10 (ἡ δόξα κυρίου ὤφθη ἐν νεφέλῃ); 19:9 (ἰδοὺ ἐγὼ παραγίνοµαι πρὸς σὲ ἐν στύλῳ νεφέλης). 371 See Exod 19:9; 24:15–18; 34:5, where ἡ δόξα τοῦ θεοῦ is again equated with ἡ νεφέλη (see 24:16). 372 See, e.g., Exod 33:9–10; 40:34–38; Num 9:15–23; 11:25; Deut 31:15. 373 See ἐν γὰρ νεφέλῃ ὀφθήσοµαι ἐπὶ τοῦ ἱλαστηρίου (Lev 16:2). 374 For other places referring to the temple cultic function of the νεφέλη, see, e.g., 1 Kgs 8:10–11; Ezek 10:3–4; Sir 24:4. 375 See, e.g., Ezek 1 and especially Dan 7:13, where the one looking ὡς υἱὸς ἀνθρώπου is coming µετὰ τῶν νεφελῶν τοῦ οὐρανου into the heavenly throne room to appear before the ancient of days in order to receive ἡ ἀρχὴ καὶ ἡ τιµὴ καὶ ἡ βασιλεία as eternal ἐξουσία. 376 See the discussion in the next section. 377 See, e.g., 1 En. 14:8 (ἰδοὺ νεφέλαι ἐν τῇ ὁράσει); Sib. Or. 1:381 (ἐν νεφέλαις ἐπιβὰς εἰς οὐρανοῦ οἶκον ὁδεύσει); T. Job 42:3 (τοῦ δὲ κυρίου λαλήσαντός µοι διὰ τῆς νεφέλης ἤκουον τῆς φωνῆς τοῦ λαλοῦντος µοι); T. Ab. A 9:8; 10:1; 15:2, 12; T. Ab. B 8:3; 10:2; 12:1, 9; Rev. Ezra 5:7 (ἦλθεν νεφέλη καὶ ἥρπασέν µε καὶ ἀπήνεγκέν µε πάλιν εἰς τοὺς οὐρανούς); Liv. Pro. 2:13 (νεφέλη ἐσκέπασε τὸ ὄνοµα); 2:14; Hist. Rech. 2:8–9; 4:2, 8, 9; 10:8; Exorcism Fragment A/B 1:34. 378 See, e.g., Steichele, Der Leidende Sohn, 273–74; Myers, Binding the Strong, 390–392.

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mountain should be viewed as a crucial hinge in Mark’s Isaianic temple theology in which God’s presence is pre-eminently present in Jesus as the υἱός (1:11; 9:7), foreshadowing the interaction between the temple and the υἱός (15:38– 39), and increasingly revealing how proximity to the divine is transferred from the temple of old to Jesus. This interconnection between the prologue, the mountain, and the passion is, I suggest, ultimately intertwined with Mark’s projection of the εὐαγγέλιον by answering precisely how Mark finds Jesus ‘epoch-making,’ namely through the establishment of unhindered temple cultic access to the divine. 5.4.7 The Λύτρον of the Son of Man and the Temple In Section 5.3.5, it was argued that λύτρον as used in Mark 10:42–45 carries a discernable juridical or political connotation of Jesus paying his life as a ransom or manumission to free captives or slaves. In the following, it will be argued that alongside this use Mark also incorporates and foreshadows a cultic connotation of λύτρον. In reality, this notion becomes one of the places where the projected thesis for this investigation in its entirety shows to bear most clearly on our understanding of the εὐαγγέλιον as an intertwined and inseparable notion of kingly victory and cultic renewal. The cultic connotation may be seen from the following: (1) First, λύτρον is used in connection with one of the sayings that identifies the Son of Man as suffering.379 This group was famously identified by Bultmann as vaticinia ex eventu.380 This being the case or not,381 Mark’s sayings on the suffering and death of the Son of Man clearly represent a development from their forerunners in Dan 7:13–14, 1 Enoch 46–48, and 4 Ezra 13 in which places he who is like ‘a son of a man’ is portrayed as a powerful king or messiah given authority to rule and judge.382 Mark’s “creative use”383 of the Jewish son of man sayings thus merges kingly rule with suffering in a way that prepares for his similar twofold use of λύτρον as kingly liberation and cultic redemption. Further, and noteworthy for our purpose, while the son of man in the aforementioned tradition is powerful and victorious, a recent investigation by Robert S. Snow384 outlines how the imagery in Daniel 7 merges metaphors from the throne room and temple, for example through the notion of the chariot throne ––––––––––––––––– See Mark 8:31; 9:9, 31; 10:33, 45. See Bultmann, Theologie, 31. 381 For a positive evaluation of a connection to the historical Jesus, see Adela Yarbro Collins, “The Origin of the Designation of Jesus as ‘Son of Man,’” HTR 80.4 (1987): 403– 5. 382 See, e.g., Kaminouchi, Echoes of Power, 31–32; Thiessen, “Mark 10:45,” 452. 383 See Norman Perrin, A Modern Pilgrimage in New Testament Christology (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1974), 84–93. 384 See Snow, Daniel’s Son of Man. 379 380

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with wheels of fire,385 which in the same way serves to colour λύτρον as a kingly and cultic compound. (2) Concerning the semantic range of λύτρον and its cognates, in the Septuagint we find its basic meaning of freeing, ransoming, or paying for a debt applied in both social and cultic contexts.386 Depending on the payer and the receiver, three uses may be distinguished: (a) In some cases, the receivers of the ransom are fellow Israelites, as in Leviticus 25 where the so-called ‫ ֹגֵּאל‬institution determines fiscal compensation for the redeeming of indebted land and other property. In other such cases, the debt amounts to the life of the guilty one, who may be saved by a ransom in instances of manslaughter or illegal intercourse with a slave.387 (b) A distinct use concerns Yahweh’s paying of Israel’s debt by ransoming it from captivity388 or in a figurative way by saving it from deadly perils.389 (c) The third group, concerning passages where the ransom is paid to Yahweh, is the most pertinent for our purpose. A number of these instances are clearly cultic in their use of sacrificial language – for instance, the redemption of every firstborn son in contrast to the sacrifice of every firstborn male animal,390 the census ransom paid to Yahweh for every Israelite man “to make atonement” (ἐξιλάσκεσθαι) for his life (ψυχή),391 the redemption of the Levites from the Israelites to serve Yahweh in the temple,392 and the symbolic use in Psalm 48 LXX of ransoming (λυτροῦν) a life from death by paying ἐξίλασµα to Yahweh.393 From this brief overview, it may be gained that in most cases the ––––––––––––––––– 385 See similar descriptions in Ezek 1:26–27; 1 En. 14:14–25, which like Isa 6 describes the throne of fire in the heavenly temple. The same merging of God’s throne and temple is pointedly illustrated in the decorated stone found at the synagogue in Magdala, in which the footstool of God’s throne with wheels of fire is depicted as hovering upon the pillars of the holy of holies in the temple; see Aviam, “Decorated Stone,” 9. 386 This comprehensive use in the LXX is reflected by the different Hebrew words λύτρον, λύτρωσις, and λυτροῦν translate, see the overview in Christian A. Eberhart, “Atonement: Hebrew Bible/Old Testament,” Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception 3:24–32; Schmidt, Wege des Heils, 317. 387 Exod 21:30 (δώσει λύτρα τῆς ψυχῆς αὐτου); Lev 19:20; Num 35:31–32; Deut 21:8. 388 See, e.g., with reference to the captivity in Egypt: Exod 6:6; 15:13; Deut 7:8; 9:26; 13:6; 15:15; 21:8; 24:18 and, with reference to a future redemption from captivity: Jer 31:11 (38:11 LXX); Mic 4:10; Zech 10:8 besides numerous places in Second Isaiah where ὁ λυτρούµενος alongside ὁ ῥυσάµενος becomes a distinct epithet of God, see Isa 41:14; 43:14; 44:6, 24; 47:4; 48:17; 49:7, 26; 54:5, 8. 389 See, e.g., 2 Kgdms 4:9; Pss 24:22; 25:11; 30:6 LXX. 390 Exod 13:15 (θύω τῷ κυρίῳ πᾶν διανοῖγον µήτραν τὰ ἀρσενικά καὶ πᾶν πρωτότοκον τῶν υἱῶν µου λυτρώσοµαι). 391 Exod 30:12–16 (δώσουσιν ἕκαστος λύτρα τῆς ψυχῆς αὐτοῦ τῷ κυρίω … ἐν τῷ διδόναι τὴν εἰσφορὰν κυρίῳ ἐξιλάσασθαι περὶ τῶν ψυχῶν ὑµῶν); see Num 18:15 as well. 392 Num 3:12, 46, 48, 49, 51 (λύτρα). Similarly, Lev 27 contains legislation concerning the redemption of holy gifts and vows. 393 Ps 48:8–9, 16 LXX.

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λύτρον concerns freeing from death and that as used in the Septuagint it contains a distinct cultic resonance alongside the juridical. (3) This categorization raises the question of which use we find in Mark, which is precisely the topic in dispute. To limit ourselves to recent contributions to the discussion, Dowd and Malbon have forcefully reasserted the position that understands λύτρον in Mark 10:45 alongside the first two uses as a ransom paid to the enemies of Jesus or God,394 whereas Collins has reasserted a reading in keeping with the third option.395 This polarizing deadlock is avoided by acknowledging that λύτρον unites both perspectives and is paid to liberate and redeem at the same time. In this way, λύτρον also entails a temple cultic notion foreshadowing the crucial role of the temple in Mark’s interpretation of Jesus’s death that comes to its climax with the rending of the temple veil in 15:38. This happens “from top to bottom” (ἀπ᾽ ἄνωθεν ἕως κάτω) as the divine rejoinder to Jesus giving up his life as a λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν.396 Ultimately, the λύτρον death of Jesus is thereby connected to the temple. Though we can only speculate why Mark chooses λύτρον rather than the περὶ ἁµαρτίας of Isa 53:10 LXX, which would have strengthened a temple cultic foreshadowing decisively, one possibility is that Mark wants to evoke the likewise comprehensive nature of the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬sacrifice of the Masoretic Text, for which περὶ ἁµαρτίας is an odd translation in the first place.397 If this understanding of Mark’s utilization of λύτρον can be accepted, in reality it becomes one of the clearest examples up until this point of how Mark intends to present the εὐαγγέλιον of his narrative as an inseparable intertwinement of kingly victory and cultic renewal.

5.5 Partial Conclusion The present chapter began by noting how at first glance it is surprising that the grand εὐαγγέλιον proclamation in the prologue is not elaborated on, at least in a direct manner. Taking a second look, it becomes evident that Mark indeed ––––––––––––––––– See Dowd and Malbon, “Jesus’ Death.” See Adela Yarbro Collins, “Mark’s Interpretation of the Death of Jesus,” JBL 128.3 (2009): 545–54; Adela Yarbro Collins, “Finding Meaning in the Death of Jesus,” JR 78.2 (1998): 175–96. For further treatment of Collins’s understanding of Mark’s soteriology, see Section 6.3.5. 396 For this argument in detail, see Jensen, “Atonement Theology,” and the discussion in Section 6.3. 397 Other than in Isa 53:10 and Lev 5:7 LXX, ‫שׁ ם‬ ָ ‫ ָא‬is never translated as περὶ ἁµαρτίας. As is evident from the research discussion of this term, it contains a comprehensive notion of restoration in civic as well as cultic matters; see Janowski, “Er trug unsere Sünden,” 27– 48; Blenkinsopp, “Sacrificial Life and Death,” 1–14. See further the discussion in Section 3.3.3. 394 395

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continues his presentation of Jesus in the light of the Isaianic epoch-making gospel proclamation. The specific topic of investigation has been to evaluate if the understanding of the εὐαγγελ- word group arrived at in Chapter 3 as an intertwined notion of proximity to the divine through kingly victory and cultic renewal is present in Mark’s Galilean section, as it was found to be in Mark’s prologue. This was indeed found to be the case, which may be seen by recapitulating the main findings for each case but also by outlining how the intrinsic intertwinement between these two aspects at times made a separation overtly artificial. This provides us with a fourfold conclusion. (1) The kingly demonstration of the power of Jesus is thoroughly embedded in Mark’s presentation of Jesus and evident through a number of conflicts, controversies with and subversion of power bastions, as well as through two sayings or parables of Jesus which in particular thematize the power and potency of Jesus. Beginning with the last, these two sayings are the Doppellogion in 2:21–22 and the parable of the house of the strong one in 3:23–27. It was found that the notion of καινός/νέος is intimately related to the epoch-making proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία in 1:14–15; being the nearest, we come to a superior hermeneutical interpretation of Jesus in Mark. While it was argued that we should stay clear of casting this as a clash between Judaism and Christianity, it was nevertheless argued that in the light of Second Isaiah’s opposition of ‘the old things’ and ‘the new things’ Mark foreshadows a rising conflict that has a violent potential to ‘rip apart’ not only the heavens, but likewise opposing forces of old. To Mark, the ‘newness’ of Jesus is “das eschatologisch Neue,”398 tapping its energy from the Isaianic visions of Yahweh’s approaching nearness and display of his might and glory. In the other superior saying or parable, Mark contrasts the power of Jesus as ὁ ἰσχυρότερος with ὁ ἰσχυρός, projecting how Jesus has the capacity to bind and neutralize even Beelzebul. (2) To the degree that it should arguably be accepted as one of the organizing principles, Mark narrates a string of power battles in his first ten chapters through which the kingly authority of Jesus is utilized on strongholds and powers of old. Not surprisingly, the family is the first institution to experience the magnitude of the eschatological powers at work in Jesus (1:16–20). Precisely by beginning the journey towards Jerusalem by subjugating the four first disciples’s obligations towards their family businesses, the epoch-making newness embedded in the proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον just proclaimed is vividly demonstrated. The newness embedded in Jesus’s teaching eventually becomes an even more profound demonstration of the ἐξουσία in which Jesus is acting, mounting a challenge even to the disciples, struggling with receiving Jesus εἰς τὴν καρδίαν, a theme Mark takes over from his Isaianic framework. The same is true with the theme of subversion of demons and death in which Mark evokes ––––––––––––––––– 398

Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 177.

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the Isaianic vision of a full restoration that in reality is a transposition, eine Steigerung, of the motif of new exodus into a motif of new creation. Mark does not just present Jesus as another wonder worker but catapults Jesus into the eschatological stage with the notion of his conquering of Beelzebul’s house, demons of every magnitude, diseases of the worst kind, and ultimately death. Further, the inclusion of τὰ ἔθνη in the domain of Jesus becomes another important way in which Jesus unleashes the powers of the kingdom. Finally, the interaction with the Roman Empire in Mark 1–10 was discussed, though with no clear conclusion reachged, which in the light of postcolonial notions such as ‘third place hybridity’ or ‘mimicry’ may be explained as a consequence of Mark’s subtle and encoded treatment of the empire. If this is not accepted, it must be concluded that the Roman Empire as a power of old only plays a minor role in Mark’s Galilee section. (3) Concerning the temple cultic theme, the discussion above has highlighted how this theme is far more elusive than the kingly theme but nevertheless part of the narrative flow of Mark 1–10. In the same manner as Mark foreshadows the christological question, the role of the kingdom, the death of Jesus, the opposition from the Jewish leaders, and more, from the very beginning or early on, he likewise foreshadows the pinnacle role of the temple. While the physical temple in Jerusalem is only alluded to once or twice (1:44; 2:26), the temple cultic theme of the approaching nearness of the divine becomes evident throughout Mark 1–10 once Mark’s overarching Isaianic framework is factored in. In total, I have indicated six ways in which the role of the temple is thus foreshadowed, on top of which comes the role of this theme in the prologue. As illustrated below in Table 6, these may be placed into three groups according to their respective main reference points in Mark 11–16: (a) The theophanic response to the death of Jesus in the rending of the veil at 15:38 is foreshadowed by the rending of the heavens in the prologue (1:9– 11), which along with the descending of the skies on the mount (9:2–8) are the two primary theophanies, revealing in which way and through whom Yahweh’s pilgrimage towards the renewed temple city takes place. In the same way, the answer in or from the temple in 15:38 ultimately marks Jesus’s own interpretation of his death as λύτρον (10:45) and later covenant blood (14:24) as received by God for the purpose of freeing and redeeming life. (b) The Isaianic critique of the temple administration in 11:17 is foreshadowed by Jesus’s Isaianic critique of the scribes’ and the Pharisees’ purity practices and the ways in which they have made the table small (2:15–17; 7:1–23). From Jesus’s command to the man healed of skin disease to go to the temple (1:40–45), to his inclusion of the Syrophoenician woman in the table fellowship (7:24–30), there is an echo of the final clash with the Jewish leaders over the handling of access to the divine. (c) The charge of blasphemy and the reference to the temple logion in 14:58, 64; 15:29 are foreshadowed when the scribes accuse Jesus of blasphemy

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on account of his handling of forgiveness (2:5–12) and accuse him of performing his exorcisms through Beelzebul (3:22–27). Further, as was argued in detail, the latter story in combination with the ensuing saying on sin against the Holy Spirit (3:28–30) foreshadows the clash in the temple, both concretely, by referring to the house and its utensils in addition to forgiveness, and theologically, with respect to the penultimate conflict between the physical temple in Jerusalem and Jesus as the new abode of the Spirit. This connotation of Jesus as God’s new dwelling place was also found to be part of the designation of Jesus as “God’s holy one” (1:24). In short, while the christological question and the kingly power at play in Jesus take prominence in Mark 1–10, the theme of proximity to the divine through a renewed temple is also deeply woven into the tapestry of this part of Mark through a few direct references as well as further allusions and echoes, foreshadowing what is to come and only fully understandable in hindsight. Table 6: Mark’s temple theme foreshadowed and enacted Temple theme

Foreshadowings

Enactions

Temple cultic nearness

1:9–11; 9:2–8; 10:45

15:38; 14:24

Jesus’s critique of the temple administration

1:44; 2:15–17; 7:1–23; 7:24–30

11:15–17

The temple administration’s accusation of blasphemy

2:5–12; 3:22–30; (1:24)

14:58, 64; 15:29

(4) The final conclusion to be drawn from the investigation above is in reality also the most pertinent to our thesis of investigating the εὐαγγέλιον as a composite notion thoroughly intertwining kingly victory and cultic renewal. In the same way as the notion of ἤγγικεν was found to express a temporal, immediate kingly victory in combination with a spatial, cultic proximity,399 several of the investigated cases in this chapter entail this composite notion. This is evident in the way in which the notion ὁ ἅγιος τοῦ θεοῦ entails Davidic as well as priestly connotations; the ἀκάθαρτος description of demons that follows a widespread tradition in late Second Temple Judaism of viewing demons as unclean, necessitating a powerful defeat of their powers as well as a cultic cleansing of the possessed; the suggested intertwined nature between the powerful robbing of the house of Beelzebul and the temple cultic notions present in the combination of οἰκία and the Holy Spirit; just as, finally, the notion of λύτρον was found to possess a composite nature of juridical and cultic elements.

––––––––––––––––– 399

See Section 4.5.2.

6

King, Cross, and Temple in Jerusalem Chapter 6

King, Cross, and Temple in Jerusalem 6.1 Introduction and Research Questions 6.1.1 A King’s Death1 If the core of the argument presented in the preceding chapters is accepted – that Mark presents his narrative of Jesus within an overarching Isaianic εὐαγγελ- framework focussed on the re-establishment of proximity to the divine through the king’s victory and the renewal of the temple presence – then we approach Jerusalem as readers of Mark with one crucial question to be answered: How will the passion of Jesus be a means towards this end? Fundamentally, this question drives the present chapter, and we start with two interesting observations: Firstly, death as the ultimate outcome of Jesus’s ministry has been repeatedly foreshadowed by Mark amidst his Galilean recounting of Jesus’s powerful deeds, projecting the cross as the pivotal incident.2 To recap briefly, the foreshadowing of the cross is embedded in the shared destiny of John and Jesus noted for the first time in 1:14 by the notion of Jesus going public µετά δὲ τὸ παραδοθῆναι τὸν Ἰωάννην, foreshadowing Jesus’s own arrest,3 the early references to Jesus’s impending death expressed in the saying of the bridegroom and the death plot by the Pharisees and Herodians in Capernaum (Mark 2:19–20; 3:6), the so-called passion predictions of Jesus in 8:31, 9:31, and 10:32–34, which shocking effect is highlighted by the strong reactions of the disciples,4 and not least the λύτρον logion (10:45) which before Jesus enters Jerusalem is the most important statement on Jesus’s death.5 ––––––––––––––––– This chapter is partially dependent on an earlier article of mine, see Jensen, “Atonement Theology,” 92–99. 2 See also Williams, “Foreshadowing,” 913–33. 3 Cf, e.g., Mark 9:31; 10:33; 14:10, 42; see Dowd and Malbon, “Jesus’ Death,” 274–75. For the role of Antipas in Mark as ‘a shadow of death,’ see Jensen, “Josephus and Mark,” 23–44. 4 See Peter’s initial attempt to rebuke or censure Jesus (ἐπιτιµᾶν, 8:32) and the disciples’ ignorance (ἀγνοεῖν), fear (φοβεῖν), and amazement or dismay (θαµβεῖν, 9:32; 10:32). 5 Also the instruction to the disciples in Mark 8:34–38 of losing one’s life in order to save it (σῴζειν) since there is no other way of finding “recompense,” “exchange,” or even “substitution” (ἀντάλλαγµα) for one’s life than through following Jesus may be considered as 1

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Secondly, as it will be argued below, when we enter into the seemingly powerless phase of Jesus’s life in the passion story, Mark culminates his kingly trajectory by having Jesus proclaimed βασιλεύς by Pilate and the passing bystanders,6 χριστός by Jesus himself and the bystanders,7 Son of Man in heavenly victory also by Jesus,8 and υἱὸς θεοῦ by the Roman centurion.9 In other words, Mark’s Jerusalem section brings the central core of his εὐαγγέλιον project to its climax by merging victory and death in an overtly insisting way in which the death of Jesus is presented as the pivotal act in Jesus’s coronation, sonship, and messianic status, just as, in combination with the ensuing resurrection, it is the epicentre of the fulfilment of the Isaianic restoration. We have referred to this undertaking above as die Leistung des Markus, by which we refer to Mark’s purposeful merging of kingdom and cross10 that is intimately connected to the relation between Jesus and the εὐαγγέλιον. 6.1.2 To Which End? But precisely how does Mark present this interplay between Jesus’s victory and death? To which end does the king die? For centuries, this is precisely where scholars have collided in discussion and departed in conclusion. For instance, as we discussed in the previous chapter, λύτρον is a composite notion that, despite never being used to translate ‫ ָאָשׁם‬in the Septuagint, shares with this concept the notion of full restoration with social as well as cultic connotations.11 The conceptual similarity but linguistic dissimilarity naturally creates room for various interpretations and, as already briefly outlined in Section 1.1, a rigorous debate of Mark’s soteriology has taken place for decades, centred especially on the question of the influence of the Isaianic Servant Songs on Mark and the Synoptic tradition in general. It is worth providing slightly more detail on the deadlocked situation in this debate: When Joachim Jeremias found a number of allusions to and citations of Isaiah 53 in Mark and the Synoptic Gospels, to the degree that he argued that the many scriptural echoes in the interpretative verses of Jesus’s death are echoes “auch – warscheinlich sogar in erster Linie – an Js 53,”12 Hooker, upon just as rigorous and detailed analysis, ––––––––––––––––– throwing light on the benefits of Jesus’s death in Mark 1–10 beyond the notion of it being necessary (δεῖ, 8:31; 9:11). 6 See Mark 15:2, 9, 12, 18, 26, 32. The appropriateness of this title will be discussed further in Section 6.2.2. 7 See the affirmative answer in Mark 14:62 besides also 15:32. 8 See Mark 14:62. 9 See Mark 15:39. 10 See Section 1.2.2. 11 See Sections 5.3.5 and 5.4.7. 12 Joachim Jeremias, “παῖς θεοῦ,” TWNT 5:704; see also Joachim Jeremias, Die Verkündigung Jesu, 2 vols. (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1971), 1:272–84. For similar

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concluded that the influence of the Servant Songs upon Jesus as well as early Christian thought have been “greatly over-estimated, as the paucity of genuine references has shown.”13 Rather, Jesus saw himself as “the Son of Man” in light of the apocalyptic, Danielic vision bent on victorious dominion because of the cross rather than vicarious suffering as in Isaiah 53. Recently, specifically in connection to Mark, Malbon and Dowd have revived Hooker’s position against an influence of Isaiah 53 on the interpretation of Jesus’s death,14 whereas Collins has revived the traditional position of a connection.15 The importance attached to the role of Isaiah 53 in New Testament research may be gleaned from the introductory remarks by Bellinger and Farmer in their important conference volume dedicated to the issue, in which they call it “a question of far-reaching import for Christian theology,”16 to which O’Brien laconically remarks that if that is the case, “the only thing left to do is to prove it true.”17 In other words, with reference to Mark, is Jesus’s death interpreted in the light of a victorious ‘kingdom-perspective’ or rather a sacrificial ‘temple-perspective’? Further, to highlight the problem ahead of us, the comprehensiveness or perhaps inconclusiveness of Mark’s interpretation of Jesus’s death is seemingly observed in the textual tradition of Mark where we find two textual variants that would have emphasized the connection to Isaiah 53 and explained the effect of Jesus’s death more clearly. Under influence from the parallel in Matt 26:28, a few manuscripts18 add εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁµαρτιῶν to the crucial interpretation of Jesus’s death in Mark 14:24 as τὸ αἷµά τῆς διαθήκης, ensuring not only a clear reference to the περὶ ἁµαρτίας of Isa 53:10 LXX but also the atoning element of Jesus’s death in general. Likewise, many but clearly later manuscripts19 add καὶ ἐπληρώθη ἡ γραφὴ ἡ λέγουσα, καὶ µετὰ ἀνόµων ἐλογίσθη after Mark 15:27 under influence of Luke 22:37. As a quotation of Isa 53:12, this ––––––––––––––––– conclusions, see, e.g., Peter Stuhlmacher, Grundlegung von Jesus zu Paulus, 2 vols. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997), 1:125–42; Betz, “Isaiah 53,” 70–87. 13 Hooker, Servant, 154. See recently Morna D. Hooker, “Did Jesus Use Isaiah 53?,” in The Servant of God in Practice, ed. John W. Rogerson and John Vincent, PractInt 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 55–68. See also C. K. Barrett, “The Background of Mark 10:45,” in New Testament Essays: Studies in Memory of Thomas Walther Manson, ed. A. J. B. Higgins (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1959), 1–18. 14 See Dowd and Malbon, “Jesus’ Death.” See also Hays, Gospels, 86–87. 15 Collins, “Finding Meaning,” 175–96; Collins, “Death of Jesus,” 545–54. See further the discussion below in Section 6.3.1 and 6.3.5. 16 William H. Bellinger and William R. Farmer, “Introduction,” in Jesus and the Suffering Servant: Isaiah 53 and Christian Origins, ed. William H. Bellinger and William R. Farmer (Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1998), 7. 17 O’Brien, The Use of Scripture, 77. 18 NA 28 lists W ƒ13 a vgms (samss bo) bomss. 19 NA 28 lists K L P Γ Δ Θ 083 ƒ1.13 28. 33. 565. 579. 700. 892. 1241. 1424. 2542s. ℓ 844 𝔐 lat syp.h (bopt); Eus.

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establishes an overt connection to Isaiah 53. On top of this it may be argued that the problem with establishing an argument for Mark’s understanding of Jesus’s death as cultic or atoning is highlighted by the fact that he eschews other cultic or Levitical nomenclature, such as θύειν and ἱλάσκεσθαι and their derivatives. Precisely this inconclusiveness in Mark’s actual wording in combination with the loosening of the traditional ties between Mark 10:45, 14:24, and Isaiah 53 provide the background for the reinterpretation of Jesus’s death in Mark from a postcolonial and anti-imperial perspective. The logic is straightforward: Once Jesus’s death in Mark is untied from the cultic language of Isaiah 53, it becomes obvious that Roman crucifixion in the first place had nothing to do with atonement. As no animal was ever crucified in the temple in order to be sacrificed in the temple, no person was ever crucified in order to placate the gods. Instead, crucifixion served purely political purposes such as shaming and determent, besides sheer demonstration of brute force.20 By bearing the burden of the Roman cross, Jesus in reality unravelled Roman might and tyranny at its epicentre. The empire had taken its best shot – and missed. Consequently, Mark made sense of the cross as “the central, symbolic event that empowered its [the movement’s] solidary and further expansion.”21 In other words, the climax of Mark is the confession by the centurion in Mark 15:39 of the superior sonship of Jesus, not the rending of the temple veil in 15:38. Thus, while it is beyond dispute that Mark understood Jesus’s death as purposefully willed by God,22 a fulfilment of Scripture,23 and serving others as a means to an end,24 the question remains: Which kind of means was Jesus’s death, and which end are we talking about? 6.1.3 Research Questions These considerations outline the task ahead of us, which is to read Mark’s Jerusalem section in general and his passion story in particular in light of the understanding of the εὐαγγέλιον as the epoch-making Isaianic proclamation of the proximity of the divine, effected through a dual, intertwined process of Yahweh becoming king at Zion anew and the re-establishment of the temple. As argued throughout, king and cult are the two intertwined trajectories through which the epoch-making proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον is moving towards its projected objective: the renewed proximity between Yahweh and his people. This duality provides us with the research questions of the present chapter: ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Dewey, “Sacrifice,” 71; Leander, Discourses, 246–47. Horsley, Jesus and the Powers, 203, see Horsley, Prophet Jesus, 156. 22 See, e.g., the δεῖ formula of Mark 8:31. 23 See, e.g., Mark 14:49. 24 See, e.g., the ὑπέρ and ἀντί formulas of Mark 10:45 and 14:24. 20 21

6.2 Jerusalem and the King’s Victory

349

(1) In which way does Mark present Jesus’s death as a kingly victory? (2) In which way does Mark present Jesus’s death as a temple cultic renewal or even inauguration? These two questions guide the general outline of the chapter under the heading of which a number of other questions will be pursued, such as the question if Mark presents Jesus as βασιλεύς or if this is a ‘false’ title provided by his enemies; the theological role of Jesus’s death by crucifixion; the role of the temple in Mark’s interpretation of Jesus’s death; and finally also the question if Mark presents Jesus as a cultic sacrifice of atonement, for example for sin. Central to this discussion is the interpretation of the ‘blood of the covenant’ saying of 14:24 and the rending of the veil in 15:38.

6.2 Jerusalem and the King’s Victory 6.2.1 Introduction: Is Jesus Crowned as King in Mark’s Passion Story? In his book, The Kingdom in Mark: A New Place and a New Time, Kelber detects an “impending rift”25 between Mark’s projection of the kingdom of God and the Davidic expectations of his day. “A wedge is driven between the Kingdom of God and the kingdom of David, and Jesus is on his way to the former, rejecting the latter,”26 which is why the Davidssohnfrage (Mark 12:35–37) should be understood as a rejection of Davidic sonship. Following Kelber’s lead, Malbon goes one step further in her book, Mark’s Jesus: Characterization as Narrative Christology, claiming that the titulus and the characterization of Jesus as βασιλεύς, repeated six times (15:2, 9, 12, 18, 26, 32), is a rejected title by Mark since, like the Davidic title in 10:47–48 and 11:10, it is only uttered by Jesus’s opponents, thus revealing Mark’s “antikingship” or “antimonarchical” position.27 As outlined in two recent thorough research overviews of Mark’s Christology by Daniel Johansson and Botner,28 Kelber’s and Malbon’s positions join hands with a longstanding understanding of Mark’s Christology going back to William Wrede, who viewed the Son of David title in Mark as

––––––––––––––––– Kelber, Kingdom in Mark, 92. Kelber, Kingdom in Mark, 97. 27 Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, Mark’s Jesus: Characterization as Narrative Christology (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2009), 121. 28 See Daniel Johansson, “The Identity of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark: Past and Present Proposals,” CurBS 9.3 (2010): 371–75; Botner, “David’s Son,” 50–70; see also the discussion in Niels Willert, Den korsfæstede konge: Kristologi og discipelbillede i Markusevangeliets passionsfortælling [The Crucified King: Christology and Discipleship in the Passion of Mark], 2 vols. (Aarhus: Aarhus Universitetsforlag, 1997), 2:385–415. 25 26

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“eine falsche, eine zu niedrige Vorstellung über die Herkunft des Messias”29 since Jesus in reality is the Son of God. While this study is neither focused on the historical Jesus nor the Christology of Mark as such, I refer to this background for our question in order to gain a perspective for why the identification of Jesus as David’s son and king has been a controversial question in Markan research and possibly why there has been a resistance against equating ‘Son of God’ with the titles ‘Son of David’ or ‘King of the Jews.’ Nevertheless, the understanding of these titles as genuinely Markan has resurged in recent research. For instance, in an article from 1964, Philipp Vielhauer points to the importance of the three ‘Son of God’ sayings in Mark 1:11, 9:7, and 15:39, of which especially 15:39 should be viewed as “Königstitulatur.”30 Following this trajectory, other weighty studies conclude that βασιλεύς indeed should be understood as a Markan epithet, just as the Davidssohnsfrage is not meant as a rejection of a Davidic, kingly messiah tradition but as an outbidding thereof. To mention just a few: In his profound study of the subject from 1973, Klaus Berger widens the Davidic tradition in Mark by pointing to the Jewish tradition of Solomon “als König über die Dämonen.”31 To Berger, this kingly theme is extended by Mark from the Galilean ministry to the passion narrative by the parallel structure of, first, the high priest’s question on Jesus’s messianic identity and, second, by Pilate’s kingly ditto,32 both of which are extended to the cross inscription, which for this reason becomes an extension of the earlier “Sohn Gottes”33 proclamations. In terms of scholarly influence, the most profound proponents of this view are found in the dissertations of Juel, Messiah and the Temple (1977), and Matera, The Kingship of Jesus (1981). While Juel’s study is focussed on the temple theme and not particularly on the kingly theme of Mark, an important part of his overall thesis is to argue ––––––––––––––––– 29 William Wrede, Das Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien: Zugleich ein Beitrag zum Verständnis des Markusevangeliums (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1901), 45. Concerning the collision between traditional Jewish messianic expectations and that of Mark, Wrede concludes: “In einem wesentlichen Punkte wenigstens muss er sich eines Gegensatzes zur jüdischen Messiasvorstellung bewusst gewesen sein, und natürlich hat er diesen Gegensatz auch Jesus selber zugeschrieben. Dieser Punkt ist das Leiden und Sterben des Messias” (Wrede, Messiasgeheimnis, 45). According to Botner, Wrede is in this way answering the profound challenge of Hermann S. Reimarus, who positioned the historical Jesus precisely as a Jewish messiah claimant in kingly clothes who utterly failed in ushering in God’s kingdom in Jerusalem, see Botner, Son of David, 4–9. 30 Philipp Vielhauer, “Erwägungen zur Christologie des Markusevangeliums,” in Aufsätze zum Neuen Testament (Munich: Kaiser, 1965), 209. 31 Klaus Berger, “Die königlichen Messiastraditionen des Neuen Testaments,” NTS 20 (1973): 7. 32 See Mark 14:61 (σὺ εἶ ὁ χριστὸς ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ εὐλογητοῦ;) and 15:2 (σὺ εἶ ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων;). Berger further refers to John 1:49 for this equation; see Berger, “Die königlichen Messiastraditionen,” 22. 33 Berger, “Die königlichen Messiastraditionen,” 24.

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for an understanding of the titles of 14:61 (ὁ χριστὸς ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ εὐλογητοῦ), 15:2 (ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων), and 15:32 (ὁ χριστὸς ὁ βασιλεὺς Ἰσραήλ) as basically identical.34 Further, Juel refers especially to 4Q174 as the proof for a messianic understanding of the royal trajectory of 2 Sam 7:14 and Ps 2:7 to be of preChristian origin.35 Matera, for his part, provides a comprehensive analysis of the role of the royal theme in Mark, outlining how Mark establishes a kingly expectation from the beginning of the Jerusalem section through Jesus’s royal entrance into Jerusalem, an identification of the rejected stone of Ps 118:22 with the Son of God in Ps 2:7, and the positioning of Jesus as κύριος even above David.36 However, the king Mark envisions is according to the Scripture destined to be rejected and ridiculed, and this explains why “the redactor has carefully reserved the title ‘King’ for Chapter 15 when it will be impossible to misunderstand the character of Jesus’s kingship.”37 In more recent times, the important role of the royal theme in Mark has been argued forcefully in two recent dissertations by Botner38 and Bernardo Cho.39 Dealing with many of the same texts in Mark, Botner specifically makes a case for Davidic Christology as the central key to Mark’s presentation of Jesus with Mark 10:46–52 as Schlüsseltext, whereas Cho focusses on the interplay between the royal and the priestly or temple cultic theme of Mark.40 At the very same time, it is obvious that any positive understanding of the Markan Jesus as a Davidic-styled king will need to come to terms with the appropriation of the notion taking place as evident in the lack of Jesus’s consent of the title, the anti-climactic ending of the ‘triumphant entry’ with Jesus departing from Jerusalem (11:11), besides Jesus’s own use of Psalm 118 to designate his rejection (12:10–11). For this reason, some researchers rather speak of the ambivalence or appropriation of the kingly, Davidic expectations as the key issue in Mark.41 ––––––––––––––––– See Juel, Messiah and Temple, 49–52. See Juel, Messiah and Temple, 110–12. 36 See Frank J. Matera, The Kingship of Jesus: Composition and Theology in Mark 15 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 1982), 67–91. Acknowledging Matera’s analysis, Willert rightly remarks that Matera’s analysis should be enlarged to encompass the narrative in its entirety and most acutely the relationship between Jesus and ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ; see Willert, Korsfæstede konge, 401. 37 Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 73. 38 Botner, Son of David. 39 Cho, Royal Messianism. 40 For others arguing the same case, see, e.g., Stephen P. Ahearne-Kroll, The Psalms of Lament in Mark’s Passion, SNTSMS 142 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 137–67; Collins, Mark, 509–10. 41 See, e.g., Marcus, “Jewish War,” 149–51; Paul Brooks Duff, “The March of the Divine Warrior and the Advent of the Greco-Roman King: Mark’s Account of Jesus’ Entry Into Jerusalem,” JBL 111.1 (1992): 55–71. 34 35

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For our purposes, the point of focus in the following is to discuss and evaluate this proposed kingly trajectory of Mark 11–16 in order to evaluate our thesis of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as an intertwined, epoch-making notion of kingly victory and cultic renewal. The objective is not to address the christological debate per se but to evaluate if Mark indeed carries through the kingly notion of his εὐαγγέλιον prominently established in the prologue and vividly emphasized throughout the Galilean section and, if so, how the cross ultimately appropriates this notion. The question is: To which extent does Mark interpret Jesus’s actions in Jerusalem and his subsequent death and resurrection as a kingly victory, enthronization, or coronation? In order to provide an answer, we shall investigate the following in the sections ahead: (1) The arrival of an appropriated king: 10:46–12:12. (2) The εὐαγγέλιον of an appropriated king’s death recognized and prophesized: 14:3–8 and 14:27. (3) The cross of coronation: 15:1–39. (4) Resurrection and triumph of the empty grave: 15:46–16:8. (5) Resurrection and the triumph of the εὐαγγέλιον: 8:35; 10:29; 13:10; 14:9. 6.2.2 The Arrival of an Appropriated King As discussed in Section 3.3, Isa 40:1–11 and 52:1–10 are best understood as the two central visions of Isaiah 40–55, describing Yahweh’s victory parade and/or pilgrimage towards Zion from the initial proclamation and display of the nearness of his ‫ָכּבוֹד‬/δόξα (40:5) to his own climactic proclamation to the festively dressed Zion: “Here I am” as the ruling king anew (Isa 52:6).42 While Mark provides an overt reference to this parade or pilgrimage in his prologue and unabashedly furthers the agenda in his Galilee section, we look in vain for further Isaianic proof texts as we enter the final Jerusalem section. This does not mean, however, that Mark departs from his Isaianic framework, which is reverberated in a number of ways, as will be discussed in the following. Beginning with Mark’s description of Jesus’s arrival to Jerusalem, the reverberation of the Isaianic theme is first and foremost seen by the way in which the kingly/Davidic theme moves to the forefront in combination with the Isaianic idea of a kingly pilgrimage towards Jerusalem, the topic of this subsection. It is, however, also seen by the way in which Mark unites Jesus’s arrival to Jerusalem with themes from the prologue by informing how Jesus, after his period in Galilee, arrives in the area of the first scene of his narrative, namely John’s spot at Jordan near Judea (1:5//10:1), just as the reference to ὁδὸς κυρίου (1:3) is resumed in the notion of Jesus and his followers being “on the way” to

––––––––––––––––– 42

See also Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 296–304.

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Jerusalem (ἦσαν δὲ ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ ἀναβαίνοντες εἰς Ἱεροσόλυµα, 10:32).43 Even further, amidst the repeated notion of shock and fear, we find the request of James and John of being “enthroned in your glory” (καθίσωµεν ἐν τῇ δόξῃ σου, 10:37), a notion central to the Isaianic vision of the eschatological renewal as evident from Isa 40:5–6 and 51:1. In the following, the issue of discussion concerns to which extent Mark expands on this kingly expectation as we enter Jerusalem, and to which extent it is appropriated by the notion of the suffering of the Son of Man expressed four times in the preceding chapter (8:31; 9:12, 31; 10:32– 34). We shall investigate this by discussing three issues: the role of the ‘Son of David’ title, the royal connotations in Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem through scriptural evocations, and the ‘cracks’ in the royal presentation of Jesus: (1) Taking his clue from Hans-Joachim Eckstein, Botner labels the Bartimaeus pericope (10:46–52) a Schlüsseltext to Jesus’s arrival in Jerusalem.44 As Eckstein rightly notices, its “exponierte Stellung”45 right before Jesus’s procession down the Mount of Olives makes it one of Mark’s hinges that finalizes one section and opens up the next. Understood in this way, the Bartimaeus pericope is on par with 1:14–15 that bridges the prologue with the beginning of the Galilean section and the anointing of Jesus in 14:3–9 that initiates the passion. Still, a bridge to which message? While few would disagree that the two healings of blind persons intercalating the so-called ‘way’ section serve to underline the spiritual or christological blindness of the disciples, the specific question for our purposes is if the repeated υἱὲ Δαυίδ exclamation is accepted by Mark’s Jesus in light of its intertext in 12:35–37 as well as the notion of ἡ ἐρχοµένη βασιλεία τοῦ πατρὸς ἡµῶν Δαυίδ in 11:10. Jesus never explicitly affirms Bartimaeus’s proclamation, and as Kelber stresses, it is said “by a man oculis captus! … still in statu erroris,”46 actually sitting παρὰ τὴν ὁδόν as if he is part of the futile sowing ground.47 Malbon furthers the same way of reasoning by arguing that Bartimaeus’s cry should be understood from within Mark’s story as well as at the discourse level where “Jesus seems to ignore it.”48 Precisely this line of reasoning is challenged by Botner’s recent appraisal of the majority reading. Taking his clue from the fact that ‘narrative readings’ have provided opposite interpretations,49 Botner lists a number of arguments ––––––––––––––––– 43 See the command to ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος Σιων to ascend (ἀναβαίνειν) on a high mountain in Isa 40:9. 44 See Botner, Son of David, 140. 45 Hans-Joachim Eckstein, “Markus 10,46–52 als Schlüsseltext des Markusevangeliums,” ZNW 87.3–4 (1996): 33. 46 Kelber, Kingdom in Mark, 95. 47 See Mark 4:4, 15; see Boring, Mark, 305. 48 Malbon, Mark’s Jesus, 90. A middle ground position is offered by J. Marcus who labels Mark’s attitude towards the Son of David title as “genuinely ambivalent” (Marcus, Mark 8– 16, 1119, see Marcus, Way of the Lord, 145–52). 49 See Botner, Son of David, 141.

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for understanding Bartimaeus’s proclamation as a Markan point of view:50 First, it forms an inclusio around the ‘way’ section with Peter’s σὺ εἶ ὁ χριστός (8:29), which few would dispute is a fitting epithet. As a matter of fact, it is a repeated theme that various characters, opponents, and even demons correctly surmise the identity of Jesus.51 Further, on a grand scale, Bartimaeus’s κράζειν may be understood as part of another inclusio with the ἀνακράζειν of the demon in the synagogue of Capernaum (1:23), who in a similar manner unveils parts of Jesus’s true identity. Likewise, ἐπιτιµᾶν is previously used to silence true proclamations (1:24–25; 3:11–12; 8:29–30). Finally, the connection of Jesus with his hometown (ὁ Ναζαρηνός) always follows a pattern of true information of his identity. Since Bartimaeus is not rebuked or corrected but rather praised for his saving πίστις (10:52) and – most importantly – his saving faith or ‘insight’ makes him join Jesus ‘on the way’ (ἠκολούθει αὐτῷ ἐν τῇ ὁδω), I agree that there is nothing in the text to prepare the reader to reject the Davidic title at this point already positively foreshadowed with Jesus’s reference to the acts of David in 2:25–26.52 That said, the obvious ambivalence in the Davidssohnfrage should be acknowledged.53 (2) Next, the question is if Mark has intentionally staged Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem as a kingly triumphal march. According to Myers, the traditional label for Mark 11:1–11, ‘Jesus’s triumphal entry,’ is nothing short of “a misnomer”54 since it is neither unambiguously triumphal nor ends in Jerusalem but is finalized with Jesus leaving the city again (11:11). Contrary to this position, Botner maintains that “actions speak,” and since the entrance is the immediate ‘action’ following Bartimaeus’s cry, it would be “an odd strategy indeed” if it is the aim of the evangelist “to narcotize Davidic sonship from the semantic range of ‘messiah.’”55 In other words, the question confronting us is in which way Mark prepares his readers to accept the exclamation of the crowd – ––––––––––––––––– See Botner, Son of David, 142–45. See Mark 1:24; 3:11; 5:7; 8:29; 10:47–48; 14:61; 15:26, 32, 39, see Botner, Son of David, 143. 52 See similarly, e.g., Bruce Chilton, “Jesus ben David: Reflections on the Davidssohnfrage,” JSNT 14 (1982): 88–112; Lührmann, Markusevangelium, 183; Marcus, Way of the Lord, 149; Eckstein, “Markus 10,46–52,” 49; Collins, Mark, 510; Ahearne-Kroll, Psalms of Lament, 143–44. This position is not necessarily a rejection of ‘David’s son’ as a Salomonic healer, see Marcus, Way of the Lord, 151–52; Botner, Son of David, 144–45. 53 The reason behind the ambivalence in Mark 12:35–37 is difficult to judge. It is possible that the Markan ‘ambivalent acceptance’ was a product of competing uses of the messianic potency of the Davidic tradition, see in particular Pss. Sol. 17–18 besides the references in Qumran writings to “prince of the congregation” ( ‫נשיא העדה‬, 1QSb V, 20; 1QM V, 1) and various references to David in connection with messianic or eschatological expectations (4Q174 1–2 I, 12; 4Q285 7, 3; 4Q252 V, 3), see Collins, Scepter and Star, 49–73. See also further the discussion below. 54 Myers, Binding the Strong, 294. 55 Botner, Son of David, 150–51. 50 51

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εὐλογηµένη ἡ ἐρχοµένη βασιλεία τοῦ πατρὸς ἡµῶν Δαυίδ (11:10) – as fitting and true. The answer to this question is to be found in the ‘scripturalization’ of Jesus’s entry. Unfortunately, as outlined in Section 1.3.1, Mark mostly provides his echoes of Jewish Scripture in a subdued and elusive manner, leaving much room open for various suggestions: (a) Going back to Justin,56 there is a strong tradition for accepting an allusion to the oracle of Judah in Gen 49:10–11 of the ruler (ἄρχων) over nations (ἐθνῶν), who binds his “colt” (πῶλος) to the vine.57 In several late Second Temple Jewish texts this oracle is understood as a reference to a Davidic, kingly messiah.58 (b) More importantly, however, Zech 9:9 is not cited in Mark59 but evoked by the scene of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a foal or colt (πῶλος). Zechariah 9 contains a vivid vision of Yahweh as a warrior, who after defeating Zion’s enemies left and right comes to Zion in a triumphal parade as “your king, he is just and saving, humble, mounted on a donkey and a young colt.”60 The affinity to Isa 52:1–10 and other places describing Yahweh as a divine warrior is clear.61 While there is no evidence in the sectarian writings of Qumran for interpreting Zech 9:9 through the lens of Davidic messianism,62 there is such in later rabbinic Judaism,63 for which reason Collins judges that “the choice of riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, rather than walking, is a nonverbal way of making a messianic claim.”64 (c) Further, it has been suggested that not only Zech 9:9 lurks in the background of Mark’s staging of Jesus’s entrance, but also Zechariah 14, where the final and ultimate victory of Yahweh is set to take place on the Mount of Olives. There, Yahweh’s ultimate victory will make way for eternal peace and Jerusalem as the navel of the earth where those from the nations not cut off will ––––––––––––––––– 56 See 1 Apol. 32.1 and Dial. 53.2–4. For other references in church fathers, see Joseph Blenkinsopp, “The Oracle of Judah and the Messianic Entry,” JBL 80.1 (1961): 60–61. 57 See, e.g., Blenkinsopp, “Oracle of Judah”; Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 71; Collins, Mark, 517–18; Botner, Son of David, 147–49. 58 See 4Q252 V, 1–7; Tg. Onq. and Tg. Ps.-J. Gen 49:10, see Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 71–72. 59 Unlike Matt 21:5; John 12:15. 60 After Zech 9:9 LXX (ὁ βασιλεύς σου ἔρχεταί σοι δίκαιος καὶ σῴζων αὐτός πραῢς καὶ ἐπιβεβηκὼς ἐπὶ ὑποζύγιον καὶ πῶλον νέον). 61 See Duff, “March of the Divine Warrior,” 56–58. 62 See the overview in Jesper Høgenhaven, “The Book of Zechariah at Qumran,” SJOT 27.1 (2013): 107–17. 63 For references to rabbinic interpretations of Zech 9:9, see Marcus, Mark 8–16, 772. 64 Collins, Mark, 518; see also David R. Catchpole, who understands this and other features of Mark 11:1–11 as “christologically determined” (David R. Catchpole, “The ‘Triumphal’ Entry,” in Jesus and the Politics of his Day, ed. Ernst Bammel and C. F. D. Moule [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984], 324).

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come “to worship the king, the Lord” (τοῦ προσκυνῆσαι τῷ βασιλεῖ κυρίῳ, 14:16 LXX) and to celebrate the Sukkoth in a city with a renewed temple with a hitherto unknown level of purity, so pots and pans throughout the city and even the bells of the horses will be “holy to the Lord” (ἅγιον τῷ κυρίῳ, 14:20 LXX),65 just as the large kettles or caldrons in the temple shall obtain the level of purity of the cups or bowls in front of the incense alter.66 In the light of this, Paul Brooks Duff has suggested that Mark has staged Jesus’s entry as a fulfilment of this vision uniting a kingly entrance and a cultic cleansing.67 (d) Stepping back from the eschatological scene, a number of other kingly references have been suggested, such as the donkey as a fitting royal animal for Solomon riding down to Siloam to be anointed by Zadok,68 the garments on the way as when Jehu was proclaimed king,69 and the notion of ἀγγαρεία (forced labour) as a kingly prerogative entailed in Jesus’s demand of the colt (11:3, χρείαν ἔχει).70 (e) This brings us to the exclamation by οἱ προάγοντες καὶ οἱ ἀκολουθοῦντες consisting of, first, the only overt citation in Mark’s version of Jesus’s arrival, namely the citation of Ps 117:26a LXX in Mark 11:9, and, second, a possible echo of the promise to David in 2 Sam 7:13–14 in Mark 11:10.71 The important thing for our purposes is Mark’s addition to Psalm 117 LXX. Historically, this psalm may have served a liturgical purpose as an antiphonal exchange between the pilgrim coming to the temple and the Levites or the priests of the temple.72 By adding εὐλογηµένη ἡ ἐρχοµένη βασιλεία τοῦ πατρὸς ἡµῶν Δαυίδ as an exposition of ὁ ἐρχόµενος of Ps 117:26, Mark clearly gives voice to a kingly, Davidic expectation of the crowd. The question is if the exegesis of Ps 117 LXX is true ––––––––––––––––– 65 In essence, a nullification of the need to distinguish between sacred and profane (see Lev 10:10) by incorporating the means of daily existence (pots and pans) and means of warfare (horses) under the sacred temple realm, see Carol L. Meyers and Eric M. Meyers, Zechariah 9–14: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 25C (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993), 480. 66 See Zech 14:20 LXX (ἔσονται οἱ λέβητες οἱ ἐν τῷ οἴκῳ κυρίου ὡς φιάλαι πρὸ προσώπου τοῦ θυσιαστηρίου). 67 See Duff, “March of the Divine Warrior,” 65–66. It should be noted that the suggestion is weakened by the lack of verbal correspondence with Mark 11:16 (σκεῦος). 68 See 1 Kgs 1:33–41 (LXX: ἡµίονος); see also 2 Sam 16:2 for reference to a donkey (ὑποζύγιον) as a fitting animal for a king. 69 See 2 Kgs 9:13 70 For the notion of ἀγγαρεία, see J. Duncan M. Derrett, “Law in the New Testament and the Palm Sunday Colt,” NovT 13.4 (1971): 241–58, and Leander, Discourses, 260–62. 71 See Marcus, Mark 8–16, 775. 72 See Pesch, Markusevangelium 2. Teil, 184; Collins, Mark, 520; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 774. The best evidence for this understanding is found in the targum to Ps 118 that distributes the roles by naming the builders, sons of Jesse, David, and more, see Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 83.

