Reflections on Mark 15 - 16

On Facing The Cross 

FOLLOW AFTER ME:

Like the people of the Gospel's first audience, we are asked to see ourselves within the company of the original disciples and to share their awakening to the realities of radical discipleship.  At each moment, we have the same opportunity to learn, to act in faith and understanding, or to reflect upon our living praxis. Yet, at any one point along the way, we already know more than the disciples in the story know.  From the outset, we are told that we are hearing "the beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God." Thus Mark presents his christology in his opening verse, in which Jesus is given a three-fold name as Jesus-Messiah-Son of God (Mk 1:1).  We may already come to the story with this belief or understanding. We may come with disbelief or doubt. Like the disciples, we are called to see or comprehend and believe that which we have been told, and to take action. To take action with Christ or to be as Christ, is radical discipleship. 

Ched Myer presents an convincing interpretation, that, as Mark's Jesus engages the dual, political powers, of Roman and Jewish authorities in Jerusalem, and meets death at the hands of those powers, Mark wants us to understand the ...

... activist ideology of discipleship that lies at the heart of the story. Mark looks for the end of the old world and the inauguration of the new, but it is discipleship - which he equates with a specific social practice and costly political engagement - that will inaugurate this transformation. (1) 

In another recent commentary, Matera argues that Mark's own community had lost sight of a relevant theology of the cross. He sees Mark's prime purpose in writing as being to remind them of the centrality "of the cross and the true meaning of discipleship." (3) Given that Mark composed his gospel during a period of hardship, persecution and the likelihood of war in Palestine, teaching the community radical discipleship is the Evangelist's main concern. 

Mark explores a wide variety of motifs and strategies, that work in a dialectical relationship with each other, to direct the reader to reflect and uncover meaning at several levels and directions of insight. Exploring some of these will serve to give a glimpse of the many levels of meaning that Mark places within his crucifixion scene, and uncover his religio-political motives for writing. 

MULTIPLE MEANINGS

Traditionally, the statement from the centurion is usually taken as a christological statement of Gentile recognition of Jesus, the Son of God. However, it could equally be taken as a common, Hellenistic statement of respect: "Truly, this man was a son of God." Thus it carries a cultural and political meaning as well as any christological rendering that we may read into the text. (4)   The Gospel is a marvel of indirection and of mutliple meanings pointing to the One on the Cross.

In interpreting the words of the centurion in this way, I contrast the different understanding presented by Drury. For him the centurion is the one "who transcends and resolves all previous attempts to identify Jesus." (5) Jesus is the Son of God. Drury connects this acclamation with the way into the kingdom that Jesus' death has opened for the Gentiles. He draws upon the narrative importance of the riddle of the one-loaf, the feeding of the two crowds, the exchange with the Syro-Phoenician woman and the loaf transformed at the Last Supper, as a "train of coded events associated with bread," (6) that are theologically and existentially transformed into new traditions of Christ's life and body. It is the genius of Mark's Gospel that weaves so many themes, multiple meanings, nuances, histories and transformations into the narrative, that it is pregnant with diversity. 

As Drury says, 

the "darkest secrets of divinity and humanity lurk in its (the Gospel's) complex and taut story, waiting for agile and dedicated readers to glimpse them as they follow its way along the edges of the world." (7)

Then suddenly, with Markan, narrative haste and surprise, the sanctuary curtain, which divides the Holy place from the Holy of Holies within the temple, rips from top to bottom, thus symbolically heralding the end of the old order. Perhaps a more radical interpretation is that the presence of God has deserted the temple, mirroring the feeling of divine desertion of the One on the Cross. The reverberation of His cry rends the curtain, stills the crowd and brings full focus, of the reader, upon the person of the Crier. 