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or false. As already outlined,73 scholars are divided on this question, with the most forceful rejection of this exegesis as the Markan position presented by Kelber and Malbon, whereas Botner has recently added to the defence of the opposite position. According to Botner, the real tension in Mark’s story is not if Jesus accepts the proclamation of the crowd but if the priests do. As οἱ οἰκοδοµοῦντες of the psalm, they are not performing their part of the messianic liturgy by not responding to the entrance of Jesus, the son of David, only to raise their voice later in the chapter questioning the ἐξουσία of Jesus (11:28), leading to the dramatic statement of 12:10.74 In evaluation, accepting a high degree of scripturalization in Mark’s description of Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem, it is clear that the royal identity of Jesus is the common denominator. Understanding Mark’s way of evoking his Jewish heritage more like an impressionistic form of ‘art’ rather than a precise proof texting in the manner of Matthew,75 the important thing is not to pinpoint the exact references or to range them. Rather, Mark has seemingly amassed a choir of echoes and evocations that – and this is the important point – are in tune with dressing Jesus in kingly robes as he enters Jerusalem. (3) While a Davidic evocation thus seems to be intended from at least Mark 10:46 onwards, there are ‘cracks’ in the picture all along that need to be accounted for. The Markan king is at best an ‘appropriated Davidic king’ if compared to, for example, the writer of Psalms of Solomon 17. Here, the hope is to see the salvation and “strength” (τὸ κράτος) of God and his kingdom (ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ) in full display through the election of David’s kingdom (τὸν Δαυιδ βασιλέα) as an eternal kingdom (περὶ τοῦ σπέρµατος αὐτοῦ εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα).76 After years of desolation, the psalmist is now eagerly praying to God to rise up (ἀνιστάναι) by giving them “their king, David’s son” (τὸν βασιλέα αὐτῶν υἱὸν Δαυιδ, 17:21), who will defeat the unjust and “cleanse Jerusalem from nations that trample down in destruction” (καθαρίσαι Ιερουσαληµ ἀπὸ ἐθνῶν καταπατούντων ἐν ἀπωλείᾳ, 17:22).77 Contrary to this writer’s expectation of a return of the Davidic kingdom, Mark’s presentation of his Davidic king comes with an emphasis on the rejection (ἀποδοκιµάζειν) in Ps 117:22 LXX over the notion of inauguration in 117:26a. This crack has already been foreshadowed several times at the present point in the narrative where it reaches its preliminary climax in the notion of the rejected cornerstone (12:10), preparing the reader for the ultimate oppositional setting of traditional, kingly ––––––––––––––––– See Section 6.2.1. See Botner, Son of David, 153–54, 161–62. 75 See the discussion in Section 1.3.1. 76 See Pss. Sol. 17:3–4. 77 See also the notion of the purging of the land from foreigners (Pss. Sol. 17:28) and the repeated reference to the cleansing and purging of Jerusalem (καθαριεῖ Ιερουσαληµ ἐν ἁγιασµῷ, 17:30). 73 74

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expectations against Mark’s own ‘appropriated fulfilment’ in the cross scene. To recount this part of the storyline: (a) As noted by Matera,78 the notion of ἀποδοκιµάζειν in Ps 117:22 LXX may be alluded to in the first so-called passion prediction in Mark 8:31 using this nomenclature, just as the notion of ἐξουδενεῖν in 9:12 is probably just a variant of the same notion. (b) Soon after, the sons of Zebedee show themselves as the antipole to the fearsome followers (10:32) by asking Jesus for the seats of honour when Jesus is installed ἐν τῇ δόξῃ (10:37). While Jesus’s answer is not an outright rejection, the following conversation nevertheless speaks to the ignorance of James and John in expressing an expectation of immediate glory and honour.79 (c) This brings us to Mark 11:11 and the question if Jesus’s ‘triumphant entry’ in reality ends in an “anticlimactic”80 manner. This is truly the case on the narrative level. Not only is Jesus not enthroned or at least warmly received by the leaders of Jerusalem upon entering to town, but the cursing of the fig tree gives the reader a strong hint of how the crack between Jesus and the temple and its administration is about to turn into a gulf. Further, as already noted, the lack of a response from the priests of the temple may be understood as a sign of the rejection of Jesus.81 (d) The final steppingstone towards the ultimate rejection of Jesus by the Jewish leaders is thematized in Mark 11:27–12:12, taking up the lead of the death decision in 11:18. To understand the flow of this passage and the Markan usage of Ps 118:22–26, Matera’s analysis of the psalm in the light of the targum to the psalm is clarifying. While there is no overt reference in the Masoretic Text or the Septuagint to David or a Davidic king, there is such in the targum. There, the rejected stone (‫ֶאֶבן ָמֲאסוּ‬/λίθον ὃν ἀπεδοκίµασαν) is identified as a child abandoned by the builders or architects. He is further pinpointed as the young David, who was initially left out of consideration when Samuel came to visit Jesse, but who turned out to be precisely the one worthy of being appointed “as king and ruler” (‫ושׁולטן‬, Tg. Ps 118:22). Further, the antiphon in v. 26b cited by the crowd in Mark as Jesus enters Jerusalem (11:9) is in the targum ascribed to David (‫)אמר דוד‬, who passes on authority to the builders, namely the priests, to provide a blessing from the temple. Thus, in the targum to Psalm 118, the mystery between the rejected stone of v. 22 and the ultimate success of the temple in v. 26 is resolved with a reference to David’s first anointing. While rejected at first, David eventually became the cornerstone. In Mark, however, the reverse order as well as the lack of the redemptive voice of ––––––––––––––––– See Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 68–69. See Collins, Mark, 495, pointing to the similarity between the request of the brothers and Antipas’s extravagant promise in Mark 6:22. 80 Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 73; Collins, Mark, 520. 81 See, e.g., Botner, Son of David, 153–54. 78 79

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David/Jesus prevents the citation of v. 22 by Jesus in Mark 12:10–11 from being a state of the past. Instead, the ‘rejected stone’ saying becomes the ultimate and, in the storyline, present judgment of οἱ οἰκοδοµοῦντες (the temple administration). The redemption expressed in the targum through David’s reception is instead postponed to the return of ὁ κύριος τοῦ ἀµπελῶνος or ὁ υἱός τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, only now envisioned as a day of judgment.82 It follows from the combined argument above that Mark in words and actions indeed stages Jesus as a Davidic styled king, evoking a number of eschatological traditions. In terms of quotations, Psalm 118 (117 LXX) takes the centre stage through the crowds’ citation of vv. 25–26 in Mark 11:10 and Jesus’s citation of vv. 22–23 in Mark 12:10–11. In Mark’s matrix, the key feature to his use of this scriptural tradition is the reversed order that turns the use of the psalm into a judgment rather than a reception. In this way, Mark appropriates the Davidic tradition as it is known in Psalms of Solomon 17 and the targum to Psalm 118. As stated by Matera, “Jesus comes as King but cannot be explicitly proclaimed as such until the passion.… For Mark, kingship cannot be disassociated from the cross.”83 6.2.3 The Εὐαγγέλιον of a King’s Death Recognized and Prophesized In this section, we shall continue to investigate how Mark prepares the reader to accept Jesus’s death and the cross-scene as a victory and a kingly coronation by discussing two pivotal events of Mark 14 – the role of the anointment (14:3– 9) and the hermeneutical importance of Mark’s citation in 14:27 of Zech 13:7, the only stated citation of the Hebrew Bible in the passion narrative – which both serve to persuade the reader that Jesus died victoriously in order κηρυχθῇ τὸ εὐαγγέλιον εἰς ὅλον τὸν κόσµον (14:9). It will be argued that the appropriation of the kingly victory reflected in Mark’s use of Psalm 118 (117 LXX) is in this way brought to its breaking point in front of the actual crucifixion scene, just as through the saying of the post-resurrectional preaching of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον it places us at the epicentre of Mark’s presentation of his understanding of the εὐαγγέλιον. (1) Beginning with the anointment in 14:3–9, it is worth noticing that this scene is left out of consideration in a number of investigations focused on ––––––––––––––––– 82 See Mark 12:9; 13:26; 14:62. Even Botner, who otherwise strongly emphasizes the present victory of Jesus, allows for some kind of Zweistufenchristologie, distinguishing between the earthly Jesus as υἱὸς Δαυίδ in an appropriated form (that is, a crucified king) and the heavenly Jesus as κύριος Δαυίδ, see Botner, Son of David, 172. 83 Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 74. It follows from this analysis that I concur with, e.g., Marcus and Botner on the Davidssohnfrage who with various nuances conclude that Jesus is presented as Son of David in a way that supersedes any other son of David by partaking in the divine majesty according to Ps 110, as in essence being the son of God, see Marcus, “Jewish War,” 144; Botner, Son of David, 173.

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understanding Jesus’s death in Mark and in particular Jesus’s death as a king.84 This is surprising since the act of the unnamed woman at the house of Simon the Leper in Bethany is placed emphatically by Mark at the entrance to his πάσχα narration, and since the act of the woman is best understood as the first acknowledgement by any follower in Mark of the instrumental role of Jesus’s death in his kingly and messianic project. This is evident from the following: (a) The anointment story not only serves as the portal to the passion, but it likewise also functions as a hinge with strong links backwards and forwards, simultaneously. Looking back, there is good reason to accept an intended intercalation between the unnamed women in Mark 12:41–44, who gives ὅλον τὸν βίον αὐτῆς, and the second unnamed woman in this story, who performs a καλὸν ἔργον (14:6) by “doing what was to her disposal” (ὃ ἔσχεν ἐποίησεν, 14:8).85 Further, since the anointment is performed to prepare τὸ σῶµα of Jesus for burial, there is a link to Jesus’s stated intention of δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ (10:45). Looking ahead, Jesus specifically interprets the act of the woman as done to µυρίσαι τὸ σῶµά µου εἰς τὸν ἐνταφιασµόν (14:8), linking it first and foremost to Josef of Arimathaea’s burial of Jesus (15:42–47) but also to Jesus’s own interpretation of his σῶµα (14:22–24). (b) The act of the woman is further emphasized by Mark’s final use of εὐαγγέλιον (14:9), which as the three other uses outside the prologue point forward to the post-resurrection era and the mission and suffering of the congregation.86 The straightforward implication of Mark’s utilization of εὐαγγέλιον in this context is that the entire scene is loaded with a notion of victory as evident from the reference to the post-resurrectional preaching εἰς ὅλον τὸν κόσµον. In other words, the anointment of Jesus’s body in preparation for his death is intimately part of the victory of the εὐαγγέλιον as Mark projects it. (c) This leads to the question if the act of µυρίζειν with µύρον can denote a kingly and/or messianic anointing. This is debated,87 since the anointing of kings and priests in the Septuagint is described as an act of χρίειν performed ––––––––––––––––– 84 See, e.g., Matera, Kingship of Jesus; Marcus, “Jewish War”; Ahearne-Kroll, Psalms of Lament; Cho, Royal Messianism. 85 See, e.g., Malbon, “Fallible Followers,” 37–40; Malbon, Mark’s Jesus, 225–26; Timothy J. Geddert, Watchwords: Mark 13 in Markan Eschatology, JSNTSup 26 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989), 138; Hooker, Mark, 327; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 941. Further, as emphasized especially by Malbon, these two exemplary and generous women are in the immediate context contrasted to greedy men, the scribes (12:38–40) and Judas (14:10–11), just as evil decisions by men sandwich the story in the near context in terms of the council’s decision to catch Jesus ἐν δόλῳ (14:1–2) and Judas’s decision to betray Jesus (14:10–11), see Edwards, “Markan Sandwiches,” 208–9; John Paul Heil, “Mark 14,1–52: Narrative Structure and Reader-Response,” Bib 71.3 (1990): 308–13. 86 See the two notions of suffering and losing in 8:35; 10:29 besides also 13:10, closely connected to 14:9. See further the discussion in Section 6.2.6. 87 See, e.g., Collins, Mark, 641–42; James W. Voelz and Christopher W. Mitchell, Mark 8:27–16:20, ConcC (St. Louis: Concordia, 2019), 1010–11.

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with ἔλαιον.88 But two places suggest that the differentiation between “aromatic oil” (µύρον) and regular olive oil (ἔλαιον) was fluid. In Exod 30:25–33 LXX, Moses is instructed to produce “a holy anointing oil” (ἔλαιον χρῖσµα ἅγιον), which is further specified as “perfumed aromatic oil” (µύρον µυρεψικόν). Similarly, Aaron’s anointing oil is specified as “aromatic oil on the head” (µύρον ἐπὶ κεφαλῆς) in Ps 132:2 LXX. While µύρον was used in connection with burials and weddings,89 these texts suggest that it may also have been connected with the temple and the priesthood and a part of what was understood as anointing oil. Further, the act of anointing the head is a shared characteristic between the anointing of kings and the anointing of Jesus. Bringing the pieces together, the act of anointing with µύρον is connected with burial by Mark (14:8). At the same time, it is possible that the anointed σῶµα in 14:3–9 should indeed be connected to the crucified σῶµα, and not only the burial, due to the specific interpretation of Jesus’s death by crucifixion entailed in 14:22–24 in which the bread is said to be τὸ σῶµά µου. If a connection is accepted between the σῶµα in 14:8 and the σῶµα in 14:22, a kingly connotation of the anointing becomes emphasized since precisely Jesus’s σῶµα on the cross receive the epithet of βασιλεύς in Mark’s narrative.90 Bringing these three perspectives together – the emphatic location of the anointing, the reference to the victory of the εὐαγγέλιον, and the anointment as an act of preparation for burial as well as for a kingly office – allows us to understand the reason behind the extreme elevation of the woman entailed in the notion of εἰς µνηµόσυνον αὐτῆς (14:9). In the worldview of Mark, this woman is the first follower to understand that the victory of the kingly εὐαγγέλιον is only brought about through the death of Jesus which is precisely the συνιέναι that the failing disciples have hitherto been unable to make. For this reason, she is elevated to share the post-resurrectional glory of the evangelic victory announcement, ὅπου ἐὰν κηρυχθῇ τὸ εὐαγγέλιον εἰς ὅλον τὸν κόσµον. In other words, the anointing scene thoroughly confirms Mark’s kingly understanding of εὐαγγέλιον, as long as it is reflected through the cross. (2) Coming now to the role of quotation of Zech 13:7 in Mark 14:27, we have arrived at a point in Mark’s narrative where the resistance against the ––––––––––––––––– 88 See Aaron and his sons (Exod 29:7; Lev 8:12; Sir 45:15), the tabernacle (Exod 40:9); Saul (1 Sam 10:1), David (1 Sam 16:13; 2 Sam 5:3; Ps 88:21; 151:5 LXX), Salomon (1 Kgs 1:39) and Jehu (2 Kgs 9:1–13). 89 See 2 Chr 16:14 (the burial of Asa) and Song 1:3–4; 4:14 (wedding and lovemaking, see Collins, Mark, 642). 90 Arguing the same case, Botner suggests that Mark intended to mimic the two anointings of David, first by Samuel and later by the elders in Hebron (see 1 Sam 16:13; 2 Sam 5:3), by ‘anointing’ Jesus with the spirit in the baptism and with aromatic oil, see Botner, Son of David, 176. It should be noted that according to 2 Sam 2:4 David was also anointed by the elders of Judah. For a messianic interpretation of Jesus’s anointing in Mark, see further Hooker, Mark, 328; Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20, 359; Collins, Mark, 642 n. 202.

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Markan Jesus’s appropriation of the kingly expectation has already been thoroughly aired. This is evident from the clashes with the various Jewish factions on the Temple Mount just as the resistance from the disciples has broken out into the open, leaving Jesus to be portrayed as lonesome and despaired (Mark 14:32–42). The primary way in which Mark responds to this criticism is through scriptural validation. Though Alfred Suhl took advantage of the relatively few stated citations in Mark to argue that Mark, in contrast to Matthew, only sought to ‘scripturally adapt’ (Schriftgemäßheit) his story rather than present a true Schriftbeweis,91 the decisive role of the citation in 14:27 mounts a serious challenge to Suhl’s conception.92 The same do the formal notions in 14:21 and 14:49, stating scriptural fulfilment without a particular reference, and a vast and in scholarly treatments ever-growing group of allusions to and echoes of not least the Psalms of David, which will be treated below.93 That said, the ὅτι γέγραπται makes Mark 14:27 the head of the ram as the only explicit citation through which Mark seeks to prove his version of the Isaianic εὐαγγέλιον. The extreme importance and emphatic nature is evident from the following considerations: (a) The reference to the σκανδαλίζειν, which prompts the citation of Zech 13:7, is extremely noteworthy in the Markan plot of recognizing Jesus as Messiah. At this point in the narrative, the judgment of the disciples (πάντες σκανδαλισθήσεσθε) is a serious matter, bringing them in the same boat as the seeds falling on rocky ground (4:17), Jesus’s kinsmen in Nazareth (6:3), the ones bringing believers to fall (9:42),94 and those going to γέεννα (9:43–48). In conjunction with the narrative fulfilment of this statement in Peter’s σκανδαλίζειν (14:29–31, 53–54, 66–72) and the cowardly flight of the rest (ἀφέντες αὐτὸν ἔφυγον πάντες, 14:50), we have reached the epic point of the disciples’ failure to grasp the ὁδός of Jesus. (b) The citation of Zech 13:7 is important for this reason alone, but its pinnacle role is elevated even more by the aforementioned absolute or formal scriptural references, of which we find three in total. In these, Jesus substantiates the necessity of his death with a γέγραπται formula but without providing an actual quotation.95 Not so here, and Zech 13:7 thus bears the burden of being the preeminent proof of the Markan interpretation of how the suffering and ––––––––––––––––– See the discussion in Sections 1.3.1 and 4.3.1. Suhl tries to adapt Mark 14:27 to his overall thesis but admits it has a “Sonderstellung,” and his mainly redactional musings fail to convince, see Suhl, Zitate, 62–66. For further criticism, see Hatina, Context, 27–28, and the critique in Section 4.3.1. 93 See Section 6.2.4. 94 For an understanding of ἕνα τῶν µικρῶν τούτων τῶν πιστευόντων as the Christian community, see Marcus, Mark 8–16, 688–89. 95 See Mark 9:12 (καὶ πῶς γέγραπται ἐπὶ τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἵνα πολλὰ πάθῃ καὶ ἐξουδενηθῇ;); 14:21 (ὅτι ὁ µὲν υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ὑπάγει καθὼς γέγραπται περὶ αὐτοῦ); 14:49 (καὶ οὐκ ἐκρατήσατέ µε· ἀλλ᾽ ἵνα πληρωθῶσιν αἱ γραφαί). 91 92

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death of Jesus is instrumental in the Isaianic βασιλεία. In a sense, it is Mark’s scriptural key to the passion as εὐαγγέλιον. (c) To further underline the role of Zechariah in Mark, the number of evocations of Zechariah in Mark’s Jerusalem section has grown considerably in recent research, from the traditional acceptance of echoes of the humble king on his colt in Mark 11:1–10 and the “blood of the covenant” in Mark 14:24,96 to a string of echoes in Mark 14:24–2797 as well as in Mark 13.98 While the judgment of the particulars may differ, the Zecharian dress of Mark’s passion narrative is distinct,99 as is the identification of Jesus with the shepherd of Israel, on the recurring notions in Zechariah 9–14.100 (d) The final way in which Mark’s use of Zech 13:7 is emphasized as an important key to his understanding of Jesus’s death is seen by the way in which he understands the shepherd of Zech 13:7 as a positive figure against what seems to have been the prevailing Jewish interpretation in late Second Temple Jewish texts. At the same time, Mark’s interpretation of the tradition reveals the agent behind Jesus’s death. Looking at the role of the shepherds in Zechariah in general and 13:7 in particular, we stumble across a real crux interpretum101 with little agreement among commentators.102 While the kingly trajectory is clear, including both the re-establishment of the Davidic kingdom and Yahweh as king himself,103 the question is which role the shepherd(s) play in Zechariah.104 Upon an instructive discussion of the problems, Maarten J. J. Menken concludes that the meaning of Zech 13:7 “is not very obvious, just as many things in Zechariah 9–14 are enigmatic.”105 Crucially, is the stricken shepherd an example of a “worthless shepherd” (‫ר ִֹﬠי ָהֱאִליל‬, 11:17), who abandons the sheep in need, or is he to be equated with the one “pierced” (‫דקר‬, 12:10), who is instrumental in the re-establishment of the Davidic kingdom? That one particular shepherd is in sight, who is described as “my associate” (‫ֲﬠִמיִתי‬, 13:7), is clear from the repeated singular “shepherd.” This seems ––––––––––––––––– See Zech 9:9 and 9:11. See, e.g., Marcus, Way of the Lord, 154–64. 98 See most recently Sloan, Mark 13. 99 See, e.g., Sloan, Mark 13, 57–88. 100 See Mark 6:34 and Zech 10:1–3; 11:4–17; 13:7. 101 See Meyers and Meyers, Zechariah 9–14, 385. 102 For a research overview, see Rikki E. Watts, “Mark,” in Commentary on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament, ed. G. K. Beale and D. A. Carson (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 232. 103 See Zech 9:9–10 and 14:1–21, which intercalate the various prophecies in Zech 9–14 with a description of Yahweh as a kingly warrior in between which there is a vision of the re-establishment of “the house of David” in Zech 12:8–13:1, see further Marcus, Way of the Lord, 156–57. 104 See the discussion in Meyers and Meyers, Zechariah 9–14, 250–52, 385–86. 105 Maarten J. J. Menken, “Striking the Shepherd: Early Christian Versions and Interpretations of Zechariah 13,7,” Bib 92.1 (2011): 40. 96 97

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intentionally changed in the Septuagint that reads plural (τοὺς ποιµένας) rather than singular in 13:7 MT, which excludes a notion of a ‘suffering servant’ and suggests a negative interpretation of the shepherds as bad kings and rulers.106 The same may be the case with the for our purposes most pertinent citation of Zech 13:7 in late Second Temple Jewish literature,107 the one in the CD B XIX, 7–9. While preserving the singular construction of the Masoretic Text, and while a number of researchers for this reason leave it as an open questions if the shepherd is to be identified with the Teacher of Righteousness or some wicked leader,108 I agree with Sloan that the shepherd “is evidently not a positive figure”109 since he is explicitly referred to as an example of those who “despise the commandments and the rules” (‫המאסים במצות ובחקים‬, CD B XIX, 5–6), and since he is obviously neither the Messiah of Aaron or the Messiah of Israel referred to immediately after (CD B XIX, 10–11). Compared to these negative understandings of the priestly authorities prevalent in late Second Temple texts, Mark’s interpretation of Zech 13:7 unveils a specific creativity, which Menken rightfully describes as “a Christian ad hoc creation, meant to introduce God acting in the death of Jesus.”110 This is seen, on the one hand, by a reversal of the Septuagint’s plural construction (πατάξατε τοὺς ποιµένας) to the Masoretic singular (‫)ַהְך ֶאת־ָהר ֶֹﬠה‬, and most importantly, on the other hand, by a change from the Masoretic imperative in second singular directed towards the sword to the first person singular future πατάξω – “I will strike.” In doing so, the sword as the executing part is removed. Instead – as if it were a crime scene – Mark unveils God as the one holding the ‘smoking gun’ in his hand, being the one who ‘pulled the trigger’ and is ultimately responsible for the death of Jesus. That God’s striking of Jesus leads to kingly victory is suggested in this instance by two factors. Internally, as emphasized particularly by Marcus,111 the near context in Mark 14:24–28 is replete with echoes of king, war, and victory such as the notion of the βασιλεία in 14:25, the warrior imagery hidden in the notion of προάγειν as a general in 14:28, besides the entire notion of a post-resurrectional victory parade towards Galilee in the same verse. Externally, the only two places in the Hebrew Bible in which God strikes a person not to eradicate but to vindicate are the suffering servant of Isa 53:4 and king David in Ps 69:27 (68:27 LXX), both of whom see kingly

––––––––––––––––– Menken suggests that the decisive negative portrayal of Israel’s “shepherds” might stem from the popular resistance against the ruling Hellenized leadership of Jerusalem in the period leading up to the Maccabean rebellion, see Menken, “Striking the Shepherd,” 44. 107 See, e.g., Menken, “Striking the Shepherd,” 41–44; Sloan, Mark 13, 37–56. 108 See, e.g., Menken, “Striking the Shepherd,” 41; Watts, “Mark,” 232–33. 109 Sloan, Mark 13, 46. 110 Menken, “Striking the Shepherd,” 58. 111 See Marcus, Way of the Lord, 154–58. 106

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victory after suffering.112 In sum, the ‘stricken shepherd’ saying is one of the clearest examples of what throughout this investigation have been labelled the Markan Leistung of intimately intertwining suffering death and kingly victory. Below, in Section 6.3.5, it will be discussed if Mark intends this interpretation of Zech 13:7 to reveal traits of atonement theology as well. Here, it suffices to emphasize how Mark’s only stated scriptural citation works to present Jesus’s ensuing death as having God as subject and serving a kingly, victorious purpose as evident from the stated direct agency, the post-resurrectional meeting in Galilee, and the kingly theme present in Mark’s near context as well as Zechariah 9–14.113 6.2.4 The Cross of Coronation Focussing now on Mark’s cross scene, we shall discuss three ways in which Mark presents Jesus’s crucifixion as a scene of coronation: First, by looking at the content and role of the titulus (ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων), second, by outlining the number of echoes and evocations of Psalms of David, and, third, by discussing various proposals for understanding the rationale behind crucifixion in Roman tradition as connected to kingly parody. (1) For an understanding of Jesus’s death in Mark as a kingly coronation, it is of central importance to clarify if the sixfold βασιλεύς designation in Mark 15 reflects the Markan position. Though Bernardo Cho is correct in stating that this designation “occurs on the lips of almost everyone interacting with Jesus at the crucifixion,”114 Malbon is equally correct in pointing out that Pilate, the soldiers, the chief priests, the scribes, and the bystanders “do so in derision.”115 The question is thus if the mockery of Jesus as ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων is meant to falsify the statement by unreliable characters, or if it is precisely the vehicle through which Mark brings his central plot to the fore. Considering the following, the latter position is to be accepted: (a) The acceptance of Jesus as βασιλεύς has been prepared by Mark, as we have seen in detail in the two preceding paragraphs dealing with Mark 11–14. In reality, the kingly trajectory in Mark goes way beyond the passion, as has become evident in Chapter 4 and Chapter 5. It would be tedious to recount the ––––––––––––––––– 112 As outlined by Menken, various forms of the same Hebrew root “to strike” ( ‫ )נכה‬is used in Zech 13:7, Ps 69:27, and Isa 53:4 just as there is a near verbatim concurrence between Ps 68:27 LXX (ὃν σὺ ἐπάταξας) and Mark 14:27 (πατάξω τὸν ποιµένα), see Menken, “Striking the Shepherd,” 46–47. For others explaining Mark’s move to direct agency as inspired by Isa 53, see Marcus, Way of the Lord, 162. 113 A further indication of the kingly evocations in Mark 14:27 may be found in the use of the notion of ‘Israel’s shepherds’ as a circumscription for Israel’s kings and rulers as evidenced, for example, in Tg. Zech., which consistently translates the various notions of “shepherd” ( ‫ )רוֶֹﬠ ה‬with “king” ( ‫)ַמ ַלך‬, see further the discussion in ArBib vol. 14, 208 n. 12. 114 Cho, Royal Messianism, 191. 115 Malbon, Mark’s Jesus, 119.

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material in detail here, but in mentioning the most important points emphasis should be given to the way in which the prologue immediately links the Χριστός designation to the Isaianic vision of Yahweh becoming king and re-establishing his reign afresh. Also, as discussed in Section 5.3.5, the somewhat odd scene of ὁ βασιλεὺς Ἡρῴδης is best understood as providing foil for the kingship of Jesus, a point corroborated by the multiple points of parallel between Jesus and John.116 The statement on excessive rulership in 10:42–45 bridges the foil of Antipas with the death of Jesus by preparing the reader to accept Jesus’s δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ as an example of perfect kingship. Besides all of this, it should not be forgotten, as pointed out by Niels Willert,117 that a kingdom needs a king. Describing ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων as a non-Markan position on Jesus will most obviously imply a removal of the bonds between Jesus’s ministry as understood by Mark and ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ. (b) The most important indication of βασιλεύς as representing the Markan position is provided by the statement of the high priests and scribes, who mock Jesus with the dual designation ὁ χριστὸς ὁ βασιλεὺς Ἰσραήλ (Mark 15:32). While Collins might be right in describing the latter as directed towards “nonJudeans” and the first expressing “an inner-Jewish perspective,”118 the important point is that the Markan trajectory just outlined clearly loads the christological designation in Mark with kingly connotations which in this statement of 15:32 becomes fully articulated for the first time. In other words, to reject Jesus as “king” would be equivalent to rejecting him as “messiah” in the same way as the initial designation of Jesus as Χριστός (1:1) is followed by his preaching of ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ (1:15). The same kingly connotation is also present in the so-called future Son of Man sayings, not least in Mark 14:62, due to the citation of the Davidic Psalm 110 densely packed with kingly imagery. (c) Given that βασιλεύς is to be understood as one of Mark’s core statements on Jesus’s true identity, why is it then presented as part of a repeated pattern of mockery? Two explanations offer themselves on the basis of our discussion thus far. One is Mark’s efforts to present Jesus in light of certain traditions in the Hebrew Bible of the ridiculed righteous servant. The other is the permeating central idea of Markus, his Leistung, of presenting the εὐαγγέλιον as the intrinsic intertwinement of kingdom and cross. Precisely the resistance against this projection from a wide array of characters throughout the Gospel119 proves its central importance as the pinnacle point Mark is making. While there is another type of response to Jesus’s ‘kingly’ death on the cross in terms of the ––––––––––––––––– See especially Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 98–99. See Willert, Korsfæstede konge, 401–12. 118 Collins, Mark, 750, see Juel, Messiah and Temple, 50. 119 See the outline of characters resisting Jesus’s death in Earl S. Johnson, “Is Mark 15.39 the Key to Mark’s Christology?,” JSNT 31 (1987): 16. 116 117

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divine rejoinder in 15:38 and, perhaps, the Roman confession in 15:39,120 the mockery and irony serve as a strong rhetorical strategy through which Mark highlights and embosses the key point he is making, namely that Jesus on the cross is enthroned as ὁ χριστὸς ὁ βασιλεὺς Ἰσραήλ.121 It comes to expression in two ways: On the one hand, the growing resistance from the side of the disciples against Jesus’s death as instrumental to Jesus’s mission comes to its fulfilment in the crucifixion scene. Here James and John, who went to lengths to secure the advantage of sitting right and left, are lacking and the seats of honour in the δόξα of Jesus are ironically passed on to δύο λῃστάς, ἕνα ἐκ δεξιῶν καὶ ἕνα ἐξ εὐωνύµων αὐτοῦ (15:27).122 On the other hand, the repeated pattern of mockery of Jesus for his kingly-messianic aspirations almost becomes stereotypical with a number of recycled elements123 that combined provide a strong negative imprint of the Markan Jesus’s royal status. This is especially so due to the intended use of irony in what with Donald T. Juel may be labelled Mark’s “double-level narrative.”124 Throughout the four, possibly five scenes of mockery, the antagonists mock Jesus in ways that to the readers ironically confirm what they have been told already and thus know on a higher diegetic level: – The Sanhedrin’s mockery of Jesus as a prophet bears witness to Jesus being a prophet whose prophecy of Peter’s denial is being fulfilled at this exact moment (14:65, see 6:4; 14:30).125 – The soldiers’ clothing of Jesus for a kingly parade recalls not only Jesus’s preaching of the kingdom but also his heavenly clothing on the mountain and his prophecy of a majestic return ‘clothed in skies’ (15:16–20a, see 1:15; 9:3; 14:62). – The bystanders’ mockery of Jesus’s fatal relationship to the temple recalls Jesus’s function as a kind of interlocutor between heaven and earth besides possibly the congregational assembly ‘in Galilee’ (15:29–30, see 1:9–11; 14:28; 16:7). – The high priests and the scribes are intentionally and ironically unveiled as the most ignorant of the µυστήριον τῆς βασιλείας by demanding of Jesus to make a katabase from the cross “so that we may see and believe” (ἴδωµεν καὶ πιστεύσωµεν, 15:32), recalling the important Isaianic quotation in 4:12 ––––––––––––––––– See the discussion in Section 6.3.4. For a general introduction to mockery in the Greco-Roman world and in Mark, see Dietmar Neufeld, Mockery and Secretism in the Social World of Mark’s Gospel, LNTS 503 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014). 122 See the similar wording of 10:37 (εἷς σου ἐκ δεξιῶν καὶ εἷς ἐξ ἀριστερῶν); see also Collins, Mark, 748. 123 See the overview in Marcus, Mark 8–16, 1046; see also Juel, Messiah and Temple, 48. 124 Juel, Messiah and Temple, 47. 125 See Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 64. 120 121

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of the hindrance for τοῖς ἔξω to go from βλέπειν to ἰδεῖν.126 In this way, they blatantly reveal their ignorance of the Son of Man’s intention of giving his life ἀντὶ/ὑπὲρ πολλῶν (15:31–32, see 10:45; 14:24).127 – Finally, the bystanders’ misunderstanding of Jesus’s cry from the cross as a cry for Elijah may serve to prove that they do not understand that Elijah has already come in the form of John and are now prolonging his agony by offering him a refreshment (15:35–36, see 9:4–5, 11–13).128 In short, the “extreme proposal”129 of Malbon and others is made unlikely by the cumulative evidence of Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death as intentionally kingly. (2) The kingly reading of Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s crucifixion is substantiated, next, by the use of echoes and evocations besides one unmarked citation of and from important passages in the Hebrew Bible. This is an intensively researched area,130 and no consensus exists on which traditions from the Hebrew Bible Mark primarily relies upon131 or which evocations or echoes should be considered.132 However, focussing here specifically on the crucifixion in Mark 15, the most important scriptural evocation is the unmarked citation of Ps 22:2 in the so-called cry from the cross (Mark 15:34), which is the central part in the discussion of the passio iusti motif along with other more subtle references to psalms of ‘the suffering righteous one.’ Another point of discussion concerns possible references to Isaiah’s fourth Servant Song in the notion of παραδιδόναι (Mark 15:1, 10, 15), the reference to λῃστής (15:27), ––––––––––––––––– See Marcus, Mark 8–16, 1045, 1052. See Juel, Messiah and Temple, 48 128 While the ignorance of the bystanders of this knowledge is obvious and the scene thus ironic, the sincerity behind their offering of wine is disputed, see, e.g., Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 122–25; Cho, Royal Messianism, 197. 129 Botner, Son of David, 175. 130 See, in particular for Mark 15, Lothar Ruppert, Jesus als der leidende Gerechte? Der Weg Jesu im Lichte eines alt- und zwischentestamentlichen Motivs, SBS 59 (Stuttgart: KBW, 1972); Douglas J. Moo, The Old Testament in the Gospel Passion Narratives (Sheffield: Almond Press, 1983), 225–300; Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 125–35; Marcus, Way of the Lord, 172–98; Ahearne-Kroll, Psalms of Lament; Botner, Son of David, 182–88. 131 See the apt research summary by Kelli S. O’Brien, who outlines how various images of Jesus in Mark have been defended as the most important, such as the suffering servant, suffering righteous one, Messiah, Son of Man, and divine warrior, see O’Brien, The Use of Scripture, 14. 132 To my knowledge, the most comprehensive overview is provided in O’Brien, The Use of Scripture, 65–74, counting almost 270 suggested references, see further the detailed comparisons in the appendixes in O’Brien, The Use of Scripture, 203–89. For lesser comprehensive suggestions, see Moo, Passion Narratives, 285–86; Marcus, Way of the Lord, 174–75; Adela Yarbro Collins, “The Appropriation of the Psalms of Individual Lament by Mark,” in The Scripture in the Gospels, ed. C.M. Tuckett, BETL 131 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1997), 227 n. 21. 126 127

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besides a number of other features in Pilate’s interrogation. In the following, we shall focus on three issues – the passio iusti motif in general, the quotation of Psalm 22 in Mark, and the question of possible allusions to Isaiah 52–53 – which in combination will be presented as further examples of Mark’s thoroughgoing intertwinement of suffering and kingly vindication: (a) The passio iusti motif is surely the most discussed theory of Mark’s use of Scripture in connection with his explanation of the death of Jesus, not least due to the studies by Lothar Ruppert, published in the early 1970s.133 According to Ruppert, it is possible to detect “drei verschiedenen Entwicklungslinien,”134 developing the tradition of a righteous sufferer in the Book of Psalms in successive stages from the original wisdom orientation, focussing on individual suffering, preserved in the Septuagint, to an eschatological trajectory, represented for example by 1QHodayota X–XVI (= 2–8), to finally the “Endstadium”135 in which the eschatological vindication turned into apocalyptic speculation under influence of the martyr tradition from the period of Maccabean rebellion and the persecution of the Pharisees by Alexander Jannaeus. In this stadium, the suffering of the righteous turned into a “Dogma” providing “froher Heilsgewißhet.”136 Further, precisely the many references to the Psalms of the Righteous Sufferer in the four Gospels convinced Ruppert that the passio iusti motif was the primary key of explanation for the death of Jesus utilized in a pre-Markan passion narrative.137 While for obvious reasons no one denies the importance of the influence of certain psalms referring to suffering, Ruppert’s suggestion has been met with serious criticism. Collins, for instance, underlines the obvious obstacle that Jesus, unlike for instance Luke 23:47, is not labelled δίκαιος.138 While Ruppert acknowledges this obstacle, he nevertheless maintains his thesis also in the case of Mark with reference to an alleged dependence between Mark 14:55–64 and the most important proof for the Dogma of a passio iusti motif, Wis 2:12–20.139 Douglas Moo finds that the point of intersection between the passion narratives in the Gospels and Jewish texts from the second temple traditions only concerns words and ideas present in the psalms of the Hebrew Bible, which in

––––––––––––––––– 133 See Ruppert, Jesus als der leidende; Lothar Ruppert, Der leidende Gerechte und seine Feinde: Eine Wortfelduntersuchung (Trosberg: Echter, 1973). 134 Ruppert, Jesus als der leidende, 26, emphasis original. 135 Ruppert, Jesus als der leidende, 27. 136 Ruppert, Jesus als der leidende, 28. 137 See Ruppert, Jesus als der leidende, 42–71. 138 See Collins, “Appropriation,” 231 n. 42. 139 See Ruppert, Jesus als der leidende, 56. According to Ruppert, Mark inherited this scene from the so-called Urpassion to which he added his own emphasis on the Son of Man and Son of God.

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itself negates the need for an elaborate trajectory towards a fixed Dogma.140 In the most detailed study of the Psalms of the Righteous Sufferer in recent times, Stephen Ahearne-Kroll likewise discards Ruppert’s model as a “simplistic picture”141 and instead reverts to the common notion of these psalms as Davidic as the point of importance to Mark rather than a generic notion of righteous suffering as the product of Torah observance or the like. Following this line of reasoning, the allusions and evocations of a Davidic passio iusti motif by Mark in places like 14:18,142 14:34,143 and 15:36,144 besides most obviously 15:34, become another argument for a kingly styled Davidic Jesus in Mark throughout the passion narrative. (b) This leads to the most important question to discuss for our purposes, namely if Jesus’s last words on the cross in 15:34 should be understood as “a cry of dereliction or of victory”145 framed by and embedded within a kingly notion of vindication. The answer to this question hinges largely upon one’s understanding of how Psalm 22 is used by Mark; if only the cry is in sight or if the entire psalm including the ultimate vindication is evoked by Mark. This is the topic of Holly J. Carey’s dedicated study of Mark 15:34. Carey seeks to overcome the polarization between the two readings that she labels the ‘atomistic’ and ‘contextual’ reading respectively by arguing that it is precisely the tension between the two that constitutes the point of Mark’s “passion and resurrection narrative.”146 Being a problem of old, it is easy to find well-argued cases for the ‘atomistic’ view that emphasizes the suffering and abandonment as the crucial point147 as well as cases for the opposite.148 The promising impetus in Carey’s study is the way in which it comes to terms with the intrinsic intertwinement between suffering and vindication in Mark, or kingdom and cross, which has been detected throughout this study. In essence, to the εὐαγγέλιον Mark is presenting, it is of equal importance to emphasize the lamenting cry of the cited part of Psalm 22, the cry of v. 2, and the frame of vindication with which this citation comes (see 21:22–32 LXX). ––––––––––––––––– 140 See Moo, Passion Narratives, 293. See also the discussion in O’Brien, The Use of Scripture, 90, showing that the overlap in wording between Wis 2:12–20; 5:1–7 only concerns common words and ideas. 141 Ahearne-Kroll, Psalms of Lament, 14. 142 See Ps 40:10 LXX (ὁ ἐσθίων ἄρτους µου). 143 See Ps 41:6 LXX (τί περίλυπος εἶ ψυχή). 144 See Ps 68:22 LXX (εἰς τὴν δίψαν µου ἐπότισάν µε ὄξος). 145 Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 127. 146 See Carey, Jesus’ Cry, 2–3. 147 See, e.g., Cranfield, Mark, 458; Hooker, Mark, 376; Gundry, Mark, 966–67; France, Gospel of Mark, 652–53; Boring, Mark, 430. 148 See, e.g., Dodd, Scriptures, 97; Pesch, Markusevangelium 2. Teil, 494–95; Gnilka, Markus 8,27–16,20, 321–22; Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 132–35; Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 451; Botner, Son of David, 184–88.

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While the former is obvious, the latter needs substantiation if it is to be accepted that Jesus’s cry from the cross is given such a profound framework of vindication that it morphs into “the cry of the Messiah King”149 through which Jesus “sich mit dem Beter von Ps 22 identifiziert und seinen Tod als Einbruch der βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ verkündet.”150 Several features in the text indicate that such a framework of vindication is indeed at work in Mark and should be allowed to work in tandem with the cry of dereliction as a key to Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον: First, as generally agreed, there are a number of allusions to Psalm 22 in Mark’s cross scene pointing towards the larger context of the psalm.151 Further, without necessarily accepting Hartmut Gese’s theory of Psalm 22 as a liturgical psalm of the ‫ תּוֹ ָדה‬sacrifice,152 his characterization of the psalm as expressing “eine bestimmte apokalyptische Theologie” in which precisely the salvation in the moment of death fear is “die Einbruchsstelle der βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ” is corroborated by the constant alternating between fear and thrust in the psalm.153 Third, the eschatological framework is signalled by the immediately preceding reference to midday darkness in Mark 15:33, which evokes the staging of ‫יוֹם ְיה ָוה‬/ἡ ἡµέρα τοῦ κυρίου in Amos 8:9.154 Fourth, as generally accepted, Jesus’s death scene in Mark is clearly demarcated by the initial καί γενοµένης, running until the women watching only ἀπὸ µακρόθεν. This leaves us with a string of events in Mark 15:33–39 in which the ultimate expression of the centurion – ἀληθῶς οὗτος ὁ ἄνθρωπος υἱὸς θεοῦ ἦν – in the light of the Roman titulus comes with royal connotations, only now not uttered in mockery but in response to the apocalyptic scenario. Finally, the kingdom theme is further emphasized in the following sequence introducing Joseph of Arimathea, who ἦν προσδεχόµενος τὴν βασιλείαν τοῦ θεοῦ (15:43), which in Mark’s narrative serves as a hinge between Jesus’s own expectation of his death as kingly vindication (Mark 14:24–25) and the ensuing empty tomb (Mark 16:1–8). These different impulses in combination explain why commentators struggle with finding firm footing in the tension between Mark’s choice of citing ––––––––––––––––– Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 133, emphasis original. Hartmut Gese, Vom Sinai zum Zion: Alttestamentliche Beiträge zur biblischen Theologie, BEvT 64 (Munich: Kaiser, 1974), 196. 151 See, e.g., the overviews in Marcus, Way of the Lord, 182; Carey, Jesus’ Cry, 187; Botner, Son of David, 185. 152 See Gese, Vom Sinai, 190–91. 153 See especially the reference in 22:29 (21:29 LXX) to ‫ַל יה ָו ה ַה ְמּ לוָּכ ה‬/τοῦ κυρίου ἡ βασιλεία besides various expressions of thrust in Yahweh’s deliverance, see Marcus, Way of the Lord, 181. 154 See, e.g., O’Brien, The Use of Scripture, 141–44. The allusion to Amos 8:9 is generally accepted by commentators. 149 150

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the lamenting cry of Psalm 22 even in punchy Aramaic alongside a Greek translation and the framework of ultimate, kingly vindication present in Psalm 22 as well as in Mark.155 With the death scene of 15:33–39 we are at the core of the Markan Leistung under investigation, and while the final conclusion, composite in character, awaits further investigation, it follows from this discussion that Mark’s unmarked citation of Ps 22:2 at one and the same time evokes a notion of despair and ultimate, kingly vindication. According to this interpretation, the cry of dereliction is a miniature demonstration of Mark’s primary contestation that the kingdom is inaugurated through the suffering and death of Jesus. Even the lamenting cry has a kingly halo in the Markan night.156 (c) As already highlighted and further discussed below,157 it is contested if an evocation of Isaiah 52–53 is present in Mark’s passion story. It is a difficult question and one that the tradition has sought to clarify by a quotation of Isa 53:12 in Mark 15:28 according to the majority reading. The important point here for our purposes is that if an evocation is accepted, it comes with the same intertwined notion of suffering and vindication as the passio iusti motif.158 As emphasized in Chapter 3,159 the suffering of the servant is intercalated with notions of his exaltation as evident in the Septuagint’s initial οὕτως θαυµάσονται ἔθνη πολλὰ ἐπ᾽ αὐτῷ (Isa 52:15 LXX) and concluding δεῖξαι αὐτῷ φῶς … διὰ τοῦτο αὐτὸς κληρονοµήσει πολλοὺς καὶ τῶν ἰσχυρῶν µεριεῖ σκῦλα (Isa 53:11–12 LXX). One may indeed with Ruppert refer to this duality as passio et glorificatio iusti.160 To sum up, the scripturalization at work in Mark’s cross scene substantiates the argument I am presenting, that Mark presents Jesus’s death as a kingly coronation in an ‘appropriated’ manner. The citation of Psalm 22 and the entire flow of the scene in Mark from vv. 33–39 in essence function as a miniature of his presentation of Jesus and his insistence of the intertwinement of kingdom and cross. ––––––––––––––––– Compare for instance two otherwise closely related readings of Mark’s Davidic presentation of Jesus by Ahearne-Kroll and Botner. While Ahearne-Kroll emphasizes the suffering and horror of Jesus’s death and warns us against understanding the cry of dereliction as a “meaningless stepping-stone along a path that has nothing to do with suffering in the end” (Ahearne-Kroll, Psalms of Lament, 218), Botner concludes that “the entire scene presupposes Jesus’s resurrection” (Botner, Son of David, 187). 156 Of the other suggested psalms of lament, especially the evocation in Ps 69 (68 LXX) should be mentioned as another instance of the combination of suffering and vindication, see, e.g., Marcus, “Jewish War,” 183–84; Ahearne-Kroll, Psalms of Lament, 74–77; O’Brien, The Use of Scripture, 144–47. 157 See Sections 6.1.2 and 6.3.1. 158 For this reason, Ruppert suggests “einen deutlichen Bezug zum Motiv vom ’leidenden Gerechten’” (Ruppert, Jesus als der leidende, 19); see also the schematic overview in Marcus, Way of the Lord, 190. 159 See Section 3.3.3. 160 See Ruppert, Jesus als der leidende, 20. 155

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(3) Finally, under the rubric of cross and coronation, I will draw attention to some of the insights provided by the surge of studies in Roman crucifixion in recent research161 by investigating two issues pertinent to our question of Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death as kingly, namely if parts of the rationale behind the Roman punishment of crucifixion was shame and humiliation and if the Romans to this end framed crucifixion as a kind of staged performance during which the perpetrator was ‘enthroned’ on the cross. In various shades, the latter has been suggested by a number of scholars as a background for understanding some of the peculiar details in Mark’s crucifixion scene such as the mockery of the soldiers by dressing Jesus in kingly robes (15:16–20), the procession to Golgotha (15:21–22), the naked suspension (15:24), the titulus (15:26), and the hour-long suspension and death battle (15:33–39). These suggestions will be discussed by, first, looking at the role of shame, humiliation, and deterrence as the rationale behind Roman crucifixion before, second, evaluating the specific proposals of how Roman crucifixion was ‘enacted’ in order to shame and humiliate. Both elements serve to gain perspective on how Jesus’s death by crucifixion is used by Mark in his presentation of Jesus. (a) Beginning with the role of shame in Roman crucifixion, it should be noted that Martin Hengel and Heinz-Wolfgang Kuhn arrived at partly different conclusions in the two standard introductions to crucifixion, which for decades served the New Testament guild. In Hengel’s view, crucifixion served as the most severe punishment (summum supplicum) in Roman law due to its “allegedly supreme efficacy as a deterrent,” as an “uttermost humiliation” of the criminal being displayed publicly, naked at a prominent place. In fact, the sheer cruelty of the cross was thought as needed in order to uphold “the authority of the state and existing law and order.”162 To Hengel, this explains Paul’s characterization of crucifixion as µωρία and the characterization in the Letter to the Hebrews as αἰσχύνη,163 leaving ὁ λόγος ὁ τοῦ σταυροῦ as a message that “ran counter not only to Roman political thinking, but to the whole ethos of religion in ancient times and in particular to the ideas of God held by educated ––––––––––––––––– 161 See especially David W. Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions of Crucifixion (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008; repr., Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010); Gunnar Samuelsson, Crucifixion in Antiquity: An Inquiry Into the Background and Significance of the New Testament Terminology of Crucifixion, WUNT 310 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011); John Granger Cook, Crucifixion in the Mediterranean World, 2nd ed., WUNT 327 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019). See also the very helpful collection of texts and artefacts in David W. Chapman and Eckhard J. Schnabel, The Trial and Crucifixion of Jesus: Texts and Commentary (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015; repr., Peabody, MA: Henrickson, 2019). 162 Martin Hengel, Crucifixion: In the Ancient World and the Folly of the Message of the Cross (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977), 87. 163 1 Cor 1:18, 21, 23; and Heb 12:2. See also Heb 6:6 (παραδειγµατίζειν); 11:26; and 13:13 (ὀνειδισµός).

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people.”164 In response, Kuhn critically remarks that Hengel is simplifying the picture, stressing that the perspective of shame is not consistently a part of Roman descriptions of crucifixion just as it is not mentioned in the Gospels where Jesus dies surprisingly quickly and no extraordinary brutality is connected to the soldiers’ treatment of Jesus.165 Recently, this issue has been surveyed afresh by John Granger Cook, who convincingly argues that while there is not enough evidence to characterize crucifixion as summum supplicum in a legal sense, there is ample evidence for an ancient understanding of crucifixion as utmost humiliating and shameful and even intentionally designed to be so through a variety of means available in the execution of the punishment.166 To recapitulate briefly, all known ancient non-Christian depictions of crucifixion vividly depict the despicable and shameful nature of crucifixion,167 just as a variety of contemporary Roman and Jewish sources elaborate on the cruelty and pain of crucifixion to the degree of having pity for the victims,168 to which may also be added how a number of attending circumstances could be brought into play in order to maximize the public nature and effect of the shame involved in crucifixion, such as public torture in the forum, cross-bearing of the patibulum, execution of relatives in front of the crucified, and the denial of burial of the corpse, leaving it as prey for scavengers.169 Looking specifically at Mark, Kuhn does not fully do justice ––––––––––––––––– Hengel, Crucifixion, 5. See Heinz-Wolfgang Kuhn, “Die Kreuzesstrafe während der frühen Kaiserzeit: Ihre Wirklichkeit und Wertung in der Umwelt des Urchristentums,” ANRW 25.1:757–8. 166 See Cook, Crucifixion, 417–49. 167 See (a) the Alexamenos graffiti depicting Alexamenos worshipping an ass; (b) the Puteoli graffiti (Alkimilla Graffito) depicting a naked, possibly severely flogged, crucified person with a facial expression indicating a scream; (c) the ‘Arieti’ Tomb painting showing an outstretched man attached to a patibulum; (d) the inscription from the Sabian baths in Pompeii reading in cruce figarus, that is, “get fixed/nailed to the cross,” possibly to be understood as a curse; (e) the magical gemstone from the British Museum showing a naked man with outspread legs, which despite the semi-orthodox Christian inscription may be a pre-Christian stock image of crucifixion, see Cook, Crucifixion, 454–61; Roy D. Kotansky, “The Magic ‘Crucifixion Gem’ in the British Museum,” GRBS 57 (2017): 631–59. 168 See, e.g., (a) Cicero’s colourful description of the Sicilian proconsul Gaius Verres’s execution of the Roman citizen Publius Gavius who he had beaten with rods, flogged, and burned with hot metal, among other things, publicly in the forum before he was “lifted on a cross” (in crucem tolleretur, Verr. 2.5.168), suffering the “most extreme punishment of slaves” (servitutis extremo summoque supplicio, 2.5.169); (b) Seneca the Younger’s vivid description of the slow and painful death, “limb by limb” (Ep. 101.14); (c) Ps. Quintillian’s reflection on the public nature of crucifixion when performed at “the most frequented roads” (celeberrimae … viae) with the greatest amount of people on them in order to afflict this type of punishment ad exemplum (Decl. 274.13). 169 See, e.g., John Granger Cook, “Envisioning Crucifixion: Light from Several Inscriptions and the Palatine Graffito,” NovT 50 (2008): 262–85; Sverre Bøe, Cross-Bearing in Luke, WUNT 2/278 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 50–78; John Granger Cook, 164 165

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to Mark’s narrative when he claims that the Gospels do not narrate Jesus’s crucifixion “unter dem besonderen Gesichtspunkt der Grausamkeit” since Jesus dies quickly, to the surprise of Pilate (Mark 15:44). While the scripturalization of the event is clearly the key to Mark’s presentation, I find, pace Kuhn, that the number of crucifixion details combined do serve to evoke the shame and horror of crucifixion, such as the references to mocking (ἐµπαίζειν, 10:34; 15:20, 31), spitting (ἐµπτύειν, 10:34; 14:65; 15:19), flogging (µαστιγοῦν, φραγελλοῦν 10:34; 15:15), and the events taking place while Jesus is suspended.170 As suggested by Mark Goodacre, the systemized shaming involved in Roman crucifixion helps a modern reader to appreciate how “preposterous” Mark’s suggestion of the cross as Jesus’s place of coronation may have sounded to an ancient ear.171 (b) Precisely the various time-consuming and costly ways of public humiliation involved in crucifixion have prompted researchers to suggest a higher purpose or rationale behind this way of executing. Despite internal disagreements, the proposed suggestions centre on the idea of crucifixion as a staged performance mirroring exaltation and ignominy in minute details. In relation to our question of Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death as kingly, the question is if the Roman designation of Jesus as βασιλεύς was only one part of a wider mimetic ‘elevation’ of Jesus as a king, the offence of a usurping λῃστής (15:27). In an article from 1995, such a reading of Mark 15 was proposed by T. E. Schmidt, who suggested that Mark employs “double meaning”172 in the crucifixion narrative to convey not only scriptural fulfilment but also an exaltation of Jesus by turning the crucifixion of Jesus into an inverted Roman triumphal parade. According to Schmidt, this is the only way of explaining an array of peculiar and otherwise unintelligible details in Mark’s story, such as the gathering of the whole guard (15:16), as was the custom of the victorious general on the morning of his triumphal march;173 the ceremonial dressing in a purple coat and a ‘leafy’ crown in the same manner as the triumphant was dressed in the purple coat of Jupiter along with his golden wreath (15:17); the procession to Golgotha as the victorious parade in the streets of Rome “carrying” (φέρειν) ––––––––––––––––– “Crucifixion and Burial,” NTS 57 (2011): 193–213; Ruben Van Wingerden, “Carrying a Patibulum: A Reassessment of Non-Christian Latin Sources,” NTS 66 (2020): 443–53. 170 See similarly Jerome H. Neyrey, “Despising the Shame of the Cross: Honor and Shame in the Johannine Passion Narrative,” Semeia 68 (1994): 113–15. 171 Goodacre, “Scripturalization,” 36, see similarly Mark T. Finney, “Servile Supplicium: Shame and the Deuteronomic Curse: Crucifixion in Its Cultural Context,” BTB 43.3 (2013): 124–34 and not least John Granger Cook’s discussion of four pieces of evidences from Roman Campania that combined show how crucifixion was used as a public event of utmost humiliation, see John Granger Cook, “Crucifixion as Spectacle in Roman Campania,” NovT 54 (2012): 68–100. 172 Schmidt, “Crucifixion Narrative,” 1. 173 See for this and the following examples Schmidt, “Crucifixion Narrative,” 6–16.