Morna Hooker regards the cry of dereliction from the cross as being central to Mark's understanding of the death of Jesus. (8) As I mentioned above, the cry of despair and the spoken words of the centurion frame a group of verses that deal with Messianic expectations and the passing of the old Israel.  According to a tradition based on Malachi 3:1, 4:5 and Sirach 48:1-11, Elijah is the forerunner of God before the day of the Lord.  However, there is no reference to Elijah redivivus as the precursor of the Messiah in any record of Pre-Christian Judaism. (9)  In later time, Elijah is the prophet expected to return to herald the coming of the Messiah. However, Traditionally, this is expected at Passover.  During the Seder meal, a cup of wine was poured and set aside, for Elijah.  In Mark, the cup of Elijah is figured in the cup figured in Gethsemane, is the cup of suffering that was not taken away (Mk 14:36).  It appears again, as the cup of sour wine that is given to Jesus to drink (Mk 15:36a). The people wait to see if Elijah returns (Mk 15:35, 36b). The readers know that the cup of Elijah was taken up by Jesus at the Last Supper (Mk 14:23-24). (10)  Thus an expectation builds, anticipating even the arrival of God.

The cup figured in Gethsemane, is the cup of suffering that was not taken away (Mk 14:36). These are two Messianic symbols, the returning prophet Elijah, and the cup that is poured out. The symbol of the prophet links Jesus to the Messianic prophecies, while the image of the "cup poured out" symbolically encapsulates the new understanding of "messiah."  Thus Mark is placing the last moments of Jesus life within the end-that-is-the-beginning. The tearing of the sanctuary curtain symbolises that end and new beginning, for a dramatic change has occurred. The centre has shifted from the temple site and Holy of Holies, to Jesus, dead on the cross. Bread, body, cup, wine, blood, Prophet, Messiah, Human One, all meld as One. In this way the coming of the prophet (Elijah/Jesus) coincides with the events of the cross.

We are given no rest at the cross, no time to absorb, reflect or recoil from the impact. The voice of the centurion intones an ambiguous benediction, as the final words and breath of Jesus still ring in our ears. We are lead to see the women standing, viewing, at a distance, and the focus shifts to a remnant of the disciples, to the new order present in the women. This new order is invested in the powerless-ones. Yet it is the action of the women, and the redirection given by the young man at the tomb, that calls the followers of Jesus to reinstatement as disciples. Where they had expected great things, they had been shown only selflessness and service towards others. Their desertion and failure are of no count: Jesus has "gone before them, into Galilee," the Promised Land of the new Exodus. Jesus again has prepared the way, in the tradition of Exodus 23;20, Isaiah 40:3 and Malachi 3:1. 

In doing this, Mark skillfully leads his audience, first one way, then another, weaving a path of discovery through direct revelation of his intent, as well a through indirect, ironic, ambiguous or mysterious experiences. Mark's rhetoric is one of indirection that is radically provocative, indeterminate and open-ended, leaving the reader to make responsive decisions. Yet much of Mark's mystery remains permanently obscure, ambiguous or uncertain. The reader, as a new witness or a new watcher, must fill in the gaps, make decisions and move onwards. Thus there is always the possibility of renewal, or of a new start, arising out of failure, uncertainty or obscurity. The Good News is that the old has given way to the new, and will continue to do so, for the Messiah has come. To take up His cross and follow after Him, is to participate in the new beginning. Because Jesus "goes before" us (16:7), there is always the possibility of a new start being made on the discipleship adventure. 

UNITY OF ACTION:

Jesus is very much located with us, in "Galilee," which is the metaphorical site of disciple-practice and the living place of the historical Jesus. Mark presents us with an invitation, the very, initial invitation of Jesus to "follow after me," (1:17) which is reiterated in the words, "he is going before you to Galilee." (16:7). It is an invitation to follow, in radical discipleship, in orthopraxis, that begins with our humanity, in touch with The Human One, and follows in companionship with Him, as herald of a way through the wilderness. As Jesus goes before us, into Galilee, a new exodus from captivity by the dominating system, emerges. 