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Jesus rather than dragging him (15:20–22); the evocation of the Capitoline hill in the translation of Golgotha where the Roman general would ascend the steps to the temple of Jupiter (κρανίον, 15:22); the refusal to drink the expensive myrrhed wine (ἐσµυρνισµένον οἶνον) as mimicking the general’s refusal to drink a cup of wine which was instead poured out on the alter or the sacrificial bull (15:23); the titulus as mimicking of the lictors in the procession carrying placards naming the conquered people (15:26); the pinpointing of Jesus as flanked by two rebels (λῃστάς) as “equivalent of those displayed on either side of an enthroned ruler”174 (15:27) and more. In a more recent article, Allan T. Georgia laments that the reading of the crucifixion on the background of the Roman triumph “failed to convince many,”175 which he seeks to correct by changing the focus from narrative parallels to “ritual movements, symbolic categories, and performative logic,”176 by which he means that Mark’s anti-imperial sentiments turned him into “an eclectic bricolage,”177 who borrowed the logic and language of Rome’s preeminent language of power, the triumphal parade, in order to neutralize it from within. This will explain why some researchers find that it is Mark’s description of Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem that parallels the Roman triumph178 and others the crucifixion. In the deep background of Mark, “something is going on here that models itself after Roman displays of power,”179 but we do not possess a precise knowledge of the minute details of the Roman triumph with which to work out a linear parallel.180 This is also not needed to appreciate how the Roman triumph served to stage a spectacle that served as a “re-enactment”181 of the victory making use of a “symbolic polyvalence”182 in its choreography. A central piece, however, was the display of besieged monarchs or their relatives in the parade before they were executed in a manner of repeating the victory from the battlefield by “ritual doubling”183 and thereby displaying its hegemony. Within this world of Roman power language, Georgia finds Schmidt’s “optimistic reading”184 counter-productive and instead argues that ––––––––––––––––– Schmidt, “Crucifixion Narrative,” 15. Allan T. Georgia, “Translating the Triumph: Reading Mark’s Crucifixion Narrative Against a Roman Ritual Power,” JSNT 36.1 (2013): 18. A. Collins may serve as an example hereof when she labels Schmidt’s proposal as “far-fetched” (Collins, Mark, 725). 176 Georgia, “Translating the Triumph,” 18. 177 Georgia, “Translating the Triumph,” 18. 178 See, e.g., Catchpole, “‘Triumphal’ Entry”; Duff, “March of the Divine Warrior”; Brent Kinman, “Jesus’ ‘Triumphal Entry’ in the Light of Pilate’s,” NTS 40 (1994): 442–48. 179 Georgia, “Translating the Triumph,” 22. 180 Georgia is in this evaluation building on Mary Beard, The Roman Triumph (Boston: Harvard University Press, 2007). 181 Georgia, “Translating the Triumph,” 23. 182 Georgia, “Translating the Triumph,” 24. 183 Georgia, “Translating the Triumph,” 25. 184 Georgia, “Translating the Triumph,” 29. 174 175

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the important point is how Mark, through another textual doubling, turns “despair into an interpretative innovation”185 by having the Roman centurion confirming the hegemony of Jesus, thereby effectively putting the Roman power language into checkmate from within. Finally, a related but somewhat different reading of Mark’s crucifixion scene has been put forward by Marcus.186 Rather than arguing for an evocation of the Roman triumph on the narrative or symbolic level, Marcus argues a case for crucifixion as parodic exaltation as part of a wider scheme of Roman punishments as mimetic in nature. The rebel’s or slave’s bid for ‘kingly’ elevation and uplifting was mimetically matched by the enthronement and uplifting on the cross. While acknowledging that the ‘uplifting’ on a cross maximized the visibility of crucifixion and thereby its deterrent power, Marcus amasses a number of Roman texts to prove how crucifixion was purposefully designed “to mimic, parody, and puncture the pretensions of insubordinate transgressors by displaying a deliberately horrible mirror of their self-elevation.”187 This also explains the at times macabre instances of talionic punishments in Roman law and tradition by which mimesis was the logic behind the chosen punishment for certain offenses.188 Applying this understanding to Mark’s text brings Marcus to much the same conclusion as Schmidt and Georgia. The intentional irony from the side of Mark turns the story on its head by ‘mocking the mockery’ and ‘reversing the reversal,’ using the Roman parody to show how true kingship is revealed at the very moment the Romans sought to negate it. In particular, Marcus argues for an intended conflation of kingly enthronement with the uplifting to the cross. Marcus refers to the fact that the term sedile could be used for a royal chair by referring to an instance in Virgil, besides also Dio Chrystostom’s description of the Sacian feast of the Persians during which prisoners were sat on a king’s throne and given royal powers for a time before being executed.189 In view of this, the inscription on the cross of Jesus was not simply intended to indicate the charge but “to continue a mockery that was intrinsic to the process of crucifixion,” reflecting “a common understanding of crucifixion as enthronement.”190 To sum up, Roman crucifixion was a polyvalent means of execution, putting the deep-seated system of honour and shame on a rack. There is, as argued in ––––––––––––––––– Georgia, “Translating the Triumph,” 34. See Joel Marcus, “Crucifixion as Parodic Exaltation,” JBL 125.1 (2006): 73–87. 187 Marcus, “Crucifixion,” 78. Marcus for instance refers to a crucifixion under Galba during which a high-ranking Roman official was crucified on an extraordinarily high and white painted cross to match the victim’s pretension, see Marcus, “Crucifixion,” 79, citing Suetonius, Galb. 9.1. 188 See Marcus, “Crucifixion,” 80–82. 189 See Marcus, “Crucifixion,” 84. 190 Marcus, “Crucifixion,” 83–84. 185 186

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the discussion of Mark’s provenance,191 no need to posit a specific setting of the narrative to make this Roman tradition known or relevant to Mark’s readers. In the light of this, I suggest that one of the ways in which Mark’s narrative embosses its main point or even the Leistung of the cross as a true coronation is to tap into the mimetic design of Roman crucifixion as a public spectacle with kingly connotations. Without minimizing the role of scripturalization, vibrations from the nature of Roman crucifixion are evident not only in the repeated and in total nine times use of the σταυρ- word group in combination with the seven times use of βασιλεύς, but also by the narrated disgust and misbelief from bystanders when Jesus is hanging on the stake (15:29–32), constituting a combined reflection of the incompatibility of cross and coronation, the exact point Mark is belabouring. This perspective of the cross is captured well by different recent readings, informed by postcolonial and/or anti-imperial perspectives.192 6.2.5 Resurrection and the Triumph of the Empty Grave In our investigation of the way in which Mark clothes his story of Jesus in Jerusalem in kingly robes, we shall lastly focus on the theme of resurrection and the ensuing parousia of Jesus as the ultimate consummation of victory of the εὐαγγέλιον (see 13:10; 14:9). In this connection it is worth recalling Martin Kähler’s dictum on the Synoptic Gospels as “Passionsgeschichten mit ausführlicher Einleitung,”193 stated in a passage that downplays the role of Jesus’s miraculous deeds on behalf of the crucifixion event. As we shall see now, this statement seems ideological, measured against not only the role of Jesus’s deeds in Mark’s Galilee section but likewise against the role of the resurrection as an intrinsic part of the centre of gravity in the so-called Passionsgeschichte that is in reality, together with Holly J. Carey, better labelled “passion-resurrection narrative,”194 were it not for the somewhat lead-footed nature of this epithet. We shall pinpoint the narrative role of the resurrection in Mark through the following three considerations: (1) First it should be recalled how the resurrection understood as the final consummation is communicated in Mark’s narrative from the very beginning. In brief, the quotation of Isa 40:3 in the prologue comes with a strong sense of the kingly intervention and display of power of Yahweh on his way to Zion, which is elaborated on by the epiphany and the rending of the heavens, leading to the scene in the wilderness that may have an allusion to the paradisiac reversal and, if not, is one of continued battle. When Jesus emerges as victorious ––––––––––––––––– See Section 2.5. See the discussion in Sections 1.1 and 2.4.5. 193 Martin Kähler, Der sogenannte historische Jesus und der geschichtliche, biblische Christus (Leipzig: Deirchert, 1892), 33. 194 Carey, Jesus’ Cry, 48. 191 192

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from this scene, he immediately begins to proclaim the εὐαγγέλιον of the approaching and imminent kingdom. In short, as argued in Chapter 4, the kingly theme is sounded so loudly in Mark’s prologue that the reader’s expectation is directed towards the consummation of kingdom from the first page. (2) Another way in which the intimate relationship between the ‘cross of coronation’ and the resurrection is put on display is through the way in which Mark, nearly without exception, always unites a reference to Jesus’s passion and death with a notion of his vindication and resurrection and thus kingly victory. It has often been noticed that the καὶ … ἀναστῆναι is a consistent element in the so-called passion predictions. This observation is far from exhaustive, however, and the following listing of thirteen places shows that the intrinsic intertwinement between suffering and resurrection is deep-seated in Mark before, during, and after the cross scene: – The notion of John’s παραδιδόναι in 1:14 is immediately intertwined with Jesus’s victorious proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία. – The first reference to Jesus’s death is found in the notion of the taking away (ἀπαρθῇ) of the bridegroom (2:20)195 and falls within a context that stresses the ultimate powerful newness (καινός/νέος) of Jesus’s ministry. – The narration of John’s alleged resurrection (ἐνεργεῖν/ἐγείρειν) and execution in 6:14–29 serves, as discussed in Section 5.3.5, as a detailed foreshadowing of Jesus’s own death and resurrection. – This brings us to the three passion and resurrection predictions in 8:31, 9:31, and 10:32–34, to which the conversation on the way down from the mountain in 9:9–13 should be added, though differing from the scheme of the first three. Two things should be noted in this connection. On the one hand, despite the variations, all four predictions combine a reference to Jesus’s suffering and death, presented with various details, with his resurrection.196 On the other hand, while the gravity of 8:31, 9:31, and 10:32–34 is pulling towards Jesus’s suffering and death, the opposite is the case in 9:9–13. – In passages on the persecution and suffering of the disciples, the reward in the resurrection is mentioned as well, with reference to the return of the Son of Man (8:38), the coming of the kingdom ἐν δυνάµει (9:1), the repayment ἑκατονταπλασίων (10:30), and the ultimate salvation for the one holding out εἰς τέλος (13:13). In particular, the request of James and John of the seats of honour ἐν τῇ δόξῃ of Jesus is not rejected per se but intertwined with the notion of drinking the same cup and going through the same baptism as Jesus, generally understood as a reference to his death.197 ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Collins, Mark, 199. For overviews, see, e.g., Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 95; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 604; Carey, Jesus’ Cry, 58. 197 See, e.g., Collins, Mark, 496–97. 195 196

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– Moving on to the intensified occupation with Jesus’s death in Mark’s Jerusalem section, the same intertwined reality is a pattern throughout, as seen first in 12:10 with the citation of Ps 118:22 of the stone rejected (ἀποδοκιµάζειν) by the builders, which has become the head stone (κεφαλή γωνίας). – The only explicit reference to Jesus’s αἷµα is followed by a reference to the consummation of the final cup of wine ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ τοῦ θεοῦ (14:25). – The most explicit scriptural explanation for the death of Jesus in 14:27 is followed by a reference to the coming post-resurrectional reunion in Galilee. – The humiliating interrogation by the high priests and the Sanhedrin has Jesus’s citation of Dan 7:13 and possibly Ps 110:1 in its centre in order to prove his coming vindication (Mark 14:62). – In a backwards manner, the mocking of the impaled Jesus in 15:32 as ὁ χριστὸς ὁ βασιλεὺς Ἰσραήλ comes with the Markan irony in that the reader knows both epithets to be true.198 – As outlined in our discussion of 15:34, the best way to understand the cry of dereliction is by paying attention to the entire sequence of events in 15:33–39 through the lens of which even this desperate cry is intimately intertwined with divine reaction in the temple and the confession of the centurion. – Also, the ultimate defeat entailed in the burial of Jesus’s body (πτῶµα) is intertwined with the notion of Joseph of Arimathea as one who was προσδεχόµενος τὴν βασιλείαν τοῦ θεοῦ (15:43). – Finally, and perhaps most tellingly, the fusion of death and resurrection is expressed conclusively in the resurrection scene by the statement of the figure speaking to the three women at the grave announcing the resurrection (ἠγέρθη) of the crucified one (Ἰησοῦν … τὸν Ναζαρηνὸν τὸν ἐσταυρωµένον, 16:6). The shining exception to this rule is the scene of Gethsemane in 14:32–52 in which Jesus’s anguish ἕως θανάτου (14:34) is not followed by an unequivocal reference to his redemption. The explanation to this anomaly may from a narrative standpoint be found in the three-times repeated notion of γρηγορεῖν in 14:34, 37–38, calling to the mind of the reader Jesus’s speech in the preceding chapter of the need of doing exactly that (13:34–35, 37) εἰς τέλος in order to be saved (13:13). This creates a narrative suspension that propels the reader forward in order to discover if Jesus will be able to endure and drink the content of ‘the cup’ εἰς τέλος. It likewise creates a theological suspension around Mark’s main theme, his Leistung, making the reader wonder what the divine

––––––––––––––––– 198

See the discussion above in Section 6.2.4.

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response will be to this seemingly unsolvable situation if the εὐαγγέλιον Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ is to prevail as victorious.199 (3) This finally brings us to Mark’s actual resurrection narrative which is in a league of its own when it comes to causing scholarly rumination.200 Two questions in particular have attracted considerably scholarly attention, the textcritical question of the various longer endings and the literary question of how to make sense of the anticlimactic final verse of the fearing, fleeing women. While there is widespread scholarly consensus that the known endings of Mark are later additions,201 the question of Mark 16:8 as Mark’s intended ending remains a conundrum, dividing scholars between those opting for a now lost ending,202 and those who for various reasons find it to be the perfect narrative and theological ending.203 Unfortunately, in this last group, opinions are sharply ––––––––––––––––– See further the discussion below in Sections 6.3.4 and 6.3.5. Perhaps with a slight amount of professional prejudice, Nineham labelled it “the greatest of all literary mysteries” (D. E. Nineham, The Gospel of St. Mark, PNTC [Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963], 439, see further Robert H. Stein, “The Ending of Mark,” BBR 18.1 [2008]: 79). 201 See, e.g., Metzger, Textual Commentary, 102–6; Kurt Aland, “Bemerkungen zum Schluss des Markusevangeliums,” in Neotestamentica et Semitica, ed. E. Earle Ellis and Max Wilcox (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1969), 157–80; Stein, “Ending of Mark,” 80–85; Travis B. Williams, “Bringing Method to the Madness: Examining the Style of the Longer Ending of Mark,” BBR 20.3 (2010): 397–418. There are, however, exceptions to this consensus, see most recently Nicholas P. Lunn, The Original Ending of Mark: A New Case for the Authenticity of Mark 16:9–20 (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2014). 202 While the majority or recent readings conclude that the shorter ending is original, strong cases for a lost ending have been presented as well, which according to E. Shively is a result of a shift towards understanding the genre of Mark as a biography necessitating a more complete closure, see Elizabeth E. Shively, “Recognizing Penguins: Audience Expectation, Cognitive Genre Theory, and the Ending of Mark’s Gospel,” CBQ 80 (2018): 277. For researchers adopting this position, see, e.g., Cranfield, Mark, 471; Gundry, Mark, 1009– 12; Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20, 540–41; Stein, “Ending of Mark”; N. Clayton Croy, The Mutilation of Mark’s Gospel (Nashville; New York: Abingdon, 2003). 203 See, e.g., Wellhausen, Marci, 146; Lightfoot, St. Mark, 96–97; Pesch, Markusevangelium 2. Teil, 540–41; Andreas Lindemann, “Die Osterbotschaft des Markus: Zur theologischen Interpretation von Mark 16. 1–8,” NTS 26.3 (1980): 317; Andrew T. Lincoln, “The Promise and the Failure: Mark 16:7, 8,” JBL 108.2 (1989): 283–300; J. David Hester, “Dramatic Inclusion: Irony and the Narrative Rhetoric of the Ending of Mark,” JSNT 57 (1995): 61–86; Joel Williams, “Literary Approaches to the End of Mark’s Gospel,” JETS 42.1 (1999): 35; Collins, Mark, 801; Larry W. Hurtado, “The Women, the Tomb, and the Climax of Mark,” in A Wandering Galilean: Essays in Honour of Sean Freyne, ed. Zuleika Rodgers, Margaret Daly-Denton and Anne Fitzpatrick McKinley, JSJSup 132 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 427–48; Alan H. Cadwallader, “The Hermeneutical Potential of the Multiple Endings of Mark’s Gospel,” Colloq 43.2 (2011): 129–46; Hans M. Moscicke, “Priests, Stones, Temples, and Women: A Narratival and Feminist Analysis of Mark’s Ending,” CBW 33 (2013): 98– 124; Jeffrey W. Aernie, “Cruciform Discipleship: The Narrative Function of the Women in Mark 15–16,” JBL 135.4 (2016): 779–97; Shively, “Recognizing Penguins”; Francis J. 199 200

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diverged on the role of the fleeing women caught by τρόµος καὶ ἔκστασις, seemingly disobedient to the instruction of the νεανίσκος. One group views the women as faithful servants or disciples, who responded with appropriate fear when confronted with a theophany and went to tell after all.204 Another group views the women as the final example of discipleship failure of how fear trumps faith.205 Several mediating positions have been presented as well, trying to strike a balance between the promise of renewed fellowship in Galilee of 16:7 with the notion of the fallible followers in 16:8.206 For our purposes, the main question is not so much to try and solve this enigma as it is to investigate if Mark’s resurrection narrative is part of what could be termed the central gravity of his εὐαγγέλιον. Has Mark brought his story to completion with the cross scene, lacking only a surprisingly short and somewhat disappointing tail, or is Mark 16:1–8 rather strongly integrated in the narrative flow of Mark, emphasizing the role of Jesus’s resurrection? For the following three reasons, the last position is to be preferred: (a) First, the sudden appearance of the three named women (Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James/Joses, and Salome) serves as an effective hinge between the scenes of cross, burial, and resurrection by their introduction as bystanders to the cross event, though gazing ἀπὸ µακρόθεν, and their knowledge of the location of the grave (15:47). As noted by several, this triad is likely purposely meant to mirror the hitherto important triad of Peter, John, and James (5:37; 9:2; 13:3; 14:33) and should be identified as true disciples, partaking in ––––––––––––––––– Moloney, “A Study of Mark 16:6–8: Hope in the Midst of Failure,” JGAR 2 (2018): 44–54; Tucker S. Ferda, “The Ending of Mark and the Faithfulness of God: An Apocalyptic Resolution to Mark 16:8,” Journal for Theological Interpretation 13.1 (2019): 36–52. For a collection of quotations exposing the different rationale behind the view of Mark 16:8 as the intended ending, see Stein, “Ending of Mark,” 86–88. For a recent contribution, using cognitive sciences to argue that Mark’s short ending is “a structural device intended to generate a predictive inference,” see Kelly R. Iverson, “A Postmodern Riddle? Gaps, Inferences and Mark’s Abrupt Ending,” JSNT 44.3 (2022): 357. 204 See, e.g., Lightfoot, St. Mark, 96–97; Pesch, Markusevangelium 2. Teil, 535–36; David R. Catchpole, “The Fearful Silence of the Women at the Tomb: A Study in Markan Theology,” JTSA 18, no. 3 (1977): 3–10; Gnilka, Markus 8,27–16,20, 344–45; Malbon, “Fallible Followers,” 40–46; Collins, Mark, 799–801; Hurtado, “Climax of Mark”; Moscicke, “Priests, Stones,” 119–23; Aernie, “Cruciform Discipleship.” 205 See, e.g., Johannes Schreiber, “Die Christologie des Markusevangeliums,” ZTK 58 (1961): 178–79; Joseph B. Tyson, “The Blindness of the Disciples in Mark,” JBL 80 (1961): 268; Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20, 538; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 1087; Moloney, “Mark 16:6–8,” 53. 206 See especially Lincoln, “Promise”; Shively, “Recognizing Penguins”; Ferda, “Ending of Mark.” For a research overview dividing the various readings into five subcategories, see Williams, “Literary Apporaches,” 26–35. For a more recent overview, see Ferda, “Ending of Mark,” 36–43.

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the messianic ministry of διακονεῖν (10:45).207 As stated by Malbon, “within the Markan story, only the women follow Jesus to the end.”208 (b) As highlighted by Larry Hurtado,209 two unique features of Mark in comparison with the other canonical Gospels serve to highlight the certainty of Jesus’s death in a way that darkens the death scene upon which Mark emphatically, almost redundantly, frames the resurrection narrative in the brightest of colours as taking place λίαν πρωῒ … ἀνατείλαντος τοῦ ἡλίου (16:2). Only Mark has Pilate double-checking the death of Jesus, asking if Jesus had been dead for some time/if he he had already died (πάλαι ἀπέθανεν, 15:44), just as Mark is alone in using “corpse” (πτῶµα, 15:45) rather than just “body” (σῶµα, 15:43) to describe Jesus’s post-crucifixion, pre-resurrection condition. These narrative elements may be said to create suspension between the cross and the resurrection, intertwining them by way of contrast. (c) This leads us to a number of closures of foreshadowed themes that combined highlight how deeply integrated the resurrection scene is in Mark’s narrative flow: Πτῶµα is used only in connection with John’s decapitated body (6:29) and Jesus’s crucified body (15:45), strengthening the overall impression of the narrative link between the two and the resurrection as the ultimate difference between John and his ὁ ἰσχυρότερος. The emphatic highlighting of the light and sun (16:2) may in the near context be seen as a counter description to the just as emphatically described darkness ἐφ᾽ ὅλην τὴν γῆν that initiates Jesus’s death battle (15:33), just as the notion of the young man being dressed in white (περιβεβληµένον στολὴν λευκήν, 16:5) creates a connection to the shining whiteness on the mountain (τὰ ἱµάτια αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο στίλβοντα λευκὰ λίαν, 9:3). This serves to intertwine the resurrection scene with the cross and the mountain scenes. As stressed by Hans Moscicke210 and to be discussed further below in Section 6.3.2, the three-times repeated notion of λίθος (15:46; 16:3–4) may bring Mark’s temple theme to its end, especially when considering the parallel structure of the male disciple’s amazement of the magnitude of the temple stones (13:1) with the female disciple’s amazement of the ditto of the grave stone (16:3). The description of the person in the grave as a νεανίσκος has attracted considerable attention in research.211 While this epithet may carry a reference to ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Malbon, “Fallible Followers,” 41; Hurtado, “Climax of Mark,” 429–31. Malbon, “Fallible Followers,” 42. 209 See Hurtado, “Climax of Mark,” 432–33. 210 See Moscicke, “Priests, Stones,” 106–11. 211 See, e.g., the various interpretations listed in Hester, “Dramatic Inclusion,” 78–79. The interpretative potential of the νεανίσκος leads Hester to suggest that Mark inserted this character as a ‘cipher’ with multiple meanings to be discovered by the reader in an interpretative ‘deciphering’ process. 207 208

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Jesus’s ministry as νέος (2:22), the only other use of this notion is found in the Gethsemane scene, describing a peculiar νεανίσκος character, who just as the νεανίσκος in the grave is introduced suddenly without warning (14:51–52). As outlined by Collins,212 the peculiarity of the νεανίσκος of Gethsemane has likewise spurred several interpretations, especially due to the ways in which, similarly to Jesus, he is seized and stripped (14:51–52//15:24). While the young man may in this way be understood as a disciple taking up his cross,213 I find it more forceful to highlight the contrast between his flight into the night to an unknown destiny and Jesus’s resurrection into the light.214 Looking at the νεανίσκος of the grave, we also find similarities with Jesus since the νεανίσκος is seated to the right (see 12:36, 14:62) and wearing a white robe (see 9:3). In essence, no matter how we construe the particular details, the two νεανίσκοι on each side of the crucifixion and the resurrection have their peculiar similarities with Jesus in common and may in this way be understood as highlighting the inseparable nature of cross and resurrection precisely.215 The notion of the νεανίσκος in the grave as καθήµενον ἐν τοῖς δεξιοῖς may also be of special significance due to Mark’s lack of resurrection appearances and thus alone in bringing an important closure to an occurring theme of Mark, namely the question of the places of honour to the right and left of Jesus (10:37//15:27) in combination with Jesus’s own enthronement ἐκ δεξιῶν (12:36; 14:62). Finally, the announcement in 16:6–7 by the νεανίσκος to the women creates such an overt hinge between the resurrection scene and the pre-cross passion story that one doubts any later scribe would ever have found it necessary to expand upon the closure of Mark’s narrative was it not for the final anticlimactic ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ. The announcement contains a statement on Jesus (16:6) and a message to the disciples (16:7). Concerning the latter, three recurring themes are finalized. First, we are informed that there is hope for the disciples, especially Peter, despite their flight and failure. The sweeping πάντες σκανδαλισθήσεσθε (14:27) and the narrated betrayal of Peter (14:54, 66–72) according to Mark do not disqualify them as µαθηταί. Second, whether or not the notion of Jesus going ahead or leading the disciples to Galilee denotes the

––––––––––––––––– See Collins, Mark, 688–93. See the description of the young man as being in συνακολουθεῖν (14:51). 214 See, e.g., Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 417, who emphasize the shame connected with nakedness. It is further possible with Lincoln to focus on the contrast between the two νεανίσκοι with the one of Gethsemane being “dressed for death” in a σινδών (14:51//15:46), while the νεανίσκος of the grave is “dressed as befits the new occasion of resurrection” (Lincoln, “Promise,” 293). 215 See also Collins, Mark, 795. 212 213

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parousia or a resurrection appearance,216 the repetition of this statement, a unique Markan feature, serves as another integration of cross and resurrection (14:28; 16:7). Third, as already argued in this section, some of the multiple uses of ὁρᾶν in Mark take on a deeper meaning of seeing in the Isaianic sense of understanding and making συνιέναι. This theme is decisively finalized with the promise of the Galilean reunion (αὐτὸν ὄψεσθε), which in the near context intrinsically intertwines cross and resurrection by referring back to a number of pivotal places in the preceding passion story, focused precisely on the recognition and understanding of Jesus’s true identity, such as: Jesus’s proclamation in front of the cross to the high priests and the Sanhedrin that they will see him enthroned (ὄψεσθε τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐκ δεξιῶν καθήµενον, 14:62); the mocking statement by the high priests and the scribes at the cross that Jesus should come down from the cross so that they will see and believe (ἵνα ἴδωµεν καὶ πιστεύσωµεν, 15:32); the notion by other bystanders at the cross to wait and see if Elijah comes (ἄφετε ἴδωµεν εἰ ἔρχεται Ἠλίας καθελεῖν αὐτόν, 15:36); and the centurion who, “after seeing this” (ἰδὼν δέ), proclaims Jesus’s sonship while standing at the other side of the cross (ὁ παρεστηκὼς ἐξ ἐναντίας αὐτοῦ, 15:39). Upon these multiangled perspectives on the positioning of Jesus on the cross, we finally, and in the Markan narrative this is really finally, return to the disciples, who ultimately are offered the leap from ὁρᾶν to συνιέναι by returning to Galilee in order to see τὸν ἐσταυρωµένον, the one ἠγέρθη (16:6–7).217 Concerning the statement on Jesus specifically (16:6), we find that in the very same manner it finalizes the Markan portrait of Jesus. According to Hurtado, it deserves to be designated “the climactic declaration of the entire Gospel of Mark.”218 At the very least, the outlined thoroughgoing intertwinement of Jesus’s identity as king, Messiah, Son of Man, and Son of God is, with the crucifixion, brought to its final closure with the ringing statement: Ἰησοῦν ζητεῖτε τὸν Ναζαρηνὸν τὸν ἐσταυρωµένον· ἠγέρθη (16:6). Here Jesus is given a new attribute with the adjectival participle τὸν ἐσταυρωµένον that is presented in tandem with the proclamation of his resurrection. Further, ἠγέρθη is most likely to be understood as having God as the agent and in this way serving as a sequel to ἐσχίσθη in 15:38. Together, these two passives form the two divine responses to Jesus’s death that in the most forceful narrative way cement the intertwined nature of cross and resurrection. In sum, the reading offered here of Mark’s narrative flow strongly integrates Mark 16:1–8 into Mark’s narrative. In particular, the announcement in 16:6–7 ––––––––––––––––– 216 For a discussion and critique of Lohmeyer and Marxsen’s suggestion of Galilee as the place of the parousia, see, e.g., Robert H. Stein, “A Short Note on Mark XIV. 28 and XVI. 7,” NTS 20 (1973): 445–52; Collins, Mark, 658–67. 217 For the importance of ὁρᾶν as a salvific category in Mark, see Gamel, Mark 15:39, 115–57. 218 Hurtado, “Climax of Mark,” 434.

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may be characterized as the ultimate presentation of the εὐαγγέλιον as Mark understands it, the post-resurrectional εὐαγγέλιον to be preached in Galilee and beyond (13:10; 14:9), thoroughly integrating death and resurrection, cross and kingdom. 6.2.6 Resurrection and the Triumph of the Εὐαγγέλιον In this Section 6.2 on Mark’s portrayal of Jesus’s ministry and destiny in Jerusalem as a kingly victory, it has thus far been demonstrated how intensively Mark continues the Isaianic trajectory of the εὐαγγέλιον as a message of victory, and how he does so in an ‘appropriated’ manner through the surprising utilization of Ps 118, the role of God in Jesus’s death (14:27), the recognition by the woman of Jesus’s ensuing death as kingly (14:3–9), and not least the presentation of the cross death as Jesus’s moment of coronation. In the next subsection, we shall discuss if an atoning ‘effect’ of Jesus’s death is present as well, or if Mark stops short thereof, only presenting the death as part of the victory. Here it remains to be outlined how this deep-seated trajectory of cross and coronation is connected to Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον presentation. This connection is not established solely by the understanding of the prologue laid out in Chapter 4 as a thematic heading for all of Mark’s narrative, nor solely by the connection between the εὐαγγέλιον and Jesus’s βασιλεία proclamation in 1:14– 15 and his βασιλεύς status in Mark 15. It is established by the common denominator of all Mark’s four uses of εὐαγγέλιον outside the prologue, the two in the ‘way’ section (8:35; 10:29) and the two in Jerusalem (13:10; 14:9), that is, constituted by a connection between the εὐαγγέλιον and the post-resurrectional victory of Jesus. Or phrased otherwise, the resurrection theme delivers the key to understand Mark’s rather confined use of εὐαγγέλιον outside the prologue and thus designating the message as the victorious proclamation of the ‘risen crucified’ (16:6). Three things should be highlighted: (1) Looking first at the two uses of εὐαγγέλιον in Mark’s Jerusalem section, these are, besides locating the era of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον as an era of κηρύσσειν either εἰς πάντα τὰ ἔθνη (13:10) or εἰς ὅλον τὸν κόσµον (14:9), united by their intertwinement of cross and victory into the gospel message. As already discussed above,219 the anointing by the women is best understood as the first incidence in Mark in which a follower understands the instrumental role of Jesus’s death for his victory. This is seen most clearly by the alignment of the anointing as an anointing for the grave (14:8) with the post-resurrectional era of gospel proclamation (14:9). The same is the case in the context of Jesus’s apocalyptic speech to his disciples on the Mount of Olives. The eschatological necessity (δεῖ) of the preaching of the gospel is stated within a framework specifying in which way the disciples will partake in the cross and death of Jesus, as foretold ––––––––––––––––– 219

See Section 6.2.3.

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earlier (8:34; 10:39), by experiencing the same kind of παραδιδόναι to councils and synagogues (εἰς συνέδρια καὶ εἰς συναγωγάς) for beating (δέρειν) as well as being charged before rulers and kings (ἐπὶ ἡγεµόνων καὶ βασιλέων σταθήσεσθε, 13:9). As often noted, the similarity with Jesus’s Jerusalem experience is too detailed to be coincidental.220 The same is the case with the notion of receiving salvation by enduring to the end (ὁ δὲ ὑποµείνας εἰς τέλος οὗτος σωθήσεται, 13:13), which Jesus exemplifies on the cross by refusing the invitation to save himself (σῶσον σεαυτὸν καταβὰς ἀπὸ τοῦ σταυροῦ, 15:30), instead enduring to the end in order to experience the two divine rejoinders to his death as expressed in the notions of ἐσχίσθη and ἠγέρθη (15:38; 16:6). In this way, Mark overtly thematizes the post-resurrectional victory announcement, τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, as the intertwined notion of cross and resurrection. (2) Concerning the two uses of εὐαγγέλιον in the ‘way’ section, they should, as already noted by Harnack,221 be paired in the same way as the two uses in 13:10 and 14:9. While they at first sight seem to concern the experience of the disciples for following Jesus in Galilee, the paradigmatic nature of Jesus’s teaching is evident by the reference to the parousia (8:38; 10:30–31). In this way, the loss for following Jesus and the gospel expressed in the repeated notion of ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου (8:35) and ἕνεκεν ἐµοῦ καὶ ἕνεκεν τοῦ εὐαγγελίου (10:29) is a loss connected with the post-resurrectional era of gospel ministry. In both instances, this loss is notably immediately connected with the ultimate, eschatological experience of the victory when the Son of Man returns ἐν τῇ δόξῃ τοῦ πατρὸς αὐτοῦ (8:38) to repay with eternal life ἐν τῷ αἰῶνι τῷ ἐρχοµένῳ (10:30). In other words, the resurrection of Jesus will reverse the costs of discipleship and ultimately turn the εὐαγγέλιον into a triumph. (3) The final but not least thing to notice is how Mark in one important way departs from the Isaianic script of the triumph of the εὐαγγέλιον, namely by relocating Jesus from Zion and to Galilee for the post-resurrectional experience of the victory and the renewed community (14:28; 16:7). As discussed in depth in Chapter 3, Zion/Jerusalem is the central end goal for the ‘pilgrimage of Yahweh,’ to borrow a term from Cross.222 While ‫ ְמַבֶשּׂ ֶרת ִציּוֹן‬in in Isa 40:9 should probably be translated as “Jerusalem’s messenger,” going to the villages of Judea, the septuagintal change to masculine (ὁ εὐαγγελιζόµενος Ιερουσαληµ) specifies Jerusalem as the receiver of the message,223 just as the restoration of Zion and its temple is the central focus of both Isaiah 40–55 and 56–66 in the Hebrew Bible otherwise as well.224 In the same way, the liberation of Jerusalem was found to be a common reference point in the disparate traditions in late ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Collins, Mark, 607; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 885. See Harnack, Entstehung, 203. 222 See Cross, Canaanite Myth, 108, and the discussion in Section 3.3.2. 223 See the discussion in Section 3.2.1 and Penner, Isaiah, 549. 224 See the discussion in Section 3.3.3. 220 221

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Second Temple Jewish texts citing or evoking the Isaianic promise of restoration.225 Compared to this trajectory, Mark’s relocation of Jesus and the disciples to Galilee after Jerusalem is a real innovation. The impetus behind this move is readily discernible in the notion of universal salvation, much in the same way as Paul reproduces the notion of the redeemer/liberator to/on behalf of Zion (‫ְלִציּוֹן‬/ἕνεκεν Σιων) in Isa 59:20 with the notion of his going out from Zion (ἐκ Σιών) in Rom 11:26.226 Of the three sayings of the return of the Son of Man (8:38; 13:26; 14:62), the important statement in front of the high priests and the Sanhedrin might indicate that the ultimate return at the parousia is envisioned to have Jerusalem as its epicentre, but taken together, the four uses of εὐαγγέλιον outside the prologue differ from the main trajectory of interpretation of the Isaianic vision by relocating the proclamation of gospel victory to ‘Galilee.’ To sum up, in alignment with the projected thesis of the εὐαγγέλιον as the epoch-making notion of proximity to the divine through intertwinement of victory and cross, we find Mark’s four uses of εὐαγγέλιον outside the prologue shaped to communicate this Leistung of his, that the death of Jesus through his resurrection becomes the central core of the post-resurrectional preaching of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον.

6.3 The Temple and Jesus’s Death and Resurrection227 6.3.1 Introduction: What is the ‘Key Question’? It follows from the analysis above that to Mark Jesus’s death spells kingly victory and does so in every respect, from his arrival in Jerusalem through to the cross and the empty grave. This conclusion immediately triggers our second question of the present chapter: How is the victory won with a dead messiah on the cross? Does Mark pinpoint any inner secret to how Jesus’s death becomes instrumental in the victory of the εὐαγγέλιον? As will become evident through the discussion below, many researchers will agree that the answer to this question is buried in the relationship between Jesus and the temple. But here all agreement ends, and Markan research is fiercely divided when it comes to describing Mark’s position towards the temple. Especially two issues are hotly contested. One concerns Jesus’s critique of the temple: if it only resembles earlier prophetic critique of the misuses of the temple administration to be cleansed and corrected, or if it amounts to an abolition of the temple altogether in favour of the congregation as the new temple or, slightly less confrontatio––––––––––––––––– See the discussion in Section 3.4.2. For a discussion of various possible reasons for this change, see, e.g., Fitzmyer, Romans, 624. 227 Parts of this section build upon Jensen, “Atonement Theology.” 225 226

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nal, perhaps, the celestial sanctuary. Another issue concerns the question of Mark’s atonement theology: if Mark in one way or another presents Jesus’s death as a sacrifice, perhaps for sin, or if he only provides a formal presentation of Jesus’s death as securing victory without specifying by which means or in which way. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the research on these matters is deadlocked. To briefly outline the state of the research on these two questions, beginning with the question of Mark’s atonement theology, it is obvious how this has traditionally been trenched around the question of the role and use of Isa 52:13–53:12 as outlined above.228 In turn, the different evaluation of the role of Isaiah 53 for Mark produces two competing answers to the question of the means by which Jesus’s death leads to victory. The one may be labelled the ‘formal’ or ‘agnostic’ view, claiming that Mark only describes Jesus’s death as beneficial without stating how, or, slightly more forthcoming, it may with Hooker be labelled the ‘opening up of something new’-view. While Hooker grants that “forgiveness is part of the gospel message” by being “expressed in the whole ministry of Christ,”229 it is not part of the benefits of Jesus’s death, which instead effects the “‘opening up a new and living way’ into God’s presence for the Gentiles.”230 Even more pointedly, Howard Clark Kee asserts that Mark goes no further than saying that Jesus dies out of scriptural necessity. Beyond that “no explanation is offered of the means by which suffering accomplishes redemption; all that is asserted is its divine necessity as recorded in the scriptures,” just as there are “no sure references to Isaiah 53,” and just as in the descriptions of the sufferings of the Righteous Leader in the Hodayot of Qumran, there is “no explicit doctrine of atonement.”231 Cilliers Breytenbach also states that “there are no indications in the Greek text of Mark suggesting the use of categories like ‘atonement’ or ‘Sühne’” and instead emphasizes a framework of freeing from captivity.232 Likewise, Geert Van Oyen states that ––––––––––––––––– 228 229

See Section 6.1.2. Hooker, Servant, 153. For a similar conclusion, see, e.g., Willert, Korsfæstede konge,

427. 230 Hooker, “Temple,” 11; see also Morna D. Hooker, Not Ashamed of the Gospel: New Testament Interpretations of the Death of Christ (Carlisle: The Paternoster Press, 1994), 67. In her commentary on Mark, Hooker likewise arrives at a ‘formal’ or ‘agnostic’ conclusion and states that “how his [Jesus’s] death benefits them is not explained” (Hooker, Mark, 343), while she at the same time acknowledges sacrificial language and suggests that Mark may have understood Jesus as the Passover lamb. 231 Howard Clark Kee, “The Function of Scriptural Quotations and Allusions in Mark 11– 16,” in Jesus und Paulus, ed. E. Earle Ellis and Erich Gräßer (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1975), 182–83. 232 Cilliers Breytenbach, “Narrating the Death of Jesus in Mark: Utterances of the Main Character, Jesus,” ZNW 105.2 (2014): 162.

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Jesus’s death in Mark “is not a substitute, but an exemplar,”233 just as AhearneKroll argues that though Mark clothes his passion narrative in the motif of the suffering righteous one, he “still does not justify Jesus’s suffering in any specific way other than situating it in an apocalyptic reality.”234 In the same way O’Brien concludes that while Jesus suffers on behalf of the many, “the gospel is never explicit about how this can be so,”235 upon which notions of atonement are discarded in favour of portraying Jesus’s death as representation.236 In contrast, the other answer moves beyond the formal designation of Jesus’s death as divinely willed to an atoning and temple cultic characterization. For instance, Douglas Moo suggests that a “verbal similarity”237 is to be found between τὸ ἐκχυννόµενον in Mark 14:24 and the Hebrew verb ‫ ערה‬in Isa 53:12 that, besides the understanding represented in the Septuagint of ‘giving up’ (παραδιδόναι), also may denote ‘pouring out,’ which in combination with the notion of bearing the sin of many denotes a sacrificial background for Mark 14:24. Also Marcus’s analysis of the Markan passion leads him to the conclusion that Isaiah 53 is part of the scriptural background alongside the suffering righteous motif, for which reason “Jesus’s death already is an apocalyptic victory over the oppressive cosmic power of sin,” which implies “the atoning value of Jesus’s death through allusions to Isaiah 53.”238 In the same way, John Paul Heil deduces from an analysis of Mark 14:24 that Jesus’s death is “a covenantal sacrifice for the atonement of sins”239 in concordance with Levitical law. Also, Collins finds reason for portraying Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death as temple cultic, especially on basis of 14:24 and the “pouring out of blood, which is technical sacrificial language.”240 Recently, Shively has shifted through the evidence afresh on basis of an integrative and a contextual approach.241 While accepting Exod 24:8 as the primary allusion in Mark 14:24, she argues that Mark reads it “through the locution of Isa 53:11–12,” finding three echoes thereof in 14:24 in the notions of pouring out (‫ערה‬/ἐκχεῖν), giving once’s life for the many (‫ַרִבּים‬/πολλῶν), and finally the perspective of victory and redemption entailed in Mark 14:25.242 Simon Gathercole goes another way ––––––––––––––––– Geert Van Oyen, “The Meaning of the Death of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark: A Real Reader Perspective,” in The Trial and Death of Jesus: Essays on the Passion Narrative in Mark, ed. Geert Van Oyen and Tom Shepherd (Leuven: Peeters, 2006), 63. 234 Ahearne-Kroll, Psalms of Lament, 197. 235 O’Brien, The Use of Scripture, 196. 236 See O’Brien, The Use of Scripture, 196–99. 237 Moo, Passion Narratives, 131. 238 Marcus, Way of the Lord, 195; see also Marcus, Mark 8–16, 958–59. 239 Heil, “Temple Theme,” 95. 240 Collins, Mark, 656. 241 See the discussion in Section 1.2. 242 See Elizabeth E. Shively, “Putting Mark’s Passion Narrative in Contexts” (paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the SBL, San Diego, 2019), 26–27. 233

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round the issue. While accepting that Mark does not “directly” explain the benefits of Jesus’s death, the earlier references to everlasting sin (Mark 3:29) and gehenna (9:47) provide the motivation for Jesus’s death as a vicarious death for sin.243 It may in this connection also be reminded, as argued above,244 that Mark’s ‘creative exegesis’ of Zech 13:7 in 14:27 is likely to be inspired by the notion of Yahweh striking a righteous person in Ps 69:27 and Isa 53:4, the only two occurrences of this idea in the Hebrew Bible. Concerning the question of the cleansing or rejection of the Jerusalem temple, the situation is not better. As a matter of fact, this question has revealed itself to be a particular thorny matter in research with strong proponents for each main view and a particularly comprehensive research history,245 as well as an issue intimately connected to the dark history and extremely troublesome nature of the Christian church’s relationship to the Jews of Europe.246 The objective below will not be to enter into a full-fledged discussion, outlining all the particular arguments for the ‘prophetic cleansing’ and ‘cult destruction’ views respectively; nor will it be to deal with the issue at the level of the historical Jesus. Rather, by discussing how Mark portrays Jesus’s relationship to the Jewish temple, and the way he uses temple theology at the core of his interpretation of the death and resurrection of Jesus, the objective is to pursue the thesis of temple cultic renewal as the central point. Such a reading offers a mediating position between single-minded supersessionist and prophetic positions at both sides.247 While quite a number of recent contributions to the discussion are oriented towards such a via media,248 the minute details and fine––––––––––––––––– See Simon Gathercole, The Gospel and the Gospels: Christian Proclamation and Early Jesus Books (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 2022), 104-05. 244 See Section 6.2.3. 245 See, e.g., J. Ådna, who in his more than fifty-page-long research discussion divides the interpretations into three, “nichteschatologische Interpretationen,” “eschatologische Interpretationen,” and “messianische Interpretationen,” see Jostein Ådna, Jesu Stellung zum Tempel: Die Tempelaktion und das Tempelwort als Ausdruck seiner messianischen Sendung, WUNT 2/119 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000), 334–87. 246 See also Simon J. Joseph, “Jesus and the Temple Incident: A New Proposal,” JSHJ 14 (2016): 76. 247 For an example of the former, see, e.g. Ernst L. Schnellbächer, “The Temple as Focus of Mark’s Theology,” HBT 5 (1983): 107 (“the temple on Mount Zion and all it stands for is broken apart [see Mk 15:38] and must sink into the tomb of the ‘sea.’… The function of Mount Zion has been replaced completely”). For an example of the latter, see, e.g., Eyal Regev, “The Temple in Mark: A Case Study About the Early Christian Attitude Toward the Temple,” in Studies in Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity: Text and Context, ed. Dan Jaffé, AJEC 74 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 142 (“Jesus was protesting not against the Temple but against the donation or transmission of morally impure money”). 248 See, e.g., Harry L. Chronis, “The Torn Veil: Cultus and Christology in Mark 15:37– 39,” JBL 101.1 (1982): 97–114; Joseph, “Temple incident”; Cho, Royal Messianism, 200– 203. 243

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haired distinctions reveal how difficult it is to resolve this matter convincingly.249 Thus, Markan research is caught in a deadlock on questions of peculiar importance to traditional investigations of Mark’s theology if not Western Christianity as such. Further, with the amount of energy poured into admirable detailed investigations of the matter within about a century, it is fair to say that no stone has been left untouched, leaving little hope of bringing new perspectives to the table, going down the traditional route. It needs to be admitted that Mark is not decisive on the matter of the role of Isaiah 53 in his presentation of Jesus’s death, which seemingly is the reason for the clarifications on this issue in later traditions,250 just as one’s preferred interpretative framework for understanding the temple incident will highlight either its prophetic potential as a cleansing towards renewal or its messianic potential as a destruction of the present terrestrial temple on behalf of a new and better temple. The suggestion I am aiming at investigating in the following is that this impasse is a result of asking Mark the wrong questions. In light of the understanding of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον argued throughout this investigation as the epochmaking message of the renewed proximity to the divine, I suggest that Mark to this end provides a bold presentation of Jesus’s death. While Mark makes no overt reference to Isaiah 53 nor refers to his death as περὶ ἁµαρτίας, the thesis to be discussed is that he makes it perfectly clear that Jesus’s death is related to the temple and that it is so in a way that secures renewed proximity to God. The main metaphor for this ‘effect’ of the death and resurrection of Jesus is “covenant” (διαθήκη, 14:24), and the epic action proving that this takes place through Jesus is the divine top-down rending of the veil (15:38). Thus, the suggestion to be investigated is that Mark’s interpretation of Jesus’s death is to be found in this combination of covenant inauguration and temple reorganization that ultimately provides the epicentre of Mark’s presentation of his Isaianic inspired εὐαγγέλιον of the renewed presence of Yahweh at Zion. If this argument can be convincingly established, the question of Jesus’s death as an atonement for sins as well as the question of his relationship to the terrestrial temple in Jerusalem become issues of secondary importance since the notion of proximity and presence implied in the concept of covenant is Mark’s fullest way of expressing his εὐαγγέλιον. In order to investigate this suggestion, we will proceed by discussing the following four interrelated issues: ––––––––––––––––– 249 For example, while Sanders’s discussion in Jesus and Judaism has made a strong impact towards the ‘destruction’ view, he maintains that Jesus never actively sought to destroy the temple but instead “predicted or threatened the destruction of the temple by God” and continues to describe the incident in the temple as a symbolic act in terms of “a demonstration which prophetically symbolized the coming event” (Sanders, Jesus, 74–75). 250 See the discussion in Section 6.1.2.

6.3 The Temple and Jesus’s Death and Resurrection

(1) (2) (3) (4)

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The ways in which Mark connects the temple to Jesus’s death. The designation of Jesus’s death as a διαθήκη (14:24). The role and meaning of the rending of the veil (15:38). The question of Jesus’s death as atonement for sins and its effect on the terrestrial temple.

Before embarking, a note on the concept of ‘atonement’ is called for. As discussed by Christian Eberhart, Hebrew Bible scholars tend to confine this word to the Hebrew root ‫( כפר‬usually translated with ἐξιλάσκεσθαι or ἱλάσκεσθαι in the LXX), whereas New Testament scholars tend to use it as a comprehensive, soteriological term, covering a diversity of Greek terms used in the New Testament writings. For this reason, Eberhart proposes a distinction between two categories of atonement, namely ‘cultic’ atonement imagery (e.g., blood, cultic atonement, sacrifice, removal of sin) and ‘secular’ atonement imagery (e.g., redemption, ransoming, reconciliation, taking one’s place, the apotropaic effect of the Passover lamb).251 In response and in order to clarify, ‘atonement’ is in the following used as a concept describing the effect Mark ascribes to the death of Jesus, that is, the theological sense he makes of it. Since such an understanding is admittedly very broad, we are in need of subdivisions. Eberhart’s etic categories of ‘cultic’ and ‘secular’ atonement are helpful in the sense of distinguishing between temple-related atonement and, e.g., juridical atonement. Another helpful distinction would be between a vertical and horizontal axis of atonement in line with the etymological understanding of atonement as ‘at-one-ment’ often ascribed to W. Tyndale.252 Atonement concerns the various ways in which reconciliation is established either between God and humans or humans and humans. These considerations help to sharpen our question of investigation: While Mark obviously explains Jesus’s death in parenetical and ecclesiastical terms,253 which is for instance the impetus behind many of the political applications of Mark upon present political circumstances of postcolonial and anti-imperial readings as outlined in Section 2.4, the refined atonement question I want to investigate in the following is if Mark at the same time presents Jesus’s death as ‘vertical’ or ‘temple cultic’ atonement, that is, as beneficial for the relationship between God and his people.

––––––––––––––––– 251 Christian A. Eberhart, “Atonement: New Testament,” Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception 3:32–36. 252 Eberhart, “Atonement New Testament,” 33. 253 See, e.g., Mark 9:34–37; 10:42–45. For Mark’s understanding of Jesus’s death as exemplum, see, e.g., Wischmeyer, “Herrschen als Dienen,” 28–44; Helen K. Bond, “A Fitting End? Self-Denial and a Slave’s Death in Mark’s Life of Jesus,” NovT 65 (2019): 436–39.

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6.3.2 The Role of the Temple in Mark 11–16 The first thing to highlight as basis for our further discussion of Mark’s interpretation of Jesus’s death is the all-encompassing role of the temple in Mark 11–16. This may be appreciated by observing the following four features that highlight how the temple theme serves as a uniting thread in Mark’s Jerusalem section, how it is repeatedly connected to Jesus’s death, how it is possibly connected to Jesus’s resurrection, and, finally, how Mark in a number of peculiar ways enters into a fierce critique of the temple and/or its administration. (1) As discussed in Section 5.4, Mark foreshadows the role of the temple in a number of ways throughout his Galilean sections. It is, however, only when Jesus arrives at the doorstep of Jerusalem at the Mount of Olives that it takes the centre stage, being either the locality for the narrated events or in other ways part of the central flow of the narrative. This may be seen from the following: (a) As already mentioned above,254 it is likely that Psalm 118 was used in the Second Temple period as a central part of the liturgy for festive processions entering the temple. The best attestation thereof is found in the targum to the psalm, which clarifies that “the gate for Yahweh” (‫ )ַהַשַּׁﬠר ַליה ָוה‬in v. 20 is in reality the gate of “the holy house” (‫)בית מקדשׁא‬, and which turns the psalm into an antiphonal liturgy, culminating in the Davidic blessing from the temple in v. 26.255 This reading highlights what to the reader becomes apparent in Mark 11:11: Jesus is not only descending towards Jerusalem but is processing εἰς τὸ ἱερόν. (b) Next, we encounter the crucial series of events with the temple incident in the middle, intercalated by the cursing of the fig tree and topped by the saying on τῷ ὄρει τούτῳ (11:12–25), which combined reflect and determine Mark’s and Jesus’s relationship to and view of the temple, a topic to be discussed in further detail below. The important point here is to notice how the temple incident in Mark is emphasized by the repeated reference to the fig tree. (c) Following this temple prelude, we find some seven incidents of teachings, discussions, and clashes that take place ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ (11:27; 12:35), which Mark later on has Jesus pinpointing as an important factor (14:49). (d) Within this sequence of events, three in particular have the temple and its service as the central point of dispute, namely the quotation of Ps 118:22 and the rejected stone (λίθον ὃν ἀπεδοκίµασαν) that has become the (new) central stone (κεφαλὴ γωνίας) of the building (Mark 12:10); the praise of the scribe that knows that the Shema and the love of your neighbour is “much more than all burnt offerings and all sacrifices” (περισσότερόν ἐστιν πάντων τῶν ὁλοκαυτωµάτων καὶ θυσιῶν, 12:33); and, finally, the contradistinction between ––––––––––––––––– 254 255

See Section 6.2.2. See especially Matera, Kingship of Jesus, 83.

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those giving to the temple out of their wealth and the poor widow giving πάντα ὅσα εἶχεν, that is, ὅλον τὸν βίον αὐτῆς (12:44). (e) Leaving the temple area, the temple remains in focus, firstly, by the notice of Jesus proceeding ἐκ τοῦ ἱεροῦ (13:1) as a counterpart to his entrance εἰς τὸ ἱερόν (11:11) and, secondly, by the way in which the apocalyptic speech is prompted by a disciple’s jaw-dropping awe over ποταποὶ λίθοι καὶ ποταπαὶ οἰκοδοµαί (13:1), leading to Jesus’s foretelling its destruction (καταλύειν, 13:2) and profanation (13:14) while seated κατέναντι τοῦ ἱεροῦ (13:3). In reality, the apocalyptic speech is in this way turned into a prophecy with the temple as its central feature. (f) Entering into the passion story, the temple becomes even more central, not only as the anchorage point of τὸ πάσχα (14:1, 12, 14, 16), but specifically through the pinpointed role of the temple building itself, the ναός, in the Tempellogion (14:58; 15:29) and the rending of the temple veil (15:38). (g) Finally, as already mentioned and as to be discussed further below, it has been suggested that the three-times repeated reference to λίθος in connection with the grave (15:46; 16:3–4) may serve as a counterpoint to Jesus’s foretelling of the destruction of the temple λίθος ἐπὶ λίθον (13:2).256 (2) Even more pertinent to the point, than the way in which the temple is a uniting theme of Mark 11–16, is the way in which Mark in a threefold manner specifically connects Jesus’s death to the temple: (a) While we are informed from 3:6 onwards that the Pharisees and the Herodians seek to kill Jesus, the temple authorities in the shape of οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ γραµµατεῖς cast their lot for the first time only after the temple incident (11:18) and, later, just before Passover (14:1–2). At the trial, Jesus is charged for having said: “I will destroy this handmade sanctuary and in three days build another not made by hands” (ἐγὼ καταλύσω τὸν ναὸν τοῦτον τὸν χειροποίητον καὶ διὰ τριῶν ἡµερῶν ἄλλον ἀχειροποίητον οἰκοδοµήσω, 14:58), a notion repeated by the bystanders at the cross (15:29). (b) Not only the temple authorities connect Jesus’s death with the temple; he does so himself too. This is evident, first, in the parable of the vineyard that takes up the theme of the role of the Jewish leaders in the death of Jesus from the passion and resurrection predictions. It is further elaborated on in that their ‘killing of the son’ is presented as a part of the fulfilment of Psalm 118, understood as a prophecy of the temple renewal. Second, Jesus’s interpretation of his death in the cup logion (14:24) likewise places the temple in the centre of this event, as will be discussed in the next section.

––––––––––––––––– 256 Still other points of conjunction between Jesus and the temple have been suggested, such as Jesus as the new receiver of temple gifts (12:41–44//14:3–9) and his body as the new temple sacrifice (14:24), see Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 186.

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(c) Finally, understanding ἐσχίσθη of 15:38 as having God as the acting agent likewise connects Jesus’s death to the temple, making this act the first and primary divine rejoinder to the death of Jesus.257 In other words, in Mark’s Gospel, the death of Jesus is connected to the temple in a composite way, revealing the hermeneutic significance of the temple. (3) In an interesting study,258 Hans Moscicke has suggested that the resurrection narrative is temple cultic in character as well. He bases this reading on the following observations: (a) The proximity and similarity between the dual references to the temple stones in 12:10 and 13:1–2 and the stone in front of the tomb in 15:46 and 16:3–4. In both instances it is a surprise to the followers of Jesus that they will be or have been turned over (13:1//16:3). (b) The emphatic highlighting of the earliness of the morning (λίαν πρωΐ) and the reference to the rising sun (ἀνατείλαντος τοῦ ἡλίου, 16:2), which might evoke the messianic notion of a rising sun known for example from 2 Sam 23:4 (see Num 24:17) and thereby connected to the notion of the Davidic Messiah as temple builder.259 (c) The νεανίσκος sitting to the right as a “cipher”260 for Jesus’s post-resurrectional enthronement on the right side of God including the priestly office of Melchisedek if Psalm 110:4 is understood as part of Jesus’s reference to Psalm 110:1 in Mark 14:62. (d) The women as priestesses due to their position “in front of” (παριστάνειν) Jesus at the cross as priests standing in front of Yahweh in the temple261 and their access to the inner rooms of the temple, in casu the grave.262 In evaluation, it must be admitted that Moscicke’s argument is conjectural and at times building on too many presuppositions to convince, but especially the role of ‘stones’ as ‘temple stones’ in Mark as well as the young man “sitting to the right” reasonably reminds the reader of the earthly temple of Jerusalem, its failing authorities, and the celestial sanctuary hinted at in 14:62. If this is the case, the temple serves as a focal point not only in Mark’s interpretation of Jesus’s death but also his resurrection. If not, a less convoluted way of arguing for a presence of the temple theme in Mark 16 is to consider the relationship between temple and the encounter with or epiphany of the divine, a theme ––––––––––––––––– See the discussion in Section 6.3.4. See Moscicke, “Priests, Stones.” 259 See n. 358 below. 260 Moscicke, “Priests, Stones,” 117. 261 See, e.g., Deut 18:7 and Luke 1:19. 262 In the same way, Moscicke also argues that the centurion standing ἐξ ἐναντίας αὐτου is placed in a cultic position, a point also made by Chronis, see Moscicke, “Priests, Stones,” 120–21; Chronis, “Torn Veil,” 110. 257 258

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central in the demand to relocate to Galilee for renewed community with Jesus (16:7). (4) Finally, a comparison with the other Synoptic Gospels reveals a number of ways through which Matthew and Luke tone down Mark’s depiction of Jesus’s conflict with the temple:263 (a) Famously and much discussed, only Mark repeats the story of the withered fig tree, sandwiching the temple incident, and only Mark has it being withered “from the roots” (ἐκ ῥιζῶν, 11:20), just as he alone locates the event on the same day as the temple incident.264 (b) Only Mark has Jesus prohibiting anyone from carrying a σκεῦος through the temple (11:16), the exact meaning of which is much debated, with suggestions ranging from fishing tackles to liturgical vessels needed for the temple service, thus in effect shutting down the temple.265 (c) Only Mark includes “for all nations” (πᾶσιν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν) in the quotation of Isa 56:7 of the temple as a prayer house, providing a feeling of an eschatological re-orientation of the role of the temple.266 (d) While also Matthew has the logion on lifting “this mountain” (τῷ ὄρει τούτῳ) and casting it into the sea (21:21), only Mark has it on the same day as the temple incident, and only he couples it with the notion of God’s forgiveness being dependent on forgiveness of one another. Since forgiveness was a temple issue and since it takes place on the same day that Jesus attacked the temple, the reading of “this mountain” being the Temple Mount itself becomes more likely.267 (e) Only Mark has the critique of animal sacrifices (ὁλοκαύτωµα, θυσία) in the chain of events taking place on the Temple Mount, heightening its polemic edge (12:33, see Matt 9:13; 12:7).268 (f) Only Mark designates the temple he will build as ἀχειροποίητος and the Jerusalem temple as χειροποίητος (14:58, see Matt 26:61). (g) Only Mark uses σχίζειν two times to create a grand inclusio between the baptism and the rending of the veil. Thus, the first thing to notice and to be argued is that Mark in an intrinsic and intertwined way weaves together the temple theme with his kingly presen––––––––––––––––– For a similar but less comprehensive list, see Heil, “Temple Theme,” 76. See, e.g., William R. Telford, The Barren Temple and the Withered Tree, JSNTSup 1 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1980); Christfried Böttrich, “Jesus und der Feigenbaum: Mk 11:12– 14, 20–25 in der Diskussion,” NovT 39 (1997): 328–59; Daniel J. R. Kirk, “Time for Figs, Temple Destruction, and Houses of Prayer in Mark 11:12–25,” CBQ 74 (2012): 509–27. 265 See Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 28–30. 266 See Kirk, “Figs,” 516–17. 267 See, e.g., Hooker, “Temple,” 8; Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 48–53; Dane C. Ortlund, “What Does It Mean to Cast a Mountain Into the Sea? Another Look at Mark 11:23,” BBR 28.2 (2018): 218–37. 268 Pace Regev, “Temple in Mark,” 147–48. 263 264

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tation of Jesus’s death as a victory.269 In reality, the ever-growing resistance from the temple authorities and the role of the temple in the various interpretations of Jesus’s death create a solid connection between Jesus’s first entrance into the temple (11:11) and his own interpretation of his death as temple related (14:24), the process by the Sanhedrin (14:58), the suspension from the cross (15:29), and the way in which the temple is affected by the death of Jesus (15:38) – and perhaps even the ‘destruction’ of the stone of the tomb as a temple prophecy fulfilled (16:3–4). 6.3.3 Covenant Inaugurated (Mark 14:24) This leads us to the crucial question of how Jesus’s temple-related death is interpreted in Mark. As outlined above, research into this question is deadlocked in the two thorny questions of the temple incident as cleansing or destruction and of Jesus’s death as atonement for sin or not. Both questions fall within the perimeter of Mark’s narrative, but according to the re-positioning of the discussion I suggest, they are in reality not at the very epicentre of the theological interpretation of Jesus’s death and resurrection in Mark’s portrayal of Jesus. If we approach Mark from his initial bold proclamation of the εὐαγγέλιον and the Isaianic vision of the renewal of Yahweh’s presence among his people, I suggest that we instead find the key to Mark’s understanding of Jesus’s death in the complex covenant saying of 14:24 and the rending of the temple veil in 15:38. Combined, they in reality provide a rich, bold, and emphatic interpretation of the how behind Mark’s interpretation of Jesus’s death as a victory, as εὐαγγέλιον. Beginning with Jesus’s interpretation of the cup as τὸ αἷµά µου τῆς διαθήκης τὸ ἐκχυννόµενον ὑπὲρ πολλῶν (14:24), the following must be noted: (1) The first thing to notice is how Mark’s primary verbal interpretation of Jesus’s death is established by an invocation of the covenant inauguration at Mount Sinai. This is made evident by the specific phrase τὸ αἷµα τῆς διαθήκης that in the Septuagint is used only in Exod 24:8, translating ‫ ַדּם־ַהְבּ ִרית‬. The only other use of the phrase in the Hebrew Bible, found in Zech 9:11, is clearly also evoking the Sinai covenant in a context of eschatological renewal and the return of the prisoners to Zion along with the victorious, just, and humble Davidic king (Zech 9:9). The reuse in Zechariah thus only heightens the notion of covenant inauguration. Interestingly, this means that though Mark frames Jesus’s last meal in a context of Passover by referring four times to τὸ πάσχα (14:1, ––––––––––––––––– 269 Compare also Juel, Messiah and Temple, 57, 127–142; Hooker, “Temple”; Heil, “Temple Theme”; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 770; Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 198–200; Wardle, “Mark,” 69–70; Samuel Byrskog, “Probing the Cult-Critical Implications of the Last Supper,” in Old Testament, Early Judaism, New Testament, ed. David Hellholm and Dieter Sänger, WUNT 376 vol. 1 of The Eucharist – Its Origins and Contexts: Sacred Meal, Communal Meal, Table Fellowship in Late Antiquity, Early Judaism, and Early Christianity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 428–36.

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12, 14, 16), he does not explicitly portray Jesus as the paschal lamb but instead moves forward and integrates covenant inauguration into the context of exodus liberation.270 Considering Mark’s general Isaianic framework as well as the exodus motif in Isaiah 40–55 itself, it is possible and at the very least not contradictory to argue for an influence of Isa 53:10–12 as well,271 but even if this is the case, τὸ αἷµα τῆς διαθήκης is next to a terminus technicus of the covenant inauguration at Sinai, highlighting Exod 24:8 as the primary intertext of Mark 14:24.272 (2) In the book of Exodus, the Sinai incident may be described as the central event that defines the way in which the people of Israel may enter into the proximity of the divine. It is the consecration of the exodus liberation through which the very “vocation of Israel as the people of God” is constituted by regulating how “only those sprinkled with the sacrificial blood can enjoy communion with the Deity.”273 To highlight the inauguration of this relationship and renewed status of Israel, a scene is put together that may be described as a temple cultic theophany. This is evident from the following considerations: (a) The temple cultic setting is provided by the description of the various holiness spheres of Mount Sinai, which by its tripartition closely resembles the ensuing description of the tabernacle. Only Moses is allowed to ascend to the top of “God’s mountain” (‫ַהר ָהֱאֹלִהים‬/τὸ ὄρος τοῦ θεοῦ, Exod 24:13), where Yahweh’s glory takes up residence (‫ ַו ִיְּשׁכֹּן ְכּבוֹד־ ְיה ָוה‬/κατέβη ἡ δόξα τοῦ θεοῦ, 24:16), and thereby enter into the most condensed space of Yahweh’s presence, which in the ensuing description of the tabernacle will be reflected as the “holy of holiest” (‫קֹ ֶדשׁ ַה ֳקּ ָדִשׁים‬/τὸ ἅγιον τῶν ἁγίων, 26:33–34). In contrast, the ––––––––––––––––– 270 It is possible, though, as suggested by some researchers, that Jesus’s death at the ninth hour is meant to create an association to the slaughtering of the Passover lambs at this hour in the temple (according to Josephus, J.W. 6.423), see Joseph, “Temple incident,” 83; Hooker, Mark, 343. 271 See in particular the recent renewal of this argument presented by Shively, viewing Mark’s allusion to Exod 24:8 as being “through the locution of Isaiah 53:11–12” (Shively, “Mark’s Passion,” 26). In this, Shively opposes the discrete and atomistic approach to Mark’s citation of Scripture represented by for example Hooker and O’Brien and instead follows an integrative approach, viewing Isaiah as Mark’s conceptual framework within which his use of Zech 13 and Ps 22 is integrated, see further Shively, “Servant(s),” 151–59, and the discussion in Section 1.2. 272 See, e.g., Moo, Passion Narratives, 302; Thomas Kazen, “Sacrificial Interpretation in the Narratives of Jesus’ Last Meal,” in Old Testament, Early Judaism, New Testament, ed. David Hellholm and Dieter Sänger, WUNT 376 vol. 1 of The Eucharist – Its Origins and Contexts: Sacred Meal, Communal Meal, Table Fellowship in Late Antiquity, Early Judaism, and Early Christianity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 484–85, pace Barnabas Lindars, New Testament Apologetic: The Doctrinal Significance of the Old Testament Quotations (London: SCM, 1961), 132–33. 273 Bernard P. Robinson, “The Theophany and Meal of Exodus 24,” SJOT 25.2 (2011): 172.

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seventy leaders may ascend partway up the mountain while the people are demanded to stay at the foot of the mountain (24:2), reflecting the priestly area of the temple and the courtyard of the temple respectively.274 The temple cultic aura is further reflected by the altar Moses erects at the foot of the mountain (24:4) and his ordering of the young men (‫ ַנַﬠר‬/νεανίσκος, 24:5) of the people to bring burnt offerings (‫ ַו ַיֲּﬠלוּ עֹֹלת‬/ἀνήνεγκαν ὁλοκαυτώµατα) and fellowship offerings (‫ ַו ִיּ ְזְבּחוּ ְזָבִחים ְשָׁלִמים‬/ἔθυσαν θυσίαν σωτηρίου). When the Septuagint paraphrases the vision of the seventy elders as one of the τόπος τοῦ θεοῦ (24:10– 11 LXX), it is here likely a vision of the celestial temple.275 (b) The theophanic or cultic setting of the scene with its focus on a vision of or proximity to the divine is further established by the ultimate descent of Yahweh to the top of the mountain (Exod 24:15–16). This finale follows the highly noteworthy statement of the Masoretic Text according to which the seventy elders “saw the God of Israel” (‫ ַו ִיּ ְראוּ ֵאת ֱאֹלֵהי ִיְשׂ ָרֵאל‬, 24:10). Highly noteworthy, this unrestricted formulation is softened by the Septuagint into “they saw the place where God was standing” (καὶ εἶδον τὸν τόπον οὗ εἱστήκει ἐκεῖ ὁ θεὸς) and the targumic rendering that they saw the “glory” (‫ ) ְיָקר‬of God. The notion of extreme presence to the divine is likewise communicated by the notion of how the seventy elders “ate and drank” (‫יּ ֹאְכלוּ ַו ִיְּשׁתּוּ‬/ἔφαγον καὶ ἔπιον, 24:11) under the presence of Yahweh. In reality, as noted by Bernard Robinson, the temple cultic setting and the theophanic atmosphere in combination provide a fundamental template of how a pilgrim coming to the temple should prepare for a temple cultic vision of Yahweh’s glory.276 (c) The central act within this temple cultic theophany is Moses’s “splashing” (‫זרק‬/προσχεῖν, 24:6, 8) of “the covenant blood” (‫ ַדם־ַהְבּ ִרית‬/τὸ αἷµα τῆς διαθήκης) on the altar and the people. This manipulation of blood is of extraordinary importance and in reality a singular event in the Hebrew Bible.277 As noted by Gilders, the pinnacle event in the first half of the Sinai incident (24:3– 8) is precisely Moses’s blood manipulation, which is highlighted by the fact that it is minor important persons who perform the preceding sacrificial act,

––––––––––––––––– 274 See William H.C. Propp, Exodus 19–40, AB 2A (New Heaven: Yale University Press, 2006), 300–301. 275 See Robinson, “Exodus 24,” 166. This interpretation is further corroborated by the reference to “the heavenly firmament in purity” (στερεώµατος τοῦ οὐρανοῦ τῇ καθαριότητι, Exod 24:10 LXX). 276 See Robinson, “Exodus 24,” 158 and the act of bringing sacrifices as ‘being shown before/appearing the face’ of Yahweh ( ‫ֵי ָראוּ ָפ ַני‬/ὀφθήσῃ ἐνώπιόν µου, see, e.g., Exod 23:15; 34:20, 23–24) and “appearing before God at Zion” (‫ֵי ָרֶא ה ֶא ל־ֱא ֹלִה ים ְבִּציּוֹן‬/ὀφθήσεται ὁ θεὸς τῶν θεῶν ἐν Σιων, Ps 84:8, see Ps 63:3). 277 See Amy L. Peeler, “Desiring God: The Blood of the Covenant in Exodus 24,” BBR 23.2 (2013): 187.

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reserving Moses’s role entirely to the blood manipulation.278 This leads to the crucial question of how to envision the effect of the blood. Gilders might be right in insisting that this is not explained by the text, leaving us with no other choice than to bring something to the text, if we want to proceed beyond the fact that the splashing of blood establishes “an indexed relationship between the people and the altar.”279 However, if we refrain from deducting a certain theory of atonement, the effect of the blood is readily evident within the scene itself: the establishment of an unrestricted proximity to and fellowship with Yahweh. Proximity is emphasized as the ultimate gift and grace of the ‫ְבּ ִרית‬/διαθήκη and thus the effect of the blood. This is narratively expressed in the second half of the incident (24:9–18) in which the extreme proximity of Yahweh is provided by the triad of seeing, eating, and approximating through the people’s various degrees of anabase and Yahweh’s katabase.280 This should not diminish Moses’s commitment of the people to “all the words of Yahweh and all the regulations” (‫ָכּל־ ִדְּב ֵרי ְיה ָוה ְוֵאת ָכּל־ַהִמְּשָׁפִּטים‬/πάντα τὰ ῥήµατα τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ τὰ δικαιώµατα, 24:3) and the various sets of sacrifices to be performed (‫עָֹלה‬/ὁλοκαύτωµα and ‫ ֶזַבח ְשָׁלִמים‬/θυσία σωτηρίου, 24:5).281 They clearly work in tandem as preconditions but do so as means towards the goal and gift of the blood covenant: the presence to and community with Yahweh. In its entirety, the Sinai incident thus emphasizes the communal nature of the covenant for the entire people. It is focussed on how this presence and fellowship can be established and endured, and as a communal event, it covers the entire people who partake on different levels: Twelve stones are raised, each for one of the tribes; young men from the tribes are selected to serve as priests for the day; seventy elders likewise represent the entire people; and Moses, finally, serves as a high priest who ascends all the way to the top into the most condensed area of Yahweh’s presence. In an overall perspective, this community is established through a threefold process where the preparations (law reading and sacrifices) lead to the central act of Moses’s “splashing” (‫זרק‬/προσχεῖν, 24:6, 8) of the blood on the altar and the people that seals the covenant, which serves as the bridge to the final and ultimate part of the scene in 24:9–18. Here, the new covenantal condition is described as providing extreme proximity between Yahweh, those who are able to reside on the top of ––––––––––––––––– 278 See William K. Gilders, Blood Ritual in the Hebrew Bible: Meaning and Power (Baltimore; London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004), 38. 279 Gilders, Blood Ritual, 42. 280 See also Peeler, “Desiring God,” 203: “In Exod 24, with the performance of the offerings, and particularly the application of blood on the people, the Israelite and also other ancient uses of sacrifices and blood accounts for the congregation’s desire to encounter the presence of God and the ability to survive the encounter.” 281 If the descent of Yahweh in Exodus 24 is read together with the first descent at Mount Sinai in Exodus 19, preparation through washing ( ‫כבס‬/πλύνειν) in order to be sanctified/purified ( ‫קדשׁ‬/ἁγνίζειν, 19:10) is likewise part of the grander picture.

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the mountain (‫שׁכן‬/καταβαίνειν), and the seventy elders as community leaders, who are able to proceed up the mountain to “see” (‫ראה‬, ‫חזה‬/ὁρᾶν, 24:10–11) Yahweh in an unrestricted, Edenic manner and to enjoy a fellowship meal (‫אכל‬/ἐσθίειν, ‫שׁתה‬/πίνειν, 24:11), topped only by Moses, who is invited into the cloud on the top of the mountain with Josva as his helper. (3) If we allow Exodus 24 to serve as the primary intertext for the last meal, Jesus’s statement becomes Mark’s primary hermeneutical key to his understanding of the effect of Jesus’s death as comparable to nothing less than the Sinaitic covenant inaugurating. In the same way as Second Isaiah uses covenant language to describe the coming reversal back to Edenic-like proximity and the ultimate gift of Yahweh and the people’s homecoming to Zion,282 Mark in this way dresses Jesus’s death in the most prominent salvific imagery possible, lifting it up and above an annual paschal sacrifice, perpetual sin sacrifices, and even the annual cleansing rites at Yom Kippur. In the narration of Jesus’s last meal, this shows as follows: (a) First in line are the points of resemblance concerning the meal itself, which is constituted by eating and drinking (ἐσθίειν, πίνειν, Mark 14:22–23) and, even more tellingly, by an emphasis on the communal aspect of it. Jesus is described as coming to the meal µετὰ τῶν δώδεκα (14:17), we are assured that they all drank from the cup interpreted as the blood of Jesus (14:23), and the interpretative saying of Jesus explicates that the covenant blood is provided ὑπὲρ πολλῶν (14:24). (b) Further, the cultic aspect of the Sinai incident is provided by the combination of τὸ αἷµα τῆς διαθήκης with ἐκκύννειν. Even Hooker describes the scene as “couched in sacrificial language,” and though she goes on to state that how Jesus’s “death benefits them is not explained,” we may in the light of Exodus 24 conclude that Jesus’s sacrificial death is presented by Mark as more than something akin to the notion of the shedding of innocent blood or martyrdom.283 Below we shall discuss if the sacrificial nature of Jesus’s blood is observable after all among the options at hand.284 For now, the important thing to notice is how the covenantal reference to Exodus 24 informs Mark’s main interpretative saying on Jesus’s death as “an indexing ritual”285 in which the core effect of the covenant blood is to establish the community between Jesus/God ––––––––––––––––– See the discussion in Section 3.3.2. See, e.g., the use of the variant ἐκχεῖν in connection with martyrdom in 1 Macc 1:37; 7:17; 2 Macc 1:8. For a discussion of this theme, see Jan Willem van Henten, “Jewish Martyrdom and Jesus’ Death,” in Deutungen des Todes Jesu im Neuen Testament, ed. Jörg Frey and Jens Schröter, WUNT 181 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 139–68. 284 See Section 6.3.5. 285 Kazen, “Sacrificial Interpretation,” 486, see further Gilders, Blood Ritual, 8. Gilders specifically treats Exod 24:3–8 on pp. 37–43. See further the discussion below in Section 6.3.5. 282 283

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and the disciples, that is, to ‘index’ the partakers as those with covenantal access to the divine presence, being the central gift of the covenant.286 (c) This covenantal atmosphere, fixed on the community between the ‘indexed disciples’ and Jesus, also throws light on the eschatological saying of v. 25, describing a future consummation of the wine “afresh” (καινός) only ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ τοῦ θεοῦ. While at first this saying forms an anti-climax of the last meal, not least since the notion of ‘new wine’ now, unlike in 2:22, is a future reality, it fits well within a messianic reworking of the exodus narrative, following the trajectory of going from liberation to covenant and to promised land. Though the exact reference point for the coming kingdom is not further explicated, the resumption of community is entailed in the notion of the resumption of the meal.287 Taken together, the locution, τὸ αἷµά µου τῆς διαθήκης τὸ ἐκχυννόµενον ὑπὲρ πολλῶν, taken from the covenantal event at Mount Sinai, is Mark’s pivotal verbal statement on the benefits of Jesus’s death. The argument presented here is that while Mark’s description of the benefits of Jesus’s death is multi-facetted with further implications to be discussed below,288 his ultimate interpretative statement on Jesus’s death evokes the Sinai covenant inauguration in Exodus 24 besides possibly its eschatological reworking in Zechariah 9 and perhaps the notions of covenant inauguration in Isaiah 54–55, but not primarily Exodus 12 with its focus on liberation from slavery and protection from death by the blood of the paschal lamb, nor Isaiah 53 or Leviticus 16 with their focus on atonement for sin. Only if we approach Mark from the traditional discussion of atonement and sacrifices as a question of manipulation of sin, may this seem as a disappointment and half-way through to an ‘agnostic’ understanding of Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death.289 In the light of the understanding of εὐαγγέλιον as the epoch-making victory through cultic renewal presented here, it certainly should be understood as an all-time highpoint. Read in the framework of the Isaianic vision of Yahweh’s parade and pilgrimage towards Zion for his re-enthronization and the re-establishment of the covenant and the community between God and his people, it instead reveals itself as the epic finale, ––––––––––––––––– 286 Interestingly, according to Propp, the phrase ‘covenant blood’ is used in Judaism to denote the rite of circumcisions, which likewise emphasizes the communal nature of this expression, see Propp, Exodus 19–40, 309. For a similar reading of Mark 14:24 as expressing “community” as the result of Jesus’s death, see Peter-Ben Smit, “Food and Gift: On the ‘Words of Institution’ in the Gospel of Mark,” JSNT 44.4 (2022): 534. 287 See also, e.g., Collins, Mark, 657, who refers to Isa 25:6–8 and its eschatological reworking in 2 Bar. 29, describing the messianic era as a festive meal in abundance. 288 See Section 6.3.5. 289 See, e.g., Kazen, who upon determining Mark 14:24 as a reframing of Exod 24:8 continues: “Apart from that, nothing much can be said with certainty,” continuing to reject that “Jesus’ metaphorical covenant sacrifice effects the forgiveness of sins” (Kazen, “Sacrificial Interpretation,” 486).

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denoting the primary gift of the covenant: proximity to the divine. I thus suggest that reading Mark 14:24 in the light of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον trajectory helps to clarify that his verbal interpretation of Jesus’s death is far from half-baked or agnostic but, in reality, as good as it gets. 6.3.4 Proximity Enabled (Mark 15:38) The second main way in which Mark presents the cultic effects of Jesus’s death is found in the rending of the veil in 15:38. In tandem with 14:24, the primary verbal interpretation of Jesus’s death, I suggest that 15:38 functions as Mark’s primary action or event through which he reveals his understanding of Jesus’s death and successive resurrection as εὐαγγέλιον. In the following, I will outline several arguments for such an understanding of 15:38 as the ultimate epicentre in Mark’s presentation of his εὐαγγέλιον through which the cultic content of 14:24 is divinely enacted and in which Mark’s entire storyline of the εὐαγγέλιον as denoting the epoch-making nearness of God’s presence comes to its pivotal expression: (1) Located within the already pivotal series of events forming Jesus’s death scene (15:33–39), a number of literary devices in the text emphasize the velum scissum as the climax of the crucifixion scene and as the culmination of Mark’s temple theme as such: (a) First, opposed to the break between 15:37 and 15:38, implied in the text indentation in Nestle-Aland, the paratactic καί construction intimately connects the rending of the veil with Jesus’s death as the immediate implication of Jesus’s ἐξέπνευσεν.290 This paratactic construction provides unity between Jesus’s death and the rending despite the change of scenery. (b) Further, 15:37–39 is seemingly constructed as a “miniature inclusio”291 in which v. 39 resumes the scene at the cross as specifically highlighted by the notion οὕτως ἐξέπνευσεν, which again serves to highlight the scene of the temple in the middle. While the seemingly unwarranted change of scenery has been labelled “something of a literary monstrosity,”292 the surprising element herein may be viewed as a Markan literary device, serving to pinpoint his hermeneutical approach to Jesus’s crucifixion as in essence a temple event. (c) Likewise, the pleonastic feeling of “from top to bottom” (ἀπ᾽ ἄνωθεν ἕως κάτω) after “into two” (εἰς δύο) further brings about an emphatic atmosphere. ––––––––––––––––– 290 Jackson understands καί as an example of “hypotatic parataxis,” in which case v. 38 would grammatically be an explanation of Jesus’s death, see Jackson, “Death,” 27. See also Gray, who argues that “for Mark, the death of Jesus and the rending of the temple veil are inseparable” (Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 185). 291 Chronis, “Torn Veil,” 98. 292 Chronis, “Torn Veil,” 97. Chronis also refers to Bultmann, who labels the entire scene of 15:33–39 as “stark entstellt.”

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(d) The noteworthy use of ναός decisively connects v. 38 to the temple logion (14:58; 15:29) as the only other place using ναός rather than ἱερόν. As the most intense place of collision with the Jewish leaders, the reference to ναός in effect emphasizes 15:38 as the “culmination of the temple theme” and as “a decisive climax to 14:58 and 15:29.”293 (e) Most importantly, this emphatic and intrusive construction of the velum scissum serves to release the tension created by the silence of God in the two emotionally tense scenes of the prayer in Gethsemane (14:35–36) and the cry on the cross (15:34). Narratively speaking, this is where God enters into the passion script. This reading is suggested by the sense of divine intervention provided by the passive ἐσχίσθη,294 and the notion of the vertical, downwards movement “from above to bottom/below” (ἀπ᾽ ἄνωθεν ἕως κάτω), reminding the reader of the initial katabase of the spirit upon and into Jesus (1:10). Read in conjunction with the notorious silence of God up until this point in the passion, this divine action is highlighted as the immediate and first response to the death of Jesus.295 Combined, these devices provide a strong feeling of 15:38 as the “crucial piece” and “culmination”296 of the crucifixion, just as it finalizes the question of the relationship between Jesus’s death and the terrestrial temple. (2) Another way in which 15:38 in its context of 15:37–39 is highlighted as the ultimate epicentre of Mark is found in the textual links to the prologue and the baptism in particular as well as to the transfiguration on the mountain – in both cases of which 15:38 serves to release the narrative tension created by Mark’s two most overt foreshadowings: (a) First and foremost, as often noticed,297 an overt link to the prologue is seemingly intentionally established by the restricted use of σχίζειν to 15:38 and 1:10 only. This provides a grand inclusio in Mark’s narrative that effectively resumes and concludes the Isaianic evocation of the ultimate re-intervention of ––––––––––––––––– Juel, Messiah and Temple, 137. See, e.g., Chronis, “Torn Veil,” 109. 295 Pace the view that Jesus’s expiration (ἐξέπνευσεν) is the causing event of the rending of the veil, which is contradicted by the vertical downwards movement and rests on a questionable semantic relationship between the πνεῦµα received in 1:10 and ἐκπνεῖν as suggested by Jackson, “Death,” see, e.g., Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20, 509. For the antiquity of this interpretation, see Daniel M. Gurtner, “The Velum Scissum: Matthew’s Exposition of the Death of Jesus,” TynBul 56.1 (2005): 18 n. 104. For a rightful critique hereof, see Collins, Mark, 763–64; Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 185–86. 296 Chronis, “Torn Veil,” 107, see Juel, Messiah and Temple, 137. 297 See, e.g., London, Mark, 576; Motyer, “Rending,” 155; Ulansey, “Heavenly Veil,” 123; Donald Juel, A Master of Surprise: Mark Interpreted (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994), 34–35; Caneday, “Baptism and Crucifixion,” 70–81; Klauck, Vorspiel, 92; Collins, Mark, 762–64; Gurtner, “Veil and Markan,” 294–96; Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 190–94; Cho, Royal Messianism, 193–94; Gamel, Mark 15:39, 88–92. 293 294

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Yahweh to secure the flourishing of his temple as expressed in the prayerful request in Isa 63:19.298 (b) Certain theophanic elements establish a bridge between the cross scene and Jesus’s baptism and the transfiguration in the same way. In the pericope of 15:33–39, there are several theophanic elements, such as the evocation of Amos 8:9 through the darkness at midday in 15:33, that sets the eschatological scene for Jesus’s death battle, as discussed above;299 the cry of Jesus directed towards ὁ θεός µου; the Elijah motif which is finalized here after serving as an important vehicle for Mark’s presentation of Jesus as Messiah and Son of God in the baptism and at the mountain;300 the use of σχίζειν instead of the typical theophanic keyword ἀνοίγειν, understood as a hyperbolic expression of the theophanic atmosphere;301 the distinct use of a passive construction in both rending visions (σχιζοµένους and ἐσχίσθη); the vertical downwards movement implied in the rending of the veil as mirroring the katabase of the spirit in 1:10; and the understanding of the centurion’s confession as a genuine statement grounded in a revelatory insight provided by his moment of ἰδεῖν.302 Finally, the temple and its veils were probably understood as symbolically related to the heavens,303 in which instances the rending of the veil in effect reduplicates the initial theophanic rending of the skies and provides an apocalyptic scenery of exposure of heavenly secrets.304 (c) Lastly, as also often noticed,305 the statement of the centurion, ἀληθῶς οὗτος ὁ ἄνθρωπος υἱὸς θεοῦ ἦν, creates a remarkable connection to the sonship proclamations in the baptism and on the Mount of Transfiguration, the only two instances of divine utterances in Mark.306 ––––––––––––––––– For further details, see the discussion in Section 4.4.3. See, e.g., O’Brien, The Use of Scripture, 141–44, and Cho, Royal Messianism, 194. 300 See the discussion in Section 4.4.2. According to Motyer, we should rather find an Elisha motif that depicts Jesus as Elisha, the stronger one compared to Elijah, who tore his cloak εἰς δύο (4 Kgdms 2:12), see Motyer, “Rending,” 156. 301 See Gurtner, “Veil and Markan,” 295, and the discussion in Section 4.4.3. 302 See the discussion below in this section. 303 See, e.g., Ulansey, “Heavenly Veil”; Gurtner, “Veil and Markan.” 304 Gurtner even argues that the veil is understood as “a heavenly firmament” thought to have hung “before the throne of God” (see Gurtner, “Veil and Markan,” 301). 305 See, e.g., Lightfoot, St. Mark, 55–56; Perrin, Modern Pigrimage, 85; Chronis, “Torn Veil,” 109–10; Motyer, “Rending,” 155; Myers, Binding the Strong, 390–92; Ulansey, “Heavenly Veil”; Van Henten, “First Testing,” 365; Caneday, “Baptism and Crucifixion”; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 1059. 306 Even if the statement is understood as mockery (see, e.g., Johnson, “Mark 15.39”; Juel, Master of Surprise, 74 n. 7; Nathan Eubank, “Dying with Power: Mark 15,39 from Ancient to Modern Interpretation,” Bib 95.2 [2014]: 247–69) or irony (see, e.g., Whitney T. Shiner, “The Ambiguous Pronouncement of the Centurion and the Shrouding of Meaning in Mark,” JSNT 78 [2000]: 3–33), an inclusio is arguably still detected by the Markan reader since the statement is known by the reader to be true in the same way as the earlier 298 299

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(3) Before offering an interpretation of the theological implication embedded in 15:38, another interpretative issue needs to be taken into account: the question of which veil Mark is referring to by καταπέτασµα. Unfortunately, Mark does not clarify his statement in the manner of the author of Hebrews (τὸ δεύτερον καταπέτασµα, 9:3). This has resulted in a century-long debate with the principal positions outlined by Gustaf Dalman, arguing for the outer curtain,307 and Herman Strack and Paul Billerbeck along with Lightfoot, arguing for the inner curtain.308 The issue is often depicted as crucial for the interpretation of the relationship between Jesus’s death and the temple, with one line of researchers arguing for an atoning value on the basis of a rending of the inner veil and another arguing for the destruction of the temple and all cultic activities as such on the basis of a rending of the outer veil.309 The problem is, as painstakingly outlined by Daniel Gurtner,310 that καταπέτασµα in the LXX is used to translate ‫ ָפּר ֶֹכת‬for the inner curtain between the holy of holies and the holy place, ‫ ָמָסְך‬for the outer curtain or the screen between the holy place and the courtyard, as well as ‫ ָמָסְך‬for the curtain of the entrance to the courtyard.311 Focussing only on the two first, Strack and Billerbeck argued that a conclusion can rest only on “theologische Gründe,”312 that is, not historical, and went on to argue that Mark must have meant the inner veil due to “der kultischen Bedeutungslosigkeit” of the outer veil.313 Others, on the other hand, have argued the opposite: that Mark must have meant the outer veil since his theological treatment of the temple works towards a complete destruction of the temple with 15:38 as the ultimate expression.314 Likewise, Howard Jackson reasoned that the outer veil must be in view in order for the centurion to be able to view the rending, for which reason the crucifixion also must have taken place at the ––––––––––––––––– pronouncements of evil spirits or hostile bystanders. For a recent defence of a positive reading, see Kelly R. Iverson, “A Centurion’s ‘Confession’: A Performance-Critical Analysis of Mark 15:39,” JBL 130.2 (2011): 329–50. 307 See Gustaf Dalman, The Words of Jesus: Considered in the Light of Post-Biblical Jewish Writings and the Aramaic Language (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1902), 56. 308 See Str-B 1:1043–46; Lightfoot, Locality and Doctrine, 55–56. See further Jackson, “Death,” 36 n. 23, and the recent book-length discussion in Daniel M. Gurtner, The Torn Veil: Matthew’s Exposition of the Death of Jesus, SNTSMS 139 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 1–28. 309 See, e.g., Juel, Messiah and Temple, 150–52. 310 See Gurtner, Torn Veil, 29–71, 203–215, and Daniel M. Gurtner, “LXX Syntax and the Identity of the NT Veil,” NovT 47.4 (2005): 344–53. For a recent discussion of late Second Temple Jewish texts describing the veils, see Casey D. Elledge, “The Veils of the Second Temple: Architecture and Tradition in the Herodian Sanctuary,” ErIsr 31 (2015): 40–50. 311 See, e.g., Exod 26:31, 37; 27:16. 312 Str-B 1:1045. 313 Str-B 1:1045. 314 See, e.g., Motyer, “Rending,” 155; Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 206.

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Mount of Olives.315 Further, David Ulansey believes to have found a “decisive proof” for the outer veil, namely Josephus’s knowledge of Herod the Great’s magnificent outer veil. According to Ulansey, Mark’s readers would also have known how its embroidery figuratively typified the universe and would thereby instantly remind the readers of “Mark’s earlier description of the heavens being torn at the baptism.”316 Still others have sought ways to bypass the impasse. For instance, Harry Chronis has suggested that in reality Mark in 15:38 has moved his focus from the physical temple to the body of Jesus, using the temple veil as a ‘cipher’ for the real ‘rending’ taking place at the cross, the body of Jesus.317 In the light of the amount of ink and imagination used on this issue already, one feels tempted to follow Raymond Brown and conclude that the matter is so obscure that it should be disregarded completely in the interpretation of the crucifixion scene.318 Before retracting, however, Gurtner’s fresh appraisal of the available source material needs to be taken into account. On the one hand, Gurtner demonstrates how the LXX consistently uses καταπέτασµα for the inner veil only if it is not otherwise qualified by either specific locative genitives or contextual indications pinpointing one of the other curtains in the tabernacle or temple. According to Gurtner this means that “since the synoptic locative genitive of τὸ καταπέτασµα τοῦ ναοῦ clearly does not make such distinction, we are left to suppose that the evangelists, like their LXX ‘source,’ are referring to the inner veil by their use of τὸ καταπέτασµα τοῦ ναοῦ.”319 On the other hand, Gurtner minimizes the symbolic difference between the inner and outer veil. While the inner veil indeed is the uttermost barrier of separation between God and the created world and as such characterized by its specific cultic purpose of separation between the most holy and the less holy,320 it also served as the main symbolic referent for “the heavenly firmament of Gen. 1:6.”321 In this latter capacity, the inner veil was on par with the outer veil and the other cultic articles in the temple such as lamp stands, candlesticks, and the priestly garments, which combined were seen as representing “different parts of the universe.”322 If this understanding is accepted, Ulansey’s argument for an inclusio of ‘heavens’ between the outer veil and 1:10 is even better argued if Mark is referring

––––––––––––––––– See Jackson, “Death,” 24–25. Ulansey, “Heavenly Veil,” 124–25. 317 See Chronis, “Torn Veil,” 112–14. 318 See Raymond E. Brown, The Death of the Messiah: From Gethsemane to the Grave, ABRL (Garden City, NY; New York: Doubleday, 1994), 2:1113. 319 Gurtner, Torn Veil, 46. 320 See Gurtner, Torn Veil, 70–71. 321 Gurtner, “Veil and Markan,” 300. 322 Gurtner, “Veil and Markan,” 300. 315 316

6.3 The Temple and Jesus’s Death and Resurrection

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to the inner veil that with its guarding cherubim was the innermost gate to the prohibited paradise in the heavenly sphere.323 The variety of opinions should caution against dogmatism on this matter. Nonetheless, Gurtner’s argument for the inner curtain as the ‘default’ καταπέτασµα if not otherwise noted, in combination with the shared symbolism between the inner and outer as different parts of the same ‘gateway to heaven,’ makes me conclude that Mark’s τὸ καταπέτασµα τοῦ ναοῦ probably refers to the inner veil, and if not, the symbolic difference should not be exaggerated. (4) Turning now to the theological interpretation of the velum scissum, the important issue to clarify is if the projected understanding of the εὐαγγέλιον is able to untangle this Markan research entanglement and clarify how the rending of the veil functions within Mark’s overall framework. In the following, it will be argued that this indeed is the case. Yet again, the focus on atonement for sin pro et contra threatens to block the view of the theological statement Mark is trying to make, which in the light of an understanding of his εὐαγγέλιον as the epoch-making renewal of proximity to the divine comes to its ultimate expression precisely in 15:38. This argument rests on the following: (a) First, as outlined in detail above, the elements of amplification present in 15:38 – the intrusiveness of the shift of scenery, the superfluous reduplication of εἰς δύο ἀπ᾽ ἄνωθεν ἕως κάτω, and, most importantly, the sense of divine reference in ἐσχίσθη – produce a theophanic scene that in the Markan narrative flow brings closure to what may be labelled Mark’s theophanic trajectory. This is again thoroughly intertwined with the Isaianic vision of Yahweh’s renewed presence among his people. If we consider the prologue, for example, the theophanic atmosphere is brought about by the composite citation in 1:2–3 as well as by the scene of the baptism as thoroughly discussed above.324 While all may not agree with the interpretation that Mark’s change of pronouns to σου and αὐτοῦ is meant to create a scene with a visit to the heavenly court or temple, it is difficult to negate how the apparent ‘clumsy’ citation of Isa 40:3 sets in motion Mark’s strong trajectory focussed on seeing the Isaianic vision of Yahweh’s renewed presence among his people materialized. The opening paragraphs in Mark form, in other words, a theophany in Isaianic clothes. Further, the role of the temple in Isaiah 40–66 also highlights the σχίζειν in 15:38 as theophanic. As discussed in Chapter 3,325 while Second Isaiah primarily focusses on Yahweh’s re-intervention as a victorious warrior, the temple cultic imagery is present in Isaiah 40–55 as well as an integral part of the redressing of Zion in its festive clothes, making Yahweh’s advancement towards Zion just as much a pilgrimage as a military campaign. This is even more so if the notion of the servant of Yahweh as an ‫ ָאָשׁם‬in the fourth Servant Song is ––––––––––––––––– See further Gurtner, Torn Veil, 57–60. See Sections 4.3.2 and 4.4.3. 325 See Section 3.3.3. 323 324

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understood as some kind of cultic sacrifice of reparation. It may likewise be noted that the four uses of ‫ ְבּ ִרית‬in the Masoretic Text326 and five uses of διαθήκη in the Septuagint327 fall in contexts that focus on the universal role of the servant or on Yahweh’s faithfulness towards the house of David, used as a cornerstone in the eschatological picture of the renewed temple open to gentiles that Mark uses in the temple incident (11:17). The central importance of the temple is elaborated even further in Isaiah 56–66, in which the petition in 63:19 seemingly expresses the central disappointment produced by the condition of the temple, still unfinished and diluted by gentiles. In the light of Mark’s central quotation of Isa 56:7 in 11:17 and the more subtle evocation of Isaiah 5 in the parable of the vineyard in 12:1–9, which through the interpretative quotation of the rejected stone of Ps 118:22 evokes temple imagery,328 it becomes an attractive interpretation to understand the second act of σχίζειν as the final fulfilment of the Isaianic cry for Yahweh’s epiphany for the sake of his temple. In the same way, in the light of Mark 14:22–25 as a reworking of the Sinai covenant inauguration, the element missing at Jesus’s last supper – the theophany or descent of Yahweh on the top of Mount Sinai – is now narratively provided by 15:37–39. In the preceding paragraph, it was highlighted how Exodus 24 is replete with theophanic notions, culminating in the notion that the δόξα of God descends (καταβαίνειν) to the top of the mountain. While precursors of this event are found in Jesus’s baptism (Mark 1:9–11) and the transfiguration (9:2–7), it is brought to its closure with the downwards movement in the rending of the veil, creating a theophanic chain consisting of the various steps of renewed covenant inauguration in 1:9–11, 9:2–7, 14:24, and finally 15:38. Thus, if the Isaianic framework of Mark is allowed to colour our interpretation of the divine rejoinder to Jesus’s death in 15:38, the heavy theophanic atmosphere of the incident is not meant to create a dramatic setting in and of itself. Instead, it becomes the act that finally fulfils the promise of a re-establishment of the temple by offering access to the divine presence in the temple to the Jewish nation as well as law-abiding gentiles.329 In the section below it will be discussed if Mark is more specific than this. For now, it will yet again be concluded how profound the ‘opening up’ of the temple is in the light of the covenant framework by tapping into the Isaianic vision of eschatological completion – and thus in essence: the central act of the Isaianic ‘gospel’ vision.330 ––––––––––––––––– See Isa 42:6; 49:8; 54:10; 55:3. See Isa 42:6; 49:6, 8; 54:10; 55:3. 328 See the discussion in Section 6.2.2. 329 See especially Isa 56:3–8 for the connection of temple, covenant renewal, and gentile inclusion (see also Isa 42:6; 49:6 LXX; 61:5–8). 330 Surprisingly, the role of Mark 15:38 in Mark’s Isaianic framework is overlooked in some of the most important studies understanding Mark in the light of Isaiah, see Watts, New Exodus and Mark, 310–49; Marcus, “Jewish War,” 153–98. 326 327

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(b) The notion of renewed proximity to the divine in 15:38 is further corroborated by the generic idea of the temple and its veil(s). While it is not the objective here to provide a detailed discussion of temple theology in the Hebrew Bible or late Second Temple Jewish texts, it should count as common ground to acknowledge that fundamental to the idea of a temple is the negotiation between proximity and separation, which in the aforementioned traditions is expressed by the notion of ‫בדל‬.331 In the priestly theology in particular, the main task of the priestly office is precisely “to make separation” (‫ְלַהְב ִדּיל‬/διαστεῖλαι, Lev 10:10) between the holy and the unholy, the pure and the impure, paradigmatically exemplified with the story of Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu, roasted for carrying unholy fire “for the presence of Yahweh” (‫ִלְפ ֵני ְיה ָוה‬/ἔναντι κυρίου, Lev 10:1). In late Second Temple Jewish texts, the negotiation of how God’s proximity in the temple may be approached is a common denominator between disparate texts, describing the barriers around the temple, such as Josephus, Philo, Qumran texts, and the Mishnah.332 In light of this, the temple is envisioned to be the ‘gateway to heaven,’333 in which there is evidence for a dual function of the καταπέτασµα of the temple. On the one hand, there is an interconnection between the garden of Eden and the terrestrial temple in which Eden serves as the primary expression of the celestial temple and the terrestrial temple serves as miniature of Eden.334 This is seen by the floral motifs of the tabernacle/the temple335 and the cherubs woven into the inner veil to mimic the cherubs guarding the way to Eden itself.336 In essence, the innermost veil was not only guarding the access to the presence of Yahweh but at the very same time to the garden of Eden and the tree of life (‫ֵﬠץ ַהַח ִיּים‬/ξύλον τῆς ζωῆς). As shown for example by Peter Lanfer, there was a widespread speculation of Mount Moriah and the temple as the hidden access point to the now lost garden of Eden.337 If such a tradition was part of the horizon of Mark’s readers, the rending of the veil may have been understood in the light of another Isaianic ––––––––––––––––– 331 For the typology and function of temples in Near Eastern cultures in general and Israel in particular, see, e.g., Bernd Janowski, “Der Himmel auf Erden: Zur kosmologischen Bedeutung des Tempels in der Umwelt Israels,” in Das biblische Weltbild und seine altorientalischen Kontexte, ed. Bernd Janowski and Beate Ego, FAT 32 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 229–60; Gurtner, Torn Veil, 60–71. 332 See, e.g., Josephus, Ant. 15.417–420; Ag. Ap. 2.102–111; 1QSa II, 1–22; 11Q19 XLVI; m. Kelim 1:7–10; see also P.Oxy. 840. 333 See Gurtner, “Veil and Markan,” 300. 334 See, e.g., Lanfer, Remembering Eden, 127–58, listing, for example, rabbinic evidence for Mount Moriah as Adam’s dwelling place after the loss of access to the garden of Eden. 335 See, e.g., Exod 25:31–40; 28:34–38; 1 Kgs 6:18, 29–35, see further Lanfer, Remembering Eden, 138–39. 336 See Gen 3:24 and the later figurative expressions in, e.g., Exod 26:31; 1 Kgs 6:23–32, see further Gurtner, Torn Veil, 58–59. 337 See Lanfer, Remembering Eden, 127–58.

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motif, the restoration of Zion “into Eden” (‫ְכֵּﬠ ֶדן‬/ὡς παράδεισον, Isa 51:3).338 Further, as discussed just above, there was a tradition in late Second Temple Jewish texts for understanding the temple and its veils as a symbol of the heavens which – if also known to Mark and his readers – further corroborates the same notion of the temple as the axis mundi, the place of proximity between the celestial and the terrestrial.339 In other words, not only the Isaianic framework of Mark or the Sinaitic covenant inauguration but likewise the role of the temple and its veils communicate a message of proximity to the divine enabled through Jesus’s death. (c) In arguing that the central element in Mark’s theological understanding of the velum scissum is the way in which σχίζειν and the entire scene brings Mark’s theophanic theme to its climax in a process that reorganizes the temple cultic access to the divine, we finally need to take into account how the centurion’s confession functions therein. Unfortunately, as rightfully noticed by Iverson, “Mark 15:39 is a text fraught with interpretative issues,”340 of which one is the projected reading thereof in some postcolonial and/or anti-imperial readings, understanding it as “a narrative fulfilment”341 to the way in which Mark challenges the Roman Empire and the propaganda of Vespasian. In light of the reading of Mark’s use of εὐαγγέλιον presented here, the statement is indeed a climax, albeit not specifically to any alleged claims of Vespasian, assumed from a specific dating and provenance of Mark, but rather to the universal and even cosmological victorious powers represented by the εὐαγγέλιον of Jesus as claimed in Mark’s text (13:10; 14:9). To unfold this argument, two things should be noted, highlighting how 15:39 serves as an effective ‘closure’ to foreshadowed themes throughout Mark: First, as argued in detail by Brian Gamel, 15:39 should be understood as a rejoinder to the heavenly voice of 1:11. In reality, 15:38–39 combined takes up the keywords of 1:10–11 (σχίζειν, υἱός) and “marks the end of the Christological tension present throughout Mark.”342 Earlier in the cross scene, several sarcastic notions inform the reader that the other statements on Jesus’s identity are

––––––––––––––––– 338 See also the Septuagint’s expansion of the vision of the paradisiac reversal in Isa 65:22 which is labelled “the days according to the tree of life” (κατὰ γὰρ τὰς ἡµέρας τοῦ ξύλου τῆς ζωῆς). For similar paradisiac descriptions of the eschatological remaking of Jerusalem in late Second Temple Jewish texts, see Frances M. Young, Construing the Cross: Type, Sign, Symbol, Word, Action (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2015), 53–57. 339 See, e.g., Ulansey, “Heavenly Veil”; Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 190–94; Gurtner, “Veil and Markan,” 300–303. 340 Iverson, “Mark 15:39,” 350. 341 Winn, Reading Mark’s Christology, 161. See also, e.g., Leander, Discourses, 285–93, see further the discussion in Section 2.4.4 and 2.4.5. 342 Gamel, Mark 15:39, 4.

6.3 The Temple and Jesus’s Death and Resurrection

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not to be understood as genuine.343 Here, the use of ἀληθῶς, in combination with the keyword ἰδεῖν, ensures the reader that this statement is genuine.344 Understood as a genuine statement and in the light of 1:11, the confession of the centurion becomes an expression of Jesus’s death as a revelatory event through which “the centurion is enabled to take up the divine speech that has named Jesus the Son of God.”345 Further, as emphasized by several researchers, the universal recognition of Jesus’s divine sonship is corroborated by the cosmic and apocalyptic setting of 15:33–39, not only provided by the darkness of ‫יוֹם‬ ‫( ַההוּא‬Amos 8:9) but also by the access provided into the heavenly secrets by the rending of the veil.346 Thus, 15:39 should be understood as the christological climax of Mark. Second, in the light of 13:10 and 14:9, 15:39 brings closure to the foreshadowed victory of the εὐαγγέλιον among the gentiles. As outlined in Chapter 5,347 the division and animosity between Jews and gentiles is part of what Mark’s Jesus applies his ἐξουσία to. This theme is part of the central plot of heightening tension in Mark 11–16 as well, in at least four ways: in the citation of Isa 56:7 in 11:17 including πᾶσιν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν left out in Matt 21:13 and Luke 19:46; in the notion of giving the vineyard “to others” (ἄλλοις, 12:9); in the command to reconvene in Galilee rather than in Jerusalem (14:28; 16:7); and then, finally, here in the recognition by the Roman centurion of Jesus’s divine sonship. Read as a genuine confession, ἀληθῶς οὗτος ὁ ἄνθρωπος υἱὸς θεοῦ ἦν thus in reality becomes a proleptic inauguration of the universal scope of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον that is clearly pinpointed in 13:10 and 14:9 besides possibly also in 8:35 and 10:29.348 This reading does not exclude an anti-imperial sentiment in the centurion’s pinpointing of Jesus as the/a “son of God.”349 It does, however, emphasize that the confrontation of the ἐξουσία of Rome is subordinated to the themes of christological identification of Jesus and the inclusion of gentiles according to which the centurion becomes a first-fruit of the era of the preaching of the εὐαγγέλιον.350 ––––––––––––––––– 343 See the use of ἐµπαίζειν, βλασφηµεῖν, and ὀνειδίζειν in Mark 15:20, 29, 30–32; see also Leander, Discourses, 289. 344 See Gamel, Mark 15:39, 25–68, pace, e.g., Johnson, “Mark 15.39,” 16–17; Juel, Master of Surprise, 74 n. 7; Eubank, “Mark 15:39,” 263–67; Shiner, “Ambiguous Pronouncement” (partly). 345 Gamel, Mark 15:39, 98. 346 See Gurtner, “Veil and Markan,” 302; Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 190–94. 347 See especially Sections 5.3.4 and 5.3.5. 348 See further above, Section 6.2.6. 349 See, e.g., Tae Hun Kim, “The Anarthrous υἱὸς θεοῦ in Mark 15,39 and the Roman Imperial Cult,” Bib 79 (1998): 225–38; Collins, Mark, 768. 350 See, e.g., Juel, Messiah and Temple, 131; Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 194–96.

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To sum up, the combined arguments presented here clarify the pivotal importance of Mark 15:38 in at least two ways. In the narrow context, 15:38 is the interpretative key to the crucifixion of Jesus and thereby to how Mark envisions Jesus becomes king and content of the εὐαγγέλιον. As noted by Chronis, in the extremely dense death scene of Jesus, going from mockery and suffering in 15:36–37 to revelation in 15:38 and to recognition in 15:39, “Mark is forging a theological statement.”351 The essence of this is discernible by now, according to the argument I have unfolded, namely the way in which the Isaianic vision of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία includes a temple cultic renewal through which renewed proximity to the divine is the preeminent outcome of the death of Jesus. Below, we shall discuss if this includes a destruction of the temple and/or sacrificial atonement for sin. But according to the way Mark’s vision of the approaching εὐαγγέλιον in and by Jesus is unfolding, it decisively contains the renewed availability of proximity to God for Jews and gentiles. The cosmic setting of the scene (15:33) and the theophanic character of the splitting of the veil top-down produce a revelatory setting of the scene in which Jesus is finally acknowledged as υἱὸς θεοῦ. This decisively reveals how the death of Jesus renews the temple cultic proximity to God. In this way, Mark 15:33–39 is a miniature of Mark’s theology and of his εὐαγγέλιον. In the broader context, Mark 15:38 likewise functions as an interpretative key to Mark’s unfolding vision. There is a pattern of Galilee–Jerusalem–Galilee at play in Mark, as evident in the repeated notion of going to Galilee after Jerusalem (14:28; 16:7), in which the death of Jesus in combination with the resurrection is pinpointed as the intertwined factors that result in renewed fellowship and proximity. In this way, the divine ἐσχίσθη in 15:38, first, and its counterpart, ἠγέρθη, in 16:6, second, are the ultimate two ‘divine proofs’ Mark presents for his εὐαγγέλιον as the divinely ordained fulfilment of Isaiah’s visions. In sum, 15:38 serves as the primary evidence of the centrality of the temple in Mark’s theology, pinpointing the renewed proximity to the divine as the core of the victory of the εὐαγγέλιον, which is narratively enacted as a divinely ordained reorganization of temple cultic proximity in an event effected by Jesus’s death to a new situation that includes gentile perception. 6.3.5 Through Atonement and Temple Renewal In this section, it has thus far been argued that 14:24 and 15:38 in tandem form a well-tailored and fitting explanation of the benefits of Jesus’s death in the light of Mark’s presentation of his εὐαγγέλιον. To Mark, this notion is defined by reference to the Sinaitic covenant inauguration, the indexing of the disciples as partakers in τὸ αἷµά µου τῆς διαθήκης, and the divinely ‘opening up’ of the temple which together provide the ultimate gift available: proximity to the ––––––––––––––––– 351

Chronis, “Torn Veil,” 106.

6.3 The Temple and Jesus’s Death and Resurrection

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divine. It may thus be concluded that Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death is far from ‘formal’ or ‘agnostic.’ By focussing on proximity, Mark provides an answer to the question or claim he is bringing that Jesus is εὐαγγέλιον. In the light of this understanding of ‘covenant,’ the traditional discussion of Jesus’s death as bringing atonement for sin becomes less urgent as an inferior question to the covenant designation. Nevertheless, it has been a driving force in the discussion of Mark’s understanding of Jesus’s death, just as the Matthean addition of εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁµαρτιῶν unveils how further precision was provided by the reception of Mark. The question thus is if it is possible from the narrative of Mark to go beyond this main conclusion of Jesus’s death and resurrection as providing proximity (15:38) and covenant renewal by Jesus’s blood (14:24) to a description of the elements entailed therein. As outlined above,352 two vividly discussed questions hold the key to an answer: the nature of Jesus’s relationship to the Jewish temple and the nature of his death. Does Jesus in Mark seek to cleanse the temple in line with scriptural prophets, or does he actively seek to destroy and abrogate the temple? And is his death instrumental in ‘opening up’ into something new beyond the temple cult, or does he rather die an atoning death under or from within the existing cultic system? In the following, two connected answers will be sought substantiated that, if convincing, point towards a solution to the deadlock or at the very least a lessening of the tension. To the question of Jesus’s relationship to the temple, it will be argued that Mark is presenting Jesus’s program towards the temple as one of renewal, nor bleak destruction, and neither prophetic cleansing or critique. In concordance with the inconclusiveness of the dative in 1:44 (εἰς µαρτύριον αὐτοῖς), the drama between Jesus and the temple is eschatologically much more potent than any former prophetic critique and much more fatal to its administration and the very institution if Jesus is not recognized as the κεφαλὴ γωνίας (12:10). For this reason, the eschatological renewal presented by Mark will ultimately include the destruction of the temple due to its rejection while it will at the very same time provide a divinely rebuilding of access to God. To the question of the atoning value of Jesus’s death, it will be argued that in concordance with the presentation of Jesus’s death as a Sinaitic incident of covenant inauguration or covenant renewal, it is not to be expected that Mark elaborates further on the sacrificial nature of Jesus’s death with determinations that in reality belong to the sphere of covenant maintenance. In this part, I will draw on a suggestion presented by David M. Moffitt, distinguishing between the epic nature of covenant inauguration and the daily routine of sacrificial maintenance. (1) Beginning with Mark’s portrayal of Jesus’s relationship to the temple in Jerusalem and the nature of the temple incident in Mark 11:12–25, the argument for renewal builds on the following: ––––––––––––––––– 352

See Section 6.3.1.

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(a) As discussed in Section 5.3.3, Mark’s depiction of Jesus’s relationship to the temple is complex and evolving. If, as argued, the notion of εἰς µαρτύριον αὐτοῖς (1:44) should be understood in light of the Isaianic ‫ ְמַבֵשּׂר‬framework, in the sense that the healed leper is sent ahead to the temple as a witness of the victory and the impact of the approaching kingdom, then there is an initial possibility for a reception of Jesus by the Jewish temple authorities of Jerusalem. The call for repentance and belief is genuine (1:15), just as the initial repentance and reception of John’s message by οἱ Ἱεροσολυµῖται πάντες is a sign of hope (1:5). From Mark 3:22–30 onwards, however, the fatal outcome with οἱ γραµµατεῖς οἱ ἀπὸ Ἱεροσολύµων is foreshadowed in deep, dark colours. This is the case no matter how we understand the Beelzebul controversy, but the severity is stressed considerably if, as argued, a foreshadowing of the ultimate doom of the temple is accepted in this pericope’s reference to Jesus’s ministry of ἐκβάλλειν in Galilee (3:22) and his act of ἐκβάλλειν in the temple (11:15).353 Still, it is not until Mark’s Jerusalem section that this impending clash bursts forth with full force. As already outlined in the introduction to this section in a number of ways, Mark is more critical towards the temple and its administration than the other Synoptic Gospels. In particular, a strong argument can be made for an accumulation of the tension between Jesus and the temple administration, increasing from the initial anticlimactic silence of 11:11 to the final φωνὴ µεγάλη of 15:37, that produces the divine response encapsulated in the rending of the veil in 15:38. Steps from the joyous entrance to this bleak finale include: – The strong condemnation of the fig tree banned from producing fruit εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα (11:14), after which it withers ἐκ ῥιζῶν (11:20). – The temple incident itself, consisting of the symbolic action of ἐκβάλλειν and καταστρέφειν as well the hindrance of those carrying σκεῦος through the temple, which, as argued by Sanders,354 are actions against both needed and legitimate business of the cultic activities of the temple. – The citations in 11:17 of Isa 56:7 and Jer 7:11 to be discussed further below, but of which especially the latter in its context is one of strong condemnation. – The context of the saying of the power of prayer and belief that effectively turns τῷ ὄρει τούτῳ into a condemnation of the Temple Mount (11:23).355 – The notion of giving the vineyard to ἄλλοις (12:9). – The citation of Ps 118:22 with its evocation of temple foundation (12:10). ––––––––––––––––– See also the references in 3:22–30 to οἰκία, τὰ σκεύη, and πνεῦµα, which through the alignment of Spirit and dove in 1:10 create further reference points to the temple incident. For a similar reading of Mark 11:15, see Marcus, Mark 8–16, 782. 354 See Sanders, Jesus, 64–65. 355 See, e.g., Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 48–53; Ortlund, “Cast a Mountain.” 353

6.3 The Temple and Jesus’s Death and Resurrection

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– The devaluation of cultic sacrifices compared to loving one’s neighbour (12:33). – The contrast between giving in vain to the temple and giving to Jesus as part of the εὐαγγέλιον (12:41–44; 14:3–9). – The prophecy of the dismantling and profanation of the temple (13:1–2, 14). – The repeated notions of the decision by οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ γραµµατεῖς to kill (ἀπολλύειν) Jesus (11:18; 12:12; 14:1, 55), which culminates in the interrogation scene and the high priest’s ripping apart (διαρρηγνύειν, 14:63) of his own garment – an act that with the typical Markan twist of irony may be understood as a fulfilment of the new wine’s ripping apart (ῥηγνύειν, 2:22) of the old wine skin, just as it may serve as an ironic confirmation of the rending of the temple veil,356 the terminus of this trajectory. In this way, while the hope entailed in the dative of 1:44 is genuine, the evergrowing conflict between Jesus and the temple is strongly emphasized in Mark’s Jerusalem section. Even though the critique of the Jewish authorities’ maladministration may explain this clash in part, the rift runs deeper, reaching the bedrock of the existence of the temple. (b) The next thing to notice is how the strong and growing criticism of the Jerusalem temple is continuously coupled with notions of the establishment of a renewed temple space. In this sense, Mark’s Jesus is not only cleansing the terrestrial temple back to its original status, nor is he simply destroying the idea of a temple. Rather, he is as part of his covenantal sacrifice providing a renewed access to the divine presence and hereby the celestial temple. This is seen from the following listing: – The driving out of merchants from the temple as well as the prohibition of carrying a σκεῦος through the sanctuary (Mark 11:15–16) may be seen as a symbolic inaction of the final prophecy in Zech 14:21 in which every copper kettle (λέβης) of Jerusalem shall be sanctified and where tradesmen shall no longer be allowed in the temple.357 – The citation of Isa 56:7 in Mark 11:17 evokes the intensified focus on the temple in Isaiah 56–66. Specifically, the eschatological covenant renewal or inauguration of Isa 56:7 is issued towards “the stranger” (ὁ ἀλλογενής) and the eunuch (ὁ εὐνοῦχος), who no longer shall consider himself as a ξύλον ξηρόν (56:3). If they cling unto ἡ διαθήκη µου (56:4), they will be lead “to my holy mountain” (εἰς τὸ ὄρος τὸ ἅγιόν µου, 56:7) where the temple cult including prayers and sacrifices will be renewed. ––––––––––––––––– See, e.g., Schnellbächer, “Temple as Focus,” 102. While the LXX renders ‫ ְכּ ַנֲﬠ ִני‬with its primary meaning of Χαναναῖος, it has a secondary meaning, “tradesman,” preferred by the targum (“doers of business,” ‫ )ָﬠֵב יד ִת ג ָרא‬and suggested by a number of Hebrew lexicons, see, e.g., HALOT, DCH, TWAT. 356 357

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– Further, the ensuing citation of Jer 7:11 also entails an eventual covenant inaguration. While the immediate context in Jeremiah focusses on the condemnation of the temple administration, including a simile with a bare vine and a withered fig tree (8:13), the eschatological reversal and renewal will eventually produce a new “dawn” (ἀνατολή) with a just, Davidic king (23:5) and the return from exile leading to the establishment of a “new covenant” (διαθήκη καινή, Jer 38:31 LXX). – In the very same way, the extremely harsh notion of giving the vineyard to ἄλλοις (12:9) comes packed with the notion of renewal or rebuilding of the temple if, as argued, Ps 117:22 LXX should be understood in the Markan context in the targumic sense of a cultic drama. Specifically, the ἐγενήθη taps into the expectation of a divinely rebuilt eschatological temple.358 – Finally, the much discussed and enigmatic nature of the false accusation (ψευδοµαρτυρεῖν) of destroying and rebuilding (καταλύειν, οἰκοδοµεῖν) the temple (14:58; 15:29) refers in the context of Mark, one way or the other, to Jesus as instrumental in the eschatological renewal of the temple, whether or not this is understood with reference to the community as the temple or with reference to the celestial temple.359 In essence, it would be far too one-sided to describe the Markan Jesus’s relationship to the temple as one of destruction and abolishment. Rather, the allencompassing critique ‘to the root’ is throughout coupled with notions of the renewal or rebuilding to take place with Jesus’s death and resurrection as the central event. (2) This brings us to the question of atonement for sin in Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death. The answer to this question rests mainly on the interpretative statements in Mark 10:45 and especially 14:24 in combination with the rending of the veil. Before presenting my own solution, I will first outline three other recent suggestions as well as the proposal by Moffitt to distinguish between covenant inauguration and maintenance: (a) Collins’s several studies on this topic represent perhaps the most thorough recent case for a reading of Mark as presenting Jesus as “a sacrificial ––––––––––––––––– 358 For a discussion of the traditions in late Second Temple Jewish texts of an eschatological temple and its relationship to a messianic figure, see, e.g., Juel, Messiah and Temple, 169–209; Marcus, Mark 8–16, 791–93 (and 1014–5). Especially important texts count 4Q174; T. Levi 18; Sib. Or. 5.414–433; Tg. Isa. 53:4; see also the hopes ascribed to the temple as impregnable by a certain ψευδοπροφήτης according to Josephus (J.W. 6.285–287) and Menachem and Simon bar Giora’s attempts to rally themselves as messianic figures in the temple or its ruins (J.W. 2.444, 7.29–34). 359 For a discussion of this question, see Max Botner, “A Sanctuary in the Heavens and the Ascension of the Son of Man: Reassessing the Logic of Jesus’ Trial in Mark 14.53–65,” JSNT 41.3 (2019): 310–34.

6.3 The Temple and Jesus’s Death and Resurrection

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offering for sin” besides also “the scapegoat.”360 Collins’s case rests on the following main arguments: A main point concerns the specific use of ἐκκύννειν in Mark 14:24. On the one hand Collins accepts that the primary intertext for this saying is the Sinaitic covenant inauguration which “in and of itself … has nothing to do with sin,”361 as this event was associated with burnt and fellowship offerings. On the other hand, Collins argues that Mark’s subtle change from the notion of “splashing against” (προσχεῖν/‫ )זרק‬in Exod 24:6 to “pouring out” (ἐκχεῖν/‫ )שׁפך‬evokes a specific Levitical term connected with the pouring of blood in the sin offering (‫ַחָטּאת‬/περὶ τῆς ἁµαρτίας), for which reason Mark is in effect incorporating Levitical atonement theology into the Sinaitic covenant language.362 Another of Collins’s arguments has already been discussed in Section 5.4.7 and concerns the semantic range of λύτρον and λυτροῦν. Collins here points to the evidence in the Septuagint for a wider use than just in connection with the ransoming from debt, contained in the ‫ ֹגֵּאל‬institution, since other places such as Exod 21:30 and 30:11–16 use it in combination with various forms of the cultic notion of ‫( כפר‬ἐξιλάσκεσθαι).363 Further, as a corroborating evidence, Collins points to the so-called confessional inscriptions in Greek tradition where this nomenclature is used to describe the act of appeasing the gods through a sacrifice.364 For these reasons, Collins goes as far as to label λύτρον a synonym of ἱλαστήριον.365 Finally, Collins considers various scriptural background for the notions ὑπὲρ πολλῶν (14:24) and ἀντὶ πολλῶν (10:45), concluding that they are best understood as metaphorical, sacrificial terminology “effecting atonement for sin.”366 One such background is found in the priestly tradition of sacrificing animals in order to “make atonement for them” (ἐξιλάσεται περὶ αὐτῶν, Lev 4:20).367 Another is the traditions of substitutional sacrifices found in Isaiah 53 and Levitical 16. In the Hebrew version of Isa 53:11 we find a resemblance of the ὑπέρ/ἀντί formula in the notion of the guilt sacrifice (‫ )ָאָשׁם‬being delivered “for the many” (‫ָל ַרִבּים‬, 53:11), just as the Septuagint preserves a substitutionary reflection in the notion of “giving up” one’s life (παραδιδόναι, Isa 53:6, 12).368 According to Collins, the effect of the substitutionary sacrifice is made more ––––––––––––––––– Collins, “Finding Meaning,” 178. Collins, “Finding Meaning,” 176. 362 See, e.g., Lev 4:7, 18, 25, 30, 34 (ἐκχεῖν). See Collins, “Finding Meaning,” 176; Collins, “Death of Jesus,” 549–50. 363 See Collins, “Death of Jesus,” 546–48. 364 See Collins, “Death of Jesus,” 548–49. 365 Collins, “Death of Jesus,” 549. 366 Collins, Mark, 656. 367 See Collins, “Death of Jesus,” 550. Collins also refers to the pouring out of blood in connection with the ordination of priests, see Collins, “Finding Meaning,” 176 n. 1. 368 See Collins, “Finding Meaning,” 177; Collins, Mark, 657. 360 361

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explicit in the tradition of the scapegoat said to “carry” (‫נשׂא‬/λαµβάνειν, Lev 16:22) the sin of people, the point being that “the tradition in Mark 14:24 combines the two images”369 of Isaiah 53 and Leviticus 16. In evaluation, while Collins is certainly correct in stating that the Septuagint generally uses ἐκχεῖν in connection with the sin offering, the implication thereof is hampered by Mark’s shift to the variant form ἐκκύννειν. Further, the fact that ἐκχεῖν in the Septuagint is not a cultic term in itself, but for instance is also used to designate the shedding of innocent blood,370 makes it possible that Mark’s use could also be interpreted as “most appropriate for indicating his martyrdom,”371 just as it may be argued that the notion of pouring out rather than splashing against is of minor importance in Leviticus itself since the close relative of the sin offering, the guilt offering, is to be splashed (Lev 7:2). In the same way, the rest of Collins’s arguments may be said to be inferential and suggestive rather than obvious and conclusive. Thus, though Collins’s suggestions do carry force by suggesting possible evocations in Mark 10:45 and 14:24, it must be admitted that a straight line between the wording of Mark and the alleged intertexts of Leviticus and Isaiah 53 is not to be found. (b) In two recent studies, Botner also tackles the entire question afresh, arguing that while there is no solid ground for understanding Mark’s interpretation of Jesus’s death as a sin sacrifice, there is reason to assume a reference to the perpetual priestly prerogative on the administration of forgiveness: Concerning the latter, Botner argues in an article on the trial before the Sanhedrin372 that the key to the temple logion’s notion of the ναός ἄλλος ἀχειροποίητος (14:58) is to be found in the description of the Son of Man sitting to the right of the powerful one (14:62), understood as enthroned as well as priestly ordained in the heavenly sanctuary. Rather than pinpointing Jesus’s presence in the congregation ‘in Galilee,’ understood as the new temple, Botner argues that “the resurrected Son of Man is a priest in the heavenly sanctuary,” who in this way provides an ecclesiological “alternative point of access to the presence of Israel’s God.”373 To Botner, this priestly self-identification from the side of Jesus not only explains the charge of blasphemy (14:62–64) but also creates an inclusio to the episode where forgiveness of sins is discussed in Mark (2:1–12). It follows that “the community’s authority to proclaim the forgiveness of sins on earth,” as stated in Mark 11:25, is bound to and secured by “the perpetual session of the Son of Man … at God’s right hand.”374 In other ––––––––––––––––– Collins, “Finding Meaning,” 178. See, e.g., Gen 9:6; 37:22. 371 Kazen, “Sacrificial Interpretation,” 485. For a similar critique, see Max Botner, “Preparing a Meal for the Many: Or, How to Do Things with Blood” (paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the SBL, San Diego, 2019), 2–3. 372 Botner, “Sanctuary in the Heavens.” 373 Botner, “Sanctuary in the Heavens,” 326. 374 Botner, “Sanctuary in the Heavens,” 327. 369 370

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words, while we search in vain for a designation of Jesus’s death as a sin sacrifice, his post-resurrectional placement in the heavenly sanctuary secures access to divine forgiveness of sins. In his second study pertinent to our question, Botner investigates Mark 14:24, working around the question of a lack of any precise identification by Mark of what the outpoured blood accomplishes – or, to be precise, taking to the test the challenge posed by Kazen that since Mark does not clarify the effects of Jesus’s outpoured blood, any interpretation rests primarily on “how we evaluate possible intertextual relationships.”375 In seeking a way out of this deadlock, Botner accepts William Gilders’s description of the role of the blood sacrifices of Exodus 24 as indexical only376 and thus arrives at a minimalistic conclusion, on par with Kazen,377 stating that how Exod 24:8 informs Mark’s understanding of the blood of Jesus “is largely an enterprise in speculation.”378 Instead, certainty only goes as far as to say that “Christ’s blood qua sacrificial blood serves to index a covenant community.”379 In evaluation, Botner’s proposal of locating ‘forgiveness of sins’ in the priestly authority of the resurrected Jesus is intriguing and would negate the need for a specific sacrificial interpretation of Jesus’s death from the side of Mark in order to secure access to forgiveness of sin. However, as is the case with Collins’s reasoning, Botner’s proposal remains conjectural since the focus of 14:62 is rather on the Son of Man’s coming on the clouds than on his disciples’/the congregation’s authority to administer forgiveness of sins. Concerning Botner’s reading of Mark 14:24, I find Botner’s conclusion too minimalistic for reasons to be outlined next. While Gilder’s theory of the covenant inauguration of Exod 24:8 certainly strikes at the core of the matter, atonement for sin is such an intrinsic part of the covenant relationship that in re-working this tradition later texts often conflate the question of sin with the indexical act of covenant inauguration, a point Botner’s thorough study in reality outlines in clarity. (c) As mentioned in the introduction to this section, also Shively has recently weighed in on the longstanding discussion on Mark and Isaiah’s servant ––––––––––––––––– Kazen, “Sacrificial Interpretation,” 481. See Gilders, Blood Ritual, 37–43. Gilders underlines that Exod 24:3–8 “does not itself offer an interpretation of the ritual actions,” for which reason “we can speak only of an indexed relationship.” Any interpretation beyond this point “is something the reader brings to the text” (Gilders, Blood Ritual, 42). 377 See Kazen, “Sacrificial Interpretation,” 486, who labels Mark 14:24 an “indexing ritual” as well as a “sacrificial ritual” that marks the status of the twelve as well as enacts a covenant for the many without, however, providing “any indication that Jesus’ metaphorical covenant sacrifice effects the forgiveness of sins.” 378 Botner, “Preparing a Meal,” 13. 379 Botner, “Preparing a Meal,” 15. This conclusion is reached despite an acceptance of a reference to Isa 53 in the notion “for many.” 375 376

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tradition. Unlike Botner’s alternate way out of the leglock on Mark’s soteriology posed by Hooker’s study, Shively criticizes Hooker’s approach and with her the recent iterations represented by O’Brien and Hays for misconstruing the way in which the Israelite scriptural traditions were used in Second Temple Jewish texts.380 Rather than applying a discrete, atomistic criterium for allusions and echoes, Shively wishes to use an “integrated and contextual approach.”381 By this, she refers to the way in which we should picture Mark and his community using the Book of Isaiah they had received as a product of Second Temple Judaism. Building on the understanding of Isaiah’s formation laid forward by Jacob Stromberg,382 Shively argues that the Book of Isaiah underwent a redressing in post-exilic times in which the motif of the suffering servant was expanded to meet the experiences of perils by the post-exilic, Judean community. This application of the servant motif on an entire community as ‘righteous sufferers’ was afterwards copied in a number of Jewish texts, including, for example, Psalm 22 and Zechariah 13,383 for which reason it is futile to draw atomistic distinctions between these and Isaiah 53 when it comes to Mark. They were part of the same cultural encyclopedia, and considering Mark’s overall Isaianic trajectory as well as his multiple use of the duality in the suffering servant motifs on Jesus as well as his community, the use of, for example, Psalm 22 in the cross scene should not be seen as being at the expense of Isaiah 53 but rather Mark’s way of “doubling-up.”384 In evaluation, while I find Shively’s case for an integrated rather than atomistic approach to Mark’s use of Scripture to be well founded,385 just as the widespread reception of Isaiah in late Second Temple Jewish texts was also noticed in Section 3.4, two caveats are called for. One stems from the present state in the research on Isaiah’s formation that calls for caution against building too heavily on one suggestion.386 Another, and the real issue for our purposes, is how to prosper from Shively’s approach when it comes to Mark’s atonement theology. Given that Mark’s Isaianic framework is still in place in Mark 14– ––––––––––––––––– See Shively, “Servant(s),” 147–51. Shively, “Mark’s Passion,” 2. 382 See Jacob Stromberg, Isaiah After Exile: The Author of Third Isaiah as Reader and Redactor of the Book, OTM (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011); Jacob Stromberg, “Isaiah’s Interpretive Revolution: How Isaiah’s Formation Influenced Early Jewish and Christian Interpretation,” in The Book of Isaiah: Enduring Questions Answered Anew, ed. Richard J. Bautch and J. Tood Hibbard (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014), 214–32. 383 Shively refers to texts such as Zech 12:9–13:9; Pss 22, 69, 102; Dan 11:32–33; 12:1– 2; Wis 3:1–9; 2 Macc 7 and the Hodayot tradition of Qumran. See Shively, “Servant(s),” 153–55; Elizabeth E. Shively, “Israel’s Scriptures in the Gospel of Mark,” in The Old Testament in the New, ed. Matthias Henze and David Lincicum (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming). 384 Shively, “Mark’s Passion,” 29. 385 See also the discussion in Section 1.2. 386 See the discussion in Section 3.3.1. 380 381

6.3 The Temple and Jesus’s Death and Resurrection

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16, does the ‘doubling-up’ thereof with Psalm 22 and Zechariah 13 permit us to find echoes of all notions in Isaiah 53, or do they rather serve as a Markan lens into the themes he sought to emphasize, that is, the injustice experienced by the righteous suffering upon which a community is now to be modelled? In other words, Shively’s otherwise sound approach does not free us from the burden of finding allusions or echoes of the motifs in Isaiah which we want to emphasize. (d) Finally, before turning to my own evaluation of the question in front of us, I want to highlight the approach to the concept of covenant put forward by Moffitt. Despite focussing on Hebrews rather than Mark, Moffitt’s suggestion is important for our purpose nonetheless. Analogous to the connection between the covenant inauguration in Exodus 24 and the measures taken to maintain the covenant that already begin in Exodus 25 with the preparations for the tabernacle and comes to full measure in Leviticus,387 Moffitt argues that the author of Hebrews did not understand Jesus’s sacrifice “as a momentary event that is reducible merely to the crucifixion, but as a multi-stepped process that culminates in his entry into God’s presence in the heavenly holy of holies where he presents himself to God and intercedes for his people.”388 For this reason, we should distinguish between the cross as covenant inauguration and the present perpetual covenant maintenance constituted by the resurrection and not least ascension leading to Jesus’s high priestly interceding in the heavenly sanctuary. If Mark subscribed to such a scheme of exodus liberation, covenant inauguration, and covenant maintenance, it is not to be expected that he would portray Jesus’s death as a ‫ ַחָטּאת‬or ‫ ָאָשׁם‬sacrifice that belongs to the Levitical covenant maintenance. The question is, thus, if there are traces of such a stepped atonement system in Mark and, further, if this distinction is upheld in late Second Temple Jewish texts. To this we now turn. (3) When it comes to my own evaluation of Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death and atonement for sin, it should initially be restated that a presentation of Jesus as a sin offering cannot have been high on Mark’s agenda. It would have been easy to pinpoint this otherwise by using the notion of περὶ ἁµαρτίας from Isa 53:10 instead of λύτρον in 10:45, considering the possible or likely echo of Isa 53:10–12 in the rest of the sentence (δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ … ἀντὶ πολλῶν). Likewise, while acknowledging an integrative or contextual approach to Mark’s use of Scripture rather than an atomistic weighing of only ––––––––––––––––– See David M. Moffitt, review of The Death of the Messiah and the Birth of the New Covenant: A (Not So) New Model of the Atonement, by Michael J. Gorman, JTS 68.1 (2017): 470. 388 David M. Moffitt, “Wilderness Identity and Pentateuchal Narrative: Distinguishing Between Jesus’ Inauguration and Maintenance of the New Covenant in Hebrews,” in Muted Voices of the New Testament: Readings in the Catholic Epistles and Hebrews, ed. Katherine M. Hockey, Madison N. Pierce, and Francis Watson, LNTS 587 (London: Bloomsbury, 2017), 159. 387

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verbal correspondence, it should be accepted that Mark’s primary interpretative saying on Jesus’s death as sacrificial blood in 14:24 is a re-working of the Sinaitic covenant inauguration rather than, for example, of the blood of the paschal lamb, the ram of Yom Kippur, or the substitutional atonement theology and sin sacrificial terminology that is present in Isaiah 53.389 That said, however, in the following I will outline another inferential case for an implied understanding of Jesus’s temple cultic death in Mark as effecting forgiveness of sin by developing two arguments: the role of God as the divine agent behind Jesus’s death and the implicit notions of forgiveness of sin in various iterations of the covenant inauguration of Sinai. (a) First, it was noticed above in connection with the treatment of Mark’s use of Zech 13:7 how Mark makes God the agent behind Jesus’s death.390 Though Mark does not specify what Jesus’s death affects, two features in particular serve to present Jesus’s death as divinely ordained: The explicit use of passive verbs in connection with Jesus’s death and resurrection that from the context most likely have God as the acting agent is a recurring feature,391 just as the δεῖ-formula in 8:31 and not least the peculiar change in the citation of Zech 13:7 in Mark 14:27 from second person (πατάξατε) to first person singular (πατάξω) are features that combined serve to present Jesus’s death as divinely anchored. As discussed above, Mark’s change may be inspired by Ps 69:27 and not least Isa 53:4, which are the only places in the Hebrew Bible where Yahweh is said to strike a righteous person who is afterwards vindicated. On the narrative level, there is likewise an underlying theme of petition, silence, and delayed answer in Jesus’s two petitions in the passion story that anchors his death divinely. In Gethsemane, Jesus asks αββα ὁ πατήρ to be saved from the hour and the cup (14:35–36) and on the cross he cries ὁ θεός µου ὁ θεός µου (15:34). Both petitions are at first unanswered since Jesus is arrested and dies. When this happens, the divine answer is finally expressed by the two passive verbs ἐσχίσθη and ἠγέρθη respectively (15:38; 16:6). Taken together, there is evidence in the wording and in the narrative unfolding that Mark understood Jesus’s death as divinely anchored in a combined sense in which God is ultimately the agent behind the death, as evident from his silence, as well as the one responding to or moved by the λύτρον and the αἷµα τῆς διαθήκης Jesus is giving. In a wider biblical worldview, the same duality of God providing and accepting the sacrifice is present in the Akedah story

––––––––––––––––– See the discussion in Section 3.3.3. See Section 6.2.3. 391 See Mark 12:10 (ἐγενήθη); 14:24 (ἐκχυννόµενον); 15:38 (ἐσχίσθη); 16:6 (ἠγέρθη). 389 390

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as well as in the fourth Isaianic Servant Song, making it possible that Mark drew on these notions of substitutionary atonement.392 (b) A second argument for the likelihood of an implicit substitutionary atonement theology in Mark comes from an observation of how forgiveness of sin is not as far removed from covenant inauguration as Collins accepts and Moffitt argues. This argument rests on the following texts, which in part are indebted to Botner’s investigation: While atonement for sin is not referred to specifically in Exodus 24, the narrative flow of Exodus 19–24 ensures that the people are in a state of holiness and purity before the covenant is sealed. This is belaboured considerably in Exodus 19, which states that the people are commanded to keep the covenant (‫שׁמר‬/φυλάσσειν, 19:5) in order to remain the chosen people and “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (‫ַמְמֶלֶכת כֲֹּה ִנים ְוגוֹי ָקדוֹשׁ‬/βασίλειον ἱεράτευµα καὶ ἔθνος ἅγιον, 19:6), just as Moses is instructed to sanctify (‫קדשׁ‬/ἁγνίζειν) the people by washing (‫כבס‬/πλύνειν, 19:10) their clothes and by making separation (‫גבל‬/ἀφορίζειν, 19:12) around the mountain of Sinai in front of Yahweh’s ascension (‫ירד‬/καταβαίνειν, 19:20). While impurity should not be equated with sin,393 the opposite is true: sin implies impurity according to a priestly theology.394 This to say that mediation of sin is by implication part of the sanctifying measures in front of the covenant inauguration. This notion of purity and holiness as the frame around the sealing of the covenant in Exodus 24 is further corroborated by the reference to the reading of the entire law book (24:3–4, 7). Further, in the description of the ‫ עָֹלה‬in Leviticus, it is in the same way as the ‫ ַחָטּאת‬and the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬said “to cleanse/atone” (‫ְלַכֵפּר‬, Lev 1:4; LXX: ἐξιλάσασθαι).395 While this is not the case for the ‫ ֶזַבח ְשָׁלִמים‬, the connection between the remedy for sin entailed in the notion of ‫ִכֶּפּר‬,396 and the burnt offering in Leviticus, may also be implicit in the covenant inauguration of Exod 24:5–8. ––––––––––––––––– 392

See, e.g., Marcus, Way of the Lord, 162–63. For the Akedah tradition, see Section

4.4.3. 393 See especially Jonathan Klawans’s distinction between ritual and moral impurity, see Klawans, Impurity and Sin, 21–42. 394 According to the scheme of Klawans, grave sin always implies moral impurity, see Jonathan Klawans, Purity, Sacrifice, and the Temple: Symbolism and Supersessionism in the Study of Ancient Judaism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 55–56; Klawans, Impurity and Sin, 41. See also the discussion in Jay Sklar, Sin, Impurity, Sacrifice, Atonement: The Priestly Conceptions, HBM 2 (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2005). 395 See also the combination of the ‫ ַח ָטּ את‬with the ‫ ע ָֹל ה‬in the priestly consecration ritual as means of atonement ( ‫ַכּ ֵפּ ר‬/ἐξίλασαι, Lev 9:7) and the combination of these two with the ‫ ִמ ְנָח ה‬as means of atonement ( ‫ִכּ ֶפּ ר‬/ἐξιλάσεται) and cleansing ( ‫ָט ֵה ר‬/καθαρισθήσεται) in the case of the ritual for a healed leper (Lev 14:19–20), see Ådna, Jesu Stellung, 390–92; Moisés Silva, “θύω,” NIDNTTE 2:482. 396 For the discussion of ‫ ִכּ ֶפּ ר‬as cleansing/wiping away or atoning in Leviticus, see Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, 1079–84.

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Another place that highlights the mediating effect of the ‫ עָֹלה‬is the Akedah story that is thematically connected to Exodus 24 as a story of covenant inauguration397 and where the ram is presented as a substitutionary burnt offering through the formula ‫ַתַּחת‬/ἀντί (Gen 22:13). Also, while Exodus 24 is not explicit about atonement/cleansing (‫ִכֶּפּר‬/ἱλάσκεσθαι), the implied effect of the ‫ עָֹלה‬as atonement is made explicit by several later texts evoking the Sinaitic covenant inauguration and making mediating of sin part and parcel thereof. The διαθήκη καινή of Jer 38:31 LXX reiterates the importance of the law from Exod 24:3–4, 7 but circumscribes the sacrifices to atonement (ἵλεως) for wrongdoings or iniquities (ἀδικία) and forgiveness of sins (ἁµαρτία, 38:34 LXX). In the same way, while not referring to covenant directly, Ezek 36:22–38 LXX describes a process of new exodus, leading to a new period for Israel in Edenic glory (36:35) in which the cleansing (καθαρίζειν) from impurity (ἀκαθαρσία, 36:25) and different kinds of evil, lawlessness, and perversion (πονηρός, ἀνοµία, βδέλυγµα, 36:31) is at the very centre. In Jub. 6:11, 14 we find the same explanation as in Jeremiah of the covenantal blood as atoning. Dealing with the Noachian law against consummation of any blood, the author retells the Sinai incident and equates the blood manipulation of this incident with the daily tamid sacrifice that is said to be performed continually in order “to ask pardon for themselves before the Lord” (6:14).398 Likewise, despite their post-Markan date, Targum Onqelos and Targum Pseudo-Jonathan (though not Targum Neofiti) to Exod 24:8 ascribe atonement to the covenant sacrifices by positing that the sprinkling of the blood by Moses was done “to atone” (‫ )לכפרא‬for the people.399 To these texts may be added the interpretation of Eleazar’s martyrdom in 4 Maccabees, which in a highly notable manner elaborates on the same story of 2 Maccabees in which Eleazar is said to die “for the venerable and holy laws” (ὑπὲρ τῶν σεµνῶν καὶ ἁγίων νόµων, 6:28). In 4 Maccabees, this ὑπέρ-formula is first repeated (διὰ τὸν νόµον… ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν δίκῃ, 6:27–28) but then expanded upon and explained as a death towards the appeasement or gracious circumvention of God (ἵλεως, 6:28) in which the blood of Eleazar is “cleansing for them” (καθάρσιον αὐτῶν) and “substitutionary for them” (ἀντίψυχον αὐτῶν, 6:29). To the author of 4 Maccabees, the death of Eleazar and the mother and ––––––––––––––––– See Gen 22:16–18. Translation adopted from James C. VanderKam, The Book of Jubilees, CSCO 511 (Leuven: Peeters, 1989), 39. 399 According to Maher, “this addition … may have been made to counteract the Christian doctrine of the atoning power of the blood of Christ” (Michael Maher, Targum PseudoJonathan: Exodus, ArBib 2 [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994], 231). Botner instead argues that the shift from ‘tossing blood on the people’ to the notion of ‘making atonement for them’ was done “in order to evade the uncomfortable picture of Moses tossing blood on them” (Botner, “Preparing a Meal,” 13). 397 398

6.3 The Temple and Jesus’s Death and Resurrection

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her seven sons brought cleansing to the country “through the blood of these pious ones and their atoning death” (διὰ τοῦ αἵµατος τῶν εὐσεβῶν ἐκείνων καὶ τοῦ ἱλαστηρίου τοῦ θανάτου αὐτῶν, 17:22). Since these statements are uttered in connection with the breakdown of the cult and the re-establishment thereof by Judas Maccabeus, this takes places in a similar context of covenant inauguration in which the blood serves as purgation and atonement (ἵλεως, ἱλαστήριον).400 Finally, the same fusion of covenant blood and atoning blood takes places in the Letter to the Hebrews, overtly interpreting the blood sprinkled (ῥαντίζειν, 9:19) by Moses on the alter and on the people as effecting purity (καθαρίζειν) and forgiveness (ἄφεσις, 9:22). Further, the author also understands the notion in Jeremiah of a διαθήκη καινή as focussed on forgiveness of sins as its core content (10:15–18). In evaluation, I offer two conclusions. First, to the succinct challenge posed by Gilders, Kazen, and Botner that in reading Exod 24:8 and Mark 14:24 anything beyond covenant indexation is “something the reader brings to the text,”401 the outline of texts above seems to suggest otherwise. Pace Gilders, it may even be argued that remedy of sin is part of the overall picture of the Sinai incident through the demand for holiness in Exodus 19, the reading of the law in Exodus 24, and the ensuing covenant maintenance to be prepared in the rest of the book of Exodus. In the same way, as Botner also rightfully notices,402 an understanding of the Sinai covenant as connected to remedy of sin is explicitly expressed in the disparate texts from various periods and traditions amassed above. This should not come as a surprise, given the specific interpretation in Lev 17:11 of the sacrificial blood as providing atonement (‫כפר‬/ἐξιλάσκεσθαι). Does this mean that we can infer the same to be the case in Mark 14:24 without overtly or contingently ‘bringing our own presuppositions to the text’? In my opinion, it is likely the case that Mark presents the covenant blood of Jesus (14:24) and his ensuing temple cultic death (15:38) as effecting forgiveness of sins as well. In stating this, I readily admit that space is left open for other interpretations since the connection between Jesus’s sacrificial blood and forgiveness of sin is never explicitly stated by Mark as in Matt 26:28. Botner’s suggestion is one such by embedding the office of forgiveness into the resurrected Son of Man’s new seating at the right hand (Mark 14:62), interpreted as a high priestly office. Akin to this is Moffit’s distinction between covenant inauguration and ensuing, perpetual covenant maintenance. Nonetheless, my ––––––––––––––––– 400 For further discussion of these texts in 4 Macc, see, e.g., Moo, Passion Narratives, 290; Wischmeyer, “Herrschen als Dienen,” 35–36. 401 Gilders, Blood Ritual, 42, see also Kazen, “Sacrificial Interpretation,” 481 and Botner, “Preparing a Meal,” 13–15. For a similar dismissal of a connection between Mark 14:24 and Isaiah 53 as an unwarranted presumption, see Hooker, Servant, 82-83. 402 See Botner, “Preparing a Meal,” 9.

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first but, in reality, secondary conclusion is that though the evocation of Exodus 24 should be pictured as covenant inauguration, the distance to covenant maintenance should not be exaggerated. To the contrary, forgiveness of sin should be supposed as the obvious prerequisite and consequence. Second, this brings me to my main observation, already stated at the beginning of this section. Rather than understanding Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death as ‘agnostic,’ imprecise, or minimalistic in the sense of being indexical only, we should appreciate how by evoking the Sinai covenant tradition he is in essence choosing a metaphor from a higher cultic taxonomical level than perpetual remedy of sin. The locution, τοῦτό ἐστιν τὸ αἷµά µου τῆς διαθήκης τὸ ἐκχυννόµενον ὑπὲρ πολλῶν, is at one and the same time overtly sacrificial and overtly referring to the covenant inauguration of Mount Sinai for which reason it is a contradictio in adjecto to argue for an understanding of Jesus’s death in Mark devoid of sacrificial content. While to Mark this sacrificial blood of Jesus, as just argued, likely included cultic remedy of sin – arguing a maiore ad minus – due to the superiority of covenant inauguration and the later tradition of including perpetual atonement theology therein, my main conclusion is that this question becomes of secondary importance if the nature of the Sinai covenant inauguration is appreciated. We can only speculate as to why nomenclature from the Levitical, perpetual covenant maintenance is not deployed by Mark as in Matt 26:28, but in the light of the understanding of εὐαγγέλιον as a notion of an epoch-making change argued throughout this study, I suggest an obvious solution: By evoking the Sinai covenant tradition, Mark could not have chosen a better interpretative framework from the Jewish, scriptural tradition to present Jesus’s death as εὐαγγέλιον, that is, as the decisive, one-time sacrifice of covenant inauguration that establishes the ultimate paradisiac reversal for its partakers: proximity to the divine. In all essence, the rest are footnotes. To sum up this subsection, the focus has been on discussing the more defined question of the means by which Mark envisions that the proximity to the divine is achieved, being the main result of Jesus’s death and resurrection. It has been argued that the answer to this question is found in a combination of the all-encompassing critique of the condition of the temple in Jerusalem and its administration with the evocation of Exodus 24 as the key to unlock the effects of Jesus’s death, which combined paint a picture of a renewal of the temple cult in the sense of covenant inauguration. If we focus narrowly on Exod 24:8 as the intertext of Mark 14:24, the covenantal blood primarily serves an indexical function. However, if we read Mark’s verbal interpretation in 14:24 in tandem with his non-verbal temple response in 15:38 in the light of the wider context of Exod 19–24 and the various later reiterations and interpretations in other Jewish texts as well, it becomes an uncontroversial issue to understand atonement and forgiveness of sin as part and parcel of covenant inauguration whether or not this is understood as part of the covenant sacrifice or ascribed to the ensuing covenant maintenance. According to the reading

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presented here, in which the covenant inauguration forms the epicentre of the epoch-making proclamation of Mark’s τὸ εὐαγγέλιον, the ‘agnostic’ understanding of Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death represented for instance by Kee, as well as the ‘minimalistic’ reading represented for instance by Kazen and Botner, misses the mark when it comes to the importance and ramifications of Mark’s covenant language. In reality, there is no covenant inauguration without preceding preparation and ensuing covenant maintenance, just as there is no Passover liberation or Sinai covenant without ensuing cultic instructions, or – to return to Mark’s Isaianic-shaped εὐαγγέλιον – no Isaianic visions of a renewed exodus without a renewal of the temple cult, including mediating of sin.

6.4 Partial Conclusion Considering Mark’s narrative as εὐαγγέλιον, as victory proclamation of epochmaking proportions, the fundamental question to be asked in the present chapter has been how Mark makes sense of Jesus’s death. In the light of the understanding of the εὐαγγελ- word group outlined in Chapter 3 as well as in the light of the expectations that Mark’s narrative has created up until this point, the death of Jesus by crucifixion is narratively speaking a burden to be explained. This has, of course, been observed in Markan research for a long time and produced several intense debates over issues like Mark’s view of Jesus as βασιλεύς and not least Mark’s presentation of the benefit of Jesus’s death. Using the outlined understanding of εὐαγγέλιον as the interpretative lens, it has been discussed if a compelling understanding of the tension in Mark’s narrative between victory and death is possible, which in effect would suggest a possible solution to some of the impasses in Markan research. To this end, the investigation has been arranged around two sets of research questions, focussing on Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death as a kingly coronation and Mark’s understanding of how precisely Jesus’s death is instrumental to the core content of his projected εὐαγγέλιον as providing the Isaianic inspired proximity to the divine. In light of this, the following may be concluded: (1) Acknowledging the point argued by Kelber and Malbon, that it is only the foes of Jesus that label him βασιλεύς, the unifying point of the first part of the investigation above negates their conclusion on this matter and emphasizes that Mark indeed seeks to persuade his readers with quite an array of stylistic and thematic arguments at hand that Jesus is truly the βασιλεύς of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον. The investigation above gives reason to conclude that this understanding of Jesus is not only in sync with Mark’s overall presentation of Jesus but, in reality, at the very centre on par with his understanding of Jesus as χριστός. As a matter of fact, the first part of the investigation above has highlighted how Jesus start to finish is presented as a victorious Davidic king,

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considering how Bartimaeus’s Son of David proclamation produces an invitation to follow Jesus ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ to Jerusalem; the scripturalization at work in Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem that in reality enacts a number of important texts from the arsenal of eschatological expectations of a Davidic reversal such as Gen 49:10–11, Zechariah 9 and 14, and not least Psalm 118; Jesus’s identification with the shepherd of Zech 13:7 who through ‘creative exegesis’ in Mark 14:27 becomes instrumental for the kingly victory described in Zechariah 13– 14; the way in which Mark uses Jesus’s opponents to declare Jesus’s ultimate victory by labelling him χριστός as well as βασιλεύς; and not least the way in which the resurrection scene is designed as one of ultimate victory proclamation of Jesus as ἠγέρθη (16:6). Within this trajectory, it comes as no surprise that Mark’s only two uses of εὐαγγέλιον in the Jerusalem section are used to describe the post-resurrectional proclamation of Jesus’s victory (13:10; 14:9) – since Mark uses εὐαγγέλιον in conformity with is sense of epoch-making victories. (2) At the very same time, however, Mark’s king is emphasized as an ‘appropriated king,’ a surprising king, and ultimately a rejected and disappointing king. Judging from the way in which this theme grows throughout the passion narrative and culminates in the cross scene – if not in the fear and flight in the resurrection scene – it is at the heart of Mark’s Leistung, his achievement in merging king and cross. In the first part of his Jerusalem section, it was suggested that the recurring role of Psalm 118 creates this ‘appropriated’ tension. In Mark’s text, this point is evident from the reverse citation order through which the builder’s rejection of the corner stone remains a present reality not solved, as in the targum, as a reference to the initial rejection of the young David. Entering into the passion story proper, this intertwinement of cross and victory is propelled to new heights as evident from the anointment of Jesus by the anonymous woman whose deed becomes part of the post-resurrectional victory proclamation, precisely, as argued, for being the first in Mark’s narrative to understand the role of Jesus’s death in his kingly victory. The same fusion of king and death is at play in the citation of Zech 13:7, which as the only stated citation in Mark’s passion attracts the position as Mark’s scriptural key to the passion as εὐαγγέλιον. In a striking manner, God is revealed as the agent behind Jesus’s death, and though the first singular πατάξω does not pinpoint a specific atonement metaphor, it does in the strongest possible way communicate the divine necessity of the death of the king-shepherd for the victory to come in a way similar to not least the fate of the servant in Isa 53:4. Likewise, Mark’s epic finale of the cross scene in 15:33–39 in essence works as a miniature of Mark’s theological achievement. Here, the quote of Ps 22:2 serves as the primary scriptural validation of Jesus’s death as purposeful, but rather than understanding the citation in an atomistic manner, the flow of 15:33–39 onwards to the burial and resurrection creates a trajectory in which the kingly vindication in an intertwined manner works in tandem with the cry of dereliction as a

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key to Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον. Finally, the resurrection scene may in the same way be said to be a miniature of Mark’s appropriated understanding of Jesus as king. The investigation above revealed how crucial it is to the flow of Mark’s narrative that it is not finalized with the cross scene, just as it was emphasized how the composite description of Jesus by the angelic figure as ‘crucified’ and ‘risen’ encapsulates the core way in which Mark re-works his Isaianic framework. (3) To understand Mark’s insistence on this fusion, the second part of this chapter investigated the ways in which Mark presents Jesus’s death as beneficial towards this end. Why is Jesus’s death εὐαγγέλιον? In overview, this part produced three conclusions, the first of which concerns how Jesus’s death is related to the Jerusalem temple. This is seen most clearly by the threefold link between Jesus’s death and the temple found in the temple authorities’ decision to kill Jesus (11:18; 14:58), by Jesus’s own interpretation of his death with temple cultic imagery (12:10; 14:24), and finally by the divine response in the temple to Jesus’s death (15:38). On top of this comes the role of the temple as the unifying theme in Mark’s Jerusalem section and the way in which it creates a storyline with an ever-increasing tension between Jesus and the temple authorities that culminates in trial and mockery. (4) Diving further into why Jesus’s death is εὐαγγέλιον to Mark, the reading offered above pinpoints, secondly, Mark 14:24 and 15:38 as the main interpretative keys. In light of the understanding of the εὐαγγελ- word group arrived at in Chapter 3, and especially the specific iteration thereof in Isaiah 40–55, the epoch-changing announcement is followed by a state of renewed proximity to the divine, for which reason the kingly victory is followed by a cultic renewal. By using the scriptural concept of διαθήκη, Mark not only chooses a metaphor that in the Hebrew Bible is at work at crucial places, such as the Sinai incident and in later expectations of eschatological covenant inauguration, he also chooses a metaphor that embodies the notions of proximity and sacrifice. Our investigation of the primary scriptural echo of the ‘blood of the covenant’-saying, Exodus 24, revealed how surprisingly intense the theme of proximity to Yahweh in combination with the communal aspect saturates the story, even to the degree that the Septuagint and the targumim found ways to downplay the most provocative aspect thereof: the covenant people’s unhindered vision of Yahweh. Considering the role of ὁρᾶν in Mark and the role of proximity provided by God in Jesus’s baptism on the mountain, as a response to the death of Jesus, and, finally, as a post-resurrectional new reality ‘in Galilee,’ the presentation of Jesus as a blood sacrifice to this end is hardly an ‘agnostic’ understanding of the benefit of Jesus’s death. Rather, in the light of εὐαγγέλιον as epoch-making, διαθήκη is likely the strongest metaphor from the scriptural arsenal to emphasize the new reality in which the partakers of this covenant are indexed to obtain the right to ‘see’ and meet him in Galilee.

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(5) In the research on Mark, a covenantal understanding of Jesus’s death has not been accepted as satisfying, and the question of Jesus’s death as atonement for sin has been intensively debated. Unfortunately, this debate has ended in a deadlock around the question of which scriptural echoes are present in Mark’s passion. On a spectrum, we find researchers arguing that Mark gives no clue as to the benefits of Jesus’s death, over those viewing it as a destruction of the old system that ‘opens up’ into something new, and onwards to those understanding it in temple cultic terms as a sacrifice of sorts, perhaps for sin. The obvious pretext for this debate is that Mark never ascribes atonement for sin to Jesus’s death, at least not unequivocally and not as clearly as the Matthean tradition want it to be. He likewise never unequivocally cites Isaiah 53, and while some researchers continue to argue for Jesus’s death as a sacrifice for sin in Mark, with reference to the possible echoes in, for example, Mark 8:37, 10:45, 14:24, 14:27, and 15:5, a convincing case has proven difficult to establish by way of lexicographical comparisons. For this reason, new approaches have been taken in recent research, focusing on shared motifs and ‘language’ rather than lexemes with Isaiah 53 (Shively), the Levitical sin sacrifice as the most important tertium comparationis (Collins), or forgiveness of sin as a post-resurrectional, perpetual feature of Jesus’s high priestly office (Botner). In each case, the arguments seem more conjectural than evident. At the very least, it must be admitted that a presentation of Jesus’s death as a sin sacrifice cannot have been high on the agenda of Mark, given the septuagintal tradition of rendering ‫ ָאָשׁם‬precisely with περὶ ἁµαρτίας, which the Markan author seemingly could have utilized with ease in 10:45 instead of λύτρον and added to 14:24, not least considering the addition of εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁµαρτιῶν in Matt 26:28. My own suggestion is likewise conjectural, but in the way that it begins by accepting that atonement for sin was indeed secondary to Mark’s main projection of the implications of the death of Jesus: covenant inauguration. If we follow the distinction of Moffitt between covenant inauguration and covenant maintenance, it should initially be acknowledged that a Levitical characterization of Jesus’s death is not to be expected in the first place. However, if we observe the ways in which the Sinaitic covenant inauguration was evoked in the later scriptural and Jewish tradition, we find what is evident in Exodus 19–24 as well: A covenant inauguration is always intrinsically connected with purity, holiness, and forgiveness of sins. By stressing the role of covenant in Exodus as well as in the eschatological iteration thereof, for example in Isaiah 52–55, it becomes uncontroversial to argue that Jesus’s temple cultic and covenantal death, in one way or another, is dealing with sin as a consequence of the covenantal gift per se: proximity to the divine. That Mark never explicitly says so, I suggest, is due to his overarching Isaianic framework according to which the main interpretative statement and action in 14:24 and 15:38 respectively communicate precisely as needed in order to present Jesus as εὐαγγέλιον, as epoch-making proximity to the divine.

6.4 Partial Conclusion

433

(6) Finally, I will briefly revert to the heuristic and provoking suggestion by a number of postcolonial and/or anti-imperial readings of Mark that have been part of the impetus behind the present investigation: in particular, the implication thereof that Jesus dies to defeat the Roman claim for divine sonship. As it became evident in Section 2.5, it is not possible to speak of a postcolonial reading or the like. In reality, these reading strategies have proven to produce highly contradictory understandings of Mark’s relationship to the empire. In the passion story, this question is centred on the statement of the Roman centurion: ἀληθῶς οὗτος ὁ ἄνθρωπος υἱὸς θεοῦ ἦν. If we understand, as argued above, this statement to be sincere, it does stand as the first post-crucifixion confirmation of Jesus’s divine sonship. Given the role of Jesus’s subversion of powers of old throughout Mark, it is likely that this statement should be understood as coming with some kind of intent to dethrone the emperor’s claim to fame. Nonetheless, leaving aside the dichotomy of ‘religion’ and ‘politics,’ it is obvious that an epoch-making claim of the re-enthronization of Yahweh at Zion as envisioned by Isaiah would likewise mean an end to any opposing hostile power. Or perhaps more in line with Isaiah 56, the invitation for the foreigner to join the party. In this way, Mark 15:39 becomes an important corollary – rather than the epicentre – to the establishment of the covenant (14:24) and the proximity to the divine (15:38). And in this it shares destiny with atonement for sin.

7

Conclusions Chapter 7

Conclusions 7.1 From Where We Came I began this investigation by noticing how more than a century of scholarly research into the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον has produced several impasses and deadlocks. Before turning to these, I will add that, despite the efforts mustered, in reality we are also facing a spurious lacuna within Markan research: While it is perfectly clear from the distribution of εὐαγγέλιον among the canonical Gospels that it is from Mark that this notion evolved into a genre description, to the best of my knowledge no dedicated study aimed at clarifying Mark’s use of this notion has ever been produced. Surely, the Markan use of our keyword has been discussed many times in broader studies of εὐαγγέλιον in the New Testament, but whenever the specific contribution of Mark has been up for scrutiny, the focus has been on the genre of Mark or the redaction-critical background for Mark’s invention of ‘the story of Jesus.’ While this observation might merit the necessity of the present study, the real impetus behind it is not to be found in unused ink but rather in the way in which the at times heated discussion of the New Testament εὐαγγελ- word group has been unable to produce any consensus on the meaning of one of the New Testament’s as well as the Christian tradition’s most important keywords. This was already the case at the time of Harnack, who frankly remarked that “vielleicht gibt es kein zweites Wort unter den großen christlichen Hauptbegriffen, welches eine so mannigfaltige und reiche Geschichte in der Christenheit erlebt hat, wie das Wort ‘Evangelium.’”1 In the same way, Burrows laconically remarked that though ‘the gospel’ is to be understood as the core message of Christianity, “it means whatever the person who uses it understands the message of Christianity to be.”2 In more recent times, the New Testament use has been sought clarified, firstly, by a discussion of its root and pedigree, focussed on the particular τὸ εὐαγγέλιον formula not used in the Hebrew Bible or the Septuagint nor Roman, imperial contexts, which even forced Stuhlmacher to concede “daß wir auf eine direkte Analogie zu dem bei Paulus geläufigen, technischen τὸ εὐαγγέλιον bisher nicht gestoßen sind.”3 Secondly, the New ––––––––––––––––– Harnack, “Das doppelte Evangelium,” 213. Burrows, “Gospel,” 32. 3 Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 134–35. 1 2

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Testament understanding of εὐαγγέλιον has also in recent times been part of the divergent and multi-facetted investigation of Mark and other New Testament writings from postcolonial and/or anti-imperial perspectives with highly conflicting readings as a result.4 Specifically, from a Markan perspective, a closely related question has likewise added to the feeling of an unsalvageable deadlock, namely the question of Mark’s soteriology. Interestingly, this issue is likely reflected in the transmission of Mark by the Gospel of Matthew as well as in Mark’s own textual transmission, both displaying features that may readily be interpreted as substantiating Mark’s soteriology in the light of Isaiah 53. In the research discussion, this is likewise precisely the issue of contention.5 At the very same time, a strong consensus has emerged within Markan research, viewing Mark’s narrative as a product of a creative writer, capable of producing a cohesive narrative, using various fine-tuned literary techniques to communicate his message.6 Building on this consensus, the present investigation has adopted a view of Mark as a cohesive ‘literary narrative.’ In turn, this means that when Mark boldly opens with the notion ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, it is to be expected that the author is able to inform us about the meaning and role of εὐαγγέλιον with the ensuing narrative. To pinpoint it further, since this proclaimed εὐαγγέλιον is intimately connected to Jesus, as is evident from the genitive construction, it is a reasonable assumption that the life, death, and resurrection of our protagonist is in one way or another intended as part of the εὐαγγέλιον. This approach paved the way for the fundamental research question of the present investigation: How does the author of Mark present his narrative of Jesus as τὸ εὐαγγέλιον? In a more defined manner, the hypothesis was proposed that some of the experienced impasses are the result of asking Mark questions that the narrative does not intend to answer. Specifically, instead of seeking to prove Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as shaped by a wish to present Jesus as an atoning sacrifice for sin or as shaped to subvert or overthrow imperial pressure or outright oppression, it was from the outset suggested that Mark’s narrative should be read in the light of the broad contour of the εὐαγγελ- nomenclature. This would suggest that Mark understood Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection as the foundation of and transition into a new aeon, thus amounting to merit the hallmark of εὐαγγέλιον as an epoch-making proclamation of victory. Further, in agreement with the general use of this nomenclature and with the pointed use in Second Isaiah specifically, it was initially suggested that this victory in the light of Yahweh’s victorious ‘pilgrim’s parade’ to Jerusalem is to be understood as aimed at providing renewed proximity to the divine, which again is projected ––––––––––––––––– See especially Section 2.4. For details, see Sections 1.1 and 6.1.2. 6 See Section 1.3.1. 4 5

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as an inseparable intertwined process consisting of kingly victory and cultic renewal. The question for the remainder of our investigation is to evaluate if this hypothesis has led to fruition in terms of a comprehensive understanding of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον notion along with, in a best-case scenario, suggestions for solutions to one or more of the described deadlocks in Markan research.

7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions 7.2.1 ‘Gospel’ Means ‘Epoch-Making’ The examination of the century-old discussion of the New Testament εὐαγγελnomenclature conducted in Chapter 2 outlined how many of the impasses are arguably the product of certain presuppositions such as an artificial distinction between ‘religion’ and ‘politics,’ a heavy-handed utilization of postcolonial and/or anti-imperial reading strategies, or unintended circular reasoning introduced by building strong cases of Mark’s assumed purpose on its provenance.7 Specifically, the discussion of the root of the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον revealed that while researchers throughout continued to present their pictures as opposed to one another, the presupposition that the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- nomenclature is used either with a ‘religious’ or a ‘political’ meaning basically broke down even within this paradigm itself, since the nomenclature is used with a composite meaning.8 On the positive side, it was thus discovered how the composite nature of the εὐαγγελ- nomenclature is accepted as a common denominator between studies otherwise in disagreement on how to root and understand the New Testament εὐαγγέλιον. Based on the likewise composite nature of ‘politics’ and ‘religion’ outlined in Section 1.3.2, this paved the way for a renewed evaluation of the use of the εὐαγγελ- nomenclature prior to the New Testament in Chapter 3 in order to establish the cultural encyclopedia thereof. This investigation produced the following main results: (1) Beginning with the attestations in Greek sources prior to the New Testament, the first thing to recapitulate is the rarity of our word group, attested only some hundred times outside the Septuagint and Christian sources.9 This rarity is explained and in reality compensated by the force of the nomenclature when used. As outlined in Section 3.2.3, εὐαγγελ- is used in contexts of ––––––––––––––––– See Section 2.5. This led researchers to search for fine-tuned evaluations in order to incorporate both sentiments, such as Deismann’s notion of “polemischer Parallelismus,” Theißen’s “Gegenbotschaft,” urging for “Widerstand” but not “Aufstand,” Horbury’s “overlap,” and Watt’s “polemical edge,” to mention just a few. For references, see Section 2.2.5. 9 See Chapter 3 n. 7. 7 8

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proclamation of epoch-making news and overwhelmingly so for the better.10 Such an understanding of εὐαγγελ- explains the following features of its usage: (a) Primarily, εὐαγγελ- is a message of war victory. The fundamental picture of an εὐαγγελ- proclamation is constituted by the relieving message of victory, brought from the battlefield to the captives or the ones left behind in the fortified city.11 For instance, the two oldest attestations of εὐαγγέλιον, found in Homer’s Odyssey, narrates how the ultimate and long overdue return of Odysseus merits a payment of good tidings, an εὐαγγέλιον, since it is the epochchanging message to the besieged household of Odysseus.12 Another example, indebted to the notion of εὐαγγελ- as epoch-making, is found in Aristophanes’s comedy, Knights, in which he has the sausage seller speak at a council meeting in Athens, occupied with the on-going war, only to say that he wants to be the first to bring the revolutionary good news to them: “I have never seen sardines cheaper.”13 What could be more epoch-making? (b) Deflected from this usage of war victory and thereby the salvation of the city-state, the empire, or the kingdom, we find attestations in connection with political victories such as election for an office or the death of a political enemy, transforming one’s life and career decisively.14 References connected to the imperial cult should be situated in this category. These are especially interesting and pertinent to our suggestion of this nomenclature as proclaiming epoch-making events, since the transition to the ἡγεµονία or ἀρχή of a new emperor were indeed perilous moments, producing peace at best and civil war at worse. While the attestations in this connection are after all few, the epochmaking connotation is readily felt in Josephus’s statement on the response to the news that Vespasian had been proclaimed emperor,15 and not least in Koinon of Asia Minor’s decision to simply adopt a new calendar system aligned to the birthday of emperor Augustus – “for the birthday of the god marked the beginning of the good news because of him for the world” (ἦρξεν δὲ τῶι κόσµωι τῶν δι’ αὐτὸν εὐανγελί[ων ἡ γενέθλιος ἡµε]ρα τοῦ θεοῦ)!16 In reality, ascribing a new time era to a ruler is an honorary token impossible to supersede when it comes to expressing an appreciation of the epoch-making change of fortunes experienced. ––––––––––––––––– For the possibility of a negative use of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- notion, see Section 3.2.1. See, Schniewind’s apt summary of the ‘gospel’ message as a “Botschaft vom Schlachtfeld” (Schniewind, Euangelion, 48). In total, Schniewind refers to thirty places of εὐαγγελas a message of war victory (see Schniewind, Euangelion, 130, besides also Stuhlmacher, Evangelium, 185). 12 See Homer, Od. 14.152–153. 13 See Aristophanes, Eq. 642–645. 14 For references, see Chapter 3 nn. 137–140. 15 See Josephus, J.W. 4.618 (“every city celebrated a festival of good tidings (ἑώρταζεν εὐαγγέλια) and completed sacrifices for him [Vespasian]”). 16 See the treatment above in Sections 2.2.2 and 3.2.3. 10 11

7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions

439

(c) This sense of εὐαγγελ- as epoch-making message of victory further explains why someone would pay for such a message. Normally, the neuter plural, εὐαγγέλια, is used to designate the reward for the messenger, though the noteworthy attestation of the singular εὐαγγέλιον in Homer is an early exception, just as Plutarch would later use the singular as well.17 The prize for being the first to bring the good news could differ in size, with examples spanning from crowning with wreaths of honour18 to chunks of meat from the common mess.19 That the honour of the prize was eagerly desired, however, is not to be doubted – something captured vividly in Plutarch’s story of a certain Carian who was bestowed “second prize for good tidings” (εὐαγγελίων δευτερεῖα), but who in seeking to grasp the first prize instead was degraded by having melted brass poured into his ears.20 (d) It likewise explains why εὐαγγελ- is in many instances connected to cultic thanksgiving, even as denoting the sacrifices offered, that in these cases were simply labelled εὐαγγέλια. For instance, to return to Aristophanes’s comedy, in a measure the tyrant Cleon who aimed at taking back control of the aroused assembly is forced to promise “to offer good tidings of one hundred oxen” (εὐαγγέλια θύειν ἑκατὸν βοῦς) for the sausage seller’s announcement of cheap sardines.21 It seems that εὐαγγέλια θύειν was a common conception as evidenced by the number of sources describing ‘sacrificial good tidings feasts’ (ἑορτάζειν εὐαγγέλια) and games (ἀγῶνα) sponsored in response to the received news of epoch-making proportions.22 (e) Upon a closer look, epoch-making reverberations are likewise present in the select examples in our sources occupied with what at first seems to be everyday life situations and thus labelled as examples of “Alltagsgebrauch” by Schniewind.23 In reality, these instances rather denote some of the distinct everyday life situations that make the world turn round and thus in essence are ‘epoch-making.’ This may be said to be the case when a son is born and the family name is secured;24 when a wedding is announced;25 when the sun rises;26 ––––––––––––––––– 17 See Homer, Od. 14.153, 167; Plutarch, Demetr. 17.5; Glor. Ath. 3; Ages. 33.4; Art. 14.3–4. 18 See, e.g., Aristophanes, who in his comedy describes the reward to the sausage seller for bringing good news of the cheap sardines as a crowning (ἐστεφάνουν µ’ εὐαγγέλια, Eq. 647). 19 See, e.g., Plutarch Ages. 33.4; Glor. Ath. 3. 20 See Plutarch, Art. 14. 21 See Aristophanes, Eq. 654–656. 22 See, e.g., Josephus’s description of how every city “celebrated good tidings” (ἑώρταζεν εὐαγγέλια, J.W. 4.618) when Vespasian was proclaimed emperor. 23 See Schniewind, Euangelion, 27, 161. 24 See Josephus, Ant. 5.277, 282. 25 See P.Oxy. 3313. 26 See Philo, Opif. 34.

440

Chapter 7: Conclusions

when the time of harvest has come;27 or – to pick the most colourful example in this connection – when your evil stepmother has died, and you can return to your father’s house and your promising future.28 (2) Looking at the evidence in the Hebrew Bible and the Septuagint, the notions of εὐαγγελ- in Greek sources are fully corroborated. While the amount of attestations turn out to be meagre,29 they display a distinct usage with epochmaking connotations and a composite nature in which the word group is used to denote a victorious war message, a messenger’s reward, as well as cultic thanksgiving. (a) If we begin with the so-called profane attestations, primarily found in the Historical Books, it is clear that ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- is used to denote news from the battlefield brought to the king.30 As such, they do not denote an everyday usage as argued by Schniewind31 but are rather utilized in cases of epoch-making events that include definitive outcomes for kings and nations. Further, and just as important for our purpose, a cultic connotation reveals itself even here, when the Philistines send forth messengers from the battlefield to proclaim their victory over Saul in their house of idols (‫ְלַבֵשּׂר ֵבּית ֲﬠַצֵבּיֶהם‬/εὐαγγελίζοντες τοῖς εἰδώλοις αὐτῶν, 1 Sam/1 Kgdms 31:9, see 1 Chr 10:10). (b) Concerning the attestations in the Psalms and Prophets, it is reasonable to allow for some variation within our word group’s composite notion of Krieg, König und Kult in the sense that cultic potential shines through more clearly. This is especially the case for the attestations in the Psalms, which are found in contexts of temple cultic worship.32 Though the settings of these uses are staged in the temple, perhaps in connection with festivals, and though in this sense they can be described as “demilitarized,”33 the kingly and victorious war connotation is not lost. For instance, one of the suggested understandings of the notion of ‘a new song’ (‫ִשׁיר ָח ָדשׁ‬/καινός ὕµνος, Pss 40:4/39:4 LXX; ––––––––––––––––– See Philo, Opif. 115. See Heliodorus, Aeth. 1.24. 29 In the Hebrew Bible we find thirty attestations altogether of the ‫ בשׂ ר‬word group with six instances of the feminine noun, ‫ְבּ שׂ ֹ ָרה‬, and twenty-four instances of the verb, including ten participles. The Septuagint generally follows the Hebrew Bible by translating ‫ בשׂר‬with εὐαγγελ-. In the text preferred by the authoritative critical editions, there are three exceptions (1 Kgdms 4:17; Isa 41:27; 1 Chr 16:23) as well as one case of εὐαγγελ- being used to translate something other than ‫( בשׂר‬Joel 3:5/2:32 ET), leaving us with twenty-eight attestations. To this is added the Hexaplaric attestation in Jer 20:18 and 1 Chr 16:23. 30 In reality, in these books the usage is restricted to news brought to King Saul, David, or Solomon with the exceptions of 1 Sam 4:17, in which news is brought to Eli of the loss of the ark, and 2 Kgs 7:9, in which lepers bring news of a war victory to the king’s house in Samaria. 31 See Schniewind, Euangelion, 27. 32 See Pss 40:10 MT (39:10 LXX, 40:9 ET); 68:12 MT (67:12 LXX, 68:11 ET); 96:2 (95:2 LXX). 33 Craigie and Tate, Psalms 1–50, 513. 27 28

7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions

441

96:1/95:1 LXX) is to view it as a technical term for celebrating a recent war victory of Yahweh and his king,34 just as the proclamation of Yahweh as king is central to the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- message in Pss 68:25 (67:25 LXX) and 96:10 (95:10 LXX), besides also Isa 52:7. In all cases, even if Psalm 40 is understood as an individual psalm of thanksgiving, ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- is utilized when decisive messages of new beginnings are to be proclaimed. Nah 2:1 captures this well by using the notion of ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος as the messenger who is to proclaim a/the tidal turning message to Judah of how Yahweh will reveal himself as a mighty warrior about to take relentless revenge on Nineveh and the Assyrians, which will lead to peace and a renewal of the temple festivals.35 An epochmaking connotation is even present in an instance not connected to war, found in Jer 20:15. Rather than categorizing the joyful proclamation to the father of a newborn son as an example of a quotidian Alltagsgebrauch, it is best understood as a deflection of the epoch-making connotation of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελmessage used to reflect a life-changing event. (3) Zooming in specifically on the intensified use of our word group found in Isaiah 40–66, the investigation above has produced two important conclusions: (a) On the one hand, the Krieg, König und Kult connotation of ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- was found to be present here as well, even emphatically. This is seen most clearly in the way in which the ‘prologue’ and the ‘epilogue’ of Second Isaiah (Isa 40:1–11; 52:1–10) merge the picture of Yahweh as a great warrior who, with his arm poised to strike, is on parade to Zion,36 with the picture of Yahweh as the tender shepherd, who is on pilgrimage to Zion, ordered to dress up in its festival clothes.37 In the words of Cross, “the march of the Conquest abruptly shifts into the festal, ritual procession to Zion”38 in these two highly important texts. (b) On the other hand, Second Isaiah adds two important emphases to the general picture. The one is the way in which Second Isaiah intensifies the picture by transposing the exodus motif into “the eschatological finale,” which is ––––––––––––––––– Pss 33:3; 40:4; 96:1; 98:1; 144:9; 149:1; Isa 42:10. For a similar fusion of Yahweh’s kingly power and cultic renewal, see especially Pss 68 (67 LXX), 96 (95 LXX), and Isa 52:1–10. 36 See, e.g., Isa 40:10, describing Yahweh as a warlord coming in strength ( ‫ְבּ ָח ָז ק‬/µετὰ ἰσχύος) and the use of ‫ֶמ ֶלְך‬/βασιλεύς as one of the labels for Yahweh (41:21; 43:15; 44:6), finalized in the epic utterance of 52:7: ‫ָמ ַלְך ֱא ֹלָה ִיְך‬/βασιλεύσει σου ὁ θεός. 37 See, e.g., Isa 40:11 ( ‫ְכּ ר ֶֹﬠ ה‬/ὡς ποιµήν); the notion of ‫ְכּ בוֹד ְי ה ָו ה‬/ἡ δόξα κυρίου (40:5), which preserves “a temple cultic role” (Baltzer, Deutero-Isaiah, 56); the addressing of Jerusalem as ‫ִﬠיר ַה קֹּ ֶדשׁ‬/πόλις ἡ ἁγία (52:1); besides the command to the ‫ְמ ַב ֵשּׂ ר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος to ascend ( ‫עלה‬/ἀναβαίνειν) a high mountain (40:9; 52:7), a notion known from Israel’s pilgrimage tradition (see Gray, Jesus and the Temple, 17). 38 Cross, Canaanite Myth, 108. 34 35

442

Chapter 7: Conclusions

qualitatively “more marvellous than the Exodus under Moses.”39 Though the utilization of the exodus tradition in Isaiah 40–55 “needs no documentation,”40 this motif of Steigerung produces an intensified feeling, projecting the ultimate goal as ‘new creation’ in which all former things are forgotten on behalf of Yahweh’s new deeds (43:18–19) when he re-creates Zion ‫ְכֵּﬠ ֶדן‬/ὡς παράδεισον (51:3).41 Within this process of eschatological re-creation, we find a distinct emphasis on complete restoration, which, as argued above in Section 3.3.2 (3), is found to be present in Second Isaiah’s visions in a number of ways: The peculiar use of ‫( גאל‬LXX: λυτροῦν and ῥύεσθαι) becomes one of Yahweh’s most important epithets, emphasizing his salvific acts.42 While its close relative, ‫פדה‬, is used in connection with the exodus from Egypt,43 ‫ גאל‬is in the Hebrew Bible rather connected with “restoration of a lost, original wholeness,”44 as for instance in the Levitical laws concerning the preservation of each family’s inheritance. In Second Isaiah, this notion of the return and nullification of all losses becomes a central metaphor for what it means to enter into the eschatological re-creation. In the same manner, we find the particular exhortation to return (‫ )שׁוב‬to Yahweh in order to be forgiven from guilt and sin.45 Particularly, the issue of sin and guilt is thematised in the fourth Servant Song, packed with references to the transgressions of the people in need of forgiveness and restoration.46 Specifically, it was found that the highly contested notion of ‫ ָאָשׁם‬in Isa 53:10, surprisingly translated as περὶ ἁµαρτίας in the Septuagint, may be understood as another expression of Second Isaiah’s emphasis on complete restoration. The intense discussion of this crux interpretum has revolved around the question if ‫ ָאָשׁם‬should be understood in a priestly/cultic or a legal/mundane way. While I agree with Blenkinsopp that ‫ ָאָשׁם‬in the Hebrew Bible is overwhelmingly a priestly notion and thus find Janowski’s position untenable in viewing ‫ ָאָשׁם‬as originally a non-cultic notion of debt and repayment,47 the promising solution to this matter is to be found in Averbeck’s position. According to Averbeck, the key to the question is to be found in the way in which ‫ ָאָשׁם‬denotes complete restoration, for which reason it amounts to more than ––––––––––––––––– Anderson, “Exodus Typology,” 181–82. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55, 52. 41 See further Isa 41:17–20; 43:19; 45:7–8; 48:7. 42 See the notion of ‫ֹגּ ֵא ל‬/ὁ λυτρούµενος, ὁ ῥυσάµενος in Isa 41:14; 43:14; 44:6, 24; 47:4; 48:17; 49:7, 26; 54:5, 8; besides also 59:20; 60:16; 62:12; 63:16. 43 See, e.g., Deut 7:8; 9:26; 13:6 (13:5 ET); 15:15; 21:8; 24:18. 44 Robert L. Hubbard, “ ‫ ָגּ ַא ל‬,” NIDOTTE 1:779. 45 See, e.g., Isa 40:2; 44:22; 45:22; 49:5–6; 55:7. 46 See the references to “transgressions” (4x, ‫שׁ ע‬ ַ ‫ֶפּ‬, ‫פשׁע‬/ἀνοµία, ἄνοµος, ἁµαρτία), guilt (3x, ‫ָﬠוֹן‬/ἁµαρτία), sin (1x, ‫ֵח ְט א‬/ἁµαρτία), weaknesses/illnesses/sins (1x, ‫ֳח ִלי‬/ἁµαρτία), and sufferings (1x, ‫א ב‬ ֹ ‫ַמ ְכ‬/ὀδυνᾶν). 47 See the discussion in Section 3.3.3 (6). 39 40

7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions

443

just priestly redemptive atonement or mundane reparation but, in reality, incorporates elements of both. The best case for this position is found in the use of ‫ ָאָשׁם‬in connection with healing from skin disease in which blood is applied to the healed person upon which he or she is restored with renewed access to the community. That this understanding is pertinent to Isaiah 53 is evident not only from the notion of how the servant is stricken with plague (‫ ֶנ ַגע‬, 53:8) and possibly the notion of “sprinkling” (‫נזה‬, 52:15), but also by the way in which the combination of Isaiah 52 and 53 concerns the complete restoration of Israel back into their community, their land, and their city. In the light of Second Isaiah’s motif of Steigerung, ‫ ָאָשׁם‬is in this manner a strong way of communicating an absolute, epoch-making renewal and complete restoration. Interestingly, this notion seems lost in the Septuagint’s translation with περὶ ἁµαρτίας, bringing forth solely the cultic connotation of ‫ָאָשׁם‬. Finally, and closely connected to the motif of complete restoration, Second Isaiah focuses on a renewal of the covenant. Especially pertinent is the reference to the promise to David of an “eternal covenant” (‫ְבּ ִרית עוָֹלם‬/διαθήκη αἰώνιον, 55:3), further linked to a “peace covenant” (‫ְב ִרית ָשׁלוֹם‬/διαθήκη εἰρήνη, 54:10). Following the great vision of Yahweh’s return to Zion in Isa 52:1–10 and the life of the servant poured out as an ‫ ָאָשׁם‬in order to restore all that is lost, the notion of covenant in the two ensuing chapters thoroughly bolsters the motif of complete restoration. If the motif of Steigerung and complete restoration is the one emphasis added by Second Isaiah to the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- word group, proximity to Yahweh is the other. In reality, as stated above,48 renewed proximity to Yahweh may be said to be the controlling paradigm in Second Isaiah, precisely by being the core of the matter of the re-creation of Zion into Eden. To recapitulate this briefly: In the ‘prologue,’ the ‫ ֶד ֶרְך ְיה ָוה‬/ὁ ὁδός κυρίου (40:3) is a way for Yahweh and his march to Zion. In the ‘epilogue,’ the arrival of Yahweh is pointedly described with exclamations such as “here I am” (‫ִה ֵנּ ִני‬/πάρειµι, 52:6) and notions of seeing Yahweh’s salvation on display (‫ראה‬/ὁρᾶν), since he has now made his ‫שׁוב‬/ἐπιστρέφειν (52:8). This is precisely why the ‫ְמַבֵשּׂר‬/εὐαγγελιζόµενος is preaching peace (‫ָשׁלוֹם‬/εἰρήνη), goodness (‫טוֹב‬/ἀγαθός), and salvation (‫ ְישׁוָּﬠה‬/σωτηρία, 52:7). In essence, the king has returned, for which reason the kingly war victory, the ‘gospel,’ will be proclaimed. In between, the extreme emphasis on proximity is communicated by the use of ‫קרב‬, ‫ָקרוֹב‬/ἐγγίζειν, προσάγειν, expressing the new situation of nearness,49 just as the peculiar use of ‫גאל‬, emphasis on return and forgiveness of sin, and not least the renewal of the covenant likewise speak to the very same end. ––––––––––––––––– 48 49

See Section 3.3.2. See, e.g., Isa 46:13; 50:8; 51:5.

444

Chapter 7: Conclusions

Thus, the specific additions in Second Isaiah to the fundamental idea of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- word group is an explication of the epoch-making content as the return of Yahweh, who will re-establish a situation with an extreme experience of his nearness when all that is lost is restored and Zion re-worked ‫ְכֵּﬠ ֶדן‬/ὡς παράδεισον. (4) Considering this transposition of the epoch-making notions already present in our word group towards motifs of paradisiac restoration and irreversible victory, it should come as no surprise that in late Second Temple Jewish texts occupied with identification of the eschatological restoration we find a number of references to the Isaianic reshaping of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- nomenclature. This is evident in the following ways: (a) In the relatively few texts using the word group, there is a clear echo of the Isaianic, eschatological restoration of Zion if not a direct citation. In Pss. Sol. 11:1, for instance, we find a paraphrase of Isa 40:9 and 52:7 with a focus on the return of and visitation (ἐπισκοπή) by God to Jerusalem. Also among the non-biblical manuscripts from Qumran we find a distinct use of Isa 40:9, 52:7, and 61:1 to express the eschatological expectations of the community of ultimate victory and restoration. For instance, in 11Q13 we find an amalgamation of biblical images, expressing the Isaianic ‘gospel’ proclamation as a composite of liberation from captivity with the Year of Jubilee and the Day of Atonement. In the same way, the other texts discussed in Section 3.4.1 above pinpoint how Jewish writings from this period restrict the use of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- word group to express the eschatological reversal of the fortunes of Zion, including the restoration of God’s presence and the temple. (b) The same picture is found if we focus on the reception of the wider picture of Yahweh’s return in Second Isaiah in late Second Temple Jewish texts. The noteworthy result of the survey of this issue in Section 3.4.2 shows that the potency of the Isaianic vision of Yahweh’s return via the wilderness was not lost on the otherwise diverse group of texts and factions from this period, fighting for the legitimacy of being the ultimate place of fulfilment. For the Qumran community, it seems as if Isa 40:3 served as a kind of “proof text” for their relocation to the wilderness, as especially evident in the Community Rule (1QS).50 Interestingly, in the other Jewish texts from this period occupied with Isa 40:1–11, the focus is rather on the next phase of Yahweh’s return: the levelling of the high mountains of 40:4, 9.51 This relocation towards realization of the Isaianic visions was finally found to be deeply embedded in Josephus’s descriptions of five rebel leaders, who in various ways seemingly sought to stage the cause as a prophetic fulfilment of an Isaianic-shaped expectation of the visitation of God by way of the wilderness. This becomes especially evident if we approach Josephus’s text with an eye for Rhoads’s suggestion of “reverse ––––––––––––––––– 50 51

Charlesworth, “Introduction,” 25, see Fitzmyer, Semitic Background, 35. See, e.g., Bar 5:1–9; Pss. Sol. 11:1–4; 1 En. 1:6; T. Mos. 10:4; Sib. Or. 8:234.

7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions

445

polemics”52 as a way of pinpointing the aspirations of these figures as the positive antipole to what Josephus flagrantly accuses them of, such as defilement of the temple, promoting false messianic prophesies, having kingly honour, overthrowing the ancestral traditions, ungodliness, and more. If these accusations are reverted for example into renewal and cleansing of the temple in light of scriptural prophesies and further coupled with the notion of liberation or redemption of Jerusalem as expressed on the rebel coinage from the war, we have in sum an expression of an expectation of the ultimate eschatological reversal, the ‘year one’; something most likely tapping into the Isaianic vision of an epoch-making proclamation of the arrival of a new era, that is, the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- proclamation. (c) Finally, in Section 3.4.3, we investigated the comprehensive use of the nomenclature in the Pauline letters. It was argued that the Pauline usage is also shaped by and rooted in the Isaianic visions, as particularly evident in Rom 10:15–16 and 15:15–21, and that this usage aligns itself well within the picture argued throughout of the εὐαγγελ- as denoting an epoch-making event through victory and cultic renewal, a process within which Paul depicts himself as an eschatological prophet as well as a priest of the gospel. While it is tempting to read Mark through the lens of Paul, the review of the research on the relationship between Paul and Mark revealed how easily this merges into theological rather than a historical reasoning and thus becomes circular. 7.2.2 Mark Means ‘Gospel’ The in Chapter 3 discovered understanding of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- nomenclature is our starting point for understanding Mark’s use of εὐαγγέλιον, being an inseparable part of a cultural encyclopedia of late Second Temple Jewish texts written within a Greco-Roman environment. In the light of this, if εὐαγγέλιον means epoch-making, our first question is just how epoch-making Mark intends his specific notion: τὸ εὐαγγέλιον. Does the extremely pointed use thereof in the first line entail a setting of Mark’s entire story as an ‘epoch-making’ εὐαγγέλιον, or is the use prompted by the ensuing Isaianic formula and by and large restricted to the prologue? This question is fed not least by the surprising paucity of the word group following the prologue, leaving us with only two instances in the ‘way’ section (8:35; 10:29) and two in the passion story (13:10; 14:9). Nonetheless, for the following reasons, it is concluded that Mark intends εὐαγγέλιον to function as an overarching keyword and a fundamental designation of his entire narrative: (1) Mark’s initial τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, in combination with the ensuing and surprising καθὼς γέγραπται ἐν τῷ Ἠσαΐᾳ τῷ προφήτῃ, from the beginning works to tie the εὐαγγέλιον proclamation to Jesus and Isaiah. As ––––––––––––––––– 52

See Rhoads, Israel in Revolution, 166–73.

446

Chapter 7: Conclusions

discussed above in Sections 4.2 and 4.3, Mark’s first verses have posed serious problems to researchers not least due to the unexpected citation formula after a verbless sentence and before the ministry of John. As outlined in Table 2, this is smoothed out in Q but not without a cost, since a postponement of the quotation of Isa 40:3 to after the presentation of John weakens Mark’s Isaianic cast of Jesus’s ministry. While I acknowledge that the minute discussion of the grammatical construction of vv. 1–4 has revealed how ‘clumsy’ Mark’s construction in reality is,53 the argument presented above served to highlight Mark’s grammatical clumsiness as a theological ‘clever’ move. With a striking eagerness, several features of the first verses thus work together to root Jesus’s ministry in Isaiah. Not only is this formula unique in Mark, placing extra emphasis on precisely this quotation, but the interposed position also emphasizes how Isaiah is presented as the scriptural key to the just announced εὐαγγέλιον, just as the change of pronouns in the composite citation is best understood as prompted by Mark’s Christology, making Jesus the referent of σου as well as αὐτοῦ. Thus, while Mark 1:1 may grammatically be understood as an inscriptio to the entire narrative, or rather as part of Mark’s first sentence (incipit), the important point to notice is that Mark’s somewhat ‘clumsy’ and indecisive construction serves to root the εὐαγγέλιον of 1:1 in Isaiah as well as pinpoint Jesus as the one most intimately connected to it. This intrinsic connection between εὐαγγέλιον, Jesus, and Isaiah embedded in the chain-like style of the first verses thus in effect ties εὐαγγέλιον to Mark’s entire narrative of Jesus. (2) The same unique relationship between Jesus and the εὐαγγέλιον is present in what may be termed ‘the gospel of genitives.’ As discussed in Sections 2.3 and 4.5, there is a long-standing and theologically deep-diving discussion of the implications of the two genitive constructs τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ [υἱοῦ θεοῦ] (1:1) and τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ (1:14), regarding whether they should be understood as theocentric or Christocentric. Strong arguments have been marshalled for both cases. Nevertheless, we arrived at the conclusion that we are indeed facing a composite description, in which Jesus, on the one hand, plays the role of the Isaianic messenger proclaiming the advent and ensuing arrival of Yahweh but on the other hand is at the very same time elevated far beyond a mere messenger. This composite duality is warranted, for instance, by the interchange between Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ and τοῦ θεοῦ, which is “von höchster Bedeutung”54 as argued by Weder. Further, Jesus is not only preaching as the messenger but is from the very outset preached about by John (1:7), which represents the same kind of ‘metonymic gap’ or Verschmelzung that in Mark’s narrative will later be represented by Jesus’s preaching of the βασιλεία and the way in which he is proclaimed βασιλεύς in the passion story. In essence, this echoes Weiss’s observation that when you place a statement as strong as τοῦ ––––––––––––––––– 53 54

See Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 7. Weder, “Evangelium,” 403.

7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions

447

εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ “an der Spitze,” an objective understanding is either implied or meant to happen. Thus, Jesus’s ministry and destiny become uniquely tied to the εὐαγγέλιον as Mark understands it, which emphasizes how important εὐαγγέλιον is on Mark’s agenda. (3) Looking at the prologue in its entirety, the importance of εὐαγγέλιον is further highlighted in a dual way. One is the way in which εὐαγγέλιον serves as an overarching inclusio of the prologue itself. As discussed in Section 4.2, neither the designation ‘prologue’ nor the length of the ‘prologue’ are issues with any measure of scholarly consensus. It is possible that the difficulty in establishing a convincing case is due to Mark’s hinge-like style, chaining the separate units together in a paratactic manner. It is particularly difficult to estimate if the prologue proper ends with the temptation (1:12–13) or if the extremely elevated Sammelbericht of 1:14–15 should be included. In both cases, the repetition of εὐαγγέλιον at this juncture emphasizes its structural importance, either as an inclusio, encapsulating Mark’s main message in the prologue, or as a bridge between the prologue and the narrative proper, prefiguring how to understand the ensuing Galilee section. That the difference is minimal is evident from the other point to be recapitulated here, namely the structural importance of the prologue as such as an ‘interpretative key’ to Mark’s narrative by laying the ground for the events to come in foreshadowing the preeminent themes thereof, such as Jesus as Χριστός and υἱός, the role of John, the nearness of God and his kingdom, Jesus’s victorious battle with opposing powers, and more – besides, that is, the εὐαγγέλιον. (4) Finally, in this connection, I will highlight how the ensuing meagre attestation of εὐαγγέλιον in Mark’s narrative is noteworthy nonetheless. This is seen by the way in which the four uses of εὐαγγέλιον outside the prologue are connected to Mark’s deep-seated trajectory of cross and coronation or, in a more generic sense, the intertwined notion of kingly victory and cultic renewal that I have argued is present in the εὐαγγελ- word group. On the one hand, all four attestations are tied to the post-resurrectional proclamation of the resurrection of Jesus or the ultimate, victorious outcome of following Jesus.55 The two uses in the ‘way’ section are prompted by references to the cost and loss of following Jesus (8:35; 10:29) but in both cases immediately connected, as well, to a promise of eschatological vindication when the Son of Man returns ἐν τῇ δόξῃ τοῦ πατρὸς αὐτοῦ (8:38) to repay with eternal life ἐν τῷ αἰῶνι τῷ ἐρχοµένῳ (10:30). Likewise, the two uses in the passion story designate the era of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον as a post-resurrectional era of κηρύσσειν either εἰς πάντα τὰ ἔθνη (13:10) or εἰς ὅλον τὸν κόσµον (14:9). On the other hand, this evangelic glory is in all cases intertwined with the suffering and passion of the disciples (8:34–35; 10:28–30; 13:9) or Jesus (14:8). In particular, the anointment by the woman in Bethany is highly noteworthy in Mark’s storyline, since by her deed ––––––––––––––––– 55

See Section 6.2.6.

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she is the first to understand the victory embedded in Jesus’s death, for which reason her deed is lifted up and incorporated in the notion of εὐαγγέλιον as Mark understands it, that is, an intertwined notion of death and resurrection, cross and coronation.56 In combination, the preeminent position of εὐαγγέλιον an der Spitze in 1:1, the intrinsic connection of the εὐαγγέλιον to Mark’s preeminent scriptural citation in 1:2–3, the almost clumsy eagerness with which Mark prefigures this composite citation in order to incorporate it into his interpretation of Jesus’s ministry, the editorial changes in the composite citation that effect the same, the composite duality by which Jesus at one and the same time is the bringer of the εὐαγγέλιον as well as uniquely part thereof, the unique role of the prologue as such as an interpretative key to all of Mark’s narrative in which the summary of 1:14–15 takes the premiere position, besides also the deep-seated way in which the four uses of εὐαγγέλιον outside the prologue are connected to Mark’s overarching project of presenting Jesus’s death as a victory, are all features that warrant the view that εὐαγγέλιον serves as a notion for Mark’s narrative in its entirety. 7.2.3 ‘Epoch-Making’ Proximity through Victory and Cult This leads us to what I consider to be the first of this investigation’s main results: Given that Mark intends εὐαγγέλιον to serve as an overarching term for the message he is narrating, the investigation throughout Sections 4, 5, and 6 has shown how Mark aligns his understanding thereof in close conformity with the Isaianic vision of this as the epoch-making eschatological event, inaugurated through a victorious parade to Jerusalem, which at one and the same time is also a pilgrimage, focussed on temple cultic renewal. In outline, the most important findings behind this tripartite conclusion are: (1) That Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον arrives with an epoch-making force is evident throughout, with the following places as highlights: (a) In the prologue, the epoch-making nature of Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον is a unifying trajectory: The opening ἀρχή from the outset signals the composite and profound nature of what follows, combining a temporal beginning with a notion of an epochal transition into something new.57 The role of John as the one preparing the way is staged as a preparation for contact with epoch-making proximity to the divine about to be experienced when the ὁδός is ready for use. In particular, John’s role is marked by the use of κατασκευάζειν and ἑτοιµάζειν (1:2–3), providing him with the extremely ––––––––––––––––– 56 57

See Section 6.2.3. See Section 4.4.1.

7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions

449

important role as the one preparing the scene for the epoch-making events about to happen: the arrival of ὁ ἰσχυρότερος.58 Most profound in this context is the baptism in which the capacity of Jesus is elevated to the highest possible degree with a motif of Steigerung and a scene that amounts to a theophany. With an irreversible action, the heavens are torn open (σχίζειν), and as Jesus ascends from the waters (ἀναβαίνων) the heavenly spirit descends (καταβαῖνον) and is infused into him (εἰς).59 The epoch-making effect thereof is immediately felt in Jesus’s prevalence against ὁ σατανᾶς in the wilderness. While it is difficult to judge from Mark’s peculiar notion of Jesus being among the wild animals (ἦν µετὰ τῶν θηρίων) if this is designed as an Edenic scene, in which the animals are part of the choir that proleptically praise God’s remaking of Zion ὡς παράδεισον, or if they are rather part of the temptation scene as opposing enemies, it is not difficult to judge that Jesus is victorious and as a result has a host of angels serving him (1:13).60 Finally, in connection with the prologue, we find the epoch-making notion embedded in the first summary of Jesus’s preaching, providing us with a break in time and locality, marked by Jesus’s coming to Galilee µετά δέ. While the discussion above does not provide a fresh solution to the crux of old concerning the temporal aspect of ἤγγικεν as ‘set for arrival’ or ‘arrived,’61 the decisiveness of Jesus’s preaching in 1:15 is evident even if a future eschatology is preferred. Following the Isaianic script, Jesus arrives in Galilee as a unique administrator of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ and thus begins an irreversible process that will eventually lead to its completion. This feeling is communicated intensively by the bipartite construction of 1:15 with its two perfect verbs, followed by two present imperatives that in combination communicate such an acute sense of near arrival that it is as if no “Zeitzwischenraum mehr bleibt.”62 (b) Not surprisingly, the extreme way in which Jesus’s advent as εὐαγγέλιον is prepared and inaugurated as an epoch-making event is continued and elaborated upon in the remainder of Mark’s narrative. It is in reality a notion that is present throughout, and here I will only recapitulate the two most obvious examples: In the Doppellogion (2:21–22), the two concepts of καινός/νέος and ἐξουσία are used in a principal way to communicate the epoch-making capacity of Jesus. Most of the research discussion has been occupied with determining to which extent Jesus represents an incompatible kind of newness or rather an eschatological fulfilment of the old. The solution offered to this enigma above ––––––––––––––––– See Section 4.4.2. See Section 4.4.3. 60 See Section 4.4.4. 61 See Section 4.5.2. 62 Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 102. 58 59

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is based on understanding this logion as based upon Mark’s Isaianic script of the εὐαγγέλιον of the approaching βασιλεία.63 As Yahweh urges the people to forget “the old things” (‫מ ִניּוֹת‬ ֹ ‫ַק ְד‬/τὰ ἀρχαῖα) or “the former things” (‫ ִראשׁ ֹנוֹת‬/τὰ ἀπ᾿ ἀρχῆς, τὰ πρῶτα), since he is about to do “new things” (‫ֲח ָדָשׁה‬/καινά),64 the epoch-making capacity of Jesus’s preaching and action comes along with an irreversible force as “das eschatologisch Neue.”65 As such, it is not necessarily hostile towards the old, but of such a magnitude that every power of old – including the authority of the scribes and ultimately the temple – will need to repent and return or be destroyed (see, e.g., 13:1–2). The way in which this epoch-making, irreversible newness is most powerfully communicated by Mark is in the Anspielungen on the Sinaitic covenant inauguration. This is found, first, in the transfiguration on the mount in Mark 9:2–7 in which a scene is created that with the reference to ἡµέρας ἕξ from the outset likely echoes the Sinai incident (see Exod 24:16) and is surely meant to communicate a transferring of Moses’s authority to Jesus by the ἀκούετε αὐτοῦ formula in the presence of Moses and Elijah (Mark 9:7).66 This notion is carried further by the cup logion in Mark 14:24, citing Exod 24:8, and finalized in Jesus’s death scene in which the rending of the veil not only constitutes a grand inclusio with the rending of the heavens in 1:10, but more importantly constitutes the divine action, standing in tandem with Jesus’s own interpretation of his death in 14:24, thus sealing the covenant. The epoch-making nature thereof is effectively communicated by the notion of how the veil is decisively and irreversible destroyed εἰς δύο ἀπ᾽ ἄνωθεν ἕως κάτω in order to make way for the epochal shift into a new reality. (2) Concerning Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as a joyous proclamation of war victory, roughly half of the discussion in Chapters 4, 5, and 6 has been devoted to pinpoint how Mark unfolds this notion in close proximity to the fundamental connotation of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- nomenclature outlined in Chapter 3. To recapitulate the most obvious examples: (a) In the prologue, this notion is communicated in several ways in the composite citation, stringing together scriptural quotations that communicate the arrival of Yahweh as a victorious warrior king.67 Further, in the light of the quotation of Isa 40:3, the designation of Jesus as ὁ ἰσχυρότερος is likely an evocation of the notion in Isa 40:5, 10 of Yahweh coming µετὰ ἰσχύος. Most importantly, however, is the way in which the empowerment of Jesus with the spirit ignites a series of events in which Jesus embarks on the Isaianic-shaped ––––––––––––––––– See Section 5.2. See Isa 41:21–23; 42:9–10; 43:18–20; 44:6; 45:21; 48:6; 62:2; 65:17; 66:22. 65 Pesch, Markusevangelium 1. Teil, 177, see Marcus, Mark 1–8, 238; Guelich, Mark 1– 8:26, 59. 66 See Section 5.4.6. 67 See Section 4.3.2. 63 64

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parade to Jerusalem, designated as ὁ υἱός µου ὁ ἀγαπητός, powerful enough to overcome ὁ σατανᾶς in the wilderness, and so acutely connected to τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ and ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ that he is able to announce its time of arrival. (b) While the energy poured into establishing a convincing outline of Mark seems to have been in vain,68 the prolonged discussion of Mark’s Galilee section revealed how pervasive the victory of Jesus is, to the degree that it might offer a perspective on Mark’s organization of his material. In five subsections69 it was outlined how Jesus engages powers of old in an effort that either overthrows or subverts these by the powers of the approaching βασιλεία: Perhaps surprising, in the way Mark has organized his material, the family institution is first in line. Considering the magnitude of the family institution, this organization nevertheless manages to exemplify the extent of the epochmaking force of the εὐαγγέλιον, subverting even Jesus’s mother’s claim on him (see Mark 3:31). If the disciples are able to accept the power reorganization, when it came to the superiority of the εὐαγγέλιον over the family (see 10:28–29), it proves much more difficult to align the subversive power of Jesus’s teachings with their expectations. This theme is outlined by Mark in a number of controversies with Jewish authorities over Jesus’s teachings, which in the end produces the question if even the disciples are able to take the message Jesus is bringing εἰς τὴν καρδίαν and thereby make the needed συνιέναι (see 4:12; 6:52; 8:17–21). This question is one of the important ways in which Mark reveals his Isaianic script,70 and in essence, in this way Mark is not presenting Jesus as another teacher or a random εὐαγγελιζόµενος but in reality as the ultimate, eschatological teacher, equipped with a διδαχὴ καινὴ κατ᾽ ἐξουσίαν (1:27), able to negotiate not only the tradition of the elders (7:3) but even the law of Moses (see 2:1– 3:6). In the same way, we find the evangelic powers of Jesus unleashed upon demons and death. In several ways, this motif evokes potent eschatological imagery, including references to the figures of Moses, Elijah, and Elisha, but likewise the Isaianic theme of complete restoration as outlined in Section 3.3. Especially important is the reflection of Isa 49:24–25 in the Beelzebul pericope (Mark 3:22–27) and the reference to the new creation language of Isa 35:5–7 in the exclamation “he has done everything well” (καλῶς πάντα πεποίηκεν, Mark 7:37). Of these, the Beelzebul controversy is programmatic by elaborating on the theme from the prologue of the capability of Jesus to combat and defeat the one being ἰσχυρός, he himself being the ἰσχυρότερος. In this way, ––––––––––––––––– See Section 4.2.1. See Section 5.3. 70 See Isa 6:9–10, 29:13, cited in Mark 4:12 and 7:6–7 respectively; see also the quotation of Jer 5:21 in Mark 8:18. 68 69

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Jesus’s combats with and subversions of demons, sickness, and death become some of the principal expressions of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία present in the ministry of Jesus in Galilee as Mark understands it. Also, Mark’s Galilee section is used proleptically to stage the victory parade of the post-resurrectional εὐαγγέλιον εἰς πάντα τὰ ἔθνη (13:10) or εἰς ὅλον τὸν κόσµον (14:9). Jesus’s border-crossing activities are deeply interwoven into the story line of these chapters, as not least evident in the bread motif, recurring six times71 within three chapters and finalized in the principal teaching story Jesus undertakes with his disciples in the boat (8:14–21). Finally, it was discussed to which extent the Roman Empire is part of the powers of old to be subverted and overthrown in Mark 1–10. While there is no overt reference to Rome in these chapters, it is possible that Roman hegemony is toggled in the reference to λεγιών in 5:9, in the way Herod Antipas is presented as an anti-type to Jesus in 6:14–29, and, finally, in the way in which Jesus contrasts his way of giving his life as λύτρον as opposed to those ruling by way of κατακυριεύειν and κατεξουσιάζειν in 10:42–45. Combined, Mark certainly stages Jesus as opposed to the traditional administration of power, and if a kind of ‘third place hybridity’ or ‘mimicry’ is accepted, we might allow for subtle and encoded critique of the Roman Empire specifically. If not, the clash between Rome and the βασιλεία of Jesus is postponed to the passion story. (c) The motif of Jesus bringing the εὐαγγέλιον to its ultimate victory is brought to its climax in Mark’s Jerusalem section. This is seen from the following: When Jesus arrives in Jerusalem, Mark stages him as a Davidic king, albeit in an appropriate manner. As outlined in Section 6.2.1, the Davidssohnfrage has occupied Markan research for decades, but while a certain reluctance from the side of Mark about this title is to be acknowledged (see 12:35–37), the saving cry of Bartimaeus in combination with the ‘davidic scripturalization’ of Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem, citing and evoking places like Psalm 117 LXX, Gen 49:10–11, and Zech 9:9, stage Jesus as a Davidic king as he enters Jerusalem. The important point, nevertheless, is to notice how Mark negotiates the kingly tradition and in reality adjusts the Davidic tradition of a victorious David by fusing this with the rejection of Jesus by the builders (12:10), something especially evident by the reverse order in which Psalm 117 LXX is cited.72 In the same way, the anointment of Jesus (14:3–9) and the citation of Zech 13:7 in 14:27, the only stated citation in the passion narrative, serve to persuade the reader that Jesus’s death by crucifixion was in reality part of the joyous victory of the εὐαγγέλιον, something to be preached to the entire world (14:9). The kingly theme is present in the anointment as well as in the reference to the ‘stricken shepherd,’ who as the innocent sufferer of Isa 53:4 and King David ––––––––––––––––– 71 72

See 6:35–41, 52, 7:1–23, 27–29; 8:1–10, 14–21. See Section 6.2.2.

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in Ps 68:27 LXX will be vindicated and proceed in parade before the disciples to Galilee (Mark 14:28).73 This brings us to the cross scene and the question of whether Mark will be able to elevate his presentation of the εὐαγγέλιον as a victory precisely through the death of Jesus to its climax, or if it has rather reached its breaking point. Indeed, it was found to be the case that in a multifaceted way Mark tackles head-on the disgust and misbelief that any notion of a victorious outcome of being hanged on a stake would have produced for Jewish and Roman readers alike. As the one intimately connected with the victory of the βασιλεία, Jesus is here finally recognized as ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων. That this title throughout is part of the ongoing mockery of Jesus is best understood as caused by the permeating, central idea of Mark, his Leistung, of how the εὐαγγέλιον is precisely an appropriated version of the kingly expectation in which kingdom and cross are inseparably intertwined. This suggestion is nothing short of a novum when compared to the usage of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- in the texts discussed in Chapter 3, and the ultimate narrative challenge for Mark is to bring this point home convincingly. To this end, several rhetorical devices are utilized. One is indeed the repeated mockery of Jesus’s true identity through which we as readers are assured thereof by way of what may be labelled Mark’s “double-level narrative.”74 Another is how the silence of God in Gethsemane and when Jesus is hanging on the cross is finally broken when Jesus dies in an act that reveals the acceptance of his own death (15:38). Further, we find the cross-scene saturated by scripturalization, in which Psalm 22 is used in Mark’s death scene of 15:33–39 in its full, composite manner to express utmost despair as well as ultimate, kingly vindication. Finally, the in total nine-times repeated reference to the σταυρ- word group in combination with the interplay between the kingly proclamations surrounding Jesus’s crucifixion and the disgust of the bystanders tap into the way in which Roman crucifixion was used as a polyvalent means of degrading and shaming victims who were found guilty of aspiring after, for instance, kingly glory.75 In combination, Mark’s cross becomes the place of Jesus’s coronation. According to the reading presented in Chapter 6, Mark’s presentation of his εὐαγγέλιον as the intertwined notion of kingdom and cross is so decisively worked through that the question arises how well integrated Jesus’s resurrection is in his project. That the resurrection scene is indeed well integrated is evident from a number of observations of which one is the way in which the foreshadowing of Jesus’s death is always immediately connected to a reference to his resurrection or kingly worthiness. The one exception to this rule is the silence surrounding Jesus’s petition to avoid the cross in Gethsemane, which ––––––––––––––––– See Section 6.2.3. Juel, Messiah and Temple, 47. 75 See Section 6.2.4. 73 74

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from a narrative standpoint may be explained as a way of creating suspension until the divine action of 15:38. Looking at the resurrection narrative specifically, the analysis above shows how from a narrative as well as a theological standpoint it brings closure to a number of foreshadowings. In particular, the announcement by the young man in 16:6–7 may be characterized as the ultimate ‘closure’ or one-liner of Mark’s theological project of presenting Jesus as ‘the crucified, risen one,’ precisely the message to be preached in Galilee and beyond as τὸ εὐαγγέλιον (13:10; 14:9).76 (3) Finally, that Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον is in this way epoch-making as well as victorious does in no way stand in contrast to the way in which it is throughout presented as temple cultic: (a) In the prologue, the role of the temple is foreshadowed, albeit in a subtle way. This is not least seen in the pericope on Jesus’s baptism in which the rending of the heavens is best understood in light of Mark’s Isaianic script as an echo of Isa 63:19: the prayerful request of Yahweh to rebuild his temple. A temple cultic notion is likewise most likely embedded in John’s preparation of the people by raising their purity and in the repeated reference to spirit and water, both effecting cleansing (see Ezek 36:25–28). (b) While the temple cultic theme remains far more elusive in Mark’s Galilee section compared to the Jerusalem section, the discussion above nevertheless pinpoints six ways that in combination foreshadow the role that the temple is going to receive in Mark’s interpretation of Jesus’s death and resurrection. As illustrated in Table 6, these may be divided into three categories based on the way in which they refer to the three crucial issues around which Jesus’s relationship to the temple is clustered. These are: The question of how to gain temple cultic access to the nearness of the divine (15:38) is a theme connected to the transfiguration on the mount (9:2–7) and possibly the λύτρον logion (10:45) as well as denoting comprehensive restoration in the same manner as the ‫ ָאָשׁם‬sacrifice.77 Jesus’s critique of the temple administration’s handling of the temple in terms of access for foreigners and the sacrificial system (11:15–18) is foreshadowed in a number of ways, including Jesus’s extension of table fellowship to τελῶναι καὶ ἁµαρτωλοί (2:15–17) and foreigners (7:24–30), besides the number of instances implying purity issues with the discussion in 7:1–23 as the principal place.78 Finally, the crucial charge of blasphemy, repeated twice in the passion narrative and combined with the charge of Jesus destroying and rebuilding the temple (14:58, 63–65; 15:29) is foreshadowed in the accusations against Jesus for his handling of forgiveness (2:5–12) and exorcisms (3:22–30), to which ––––––––––––––––– See Sections 6.2.5 and 6.2.6. See Sections 5.4.6 and 5.4.7. 78 See Section 5.4.5. 76 77

7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions

455

may be added the saying on sin against the Holy Spirit (3:28–30). Combined, these places foreshadow the way in which Jesus encroaches on the prerogatives of the temple, a theme also likely part of the designation of Jesus as ὁ ἅγιος τοῦ θεοῦ (1:24).79 (c) The tension surrounding Jesus’s relationship to the temple is finally released in Mark’s Jerusalem section. It is time to discover how Jesus will be received: Will his good deeds turn out as a testimony for or against the temple and its administration?80 The crucial role of the temple in Mark 11–16 is evident in at least two ways: On the one hand, the investigation above has shown how the temple functions as a unifying theme of Mark’s passion narrative. Examples are the role of Psalm 117 LXX, the role of the temple in the initial reception and/or rejection of Jesus, the temple as the scene of Jesus’s controversies with various factions, the crucial sayings of Jesus involving critique of the temple (11:17; 12:10, 33; 13:2; 14:24), and perhaps also in the resurrection scene where the reiteration of the theme of ‘tumbled stones’ and the question of who is seated at the right hand of Jesus could indicate subtle references to the theme of the celestial or eternal temple. It is even possible to detect a certain amount of reduction of Jesus’s critique of the temple in Matthew and Luke.81 On the other hand, and most importantly, the role of the temple is crucially highlighted by the threefold way in which Jesus’s death is connected to the temple by οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ γραµµατεῖς (11:18; 14:1–2), by Jesus himself (12:10; 14:24), and finally by God, understanding ἐσχίσθη of 15:38 as having God as the acting agent.82 Combined, it is thus concluded that Mark presents his εὐαγγέλιον in close proximity to the Isaianic vision that he cites initially (1:2–3). To Mark, the εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ is the foundational and epoch-making inauguration of the βασιλεία in and through Jesus’s ultimate victorious pilgrimage-parade from Galilee to Jerusalem in which he at one and the same time is coronated as βασιλεύς at the cross and suffers a temple cultic death as λύτρον and covenant sacrifice for the sake of the many. In this way, Mark emphatically overtakes the strong kingly trajectory of the Isaianic visions, just as he at one and the same time with equal emphasis underlines how Jesus’s death on a Roman cross is instrumental in the breakthrough thereof. Kingdom and cross go together, and the epoch-making nature of this is die Leistung des Markus.

––––––––––––––––– See Sections 5.4.3 and 5.4.4. See 1:44 (εἰς µαρτύριον αὐτοῖς) and the discussion in Section 5.4.2. 81 See Section 6.3.2. 82 See Sections 6.3.3 and 6.3.4. 79 80

456

Chapter 7: Conclusions

7.2.4 By Bringing Renewed Covenantal Proximity to the Divine The second main conclusion follows in the footsteps of the first and concerns how Mark in a thorough and bold way narrates how and why this combination of kingdom and cross is τὸ εὐαγγέλιον. The answer to this is found in the proximity language, boldly introduced in the prologue, continued throughout, and finally evolving into covenantal and temple cultic language: (1) Concerning the proximity language, this has already been touched upon several times above, but a brief outline is in place: (a) In the prologue, the theme of proximity to the divine is the unifying thread as evident from the announcement of ὁ ὁδός in the wilderness, evoking the Isaianic theme of Yahweh’s parade to Jerusalem; John’s role of κατασκευάζειν/ἑτοιµάζειν as a way of preparing the people for immediate contact with the nearness of God; the promise of the reception of baptism ἐν πνεύµατι ἁγίῳ providing a whole new level of proximity; Jesus’s theophany of the torn heavens and physical contact with the divine in the form of the spirit coming εἰς αὐτόν; the reorganization of even ὁ ἔρηµος into a place of contact with angels, perhaps as a scene of paradisiac reversal; and, finally, the way in which τὸ εὐαγγέλιον is defined precisely as proximity to the divine in the form of the βασιλεία being so near (ἤγγικεν) in time and space that it has become imperative to repent and believe ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ. (b) In the ensuing Galilee section, proximity is part and parcel of Jesus’s confrontational powers, which are used to renegotiate in which way the announced βασιλεία may be experienced and by whom. Jesus’s pattern of touching (ἅπτειν, κρατεῖν) unclean people and his re-establishment of the status and place in society for outcasts, sick, and wayward people is fundamentally a consequence of the proximity of the Isaianic-shaped kingdom. This is evident in stories of touching (1:30–31, 40–44; 3:10; 5:21–43; 6:56), table fellowship (2:15–17), and not least by Jesus’s sea crossings and border-crossing activities (4:35–41; 5:1–20; 6:45–52: 7:24–30; 8:14–21).83 (c) In this part of Mark, the transfiguration on the mount is the epicentre in this regard. It is saturated with temple cultic imagery, presenting us with a scene in which Jesus “der höchstmögliche Grad an Gottesnähe zuerkannt wird.”84 This is evident from the evocation of the Sinai pericope in the references to ἡµέρας ἕξ and ὄρος ὑψηλόν, besides also the description of Jesus’s clothes with µεταµορφοῦν, στίλβειν, and λευκός λίαν, outbidding Moses’s glorified face when he came down from Mount Sinai (see Exod 34:29–35). In particular, the notion of the descending νεφέλη is clearly echoing the “pillar of cloud” (στῦλος νεφέλης) as a medium of Yahweh’s nearness to the people in the exodus story (see Exod 16:10) – something also found in other places of ––––––––––––––––– 83 84

See Sections 5.3.4 and 5.4.5. du Toit, Der abwesende Herr, 347.

7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions

457

the Hebrew Bible and later Jewish tradition, showing how νεφέλη is used as one of the metonyms for the temple and proximity to the divine.85 (2) This brings us to the way in which Mark’s proximity language is brought to its climax in the passion narrative by incorporating covenant language into the temple cultic scenery. In reality, the discovered interplay between 14:24 and 15:38 is presented as one of the most important ways in which Mark defines his εὐαγγέλιον: (a) Beginning with Jesus’s interpretation of the cup, it is evident that the locution τὸ αἷµά µου τῆς διαθήκης is a reference to the Sinai incident. As such, Mark thereby incorporates the covenant inauguration of Exodus 24 into the most important statement of the meaning of Jesus’s death, which the analysis above showed to be focussed on proximity to the divine as the ultimate gift and grace of the ‫ְבּ ִרית‬/διαθήκη. In the Sinai event, this is evident from the way in which Sinai becomes a principal expression of how the ensuing tabernacle will be able to contain the presence of Yahweh through concentric circles of growing holiness, here reflected in the division of the people into several groups with different permissions to ascend the mountain. In reality, the entire scene describes a typical theophany in which the people to various degrees perform an anabase up towards the deity and the deity performs a katabase. Of particular importance is the unrestricted formulation in the Hebrew Bible of how the seventy elders “saw the God of Israel” (‫ ַו ִיּ ְראוּ ֵאת ֱאֹלֵהי ִיְשׂ ָרֵאל‬, 24:10) – a formulation that in the Septuagint is softened into “they saw the place where God was standing” (καὶ εἶδον τὸν τόπον οὗ εἱστήκει ἐκεῖ ὁ θεὸς) and in the targums into that they saw the “glory” (‫ ) ְיָקר‬of God. This extreme notion of proximity is precisely the result of Moses’s “splashing” (‫זרק‬/προσχεῖν, 24:6, 8) of the “covenant blood” (‫ ַדּם־ַהְבּ ִרית‬/τὸ αἷµα τῆς διαθήκης) that seals the covenant with the entire people and allows the seventy elders on behalf of the entire congregation of Israel to ascend a level up the mountain to “see” (‫ראה‬, ‫חזה‬/ὁρᾶν, 24:10–11) Yahweh in an unrestricted, Edenic manner and to enjoy a fellowship meal (‫אכל‬/ἐσθίειν, ‫שׁתה‬/πίνειν, 24:11). In this way, the blood indexes who is allowed to enjoy the central gift of the covenant: fellowship with Yahweh. In Mark, this notion is carried over in what I estimate is a rich, bold, and emphatic interpretation of the way in which Jesus’s death is to Mark a victory, an inauguration of the εὐαγγέλιον of the βασιλεία. This is evident from the setting of the locution within a meal for all twelve disciples, who all drink from the cup (14:23); from the way in which the sacrificial nature of the blood is expressed with ἐκκύννειν; from the way in which the blood is destined to ‘index’ a people by being poured out ὑπὲρ πολλῶν (14:24); and from the way in which the covenant will produce a future setting of full access to the proximity ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ τοῦ θεοῦ (14:25).86 ––––––––––––––––– 85 86

See Section 5.4.6. See Section 6.3.3.

458

Chapter 7: Conclusions

(b) If Mark 14:24 is the primary verbal expression of how Jesus’s death is εὐαγγέλιον by providing proximity to God, the rending of the veil in 15:38 is the pivotal enaction thereof. Located within an already densely packed and by all measures central scene of Mark’s narrative (15:33–39), the abrupt change of scenery from the cross to the temple, the pleonastic feeling of “from top to bottom” (ἀπ᾽ ἄνωθεν ἕως κάτω) after “into two” (εἰς δύο), the distinct use of ναός that links this place to the crucial charges against Jesus in 14:58 and 15:29, and the suspension build around the silence of God in Gethsemane and during Jesus’s crucifixion all serve to highlight the sudden ἐσχίσθη as the climactic divine response to Jesus’s death in combination with the ensuing ἠγέρθη in the resurrection story (16:6). That 15:38 is in this way a dramatic highpoint of Mark’s narrative is only one side of the coin. The other contains the theological interpretation thereof. Here, the investigation above arrived at the conclusion that the velum scissum may serve as a miniature of how a reading of Mark through the lens of εὐαγγέλιον as an overarching expression of Mark’s Isaianic script offers a new perspective on impasses of old. Rather than making the question of which veil Mark meant the key to the interpretation of 15:38, I suggested in concordance with Gurtner’s fresh appraisal of the issue that the common point of the different veils of the temple is how they symbolize “different parts of the universe”87 and in concordance with Lanfer’s reprisal of the idea of the terrestrial temple as interconnected with and the gateway to the garden of Eden88 that the narrative point of 15:38 is far from elusive but as articulated as possible: The death of Jesus provides the primary gift of the covenant, that is, proximity to God. That the focus of 15:38 is a new foundation for community with God – and not a particular theory of atonement or the lack hereof – is undergirded by the way in which the divine katabase entailed in ἐσχίσθη εἰς δύο ἀπ᾽ ἄνωθεν ἕως κάτω brings closure to the Markan theophanic trajectory. As already outlined, this is begun in the prologue by the Isaianic proclamation of a way in the wilderness, the rending of heavens, and the proclamation of the nearness of the kingdom. In the Galilee section, it is continued in several ways, of which the evocation of the Sinai incident in 9:2–7 is a temporary highpoint. Coming to Jerusalem, the focus shifts almost entirely to the question of Jesus’s relationship to the temple, and in 14:22–25, the one element missing is precisely the katabase of God as a response to the sacrifice offered. Narratively as well as theologically, this is emphatically provided in 15:38 in what may be labelled Mark’s theophanic chain of the re-establishment of God’s proximity, with 1:9–11, 9:2–7, 14:24, and finally 15:38 as the foundational pillars. Finally, that precisely this trajectory of proximity is εὐαγγέλιον to Mark is undergirded by the ensuing proclamation of the Roman centurion, which is best understood as a genuine confession. While this statement may entail anti––––––––––––––––– 87 88

Gurtner, “Veil and Markan,” 300. See, e.g., Lanfer, Remembering Eden, 127–58, see Gurtner, “Veil and Markan,” 300.

7.2 To Where We Have Come: Investigation Contributions

459

Roman sentiments, its narrative potential is only appreciated when viewed as a proleptic anticipation of how it is precisely through the death of Jesus that the εὐαγγέλιον will become victorious and preached to the entire world (13:10; 14:9). In this way, 15:39 becomes the narrative enaction of the post-resurrectional victory as well as the assurance to the reader that the death of Jesus is in reality τὸ εὐαγγέλιον.89 7.2.5 Mark’s Εὐαγγέλιον as a Composite Solution to Complex Problems To systematize the conclusions offered so far, the two primarily concern, first, how εὐαγγέλιον to Mark is an intertwined notion of a kingly victory and a cultic renewal, which, second, combined produced unhindered proximity to the divine through Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection. In a secondary way, these two conclusions are supported by two other conclusions, outlining, first, how the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- nomenclature in texts prior to the New Testament was used precisely to communicate an epoch-making, victorious message that often led to cultic thanksgiving, and how, second, the Markan appraisal thereof covers the entirety of his narrative as a keyword connected to his overarching Isaianic framework. Having this in the bank, it is now time to conclude if this approach to Mark helps solve some of the impasses in Markan research discovered along the way. At several junctures throughout the investigation, this has indeed been shown to be the case due to the way in which εὐαγγέλιον has proven to be a composite denoting proximity: (1) Concerning εὐαγγέλιον as a composite notion, an acceptance of the dependence of the εὐαγγέλιον of Mark on the use of the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- in the broad cultural encyclopedia of his era and specifically through the Isaianic intensified version thereof will ease the tension felt throughout the more than a century-long discussion. This is the case for both major trajectories discussed, namely the root of the specific New Testament τὸ εὐαγγέλιον expression as well as the development of its meaning within the New Testament. It is already evident from the research discussion provided in Chapter 2 that various finetuned evaluations have been sought in order to take into account the multifacetted nature of our word group.90 If we add to this an appreciation of the intertwined nature of what we would term ‘politics’ and ‘religion’ in antiquity,91 and if we moreover apply the specific Isaianic motif of Steigerung through which the ‫בשׂר‬/εὐαγγελ- notion becomes part and parcel of the eschatological transposition into a paradisiac restoration, it becomes clear that the minute definitions of the Markan εὐαγγέλιον are misguided. As an Isaianic iteration, the Markan τὸ εὐαγγέλιον is a composite and comprehensive notion that ultimately denotes a full restoration, encompassing the entirety of life and ––––––––––––––––– See Section 6.3.4. See Sections 2.2.5 and 2.3.3. 91 See Section 1.3.2. 89 90

460

Chapter 7: Conclusions

without the slightest amount of contradiction between subjective and objective connotations. To Mark, τὸ εὐαγγέλιον is Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ as well as τοῦ θεοῦ. (2) Concerning Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον as centred on proximity, an acceptation thereof will provide a solution to three other Markan research impasses, a minor and two major: (a) The minor that I have referred to only occasionally along the way concerns to which extent Mark’s stories touch upon purity issues. This is a discussion fuelled by the puzzling duality in Mark that while he is interested in purity issues (see 7:1–23), he seemingly refrains from incorporating references to purity concerns in a number of instances where it would have been obvious, for instance in stories concerning Jesus’s habit of touching impure persons.92 The suggestion brought to the table by this investigation is that Mark subsumes his concern for purity under his main concern to pinpoint the capacity of the εὐαγγέλιον to re-establish proximity. Therefore, arguing a maiore ad minus, purity’s capacity precisely to establish contact with the holy is part of Mark’s story as an example of a power of old subverted by the advancing βασιλεία. (b) The first major impasse within Markan research that I suggest my reading of Mark helps relieve is the question of the role of the Roman Empire as target of or purpose behind Mark’s narrative. Here, the investigation has surprisingly made clear not only how divided researchers reading Mark from an anti-imperial and/or postcolonial perspective are, when it comes to depicting Mark’s stand towards the empire,93 but also how elusive the empire is after all. While scholars have suggested hidden allusions in quite a number of Markan scenes,94 only two unambiguous references to the empire are to be found in Mark, that is, the question of the emperor’s coin (12:13–17) and the crucifixion scene (15:1–45). The suggestion entertained in the investigation above is that Mark does address the power of the Roman Empire as one of the powers of old that is to make way for the advancing kingdom. In this process, the empire becomes a puppet rather than a target. This is seen by the way in which Roman power, on the one hand, delivers a negative foil of power abuse for the power of Jesus,95 and by the way in which Rome, on the other hand, is in an ironic way pulling the yoke that carries Mark’s main message of Jesus as the appropriated king with the parodical display of Jesus on the cross as “king of the Jews.”96 It is thus concluded that the Roman Empire only plays a secondary role in the Markan narrative as part of the powers of the old aeon that is subsumed under the epoch-making εὐαγγέλιον of Jesus. ––––––––––––––––– See Section 5.4.5. See Section 2.4.6. 94 See Section 5.3.5. 95 See Section 5.3.5 with reference to Mark 5:9; 6:14–29, and 10:42–45. 96 See the discussion of Roman crucifixion in Section 6.2.4. 92 93

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461

(c) In the same way, a reading of Mark through the understanding of εὐαγγέλιον suggested here explains, or at the very least puts into perspective, the traditionally highly important question of Mark’s understanding of Jesus’s death. As discussed at several junctures above,97 the difficulties with establishing a convincing connection to Isaiah 53 not only in modern research but possibly in the earliest reception of Mark as well, has made it difficult to claim that Mark presents Jesus as a sacrifice for sin. This has led a number of researchers to paint a picture of Mark’s atonement theology in ‘agnostic’ or formal colours. For instance, Hooker states that the way in which Jesus’s death is beneficial “is not explained,”98 just as Botner encapsulates the view of many in stating that it “is largely an enterprise in speculation” to proceed beyond an understanding of the effects of Jesus’s blood in Mark as indexical.99 If we approach this discussion through the lens of τὸ εὐαγγέλιον as the announcement of the ultimate, epochal, and eschatological victory that in Isaianic terms will re-establish the proximity to God and renew the temple and the covenant, Mark’s presentation of Jesus’s death in 14:24 and 15:38 combined in reality becomes a rich, bold, and emphatic interpretation of the effects of Jesus’s death. The reasoning behind this conclusion is that by evoking the Sinai incident, Mark is picking the top spot on the salvation taxonomy, flying up and above even exodus language and perpetual sacrifices, including Yom Kippur. The Sinaitic covenant inaction is as close as we get in the Hebrew Bible to a non-eschatological depiction of a paradisiac reversal with an unhindered access to the proximity of Yahweh. If we proceed from here in an effort to corner Mark’s narrative on the question of Jesus’s death as a remedy for sin, I find it likely that Mark would agree with Matthew’s addition εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁµαρτιῶν (Matt 26:28). This inferential conclusion is due to the way in which Jesus’s relationship to the temple is one of renewal or rebuilding, due to the way in which God is presented as the agent behind Jesus’s death, and due to the way in which the multitude of texts describing covenant inauguration subsumes remedy of sin as a needed prerequisite.100 We can only speculate about why Mark does not state it directly, but following the trajectory flowing from his initial and bold ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, forgiveness of sins is in reality of inferior importance compared to Mark’s overarching story of an epoch-making covenant inauguration. Considering the composite content of εὐαγγέλιον, Mark presents us with a fully saturated and, dare I say, beautiful presentation of Jesus’s death as the fulfilment of the Isaianic-shaped vision of the renewal of the central covenantal gift to rule them all: proximity to and covenant friendship with God. ––––––––––––––––– See Sections 1.1; 5.4.7; 6.1.2; 6.3.1; 6.3.5. Hooker, Mark, 343. 99 Botner, “Preparing a Meal,” 13, see further the discussion in Sections 6.3.1 and 6.3.5. 100 See Section 6.3.5. 97 98

462

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7.3 So: Mark’s Εὐαγγέλιον in a Box The present investigation began with a straightforward question: How does the author of Mark present his narrative of Jesus as τὸ εὐαγγέλιον? While short ‘in a box’ answers to complex questions are not favoured discourse in scholarly investigations, this spot must be the place if ever: To Mark, the story of Jesus is εὐαγγέλιον – and to be precise: τὸ εὐαγγέλιον – since Jesus, through his life, death, and resurrection, re-establishes covenantal community with and proximity to God through kingly victory and temple-cultic renewal.

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Index of Ancient Sources Hebrew Bible and the Septuagint Unmarked references are to the Masoretic Text Genesis 1:1 1:2 1:29–30 1:31 3:24 8:8–12 9:3 9:6 22 22:2 22:12 22:13 22:16–18 22:16 28:17 37:22 49:10–11

221 240 249 297–98 411 n. 336 240 249 420 243–45, 268 243, 335 n. 357 243 426 426 243 336 420 355, 430, 452

Exodus 4:21 6:6 7:3 7:13–14 7:22 8:15 9:7 9:12 9:35 10:1 10:20 10:27 11:10 13:15 14–15

290 n. 82 339 n. 388 290 n. 82 290 290 290 290 290 290 290 290 290 290 339 297

14:4 14:7 14:8 14:21 15:13 15:24 16:2 16:7–9 16:10 16:12 17:2 17:3 18–34 19–34 19–24 19 19:5 19:6 19:9 19:10 19:12 19:14 19:20 19:24 20:12 20:18–21 21:30 23:15 23:20 24 24:2 24:3 24:3–8

290 290 290 235 339 n. 388 290 290 290 337 n. 370, 456 290 306 n. 192 290 335 n. 357 335 425, 432 427 425 156, 228, 425 337 n. 368, 337 nn. 370–371 228, 401 n. 281, 425 425 228 425 428 288 336 339, 419 400 n. 276 212, 216, 228 403, 423, 431 400 401 400

496 24:3–4 24:4 24:5–8 24:5 24:6–8 24:6 24:7 24:8

Index of Ancient Sources

24:9–18 24:9 24:10–11 24:10 24:11 24:13 24:15–18 24:15–16 24:16 25–27 25 25:8 25:31–40 26:31 26:33–34 26:37 27:16 28:34–38 28:36 29:7 30:11–16 30:12–16 30:25–33 33:9–10 34:5 34:20 34:23–24 34:29–35 34:29 34:30 40:9 40:34–38

425–26 400 425 400–1 156 400–1, 457 425–26 390, 398–401, 421, 427–28, 450, 457 401 419 400, 402, 457 400, 457 400, 402, 457 399 337 n. 371 400 334, 399, 450 336 423 336 n. 365 411 407, 411 n. 336 399 407 407 411 326 n. 306 361 n. 88 419 339 361 337 337 n. 371 400 n. 276 400 n. 276 335, 456 335 n. 359 336 361 n. 88 337

Leviticus 1:4 1:14 4:7 4:18 4:20 4:25

425 241 419 419 419 419

4:30 4:34 5:5–19 5:6–7 5:6 5:7 5:14–26 5:21–26 7:2 8:12 9:7 10:1 10:10 13–14 14:2–7 14:12–18 14:12–13 14:13–14 14:13 14:19–20 14:19 14:21 14:22 14:24–25 14:31 15:15 15:30 16 16:2 16:10 16:20–22 16:22 17:11 19:20 25 27

419 419 155 157 157 n. 342 340 n. 397 153 155 n. 328 420 361 n. 88 425 n. 395 411 356 n. 65, 411 320 n. 272 319 155 154–55 156 n. 333 319 425 n. 395 319 154–55 319 154–55 319 319 319 403 337 153 153 155, 420 154, 427 339 161–62, 171–72, 339 339

Numbers 3:12 3:46 3:48 3:49 3:51 5:2–3 5:6–10 5:6–7 6:12 9:15–23

339 339 339 339 339 333 155 n. 328 157 n. 342 155 337

497

Index of Ancient Sources 11:25 24:17 35:31–32

337 73, 396 339

Deuteronomium 5:16 7:8 9:26 13:6 (13:5 ET) 15 15:15 18:7 18:15 21:8 24:18 28:12 31:15 33:9

288 339 n. 388, 442 339 n. 388, 442 339 n. 388, 442 161–62 339 n. 388, 442 396 337 n. 368 339, 442 339 n. 388, 442 236 n. 246 337 286 n. 73

Joshua 3

227

Judges 13:7 16:7

326 n. 304 326 n. 304

1 Samuel 4:17 6:6 10:1 16:13 22:20 31:9 2 Samuel 2:4 4:10 5:3 7 7:13–14 7:14 16:2 18:22 23:4

108, 109 n. 25, 440 n. 30 290 361 n. 88 361 n. 88, 361 n. 90 288 110, 117–18, 440

361 n. 90 109 n. 26 361 n. 88, 361 n. 90 244 356 351 356 n. 68 109 n. 26 396

1 Kingdoms (LXX) 4:17 119, 124 n. 112, 440 n. 29

31:9

120, 124, 125 n. 113, 440

2 Kingdoms (LXX) 1:20 4:9 4:10 18:20 18:22 18:25 18:27 18:31

124 n. 112 339 n. 389 118–19 118–19 118–19 118–19 118–19 119 n. 82

1 Kings 1:33–41 1:39 6:18 6:23–32 6:29–35 8:10–11 17:8–16 19 19:4–8 19:19–21

356 361 n. 88 411 411 n. 336 411 337 n. 374 305 335 n. 357 248 n. 321 283

2 Kings 2:1–14 4:1–7 4:42–44 5:1–24 7:9 9:1–13 9:13

227 305 305 227 109 n. 25, 440 n. 30 361 n. 88 356

3 Kingdoms (LXX) 1:42 119 n. 83 17:18 325 n. 302 4 Kingdoms (LXX) 1:8 2:12 7:9 12:17 23:6

226 406 n. 300 118 157 326 n. 306

1 Chronicles 10:9 10:10 16:23

110, 124 440 119, 440 n. 29

498

Index of Ancient Sources

2 Chronicles 16:14

361 n. 89

Nehemiah 12:30

152

Psalms 2 2:7 10:10 (9:31 LXX) 22 (21 LXX) 22:2 (21:2 LXX) 22:22–32 (21:22–32 LXX) 22:29 (21:29 LXX) 25:22 (24:22 LXX) 26:11 (25:11 LXX) 31:6 (30:6 LXX) 33:3 (32:4 LXX) 40 (39 LXX) 40:4 (39:4 LXX) 40:10 (39:10 LXX)

244–45 243, 351 221 369–72, 399 n. 271, 422–23, 453 368, 370, 372, 430

370 371 n. 153 339 n. 389 339 n. 389 339 n. 389 441 125 n. 114 275, 440–41 110–11, 123–24, 275, 440 n. 32 41:10 (40:10 LXX) 370 42:6 (41:6 LXX) 370 49:8–9 (48:8–9 LXX) 339 49:16 (48:16 LXX) 339 63:4 (62:4 LXX) 400 n. 276 68 (67 LXX) 125 n. 114 68:12 (67:12 LXX) 111–13, 120–25, 440 n. 32 68:25 (67:25 LXX) 441 69 (68 LXX) 372 n. 156 69:22 (68:22 LXX) 370 69:27 (68:27 LXX) 364–65, 391, 424, 453 77:17–20 (76:17–20 LXX) 296 78:13 (77:13 LXX) 296 78:23 (77:23 LXX) 236 n. 246 84:4 (83:4 LXX) 400 n. 276 89:10–11 (88:10–11 LXX) 296 89:20 (88:19 LXX) 327 89:21 (88:21 LXX) 361 n. 88 91 (90 LXX) 247–49

91:13 (90:13 LXX) 248 n. 327 95:8 (94:8 LXX) 290 n. 84 96 (95 LXX) 113–14, 124, 125 n. 114 96:1–2 (95:1–2 LXX) 275 96:1 (95:1 LXX) 440–41 96:2 (95:2 LXX) 440 n. 32 96:5 (95:5 LXX) 297 n. 126 96:10 (95:10 LXX) 441 98:1 (97:1 LXX) 441 106:16 (105:16 LXX) 326 n. 306, 327 110 (109 LXX) 359 n. 83 110:1 (109:1 LXX) 288, 380, 396 110:4 (109:4 LXX) 396 118 (117 LXX) 359, 386, 430, 452, 455 118:20 (117:20 LXX) 394 118:22–26 (117:22–26 LXX) 358 118:22–23 (117:22–23 LXX) 288, 359 118:22 (117:22 LXX) 351, 357–59, 380, 394, 410, 416, 418 118:25–26 (117:25–26 LXX) 359 118:26 (117:26 LXX) 356–58, 394 128:3 (127:3 LXX) 284 133:2 (132:2 LXX) 361 136:13–15 (135:13–15 LXX) 296 144:9 (143:9 LXX) 441 149:1 441 Song of Songs 1:3–4 4:14 Isaiah 4:5 5:29 6:1–7 6:1–3 6:9–10

361 n. 89 361 n. 89

337 251 327 144 288–90, 306, 451 n. 70

Index of Ancient Sources 6:10 11:1–16 11:2 11:6–9 13:21 18:6 18:7 19:2 25:6–8 29:10 29:13 35:2 35:5–7 35:9 36:22 37:1 40:1–11

40:1–5 40:2 40:3–11 40:3–4 40:3–5 40:3

40:4 40:5–6 40:5 40:9–10 40:9

40:10 40:11 41:4 41:10 41:13–14 41:14 41:17–21 41:17–20

323 n. 290 225 250 249–50, 251 251 251 155 n. 324 286 n. 75 403 n. 287 331 288–89, 331, 451 n. 70 144 297, 451 145, 251 235 235 141–43, 147–48, 159–60, 165–68, 245, 352, 441, 444 167 n. 404 146, 262, 323, 442 137–40, 224 165–66 137 212, 214, 216, 219, 222, 228, 238, 266, 378, 409, 443, 446, 450 164, 444 353 144, 192, 271, 291, 352, 441 n. 37, 450 262, 266 115–16, 120–23, 125, 141, 159, 166– 67, 219, 223, 251, 335, 353 n. 43, 387, 441 n. 37, 444 149, 224, 271, 441 n. 36, 450 441 n. 37 296 296 296 145, 339 n. 388, 442 n. 42 442 n. 41 138–39

41:17 41:18 41:21–23 41:21 41:27

42 42:1–9 42:1–4 42:1 42:6 42:7 42:9–10 42:9 42:10 42:13 42:16–20 42:24 43:2 43:8 43:10–11 43:14 43:15 43:16–21 43:16 43:18–20 43:18–19 43:19 43:20 43:24–27 43:25 44:6

44:18–20 44:18 44:21–28 44:22 44:24 44:25 44:27 44:28 45:5–6 45:7–8 45:21 45:22

499 296 236 n. 246 450 441 n. 36 115–16, 119, 121, 123, 125, 148, 440 n. 29 244 225 272 243, 266 147, 296, 410 291 450 138 272, 275, 441 275 291 146, 323 218 291 296 145, 339 n. 388, 442 n. 42 296, 441 n. 36 138–39 138 275, 450 138–39, 442 272, 442 n. 41 251 146, 323 296 145, 296, 339 n. 388, 441 n. 36, 442 n. 42, 450 290 n. 85 291 148 146, 323, 442 145, 296, 339 n. 388, 442 n. 42 148 139, 296 149–50, 152, 192 296 139, 442 n. 41 450 323, 442

500 46:8 46:12 46:12–13 46:13 47:4 47:7–10 48:6 48:7 48:8 48:12 48:16 48:17 48:20–21 48:21 49:5–6 49:6 49:7 49:8 49:14–26 49:24–26 49:24–25 49:26

50:1 50:2 50:8 51:1 51:3 51:5 51:7 51:9–11 51:9–10 51:11 51:12 51:12–52:10 52–55 52–53 52:1 52:1–12 52:1–10

52:2–10

Index of Ancient Sources 146, 290 n. 85, 323 290 n. 85 148 143, 443 145, 339 n. 388, 442 n. 42 290 n. 85 275, 450 139, 442 n. 41 146, 323 296 275 145, 339 n. 388, 442 n. 42 138 235 323, 442 147, 225 n. 191, 410 145, 339 n. 388, 442 n. 42 147, 410 148 145 n. 252 295, 451 145, 146 n. 261, 339 n. 388, 442 n. 42 146, 323 139, 296 143, 443 353 139, 192, 251, 412, 442 143, 443 290 n. 85 138–39, 218 296 323 296 148 432 369, 372 441 n. 37 142–43, 158 171 n. 422, 172, 191, 224, 291, 352, 355, 441, 443 151–52, 159–60

52:4–12 52:6–7 52:6 52:7–10 52:7

52:8–10 52:8 52:9–12 52:10 52:11 52:12 52:13–53:12 52:13–15 52:13–14 52:13 52:14 52:15

53

53:1 53:2–3 53:3 53:4 53:5–6 53:6 53:7 53:8 53:10–12 53:10

53:11–12 53:11 53:12 54–55 54:1–17 54:4

138, 218 121–22 352, 443 139, 144, 147 115–16, 119 n. 83, 121–25, 141, 149, 159–61, 181, 183, 185, 251, 254, 266, 268, 441, 443–44 291 443 150 291 n. 93 152, 267 138 146–47, 153–58, 389 291 n. 94 157 n. 338, 291 n. 94 291 n. 94 156 153 n. 310, 156–57, 181–82, 291 n. 94, 312, 372, 443 323, 346–48, 392, 403, 442–24, 432, 461 138 n. 206 156, 157 n. 338, 291 n. 94 291 n. 94 156 n. 333, 364–65, 391, 424, 430, 452 157–58 419 153–54, 156 n. 333 155–56, 443 157–58, 399, 423 153–54, 156–57, 192, 291 n. 94, 323, 340, 347, 423, 442 372, 390 419 154, 347, 372, 390, 419 403 148 276

501

Index of Ancient Sources 54:5 54:8 54:10 55:1 55:3 55:5 55:6 55:7 55:12–13 56 56:3–8 56:3 56:4 56:7 56:9 57:7 57:15 59:20 60:4 60:6 60:7 60:16 61 61:1–3 61:1

61:2 61:5–8 61:6 62:2 62:5 62:9 62:10–12 62:12 63–64 63:7–65:7 63:10–19 63:15–64:11 63:16 63:17 63:18 63:19 (64:1 ET) 64:2 (64:3 ET) 64:10

145, 339 n. 388, 442 n. 42 145, 339 n. 388, 442 n. 42 147, 410, 443 151 147, 410, 443 138, 147 147 323, 149, 288, 300, 331, 397, 442 137 433 410 n. 329 417 417 410, 413, 416–17 251 149 290 n. 85 145, 388, 442 n. 42 284 n. 68 116, 122–23, 125 149 145, 442 n. 42 161–62 161 n. 369, 225 116–17, 160–61, 223, 266, 290 n. 85, 444 161, 164 410m329 152 n. 309 450 276 149 149 145, 442 n. 42 239, 245 297 192 236 145, 442 n. 42 290 n. 85 149 235–38, 266–67, 406, 410, 454 297 n. 124 149

65:1–7 65:11 65:17 65:22 65:25 66:1–2 66:17 66:22 Jeremiah 5:21 5:23–24 7:11 8:13 11:19 20:15 20:18 23:5 28:10 LXX (51:10 MT) 31:11 (38:11 LXX) 31:31 (38:31 LXX) 31:34 (38:34 LXX) Ezekiel 1 1:1 1:26–27 5:10 10:3–4 11:19 16:59–63 18:31 36:22–38 36:25–28 36:26 36:31 36:35 37:12–13 38:21 43–48 47:1–12

297 149 275, 450 412 n. 338 249, 251–52 149 n. 285 267 450

288–90, 306, 451 n. 70 290 416, 418 418 155 n. 324 114, 120, 124–25, 132, 194, 441 440 n. 29 418 119 n. 84 339 n. 388 276, 418, 426 426

337 n. 375 236 n. 246 339 n. 385 286 n. 75 337 n. 374 276 276 276 426 225, 228–29, 267, 327, 454 276 426 151, 426 236 n. 246 286 n. 75 150 151

502 Daniel 7 7:13–14 7:13 7:14 7:27 Hosea 1:1 1:2 2:20 (2:18 ET) 2:21–22 (2:19–20 ET) 6:6 10:6 11:11 12:2 Joel 3:5 (2:32 ET)

Index of Ancient Sources

244 338 337 n. 375, 380 272, 316 272, 316

211 211, 220 250 n. 333 276 317 155 n. 324 240 155 n. 324

120, 122–23, 125, 183, 440 n. 29

Amos 8:9

371, 406, 413

Jonah 3:6

259

Micah 4:10 7:6

339 n. 388 286 n. 75

Nahum 2:1 (1:15 ET)

114–15, 122–23, 125 n. 115, 183, 441

Habakkuk 2:4 Zechariah 2:17 9 9–14 9:9–10 9:9 9:11 10:1–3 10:8 11:4–17 11:17 12:8–13:1 12:10–13:2 12:10 13 13:7 14 14:4 14:8 14:16 14:20–21 14:20 14:21 Malachi 3:1 3:10 3:23–24 (3:22–23 LXX; 4:5–6 ET) 3:24 (3:23 LXX; 4:6 ET)

182

337 403, 430 363, 365 363 355, 363, 398, 452 363, 398 363 339 n. 388 363 363 363 229 363 399 n. 271, 422–23 288, 359, 361–65, 391, 424, 430, 452 363, 430 235 151 355–56 152 n. 309 355–56 417

212, 216, 225, 228 236 n. 246 225 225 n. 191

Deuterocanonical Books Wisdom of Solomon 2:12–20 369

45:15 48:10

361 n. 88 225 n. 191

Sirach 24:4 29:21 45:6

Baruch 5:1–9 5:5 5:7

166, 444 166–67 166

337 n. 374 221 326 n. 306

503

Index of Ancient Sources 1 Maccabees 1:17 1:37 2:27 7:17

302 n. 159 402 n. 283 283 n. 63 402 n. 283

2 Maccabees 1:8 6:18 7:1 10:7–8

402 n. 283 302 n. 159 302 n. 159 336 n. 364

Psalm 151 151:5

361 n. 88

Pseudepigrapha Apocalypse of Moses 10–12 249 n. 331 Apocalypse of Sedrach 14:10 164 n. 387 15:3 164 n. 387 15:5 164 n. 387 2 Baruch 29 46:5–6 73:6 77:12

403 n. 287 163 250 n. 333 163–64

4 Baruch 3:15 9:20

164 164 n. 387

1 Enoch 1:6 14:8 14:14–25 46–48 56:7 100:1–2

166, 444 337 n. 377 339 n. 385 338 286 286

Exorcism Fragment 1:34 337 n. 377 4 Ezra 5:9 6:24 13

286 286 338

Five Apocryphal Syriac Psalms 152:4 327

153:3

327

History of the Rechabites 2:8–9 337 n. 377 4:2 337 n. 377 4:8 337 n. 377 4:9 337 n. 377 10:8 337 n. 377 14:3 164–65 Joseph and Aseneth 11:4–6 286 14:3 236 n. 246 19:2 163 Jubilees 6:11 6:14 23:16 23:19

426 426 286 286

Liber antiquitatum biblicarum 59:2 327 Life of Adam and Eve 32–38 236 n. 246 35:2 236 n. 246 Lives of the Prophets 2:13 337 n. 377 2:14 337 n. 377 4 Maccabees 2:10–12 6:27–28 6:29

286 n. 73 426 426

504 17:22 Psalms of Solomon 5:3 8:17 11:1–4 11:1–2 11:1 11:4 11:6 11:7 17–18 17 17:3–4 17:21–46 17:21 17:22 17:28 17:30 17:32 17:37 18:7

Index of Ancient Sources 427

Testament of Benjamin 5:2 248 n. 327

295 n. 115 166–67 166, 444 159 n. 354, 167 159–60, 444 159 n. 354 160 159 n. 354 354 n. 53 359 357 224 n. 188, 245 n. 307 357 357 357 n. 77 357 n. 77 160 n. 356 225 n. 190 160 n. 356

Testament of Dan 5:4 5:10–13 5:10

326 n. 308 326 n. 307 326 n. 308

Testament of Gad 8:1

326 n. 308

Revelation of Ezra 5:7 337 n. 377 Sibylline Oracles 1:381 1:382 2:154–174 3:788–795 5:414–433 8:84–85 8:234

337 n. 377 164 n. 387 286 250 n. 333 418 n. 358 286 166, 444

Testament of Abraham A 9:8 337 n. 377 10:1 337 n. 377 15:2 337 n. 377 15:12 337 n. 377 Testament of Abraham B 8:3 337 n. 377 10:2 337 n. 377 12:1 337 n. 377 12:9 337 n. 377

Testament of Issachar 5:7 326 n. 308 Testament of Job 42:3

337 n. 377

Testament of Joseph 19:10–11 326 n. 308 Testament of Judah 24:2 236 n. 246 Testament of Levi 2:6 5:1 18 18:6 18:9–11 18:12 28:6–7

236 n. 246 236 n. 246 418 n. 358 236 n. 246 162 n. 375 224 n. 188, 326 n. 307 243–44

Testament of Moses 6–8 164 9 164 10:1–4 164, 167 10:4 166, 444 Testament of Naphtali 8:2 326 n. 308 Testament of Reuben 6:8 326 n. 308 6:10–12 326 n. 308 Testament of Simeon 7:2 326 n. 308

Index of Ancient Sources

505

Dead Sea Scrolls 1QHa (Hodayota) X, 8 XXIII, 15

160 160–61, 163

1QM (War Scroll) I, 2–3 166 n. 400 V, 1 354 n. 53 1QS (Rule of the Community) 1QS 444 I, 6 290 n. 86 II, 14 290 n. 86 II, 26 290 n. 86 III, 3 290 n. 86 III, 4–6 230 III, 6–9 231 III, 6–7 230 III, 7–10 215 n. 120 III, 7–9 230 n. 225 III, 8–9 230 IV, 20–21 230 n. 225 IV, 21 327 V, 4 290 n. 86 VI, 13–23 261 VI, 25 276 VII, 19 290 n. 86 VII, 24 290 n. 86 VIII, 5 261, 327 VIII, 13–15 166 VIII, 13 216 IX, 10 290 n. 86 IX, 11 326 n. 309 IX, 19–20 166 CD A (Damascus Document A) VI, 19 276 VIII, 21 276 XIV, 19 326 n. 309 XIX, 10–11 326 n. 309 XX, 1 326 n. 309 CD B (Damascus Document B) XIX, 5–6 364 XIX, 7–9 364 XIX, 10–11 364

1Q28a (Sa; Rule of the Congregation) II, 1–22 411 II, 3–9 331 n. 337 1Q28b (Sb; Rule of the Blessings) V, 20 354 n. 53 4Q171 (4QpPsa; Pesher Psalmsa) 1 III + 3 I + 4 166 n. 400 4Q174 (4QFlor; Florilegium) 4Q174 244, 351, 418 n. 358 1–2 I, 2–11 327 1–2 I, 6 261 1–2 I, 12 354 n. 53 4Q175 (4QTest; Testimonia) 14–20 286 n. 73 4Q176 (4QTanḥ; Tanḥumim) 1–2 I, 6–7 166 n. 400 4Q246 (4Qapocr Dan ar; Apocryphon of Daniel) 4Q246 244 4Q252 (4QCommGen A; Commentary on Genesis A) V, 1–7 355 V, 3 354 n. 53 4Q266 (4QDa; Damascus Documenta) 10 I, 12 326 n. 309 4Q269 (4QDd; Damascus Documentd) 11 I, 2 326 n. 309 4Q274 (4QToḥorot A) 1 I, 1–9 333 1 I, 3–4 331 n. 337 4Q285 (Sefer Ha-Milḥamah) 3 354 n. 53 7 354 n. 53

506

Index of Ancient Sources

4Q296 (4QMMTc; Miqṣat Ma‘aśê haTorahc) 1–2 III, 4–11 331 n. 337 4Q428 (4QHb; Hodayotb) 14, 4 160, 163 4Q432 (4QpapHf; Hodayot papyrus) 4Q432 160 4Q440 (Hodayot-like Text C) 3 I, 16 160 4Q521 (4QMessAp; Messianic Apocalypse) 4Q521 42, 296 n. 118 2 II+4, 6 225 n. 190, 240 2 II+4, 12 160, 162–63

4Q539 (4QTJoseph ar; Testament of Joseph) 2–3 160 5–6 160 11Q13 (Melchizedek) 11Q13 161–63, 193, 224 n. 188, 296 n. 118, 444 II, 6 224 II, 8 224 II, 18 225 n. 190 11Q19 (11QTa; Temple Scrolla) XLIV, 14–17 331 n. 337 XLV, 7–17 333 XLVI 411 XLVI, 16–18 331 n. 337 XLVIII, 14–17 331 n. 337, 333

Ancient Jewish Writers Josephus Jewish War 1.68 1.562 1.607 2.20–32 2.134 2.181–183 2.244 2.254–257 2.258–260 2.259 2.261–263 2.262 2.409–417 2.420 2.442 2.444 3.123 3.143 3.503 4.618 5.214 5.227 6.99–102

326 n. 310 310 n. 216 129 310 n. 219 286 n. 73 310 n. 219 168 n. 407 174 169 167–68 169 168 173 128 174 174, 418 n. 358 241 128 128 129, 132, 438–39 237 n. 253 331 n. 337, 333 174

6.101 6.312–314 6.312 6.313–315 6.333–334 6.423 6.655–656 6.656 7.29–34 7.123–131 7.158 7.437–442 7.438

174 73 173 173 174 399 n. 270 132 128 418 n. 358 74 74 169 167–68

Jewish Antiquities 1.102 3.261 4.325–326 5.24 5.277 5.282 6.56 7.245 7.250 9.28

249 333 336 n. 362 128 133, 439 133, 439 129 128 128 336 n. 362

507

Index of Ancient Sources 13.299 15.209 15.417–420 15.417–419 17.20 17.224–227 17.272 18.4–5 18.6 18.7–10 18.8 18.9 18.23 18.25 18.116–119 18.117 18.228–229 18.240–255 20.97–98 20.97 20.166 20.167–168 20.169–172 20.188

326 n. 310 129 411 260 310 n. 216 310 n. 219 173 173 174 172 n. 430 174 174 173–74 172 n. 430 223 n. 176 231 128 310 n. 219 168, 223 168 174 169 169 169

Against Apion 2.102–111 2.102–104 2.103–104

411 260 331 n. 337

Philo De Iosepho 245

129

Legatio ad Gaium 14–22 18 99 231–232

129 132 132 129, 132

De vita Mosis 2.3 2.186

326 n. 310 134

De mutatione nominum 158 133–34 De opificio mundi 34 133–34, 439 115 133–34, 440 De praemiis et poenis 87–90 250 n. 333 161 133–34, 194 De virtutibus 1.40–41

130 n. 153

New Testament Matthew 3:1–2 3:3 3:13–17 3:16 4:17 4:23 5:17 9:13 9:17 9:35 11:2–5 11:5 11:10

212 212 212 237 n. 255 252 n. 345 252 n. 345, 256 274 n. 14 317 274 n. 14 256 162 n. 378 40 212, 216 n. 129, 216 n. 131

12:6 12:7 12:28 21:5 21:21 24:14 26:28 26:61 Mark 1–10

1:0

317, 321 n. 275 317 259 355 n. 59 397 256 347, 427–28, 432, 461 397

271, 273, 281, 294, 308, 317–19, 321, 342–43, 452 211

508 1:1–20 1:1–15 1:1–13 1:1–10 1:1–8 1:1–4 1:1–3 1:1

1:2–6 1:2–3

1:2 1:3 1:4–13 1:4–8 1:4–5 1:4

1:5 1:6 1:7–13 1:7–8 1:7 1:8 1:9–15 1:9–11

1:9 1:10

Index of Ancient Sources 204 196–97, 201–3, 206, 210, 268 203–5, 268 412 204–5, 268 208, 209 n. 86, 212, 222, 446 201–2, 204, 207– 11, 216, 268 96, 101, 207–12, 214, 216, 219–23, 227, 248, 252–54, 262–65, 271, 286, 307, 366, 446, 448 279 207, 212–13, 216, 233, 234 n. 238, 257, 266, 279, 409, 448, 455 212, 214–18, 233– 34, 279 202, 210, 212, 216– 18, 222–23, 352 258 210, 212, 222–23, 226–27, 234 n. 238 231 n. 229, 319, 323–24 202, 207, 212, 222– 23, 227 n. 208, 232–34 228, 231, 234, 317, 352, 416 232–33 296 232, 327 223–24, 232–33, 265, 446 225, 232–33, 242 210 212, 233, 234–46, 307, 324, 337, 342– 43, 367, 410, 458 212, 233, 235, 246, 258 235–43, 246, 248, 296, 327, 405–6, 408, 416 n. 353

1:11

1:12–13 1:12 1:13

1:14–15

1:14

1:15

1:16–20 1:16 1:17 1:18 1:19 1:20 1:21–27 1:21–22 1:22 1:23–28 1:23–27 1:23–26 1:23 1:24–25 1:24 1:25 1:27–33 1:27

1:29–31 1:29

212, 233–35, 237, 243–44, 327, 338, 350, 413 233, 246–52, 327, 447 246, 250 n. 337 232–33, 245, 247 n. 315, 247–48, 250, 449 101, 177, 203–7, 211–12, 219, 232, 245–46, 251–65, 268, 271, 276, 279, 281, 286, 288, 302, 310, 341, 353, 386, 447–48 223, 233–34, 252– 58, 263, 277, 293, 316, 345, 379, 446 214, 232–34, 252– 59, 261–62, 282, 287, 323 n. 291, 325, 366–67, 416, 449 206, 281–82, 284 n. 64, 287, 341 283, 299 233 n. 236, 283 283 283 283–84 285, 287 288 273, 276–80, 288, 292, 298 n. 130 294 247 277, 280 n. 49 354 354 295, 319, 325–28, 343, 354, 455 296 277–78 273, 274 n. 11, 276–80, 288, 298 n. 130, 451 294 283–84

Index of Ancient Sources 1:30–31 1:34 1:37 1:39 1:40–45 1:40–44 1:40–41 1:41 1:44

2:1–3:6 2:1–12 2:2 2:4 2:5–12 2:5–10 2:5 2:6–12 2:6–10 2:6–8 2:6 2:7 2:9–12 2:10–12 2:10 2:11–12 2:12 2:13–17 2:13 2:14 2:15–17 2:15 2:16–17 2:16 2:17 2:18–22 2:18–19 2:18 2:19–20 2:20 2:21–22 2:22

456 294, 309 n. 210 234 288, 294 156 n. 333, 279 n. 43, 294, 319, 342 288, 319, 332 456 331 n. 336 292, 317, 319, 321 n. 278, 342–43, 415–17 276, 280, 289, 291, 293, 451 292, 294, 420 287 317 288, 319, 325, 343, 454 321 n. 278 321, 323 288, 321 291 288–89, 331 280, 292 n. 100 278, 292 n. 99, 322 323 n. 290 280 n. 49 272–73, 277–78, 292 n. 101, 325 279 336 292 234, 288, 299 282–84 288, 319, 332, 342– 43, 454, 456 283–84 288 280 n. 51, 292 nn. 99–100 294 288, 292 233 292 nn. 99–100 345 277, 379 273–74, 341, 449 384, 403, 417

2:23–28 2:24 2:25–26 2:26 3:1–6 3:2 3:4 3:5 3:6 3:7 3:8 3:10 3:11–12 3:11 3:13–19 3:15–16 3:15 3:19 3:20–35 3:21 3:22–30 3:22–29 3:22–27

3:22 3:23–29 3:23–27 3:24 3:25 3:27 3:28–30 3:28–29 3:29 3:30 3:31–35 3:31 3:34 3:35 4–8

509 288, 292 292 nn. 99–101 288, 317, 320–21, 354 292 n. 101, 319, 342 288, 291–92, 294 292 n. 100 292 n. 99, 292 n. 101 288–89, 290 n. 86, 331 280 n. 51, 292 n. 100, 316, 345 299 303, 317 294, 456 294, 354 354 283, 288 278 273, 277, 280, 294 316 284 n. 66, 285 282, 284–85, 287 288, 296, 299, 343, 416, 454 307 245, 280, 285, 288, 295, 304, 316, 343, 451 317, 416 324 279 n. 43, 324, 341 271 324 145 n. 252, 302, 316 288, 319, 321 n. 278, 324, 343, 455 296 391 288, 296 n. 117 282, 284–85, 287, 291 n. 87 451 284 286 n. 74 301, 305

510 4–5 4:1–9 4:1 4:5 4:10–20 4:10–12 4:11 4:12

4:17 4:21–34 4:21 4:26 4:30–32 4:30 4:33–34 4:34 4:35–5:20 4:35–41 4:35 4:36 4:39 4:40 4:41 5 5:1–20 5:1 5:3 5:4 5:7 5:9 5:13 5:15 5:17 5:19 5:20 5:21–43 5:21–24 5:21 5:25–34 5:27 5:30 5:33–34 5:33

Index of Ancient Sources 301 288 299, 301 317 288 288, 291 n. 87 260, 271, 294 288–89, 301 n. 153, 306, 321 n. 278, 323, 367, 451 362 288 451 n. 70 260, 271 307 260, 271 291 n. 87 288 297 294, 296, 299, 301, 305, 456 291 n. 87, 299, 301 278 296, 299 301 n. 153 298 n. 130, 299, 336 319, 332 294, 297, 301, 303, 307, 456 299, 301–2 302 302 354 308–10, 452 279 n. 43, 299 298 n. 130, 333, 336 299, 302 302, 333 299 n. 145, 301 456 294 299, 302 294 331 n. 336 279 n. 43 333 298 n. 130, 336

5:35–43 5:36 5:37 5:41 5:42 5:43 6–8 6:1–6 6:2–6 6:2 6:3 6:4 6:5 6:6 6:7–13 6:7–11 6:7 6:10 6:13 6:14–29 6:14–16 6:14 6:20 6:21–29 6:21 6:22 6:27 6:29 6:30–8:21 6:30 6:34 6:35–44 6:35–41 6:36 6:45–53 6:45–52 6:45 6:47–49 6:50 6:51 6:52

6:53–56

294 298 n. 130, 336 382 331 n. 336 336 305 n. 185, 333 303 282, 285, 287 287 279 n. 43, 298 n. 130 362 367 279 n. 43, 294 284 283, 311 288 273, 277, 279–80, 294 283 279, 294 288, 307–8, 310– 12, 316, 379, 452 234, 311 279 n. 43, 294, 311 298 n. 130, 311 305 n. 185 315 358 n. 79 311 383 301 294 310, 363 294, 301, 303 305, 452 284 307 294, 296, 299, 301, 305, 456 299 299 296, 298 n. 130, 336 336 288–89, 291, 301 n. 153, 303, 305, 311, 331, 451–52 294

Index of Ancient Sources 6:56 7:1–23

7:1–5 7:1 7:2 7:3 7:5 7:6–7 7:6 7:7–9 7:10–13 7:10 7:13 7:14–23 7:14–15 7:14 7:15 7:17–23 7:17 7:19 7:21 7:24–8:10 7:24–30 7:24 7:27–29 7:27 7:28 7:31–37 7:31–36 7:31 7:37 8:1–10 8:4 8:11–13 8:11 8:13 8:14–21

8:15 8:17–21 8:17–18 8:17

456 288, 305–6, 319, 342–43, 452, 454, 460 333 317 303 331, 451 303, 331 289, 331, 451 n. 70 289–90, 331 331 283, 287 288 331 303 288 301 n. 153 328–29, 333 288 291 n. 87 288–89, 328–29, 331, 333 288–89, 331 301 294, 301, 306–7, 342–43, 454, 456 283 305, 452 299 333 294 306 299 297–99, 306–7, 451 294, 301, 303, 305, 452 336 n. 365 288 306 n. 192 299 288, 291, 299, 301, 303, 305, 311, 452, 456 288 451 288–89 289, 301 n. 153, 331

8:18 8:21 8:22–26 8:27–33 8:27–30 8:27 8:28–29 8:29–30 8:29 8:31

8:32 8:33 8:34 8:34–9:1 8:34–38 8:34–35 8:35

8:37 8:38

9:1–13 9:1 9:2–8 9:2–7 9:2–3 9:2 9:3 9:4–5 9:4 9:6 9:7 9:9–13 9:9 9:11–13 9:11 9:12 9:13 9:14–29 9:23–24 9:24

511 290, 451 n. 70 306 294 288, 308 311 198 234 354 271, 354 316, 318, 338, 345, 348, 353, 358, 379, 424 345 n. 4 279 n. 45 233 n. 236, 387 283, 288 311, 345 n. 5 447 258, 271, 360 n. 86, 386–87, 413, 445, 447 321 n. 278, 432 272, 283, 287, 316 n. 259, 379, 387– 88, 447 288 260, 379 319, 334–37, 342– 43 410, 450, 454, 458 335 334, 382 367, 383–84 245 n. 310, 368 337 n. 368 336 243, 245, 336, 338, 350, 450 379 338 234, 245 n. 310, 368 345 n. 5 316 n. 259, 353, 358, 362 397 294 279 n. 43 299 n. 145

512 9:28–29 9:30–50 9:30–31 9:31–37 9:31 9:32 9:33–37 9:33 9:34–37 9:42 9:43–48 9:47 10:1 10:2–12 10:5 10:6 10:14–15 10:17–31 10:17–22 10:19 10:23–45 10:24 10:26 10:28–31 10:28–30 10:28 10:29

10:30–31 10:30 10:32–45 10:32–34 10:32 10:33–34 10:33 10:34 10:37 10:38 10:39 10:42–45

10:42–44 10:42

Index of Ancient Sources 279 n. 43 288 291 n. 87 291 n. 87 206, 234, 316, 318, 338, 345, 353, 379 298 n. 130, 336, 345 n. 4 283 283 393 362 362 391 288, 352 283, 287–28 289 220–21 260 288, 308 288 283, 287 288 298 n. 130 298 n. 130 282, 285, 287 447 285, 294 101, 258, 271, 282, 360 n. 86, 386–87, 413, 445, 447 387 379, 387, 447 312 318, 345, 353, 379 298 n. 130, 345 n. 4, 353, 358 316 316, 338, 345 375 352, 358, 367 n. 122, 384 237 387 96, 283, 308, 311– 16, 338, 366, 393, 452 315 277, 280, 310, 314

10:43–45 10:43–44 10:44 10:45

10:46–52 10:46 10:47–48 10:47 10:48 10:52 11–16 11–15 11–14 11:1–11 11:1–10 11:3 11:9 11:10 11:11 11:12–25 11:12–21 11:14 11:15–25 11:15–18 11:15–17 11:15–16 11:15 11:16–17 11:16 11:17–18 11:17

11:18

11:19–26 11:20 11:23 11:25–26

314 313 314–15 313–15, 319, 321 n. 278, 338, 340, 342– 43, 345, 348, 360, 368, 383, 419–20, 423, 432, 454 294, 351, 353 357 349, 354 313 313 354 318, 321, 342, 352, 394–98, 413, 455 320 365 354, 355 n. 64 363 356 356, 358 349, 353, 355–56, 359 351, 354, 358, 394– 95, 398, 416 394, 415 279 416 324 288, 320, 454 343 417 241–42, 246, 267, 416 324 318, 356 n. 67, 397 288 288, 300, 331, 334, 342, 410, 413, 416– 17, 455 298 n. 130, 318, 358, 395, 417, 431, 455 288 318, 397, 416 288–89, 335, 416 288

Index of Ancient Sources 11:25 11:27–12:12 11:27–33 11:27 11:28–33 11:28 11:30 11:32 12:1–40 12:1–12 12:1–9 12:2 12:4 12:6 12:7 12:9 12:10–11 12:10

12:11 12:12 12:13–17 12:18–27 12:28–34 12:30 12:33 12:35–37 12:35 12:36 12:38–40 12:41–13:37 12:41–44 12:44 13 13:1–2 13:1 13:2 13:3 13:7–8 13:8 13:9–13 13:9 13:10

283, 287, 319, 321, 324, 420 358 234, 288 280, 394 273, 279 357 279 298 n. 130 288 288 410 316 316 245–46 397 359, 413, 416, 418 288, 351, 359 318, 357, 380, 394, 396, 415–16, 424, 431, 455 279 n. 45 298 n. 130, 417 288, 308, 460 288 288 288–89 288–89, 317–18, 394, 397, 417, 455 288, 349, 353, 354 n. 53, 452 394 288, 384, 384 288, 360 n. 85 288 288, 360, 395 n. 256, 417 395 363 396, 417, 450 383, 395, 396 395, 455 291 n. 87, 382, 395 96 220–21 96, 286–87 286, 387, 447 101, 263, 300, 304, 307, 360 n. 86, 378,

13:11 13:12–13 13:13 13:14 13:19 13:21–22 13:26 13:32 13:34–37 13:34–35 13:34 13:37 14–16 14–15 14:1–2 14:1 14:3–9

14:6 14:8 14:9

14:10–11 14:10 14:12 14:14 14:16 14:17 14:18–25 14:18 14:21 14:22–25 14:22–24 14:22–23 14:23 14:24–28 14:24–27 14:24–25 14:24

513 386–87, 412–13, 445, 447, 452, 454, 459 286 282, 285 379–80, 387 395, 417 220–21 96 272, 316 n. 259, 359, 388 283 283 380 273, 277 380 422–23 217, 264 288, 360 n. 85, 395, 455 395, 398, 417 288, 353, 359–61, 386, 395 n. 256, 417, 452 360 360–61, 386, 447 101, 263, 300, 307, 359–61, 378, 386– 87, 412–13, 430, 445, 452, 454, 459 288, 360 n. 85 345 291, 395, 399 395, 399 395, 399 402 288 370 362 410, 458 360–61 402 402, 457 364 363 371 274 n. 11, 318, 334, 342–43, 347–49, 363, 368, 390, 392–

514

14:25

14:27

14:28 14:29–31 14:30 14:32–42 14:32–35 14:33 14:34 14:35–36 14:36 14:37–38 14:41 14:42 14:43–65 14:49 14:50 14:51–52 14:51 14:53–54 14:54 14:55–65 14:55–64 14:55 14:58–64 14:58

14:61 14:62–64 14:62

14:63–65

Index of Ancient Sources 93, 395, 398–404, 410, 414–15, 419– 21, 424, 427, 428, 431–33, 450, 455, 457–58, 461 260, 264, 273, 274 n. 11, 276, 364, 380, 390, 403, 457 288, 316, 359, 361– 62, 365 nn. 112– 113, 380, 384, 386, 391, 424, 430, 432, 452 319, 364, 367, 385, 387, 413–14, 453 362 367 362 380 382 370, 380 405, 424 283 380 316 n. 259 345 288 288, 348, 362, 394 362 384 384 n. 213 362 384 288 369 417 325 318–19, 342–43, 395, 397–98, 405, 418, 420, 431, 454 243, 350 n. 32, 351, 354 420 243, 272, 291, 316 n. 259, 346, 359, 366–67, 380, 384– 85, 388, 396, 420– 21, 427 454

14:63 14:64 14:65 14:66–72 15 15:1–45 15:1 15:2–28 15:2 15:5 15:9 15:10 15:11 15:12 15:14 15:15 15:16–20 15:16 15:17 15:18 15:19 15:20–22 15:20 15:21–22 15:22 15:23 15:24 15:26 15:27 15:28 15:29–30 15:29

15:30–32 15:30 15:31–32 15:31 15:32

15:33–39

417 318 n. 262, 342–43 367, 375 362, 384 351, 365, 368, 386 308, 460 288, 368 288 310, 346, 349–51 432 346, 349 311, 368 288 299 n. 145, 346, 349 311 368, 375 367, 373 375 375 299 n. 145, 346, 349 375 376 375, 413 n. 343 373 376 376 373, 384 310–11, 346, 349, 354, 373, 376 347, 367–68, 375– 76, 384 372 367, 378 318, 325, 342–43, 395, 398, 405, 413 n. 343, 418, 454, 458 413 n. 343 387 368 288, 375 264, 291, 346, 349, 351, 354, 366–67, 380, 385 371–73, 380, 404, 406, 413, 430, 453, 458

515

Index of Ancient Sources 15:33 15:34

16:15

371, 383, 406, 414 264, 368, 370, 380, 405, 424 245 n. 310, 291, 368 234, 237 414 370, 385 404–5, 410 237, 404, 416 338, 412 95, 235, 237–38, 242, 246, 300, 316, 318, 337, 340, 342– 43, 348–49, 367, 385, 387, 392–93, 395–96, 398, 404– 16, 424, 427, 431– 33, 453–54, 457– 58, 461 237, 243, 246, 291, 299 n. 145, 300, 346, 348, 350, 354, 385, 404–5, 412– 14, 433, 459 360 371, 380, 383 375, 383 383 383, 384 n. 213, 395–96 382 371, 382, 385 383, 396 383, 395–96, 398 383 385, 454 246, 380, 385–87, 414, 424, 430, 458 291, 319, 367, 382, 384–85, 387, 397, 413–14 298 n. 130, 336, 381–82 28

Luke 1:5–25 1:19

317 396

15:35–36 15:35 15:36–37 15:36 15:37–39 15:37 15:38–39 15:38

15:39

15:42–47 15:43 15:44 15:45 15:46 15:47 16:1–8 16:2 16:3–4 16:5 16:6–7 16:6 16:7

16:8

2:22–39 2:41–51 3:1–3 3:21–22 3:22 3:4–6 4:34 4:36 4:43 7:22 7:27 8:1 9:1 9:31 9:51 9:53 10:19 10:31 11:20 13:1 13:33–34 16:16 17:11 17:14 18:10 18:31 19:11 22:37 23:47

317 317 212 212 237 n. 255 212 325 278 n. 39 256 40, 162 n. 378 212, 216 n. 129, 216 n. 131 256 278 n. 39 317 317 317 278 n. 39 317 259 317 317 256 317 317 317 317 317 347 369

John 6:69 12:15

325 355 n. 59

Acts 5:36 8:12 8:19 10:36 21:38

168 256 278 n. 39 123 169

Romans 1:1–17 1:1–2 1:1 1:5 1:9 2:16

180, 182, 187 183 185, 188 185 186, 188 186

516 2:24 9–11 10:13 10:14–21 10:15–16 10:15 10:16 10:17 11:26 15:15–21

Index of Ancient Sources

15:16 15:18 15:19 16:26

182 180–81, 183 183 181 445 123, 183 185 183 388 180–81, 183, 185, 187–88, 445 55, 187–88 185, 188 55, 180 185

1 Corinthians 1:5–6 1:17 1:18 1:21 1:23 4:15 9:2 9:12–23 9:13 9:14 9:18 9:23 9:24 15:1–11 15:3–4 15:3b–5

185 n. 494 184 373 373 77, 373 186 184 184 188 186 180 186 186–87 180, 184, 187 213 56

2 Corinthians 2:12 4:4 8:18 9:13 10–13 10:14–16 11:7

184, 186 187 184 185 187 184 184

Galatians 1:8–9 1:11 1:15–17 4:13

42 42 183 42

Ephesians 1:13 2:11–22 2:17 6:15

184 188 184 184

Philippians 1:5 1:7 1:12 1:27 2:8 2:17 3:20 4:3 4:15

184 186 186 185–86, 188 214 n. 112 187 n. 502 185 186 184–85

1 Thessalonians 1:5 2:1–9 2:2 2:8–9 3:2

42, 179–80, 187 184 179, 187 179 179

Hebrews 5:12 9:3 9:19 9:22 10:15–18 12:2

221 407 427 427 427 373

1 John 1:2 1:5

119 n. 85 119 n. 85

517

Index of Ancient Sources

Rabbinic Works Targumim

Mishnah

Targum Isaiah 6:10 40:1 40:9 41:27 52:5 52:13 53:1 53:4 53:5 53:10

323 n. 290 142 n. 231 191–92 121 n. 95 151–52 158 n. 349 256 n. 370 418 n. 358 158 n. 349 158 n. 349

Targum Onqelos Gen 49:10 Exod 24:8

355 426

Targum Pseudo-Jonathan Gen 49:10 355 Exod 24:8 426

Kelim 1:1–7 1:6–9 1:7–10

331 n. 337 261 411

Miqwa’ot 5:1–4

333

Nega‘im 3:1 13:11 14:1–13

319 n. 269 331 n. 337 331 n. 337

Parah 8:8

333

Soṭah 9:16

286

Talmud Targum of the Psalms 118 359 118:22 358 118:26 358

Berakot 25a 41a

331 n. 337 331 n. 337

Early Christian Writings Euseb

Justin

Historia ecclesiastica 3.39.15 197 n. 6, 199

Apologia i 32.1

Irenaeus

Dialogus cum Tryphone 53.2–4 355

Adversus haereses 5.33.3 250 n. 333

355

Shepherd of Hermas Visions 1.1.4 (1.4)

236 n. 246

518

Index of Ancient Sources

Greco-Roman Literature Aeschylus Agamemnon 21 262 264 475 646

Dio Chrysostom 127 127 n. 128, 129 127 n. 128, 129 127 n. 128 127 n. 128

De regno i 22–23

313 n. 232

De regno iii 75

313 n. 232

Epictetus Appian Bella civilia 3.13.93 4.4.20 4.15.113

127, 128 127–28 128

654–656

127–28, 438 126 n. 120 126 n. 123, 130, 439 n. 18 129, 439

Plutus 764–765

130

220

Chariton De Chaerea et Callirhoe 2.1.1 133, 194

Heliodorus Aethiopica 1.24

133, 194, 440

Odyssea 14.152–153 14.153 14.166–167 14.167

126, 438 439 126, 130 n. 150 439

Juvenal Satirae 3.14 6.542

306 n. 189 306 n. 189

Lucian

Cicero Epistulae ad Atticum 2.12 126 n. 123 In Verrem 2.5.168 2.5.169

129 129

Homer

Aristotle Metaphysica 5.1, 1012b34–1013a7

313 n. 232 313 n. 232

Euripides Medea 975 1010

Aristophanes Equites 642–645 643–656 647

Diatribai 3.22.54 3.24.65

Philopseudes 31

133

Philostratus 374 n. 168 374 n. 168

Vita Apollonii 5.8

128 n. 129, 130 n. 147

519

Index of Ancient Sources Plato Leges 762e

Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata 35.1 130 n. 147 313 n. 232

Plutarch Agesilaus 17.3 33.4

130 126–27, 439

Artaxerxes 14.3–4

126–27, 439

Demetrius 11.3 17.5

129 n. 147, 130 126–27, 439

De gloria Atheniensium 3 126–27, 439 Marius 22.3

Sertorius 11.4 26.3

129 n. 147, 130 129 n. 147

Quintillian Declamationes 274.13

374 n. 168

Seneca De beneficiis 4.32.2

314

De clementia 1.3.3–4

313 n. 237

Epistulae morales 101.14 374 n. 168 129 Tacitus

Otho 15.4

313 n. 236

Phocion 16.6

128, 130 n. 147

Pompeius 41.3 66 66.3

Historiae 1.1.1 Xenophon Hellenica 1.6.37 4.3.14

128 130 128

221

128–29 128–29

Inscriptions and Papyri Orientis graeci inscriptiones selectae I– II (OGIS) 1.4, lines 41–42 130 n. 148 1.4, line 42 130 n. 151 1.5, line 31 130 n. 148 1.6, lines 22–23 130 n. 148 1.6, lines 31–33 129 n. 147, 130 n. 149 The Oxyrhynchus Papyri 840 411

3313

Priene Inscription line 4–5 line 10 line 32 line 34 line 36 line 37 line 40–41 line 41–59

133 n. 167, 194, 439

32, 131 32 131 32, 131 131 32 32, 131 131 n. 157

Index of Modern Authors Achtemeier, Paul J. 294–95 Ådna, Jostein 391 n. 245 Ahearne-Kroll, Stephen P. 351 n. 40, 370, 372 n. 155, 390 Albertz, Martin 287 n. 78, 291 Alkier, Stefan 9 Allison, Dale C. 240 Ambrozic, Aloysius M. 255 n. 361, 260–61 Anderson, Bernard W. 137 n. 193, 138– 39 Ariel, Donald T. 171 Arnold, Gerhard 209–10, 220–21 Aune, David E. 19 n. 82 Averbeck, Richard E. 155–56, 192, 442–43 Bacon, Benjamin W. 201, 203 n. 43 Baltzer, Klaus 116, 143 n. 236, 144 n. 241, 150–54, 192 Barstad, Hans M. 140 Barton, Stephen C. 284 n. 65 Bauckham, Richard 100, 247 n. 318, 248–50, Bauer, Walter 21 Becker, Eve-Marie 17–19, 200–4, 208 n. 85 Bedenbender, Andreas 77–78, 85 Behm, Johannes 273 n. 9 Bellinger, William H. 347 Belo, Fernando 62, 65, 79, 85–86 Bennema, Cornelis 299 n. 145 Bentzen, Aage 138 n. 206 Berger, Klaus 350 Berkey, Robert F. 260 Betz, Hans Dieter 256 n. 370 Bilde, Per 277 n. 35 Billerbeck, Paul 120, 407 Binder, Donald D. 293

Bird, Michael F. 178 n. 458, 330 Blenkinsopp, Joseph 116 n. 71, 136 n. 184, 137, 139, 147, 150, 151 n. 303, 152, 154–57, 192, 442 Bond, Helen K. 16–18 Boring, Eugene M. 198 n. 11, 206–7, 211, 221, 275 Botner, Max 325, 327, 349–51, 353–54, 357, 359 nn. 82–83, 361 n. 90, 372 n. 155, 420–22, 425–27, 429, 461 Brandon, S. G. F. 93, 95 Brent, Allen 131 Breytenbach, Cilliers 158, 389 Broadhead, Edwin K. 321 Brown, Raymond E. 119 n. 85, 284 n. 66, 408 Buell, Denise Kimber 22 Bultmann, Rudolf 46, 253, 338 Burkill, T. A. 303 n. 164 Burney, C. F. 221 n. 171 Burridge, Richard A. 16–19 Burrows, Millar 4, 30, 126 n. 120, 435 Byrne, Brendan 162 n. 374 Campbell, J. Y. 259–60 Carey, Holly J. 370, 378 Carter, Warren 27 n. 3, 62, 96, 100 Catchpole, David R. 355 n. 64 Charlesworth, James H. 165 n. 392 Chilton, Bruce 330 Cho, Bernardo 351, 365 Choi, Jin Young 86 Chronis, Harry L. 408, 414 Clark, Kenneth W. 260, 315 Cobb, Laurel K. 84–86 Cohen, Shaye J. D. 22 n. 99 Collins, Adela Yarbro 17, 19, 200 n. 27, 202, 226–27, 230–31, 244, 249,

522

Index of Modern Authors

258, 340, 347, 355, 366, 369, 384, 390, 418–21, 425 Collins, John J. 244–45 Comfort, Philip Wesley 273 n. 8 Cook, John Granger 374, 375 n. 171 Craigie, Peter C. 111 Cranfield, C. E. B. 207, 223 Cremer, Hermann 30 n. 18 Cross, Frank Moore 143 Crossan, John Dominic 45–46, 48, 72, 100 Crossley, James G. 178, 328 n. 318 Croy, N. Clayton 208, 211 Dahood, Mitchell 112, 113 n. 58 Dalman, Gustaf 25, 31, 108, 163 n. 381, 407 Danker, Friedrich W. 21 Daube, David 278 n. 40 Dautzenberg, Gerhard 263 Davies, J. P. 99 n. 485 Dawson, Anne 280 Decker, Rodney J. 255 deClaissé-Walford, Nancy L. 112 n. 50 Deissmann, Adolf 27, 33–34, 39, 48, 59, 61, 62 n. 221, 85 Delling, Gerhard 220 Desogus, Paola 9 Deutsch, Robert 170 n. 416 Dewey, Joanna 91, 197 Dickson, John P. 113 n. 58, 183 n. 484 Diehl, Judith A. 63 Dillon, Richard J. 221, 233 n. 236, 235 n. 240, 279 n. 45 Dittenberger, Wilhelmus 32 n. 25, 131 Dixon, Edward P. 240 Dobschütz, Ernst von 28, 51, 57 Dodd, C. H. 12, 199, 259–60, 262 Donahue, John R. 253, 384 n. 214 Donaldson, Laura E 60 Dowd, Sharyn 243, 315–16, 340, 347 du Toit, David S. 334 Duff, Paul Brooks 356 Duhm, Bernhard 135–36, 146 n. 263 Durham, John I. 144 n. 241 Eberhart, Christian A. 393 Ebner, Martin 72–73 Eckstein, Hans-Joachim 353

Eco, Umberto 9, 49 Edwards, James R. 15 Elder, Nicholas A. 327 n. 315 Elliott, J. K. 208, 211 Embry, Brad 159 Engberg-Pedersen, Troels 71 n. 282, 86 Esler, Philip F. 23 Evans, Craig A. 44–45, 47–48, 72–74, 82, 115 n. 66, 159 n. 354, 161, 162 n. 378, 167 n. 401, 330 Farmer, William R. 347 Feneberg, Wolfgang 200–201 Fiorenza, Elisabeth Schüssler 64 Fitzmyer, Joseph A. 244 n. 302 Fletcher-Louis, Crispin H. T. 326 n. 304 and 307 Flowers, Michael 161 n. 371 Foerster, Werner 248 n. 322 Foster, Paul 13 Fowler, Robert M. 14 n. 54 Frankemölle, Hubert 31, 34 n. 40, 38, 41 n. 94, 46–47, 49, 56 n. 186, 58 Friedrich, Gerhard 30, 35–36, 38–40, 53, 106, 109–10, 113, 117–18, 121, 127, 134, 326–27 Galinsky, Karl 131 Gamel, Brian 412 Gathercole, Simon 390–91 Gelardini, Gabriella 77–78, 86 Georgia, Allan T. 376–77 Gese, Hartmut 371 Gesenius, W. 108 Gibson, Jeffrey 248–49 Gilders, William K. 400–401, 421, 427 Gnilka, Joachim 297, 326 n. 304 Goodacre, Mark 375 Goodman, Martin 22 n. 100 Gray, Timothy 76, 318, 395 n. 256 Grundmann, Walter 21 n. 96 Guelich, Robert A. 201, 209–11, 216– 18, 227 n. 207, 236, 253, 264 Gundry, Robert H. 75, 197 n. 6, 198 n. 11, 200, 204–5, 214, 250 n. 335, 274, 309, 315 n. 250 Gurtner, Daniel M. 407–9, 458 Hanson, John S. 63

Index of Modern Authors Harnack, Adolf von 2–4, 27, 32–34, 39, 48–57, 59, 85, 101, 177 n. 455, 252– 54, 258, 263–64, 277 n. 35, 435 Harrington, Daniel J. 253, 384 n. 214 Harrisville, R. A. 273 n. 9 Hatina, Thomas R. 214–19, 227 Hays, Richard B. 12–13, 422 Head, Ivan 98 Heil, John Paul 250 n. 337, 390 Hengel, Martin 93, 328 n. 318, 373–74 Hester, J. David 383 n. 211 Hooker, Morna D. 25, 202, 276 n. 27, 346–47, 389, 399 n. 271, 402, 422, 461 Horbury, William 30 nn. 13 and 18, 38–39, 47–48, 100, 165, 244 Horsley, Richard A. 11 n. 39, 20, 23, 61, 63–64, 67–74, 76, 79, 84–86, 102 Hossfeld, Frank-Lothar 112 n. 49 Hurtado, Larry 383, 385 Iersel, Bas van 15 n. 59 Incigneri, Brian 73–74, 76–78, 90, 93– 98 Iverson, Kelly R. 300–301, 412 Jackson, Howard M. 404 n. 290, 405 n. 295, 407 Jacobson, Rolf. A. 112 n. 50 Janowski, Bernd 153–55 Jeremias, Joachim 248, 249 n. 330, 276, 346 Jöris, Steffen 286 n. 74 Joy, C. I. David 84, 86 Juel, Donald T. 12, 318, 350–51, 367 Kadman, Leo 170 Kähler, Martin 256 n. 370, 378 Kanael, Baruch 171 Käsemann, Ernst 277 n. 35, 328 Kazen, Thomas 328, 330, 331 n. 336, 334, 421, 427, 429 Keck, Leander E. 203, 205–6 Kee, Alistair 274 Kee, Howard Clark 285, 389, 429 Kees, Jason 247 n. 318 Kelber, Werner H. 65, 253, 260, 263 n. 408, 349, 353, 357, 429

523

Kiesow, Klaus 140 Kim, Seong Hee 84, 86 Kimondom, Stephen Simon 78, 90, 95, 98 Klauck, Hans-Josef 200–201, 210 n. 94, 238, 322 n. 285 Klawans, Jonathan 229, 328 Kupp, David D. 334–35 Lanfer, Peter Thacher 411, 458 Larsen, Kevin W. 198, 199 n. 22 Larsen, Matthew D. C. 14 n. 52 Leander, Hans 61, 81–83, 86, 102, 309 Lenski, Gerhard 66 Lentzen-Deis, Fritzleo 237–38 Levine, Amy-Jill 21, 24 Liew, Tat-sion Benny 73–74, 79–80, 83, 85–86, 102 Lightfoot, Robert Henry 87 n. 400, 203, 205, 299, 407 Lim, Bo H. 136 n. 183, 142 Lincoln, Andrew T. 384 n. 214 Lohmeyer, Ernst 40, 87 n. 400, 248, 299 Longman, Tremper 111 Lühmann, Dieter 211, 279 Lund, Øystein 140 n. 223 MacDonald, Dennis R. 202 Maher, Michael 426 n. 399 Malbon, Elizabeth Struthers 14 n. 54, 243, 299–300, 305, 315–16, 340, 347, 349, 353, 357, 360 n. 85, 365, 368, 429 Marcus, Joel 91–93, 96, 98–99, 176, 178, 196, 199, 202, 209 n. 86, 214– 19, 227–29, 239, 250, 261, 276, 283, 286 n. 73, 296–97, 309 n. 214, 315, 353 n. 48, 359 n. 83, 364, 377, 390 Marxsen, Willi 5, 25, 53–57, 65, 87, 89–90, 213–14, 253, 263, 385 n. 216 Mason, Steve 20–23, 107 n. 7 Matera, Frank J. 205, 350–51, 358–59 May, David M. 285 McKenzie, John L. 149–50 Meiser, Martin 47 n. 129 Menken, Maarten J. J. 363–64, 365 n. 112 Meshorer, Ya’akov 170, 172

524

Index of Modern Authors

Metzger, Bruce M. 227 n. 208 Milgrom, Jacob 155 Miller, David M. 21–22 Moffitt, David M. 415, 418, 423, 425, 432 Molland, Einer 129 Moloney, Francis J. 224 Mommsen, Theodor 1, 31, 32 n. 25, 39 Moo, Douglas J. 369–70, 390 Moore, Stephen D. 61, 80 n. 361, 83, 86 Moscicke, Hans M. 327 n. 315, 383, 396 Motyer, S. 406 n. 300 Mowinckel, Sigmund 113 Moxnes, Halvor 284 n. 64 Myers, Ched 65–66, 79, 84–85, 315– 16, 354

Rainbow, Paul 161 n. 371 Rappaport, Uriel 172 Reed, Jonathan L. 45 Regev, Eyal 231 Reimarus, Hermann Samuel 62 n. 221, 350 n. 29 Rhoads, David M. 172–75, 444–45 Robbins, Vernon K. 198–99 Robinson, Bernard P. 400 Roskam, Hendrika N. 79, 85, 89–90, 98 Runesson, Anders 24 Ruppert, Lothar 369–70, 372

Sanders, E. P. 323 n. 285, 332, 392 n. 249, 416 Sandmel, Samuel 13 Schilling, Otto 30, 108–9, 113, 116–17, 118 n. 76 Schmidt, Karl Matthias 76–77, 85 Schmidt, T. E. 375–77 Schnackenburg, Rudolf 5 Schniewind, Julius 30, 35–36, 38–40, 47, 106–10, 113–15, 117–23, 128, 130 n. 151, 132–33, 190–91, 206, 438 n. 11, 439–40 Scholtissek, Klaus 272, 280 Schultz, Siegfried 214 n. 112 Schwartz, Seth 22, 23 n. 106 Schweizer, Eduard 5, 253–54 Seeley, David 313–14 Segovia, Fernando F. 61 Shively, Elizabeth E. 14 n. 52, 18–19, 381 n. 202, 390, 399 n. 271, 421–23, 432 Silberman, Neil Asher 64 Sloan, Paul T. 364 Smith, Abraham 311–12 Smith, Daniel Lynwood 136–37, 218 Smith, Wilfred Cantwell 20 Snaith, Norman H. 137 Snodgrass, Klyne R. 216 Snow, Robert S. 338 Soltau, Wilhelm 39 Spitta, Friedrich 207–9, 211 Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty 60 Stanton, Graham 35, 42–44, 47–48, 56– 57 Strack, Herman L. 120, 407 Strecker, Georg 39–44, 47–48, 55–57, 263 n. 408 Stromberg, Jacob 422 Stuhlmacher, Peter 18, 34 n. 40, 35–43, 46–48, 50, 54–57, 101–2, 106, 109, 115 n. 65, 117, 118 n. 76, 121, 123, 161 n. 367, 185, 195, 223, 254 n. 359, 435 Stuhlmueller, Carroll 137, 139, 145 n. 256, 150 Sugirtharajah, Rasiah S. 61 Suhl, Alfred 11, 213–14, 362

Samuel, Simon 60, 80–83, 86, 102

Tanner, Beth Laneel 112 n. 50

Novenson, Matthew D. 9–10 O’Brien, Kelli S. 13, 347, 368 n. 132, 390, 399 n. 271, 422 O’Connor, M. 118 Öhler, Markus 225 Oyen, Geert Van 389–90 Peppard, Michael 240–41, 244 Pesch, Rudolf 211, 222, 238, 275 Petersen, Norman R. 19 n. 84 Peterson, Dwight N. 88–89, 91, 98–99 Pokorný, Petr 7, 56–57 Poulsen, Fredrik 136 Punt, Jeremy 62 n. 219

Index of Modern Authors Tate, Marvin E. 111 Taylor, Vincent 209 nn. 86 and 89, 211, 310 n. 218, 322 n. 285 Theißen, Gerd 43–44, 48, 72, 92–93, 178 n. 458 Theissen, Matthew 313–14 Tolbert, Mary Ann 67, 84, 100, 205, 209 Turner, C. H. 209 n. 86 Twelftree, Graham 107 n. 7 Ulansey, David 408 Vielhauer, Philipp 350 Volkmar, Gustav 176–78 Waetjen, Herman C. 66–67, 79, 84–85 Wagner, J. Ross 182 Waltke, Bruce K. 118 Wardle, Timothy 91–92, 99 Wassen, Cecilia 330, 331 n. 336

525

Watts, Rikki E. 38, 47, 139, 199, 210, 212, 215–16, 218–19, 295 n. 112, 297, 300, 302 Webb, Robert L. 227 Weder, Hans 254 n. 357, 263, 446 Weiser, Artur 113 n. 55 Weiss, Johannes 264–65, 446 Wellhausen, Julius 3, 52, 57, 101, 177, 203 n. 43, 252–53, 254 n. 359, 258 Wendland, Paul 39–40 Werner, Martin 176–78 Wikgren, Allen 207, 221 Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, Ulrich von 1, 31, 32 n. 25, 39 Willert, Niels 366 Winn, Adam 74–79, 82, 85–86, 90, 93, 95–98, 102, 311, 313–14, 318 Wrede, William 349–50 Zanella, Francesco 160 Zeichmann, Christopher 91 Ziellessen, Alfred 137 n. 190 Zimmermann, Johannes 244

Index of Subjects abomination of desolation 95, 97 agency 123, 162, 316, 363, 365, 385, 396, 424, 430, 455, 461 Akedah tradition 243, 245–46, 267–68, 424–26 Akitu New Year festival 139, 141 ambivalence. See postcolonialism anabase 245, 257, 267, 401, 457. See also katabase anointing of Jesus 360–61 anti-imperial readings. See Mark, antiimperial readings apocalypticism 18–19, 30, 38, 56, 65, 68, 70, 72, 79, 83, 98–99, 102, 163– 64, 226, 231, 237, 239, 267, 347, 369, 371, 386, 390, 395, 406, 413. See also eschatology atonement 25–26, 76, 148–58, 161–62, 193, 224, 230, 312, 322, 339, 346– 49, 388–93, 398, 401, 403, 409, 414–33, 443, 458, 461 – ἀντὶ/ὑπὲρ πολλῶν 316, 340, 368, 390, 398, 402–4, 419, 423, 428, 457 – Day of Atonement 153, 155, 162, 193, 224, 444 – forgiveness of sins 1, 72, 76, 146– 49, 227, 229–30, 278, 323–25, 390, 392–39, 415, 418–29, 432, 461 – guilt sacrifice ( ‫ )ָא ָשׁ ם‬2, 146, 153–58, 192, 323, 340, 409, 419, 423, 425, 432, 442–43, 454 – in Mark 346–48, 389–91, 414–29 – ‫ ַח ָטּ את‬154, 157, 192, 319, 321, 425 – ‫ עָֹלה‬245, 401, 425–26 – περὶ ἁµαρτίας 2, 146, 153, 157–58, 340, 347, 392, 423, 432, 442–43, 461 – the concept 393

Augustus 1–2, 31–32, 45–46, 131, 240– 41, 314, 438 Babylon 138–41, 151, 164. See also new exodus baptism 184, 196, 214–15, 226–46, 257, 267, 279, 281, 327, 379, 397, 405–10, 431, 449, 454, 456 Bartimaeus 313, 353–54, 430, 452 βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ 2, 37, 57, 84, 196, 204, 239, 245–46, 252–53, 255–56, 258, 261–62, 266–68, 274, 310, 349, 366, 451. See also εὐαγγέλιον, as βασιλεία Beelzebul 245, 285, 295–96, 307, 316, 324, 341–43, 416, 451. See also Satan bios. See genre blasphemy 319, 321, 324–25, 342–43, 420, 454 blindness 144, 199, 294, 297, 306–7, 331 blood. See Covenant, blood bread 289, 301, 361, 303–7, 452. See also feeding miracles Caesarea Maritima 88 Capernaum 88–91, 273–74, 280, 284– 85, 295, 354 catachresis. See postcolonialism centurion. See Roman empire, centurion Chaoskampf 139, 296, 301 Christology, subjective or objective 3, 6, 49–57, 223, 252–56, 262–65, 460 citations. See Hebrew Bible, Mark’s use of, citations cloud 272, 336–37, 402, 421, 456 coins 73, 94, 170–72, 175, 336

528

Index of Subjects

covenant – blood 400–3, 414–15, 419, 421, 424, 427 – in Dead Sea Scrolls 230, 276 n. 26 – in Exodus 156, 399–402, 410, 412, 414, 419, 423–24, 426, 450, 457 – in Isaiah 136, 143, 147–148, 191– 92, 195, 410 n. 329, 417, 432, 443 – in Mark 71, 342, 349, 363, 392, 398–404, 410, 412, 414–15, 417, 419, 450, 456–59 – inauguration 392, 398–99, 403, 410, 412, 414–15, 418–19, 421, 423–29, 431–32, 457, 461 – indexing ritual 402–3, 414–15, 421, 421 n. 377, 427–28, 431, 461 – maintenance 423, 427–29 – new 136, 148, 230, 275–76, 401, 416, 418 crucifixion 2, 82–83, 348, 373–78 – Markan interpretation 2–6, 44, 58, 66, 70, 72, 75–76, 82–83, 101–2, 178, 233–34, 239, 246, 256–57, 308, 345–52, 359–79, 382–88, 405–14, 430–31, 448, 453–55, 458 – shameful 2, 66, 75–76, 182, 373–78 cry of dereliction 370–2, 380, 430 cultural encyclopedia 9–10, 13, 49, 101, 103, 106, 422, 437, 445, 459 dativus commodi et incommodi 292 n. 98, 319–20 David, king 109–10, 330, 364, 452–53. Davidic expectations 138, 160 n. 356, 168 n. 407, 173, 193, 224 n. 302, 245, 267, 321, 327, 343, 349–59, 363, 366, 370, 394, 396, 398, 418, 429–30, 452. See also son of David Day of Atonement. See atonement, Day of Atonement Dead Sea Scrolls 36, 160–63, 165–66, 193, 209, 215, 224, 290 n. 86, 230– 31, 276, 290, 326, 331, 333, 364, 389 Decapolis 2, 95, 299, 303, 306–7 δεῖ 286, 348 n. 22, 386, 424 demons 2, 259, 279–80, 294–99, 309, 330, 341–43, 354, 451

discipleship 17, 65, 70, 206, 282–83, 382, 387 divine sonship, Roman empire. See Roman empire, divine sonship divine sonship. See Son of God divine warrior. See warrior, Yahweh as divorce 282–83, 287–89 dove 239–42, 245–46, 267, 307 Eden 139, 150–52, 158, 191–92, 252, 402, 409, 411–12, 426, 443, 449, 457–58. See also paradise, paradisiac Egypt 137–41, 145, 290. See also new exodus Elijah 70, 80, 121, 216, 223, 225–27, 234, 237, 245, 266, 283, 295, 305, 311, 325, 335, 368, 385, 406, 451 Elijah Redivivus 225, 234, 226. See also Elijah emic and etic 19–23 epiphany 236, 238, 271, 337, 378, 396, 410. See also theophany epoch-making. See εὐαγγέλιον, epochmaking eschatological restoration 152, 163, 165, 217, 229, 230, 250, 275, 334, 444 eschatology 7, 17–19, 34–43, 49, 75, 78, 89, 106, 117–25, 138, 142, 151– 52, 158, 161–63, 165–68, 172, 175, 177, 182–83, 190, 193, 215, 217–18, 222–35, 238–42, 249–50, 258–60, 273–81, 283–86, 304, 334–35, 341– 42, 369, 371, 398, 403, 406, 410, 417–18, 431–32, 441–51, 461. See also apocalypticism εὐαγγέλιον – as βασιλεία 3, 271, 280–81, 292, 298, 302, 304, 341, 414, 452. See also Christology, subjective or objective – as Christ. See Christology, subjective or objective – as war victory 29–30, 49, 77, 105– 18, 123, 127–132, 148–49, 162, 190– 91, 195, 245, 252, 262, 438–41 – epoch-making 5, 7–8, 105–7, 109– 10, 112, 114, 117–18, 124–25, 130, 132, 134, 141–49, 164–65, 184–94,

Index of Subjects 219–66, 271, 273, 282, 287, 295, 299–300, 302, 307, 333, 341, 348, 352, 388, 403–4, 409, 428–33, 437– 45, 448–55 – imperial cult 1–2, 39, 42–43, 45, 72–77, 81–82, 100, 131–32. See also Mark, anti-imperial readings – in Greek texts 125–34 – in Isaiah 3–4, 6, 37, 115–17, 134–58 – in the New Testament 28–29, 49–57 – in the Hebrew Bible 107–18 – in the Septuagint 118–125 – ‫ְמ ַב ֵשּׂ ר‬/ ‫ ְמ ַב ֶשּׂ ֶרת‬6, 143, 181–83, 193, 251, 416, 441, 443 – messenger’s reward 29–30, 109–10, 119, 126–30, 189, 439–40 – polemical rivalry 27–28, 33–34, 39, 43–48, 61, 100, 437 – Priene inscription. See Priene inscription – ‘profane’ usage 105, 110, 114, 124, 132, 134, 193, 439, 441 – Qumran writings 36–37, 42 – root of 1, 28–49 – sacrifices in Greek texts 126, 129– 30 – subjective or objective. See Christology, subjective or objective – women 112–13, 115, 120, 123, 359– 61, 382–83 ‘everyday’ usage, the εὐαγγέλιον. See εὐαγγέλιον, ‘profane’ usage exorcism 68, 70, 249, 288, 294–99, 343, 454 ἐξουσία 234, 239, 272–73, 277–81, 289, 292, 299, 316, 320, 322, 325, 341, 357, 413, 449, 451. See also newness ἤγγικεν 256, 258–61, 267, 343, 449, 456 family 372, 281–87, 341, 451 feast of tabernacles 172, 336 feeding miracles 70, 78, 294, 297, 303– 7. See also bread feminist readings. See Mark, feminist readings foreshadowing. See literary techniques, foreshadowing

529

forgiveness of sin. See atonement, forgiveness of sin Gaius Caligula 42–43, 310–11 Galilee – first-century 24, 52, 62–63, 66, 69, 84, 167 – Mark’s provenance. See provenance of Mark, Galilee – post-resurrection 364–67, 378, 380, 382, 384–88, 420 genre. See Mark, genre gentiles 299–307, 312, 316, 328, 389, 410, 413–14 Gerasene demoniac 66, 297, 301–2, 308–10, 332–33 Gethsemane 380, 384, 405, 424, 453, 458 Greek texts, εὐαγγέλιον. See εὐαγγέλιον, in Greek texts halakah. See tradition of the elders hardness of heart 287, 289–91, 331, 334. See also understanding (συνιέναι) healings 66, 70, 73–74, 146, 192, 279 n. 43, 280, 294–99, 301, 306, 319– 21, 332, 353, 443 heart 228, 276, 289, 334. See also hardness of heart Hebrew Bible, Mark’s use of – allusions 12–13, 68, 73, 276, 299, 316, 343, 346, 362, 369–71, 378, 390, 399 n. 271, 423, 460 – citations (and quotations) 3, 5, 12, 44, 204–5, 208–19, 222, 225–27, 232–33, 243, 257, 264, 266–67, 279, 281, 288–90, 295, 306, 323, 331, 346–47, 356, 359, 361–62, 364–70, 372, 378, 380, 394, 397, 399 n. 271, 409–10, 413, 416–18, 424, 430, 444, 446, 448, 450, 452 – echoes 218–19, 221–25, 229, 234– 36, 238–40, 244–45, 265–67, 272, 286, 289–90, 295–99, 303–5, 312, 327, 334, 336, 346–47, 355–57, 362– 65, 423, 431–32, 444, 450, 454, 456 – evocations 3, 12, 267, 272, 275, 283, 297–98, 305, 335, 353, 357,

530

Index of Subjects

365, 368, 370, 372, 376–77, 405–6, 410, 416, 420, 428, 456, 458 – Schriftgemäßheit 11, 213–14, 362 – scripturalization 11–13, 28, 355, 357, 372, 378, 430, 452–53 Hebrew Bible, εὐαγγέλιον. See εὐαγγέλιον, the Hebrew Bible Herod Antipas 39, 66, 69, 223 n. 176, 233–34, 305 n. 185, 307–8, 310–12, 315–16, 332 n. 341, 358 n. 79, 366, 452 Herodians 306, 345. See also Herod Antipas high priests 174, 233, 243, 317–18, 325–26, 350, 366–67, 380, 385, 388, 401, 417, 427, 432. See also scribes hinges. See literary techniques, hinges historical Jesus 17, 24–25, 34, 42, 57, 67, 282, 330, 350, 391 holy one, Gods 325–28 Holy Spirit 180–82, 187–88, 296, 324, 327, 343, 445 hybridity. See postcolonialism

– Servant Song 146, 147, 149, 153, 157, 184 n. 489, 192, 224, 323, 346– 47, 368, 409–10, 425, 442. See also Isaiah, Isaiah 53 – Steigerung motif 138–39, 144–45, 148, 150–51, 158, 192, 242, 245, 251, 266, 297, 342, 442–43, 449, 459 – temple 117, 149–58, 417 – Yahweh as king 148–49 – Yahweh’s triumphal march 5, 34, 135, 141–45, 166, 224, 268, 271, 331, 342, 352, 387, 403, 409, 436, 441. See also Zion

imperial cult, εὐαγγέλιον. See εὐαγγέλιον, imperial cult imperial cult in Mark. See Mark, antiimperial readings incipit 48, 71, 207–12, 221, 266, 446 inclusio. See literary techniques, inclusio inscriptio 207, 210–11, 266, 446 Ἰουδαῖος, the term 20–21, 23 irony. See mockery and irony Isaiah – composition 135–36 – Eden. See Eden – εὐαγγέλιον. See εὐαγγέλιον, in Isaiah – in Paul 182–84 – Isaiah 53 146–49, 153–58, 192, 224, 323, 346–48, 368, 409–10, 425, 442. See also Mark, Isaiah 53 – new exodus. See new exodus, in Isaiah – redemptive language 137–39, 144– 46, 153–58, 191, 442–43 – restoration 159–89, 196, 218, 224, 257, 268, 346

katabase 236–39, 242, 245, 257, 267, 367, 401, 405–6, 457–58 king, Yahweh as. See Isaiah, Yahweh as king kingdom and cross 1–6, 268, 346, 366, 370, 372, 453, 455–56. See also Mark, Leistung kingdom of God. See βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ

Jewish leaders 90, 274, 279, 302, 306, 318, 324, 331, 342, 358, 395, 405 Jewish war against Rome 3, 7, 72, 89, 94–95, 166, 195 John the Baptist 8, 210–11, 214, 222– 34, 317. See also baptism Jordan river 168, 223, 352 Jubilee, Year of 161–62, 175, 224, 444

legion. See Roman empire, legion Leistung. See Mark, Leistung leprocy 154, 156–57, 192, 294, 317, 319–21, 331–33, 342–43 literary techniques 14–16 – foreshadowing 15, 199, 239, 241– 42, 246, 262, 266–67, 269, 306, 320–21, 324, 338, 340, 343, 345, 405–6, 416, 447, 453–54 – hinges 15, 198, 204, 206, 212, 268, 271, 281, 301, 338, 353, 360, 371, 382, 384, 447 – sandwiching, inclusio 15, 206–7, 237–38, 241, 252, 256–57, 284–85, 305, 318, 354, 360, 397

Index of Subjects λύτρον 3, 78, 312–16, 338–40, 342–43, 345–46, 419, 423–24, 432, 452–55 Maccabean tradition 103, 300, 364 n. 106, 369, 427 Magdala 293, 339 n. 385 Marcion 50–51, 53 Mark (Gospel of) – anti-imperial readings 1–4, 6, 49, 58–87, 100–101, 195–96, 272, 307– 16, 348, 375–78, 412–13, 433, 436– 37, 460 – atonement. See atonement, in Mark – crucifixion. See crucifixion, Markan interpretation – ending 381–82 – feminist readings 61, 84–85 – genre 16–19 – Isaiah 53 3, 25, 323, 346–48, 389– 92, 403, 419–20, 422–24, 432, 436, 461. See also Isaiah, Isaiah 53 – kingly theme 254–62, 267, 342, 345–87 – Leistung 5–6, 55–56, 253–54, 264, 268, 346, 365–66, 372, 378, 380, 388, 430, 453, 455 – new exodus. See new exodus, in Mark – provenance. See provenance of Mark – role of 1:1 219–22. See also incipit – sacrifices. See atonement – structure 197–200, 212, 219 – temple 4, 74–77, 92–99, 317–40, 394–98 – temple critique 317–18, 331, 342– 43, 416–18. See also temple incident – titulus 310, 349–51, 365–66, 371, 373, 453 – triumphal entry 349–59 – use of the Hebrew Bible. See Hebrew Bible, Mark’s use of – women 72–73, 84, 90, 360, 371, 380–84, 396 martyrdom 72, 102, 164, 316, 369, 402, 420, 426 ‫ְמ ַב ֵשּׂ ר‬/ ‫ְמ ַב ֶשּׂ ֶרת‬. See εὐαγγέλιον, ‫ְמ ַב ֵשּׂ ר‬/ ‫ְמ ַב ֶשּׂ ֶרת‬ Melchizedek 42, 160–62, 224

531

messenger’s reward. See εὐαγγέλιον, messenger’s reward messiah, messianism 3, 10, 12–13, 40, 42–44, 53, 72, 75–77, 85, 90, 92, 97, 102, 121, 123, 158–62, 167–75, 187, 203, 225, 254–56, 262–66, 268–69, 296, 317–18, 322, 326–27, 338, 350, 354–55, 364, 385, 388, 396, 406 methodology, reading Mark 8–19 mimicry. See postcolonialism mockery and irony 365–67, 371, 373, 377, 380, 406 n. 306, 414, 417, 431, 453 Moses 70, 80, 117, 121, 138, 143, 154, 192, 290–93, 295, 319–20, 328, 334– 37, 361, 399–402, 425–27, 442, 450– 51, 456–57. See also new exodus Mount of Olives 353, 394 Mount Sinai 71, 143, 334–37, 398–403, 410, 412, 414–15, 419, 424–29, 431– 32, 450, 456–58, 461. See also covenant Nazareth 65, 72, 279 n. 43, 282, 284– 85, 287, 362 new covenant. See covenant, new new exodus – in Isaiah 3, 48–49, 102–3, 136–41, 191, 248, 275, 295, 342 – in Mark 3, 38, 48–49, 199, 215, 218–19, 298 new song 110–11, 113, 124, 190, 272, 275, 440 New Year festival 114, 139 newness 261, 272–73, 275–77, 281–87, 299, 341, 449–50. See also ἐξουσία numismatics. See coins paradise, paradisiac 3, 103, 135, 148, 247–49, 267–68, 378, 428, 444, 456, 459, 461. See also Eden parousia 83, 214, 378, 385–88 passio iusti motif 368–72, 422 passion predictions 75, 199 n. 23, 317, 345, 358, 379–81 passover 81, 154, 264, 360, 389, 393, 395, 398, 399 n. 270, 429 Paul – Paul and Mark 25, 176–78

532

Index of Subjects

– Paul’s use of εὐαγγέλιον 28–29, 42– 43, 51–57, 178–89 – Roman empire. See Roman empire, Paul – use of Isaiah. See Isaiah, Paul Pella 88–89, 91–92, 96 Peter (disciple) 285, 384 Pharao 290–91, 311 Pharisees 233, 291 n. 88, 320, 329, 331 n. 336, 332–34, 345, 369, 395 piel 118 pigs 95, 309, 332 Pilate 46, 66, 308, 310–11, 350, 365, 369, 375, 383 pilgrimage of Yahweh. See Isaiah, Yahweh’s triumphal march politics vs. religion. See religion vs. politics post-resurrection 3, 253, 264, 300, 307, 359–65, 380, 386–87. See also Galilee, post-resurrection postcolonial and/or anti-imperial reading strategies 1, 101, 195, 437. See also Mark, anti-imperial readings postcolonialism 58–87 – hybridity, third space, ambivalence, mimicry, catachresis 59–60, 62, 79– 83, 86, 241, 316, 342, 452 Priene inscription 1–2, 31–35, 39–41, 46–48, 131 ‘profane’ usage, the εὐαγγέλιον. See εὐαγγέλιον, ‘profane’ usage provenance of Mark – Galilee 68–69, 78–79, 84, 86, 89– 91, 96–100, 197 – Rome 6–7, 10, 45, 73–75, 86, 93– 100 – Syria 43, 78, 91–92, 96–100 proximity and presence – in Isaiah 5, 141–48, 196, 219 – in Mark 5, 7–8, 103, 196, 219–69, 271, 319, 332, 343, 396, 398–414. See also proximity and presence, to the divine – to the divine 8, 103, 144, 191, 196, 219, 222, 234, 241–42, 245, 252, 267, 271, 282, 319, 330, 333–34, 336–38, 341, 343, 388, 392, 400,

404, 409, 411–12, 414, 428–29, 431– 33, 448, 456–59 purity 99, 103, 150, 228–31, 235, 239– 42, 261, 267, 291, 303–4, 328–34, 342, 356, 425–27, 454, 460 Q (the source) 67, 91, 210, 212–13, 216, 252, 266, 446 Qumran. See Dead Sea Scrolls redaction criticism 5–6, 25, 53–54, 74, 76–77, 263–64 religion vs. politics 7, 19–24, 82, 101– 3, 117, 189, 196, 265, 433, 437, 459 repentance 143, 148, 215, 223–24, 226–32, 236, 245, 266, 276, 290, 323, 325, 416, 442–43 restoration, eschatological. See eschatological restoration resurrection 70, 101, 187, 268, 378–88 ritual purity 329, 331 n. 336. See also purity Roman empire – centurion 2, 76, 83, 243, 300, 348, 371, 385, 406–7, 412–13, 433 – divine sonship 24, 45–46, 76, 82, 97, 240–41, 244, 413, 433 – εὐαγγέλιον. See εὐαγγέλιον, imperial cult – in Mark. See Mark, anti-imperial readings – legion 66, 70, 83, 241, 308–10 – Paul 33, 48–49 – triumphal parade 45, 73–75, 77–78, 93–97, 375–78 sabbath 292–93, 317, 320–21 sacraments 177, 215, 227, 231 n. 229 sacrifices in Greek texts. See εὐαγγέλιον, sacrifices in Greek texts salvation 1, 40, 111, 116–17, 124, 141, 143–44, 182, 191, 235, 260, 290, 371, 443 Satan 247–50, 267, 279, 327, 449, 451. See also Beelzebul Schriftgemäßheit. See Hebrew Bible, Mark’s use of, Schriftgemäßheit scribes 233, 276, 292, 322–23, 342, 367, 385, 450. See also high priests

Index of Subjects scripturalization. See Hebrew Bible, Mark’s use of, scripturalization Sea of Galilee 271, 296–97, 299–301, 307, 397, 456 seeing, perception (ὁρᾶν) 141, 143–44, 235, 238, 271, 291–92, 385, 402, 431, 443, 457. See also theophany Septuagint, εὐαγγέλιον. See εὐαγγέλιον, in the Septuagint Servant Song. See Isaiah, Servant Song shame 285. See also crucifixion, shameful shepherd 116, 141, 363–65, 430, 441, 452 sin sacrifice. See atonement, sin sacrifice sin, forgiveness. See atonement, forgiveness of sin skin disease. See leprocy Son of David 288, 349–51, 353–54, 357, 359, 430, 452. See also David, king Son of God 2, 76, 82, 90, 97, 204–5, 244, 250, 350–51, 385, 406, 413, 433 Son of Man 37, 244, 321–22, 338, 346– 47, 353, 368, 379, 385, 387–88, 420–21, 427, 447 soteriology. See atonement Steigerung motif. See Isaiah, Steigerung motif synagogue 84, 274 n. 11, 287–88, 291– 93, 339, 354, 387 synagogue 84, 287–89, 291–93, 295, 354, 387 Syria. See provenance of Mark, Syria Syrophoenician woman 300–304, 307, 333, 342 ‫שׁוב‬. See repentance tabernacle 143, 172, 320, 336–37, 361 n. 88, 399, 408, 411, 457 tabernacles. See feast of tabernacles temple administration 342–43, 359, 388, 416, 418, 454 temple in Isaiah. See Isaiah, temple temple in Mark’s Gospel. See Mark, temple

533

temple incident 242, 388–89, 391–92, 394, 397–98, 410, 415–16 Temple Mount 174, 277, 279, 317–18, 335, 362, 397, 416 temple stones 383, 394–97 temple utensils (σκεύη) 152, 324, 416 n. 353 temple veil 95, 97, 235, 237, 239, 242, 246, 316, 340, 392, 404–14, 450, 458 temple, heavenly 237, 242, 268, 389, 396, 400, 406, 411–12, 417–18, 455 theophany 147, 236, 238–39, 319, 324, 335, 399–400, 409–10, 456–57. See also epiphany third space. See postcolonialism Titus 73, 93–97, 167–75 tradition of the elders (halakah) 92, 292, 306, 330–31, 451 transfiguration 225, 337, 405–6, 410, 450, 454, 456 triumphal march, Yahweh. See Isaiah, Yahweh’s triumphal march Triumphal parade. See Roman empire, triumphal parade tyranny 129, 172, 175, 308, 311–12, 348, 439 unclean spirits. See demons understanding (συνιέναι) 290–92, 301 n. 155, 304, 306, 331, 334, 361, 385, 451. See also hardness of heart veil, temple. See temple veil Vespasian 43–45, 72–79, 90–100, 132, 173, 298, 438 vineyard 67, 395, 410, 413, 416, 418 war victory. See εὐαγγέλιον, war victory warrior, Yahweh as 111, 114, 116, 224, 239, 245–46, 251, 267, 272, 275, 292, 296–97, 317, 355, 364, 409, 441, 450 ‘way’ section 198–200, 215, 271, 283, 353–54, 386, 387, 445, 447 wilderness 138, 140, 166–72, 193, 196, 222–23, 232, 235, 245–52, 266–68, 276, 378, 444, 451, 456

534

Index of Subjects

women in Mark’s Gospel. See Mark, women women preachers. See εὐαγγέλιον, women Yahweh’s triumphal march. See Isaiah, Yahweh’s triumphal march

Zion 5, 7, 34, 115–17, 122–23, 135–36, 140–43, 147–49, 170–72, 190–91, 219, 235, 251, 268, 291, 295, 335, 348, 352, 355, 378, 387–88, 398, 402–3, 409, 412, 441