My response rises from compassion for the suffering Jesus and indignation at the gross injustice of the event. It was only when I truly suffered rejection that I began to grasp the significance of the crucifixion. Thus the cross calls me with a loud voice, to commit myself to confrontation with the dominant structures of church and society, to align with the marginalises and those made poor by patriarchy and its dominant, heterosexist hegemony. I stand in solidarity with gay and lesbian people who seek to transform dominating and crucifying structures, both within and outside of their communities. 

The cross becomes for me, a symbol of the struggle to find self and community, in life and wholeness, within a structure that largely communicates death and marginalisation through the pursuit of its own imperial dreams. 

Mark builds his Gospel around the tragic failure of Jesus' disciples. Jesus is betrayed by one, denied by his right-hand man and deserted by the rest. They all fail in the end. Yet forgiveness rings out from the resurrection: Jesus waits in Galilee. Mark wants us to comprehend the failure, see it and feel it, and then move on to experience the resurrection, and the experience of forgiveness, of one's self and of others, that is implicit in it. The central focus of the new community, then, as now, is forgiveness. (Mk 9:49f.; 11:25: 16:7). I seek to appropriate this spirit of forgiveness, both to experience it and to offer it. 

Life in discipleship with Christ is still risky, uncertain, ambiguous and open to failure and obscurity. The strong man still dominates! Yet, as Myers points out, 

in "the end, whether or not we will find a way to carry on with this story of biblical radicalism, this way of living and dying together, this way into a new heaven and earth, depends upon our understanding and acceptance of the tragedy and hope of our failures. For it is there that our discipleship will either truly end or truly begin." (11)

So far the cross teaches me justice-making and love-making as appropriate praxis. Just as Mark's narrative is full of multiple meanings and multiple opportunities for choice, I believe that the same plurality of possibility exists for Christian expression. Its unity lies in its solidarity with Christ, against domination of the powerless-ones and calling for reconstruction, with a bias towards the poor and the oppressed, who are caught in a hard place. 

The "wilderness" or "desert", is a hard, hostile place, and, in Mark's use of the word, it corresponds to "Galilee", the site or place of discipleship. For Mark, the wilderness set the scene for the beginning of the Gospel story. It was the place of Jesus' testing and the place of his retreat and solitude. He fed the crowds there, in imitation of Yahweh feeding the people of the Exodus (Ex. 16:4ff.). Jesus was also crucified in the wilderness, outside the city walls, in a barren, marginal place that became the site of the wilderness of despair. For the disciples, it became the site of a community in flight into which the Gospel narrative voices the apocalyptic hope of deliverance, the promise of a new Exodus and a political revival. As a place of marginal existence, hardship and testing, "wilderness" is a powerful metaphor for discipleship, in an existential geography of hope. Those marginalised people, who experience the church as occupied territory, understand wilderness as their place of witness, the ground of their existence. For many, the church is "occupied" by tyrants who impose their dominant ideologies, prejudices, theologies and social constructs to enforce marginalisation. For the persecuted faithful, wilderness is a place of refuge and hope. For the activist, it calls forth a view of discipleship that equates with a specific social practice and costly political engagement, that will hopefully inaugurate transformation. 

In practice, we are to discover the presence of Jesus, in our decisions and actions, risking the despair of the cross and the ambiguity of failure, as we seek to follow. There are no given answers, only questions of decision and commitment to the Reign of God. The "Way" is the life-giving way of Jesus, and the voice is the voice of solidarity with despair and suffering under oppression. 

It is noteworthy that in each of the places where the Gospel presents specific sayings of The Human One (Mk 2:10,28; 3:4), they function to liberate human life, and to enrich it, bringing wholeness and integration and not to marginalisation. The great irony of the cross is that Jesus taught people to minister life, not death. His death speaks as a witness against those who minister "death" to others. In experiencing "death" of this kind, I find myself coming to doubt the ability of the church to repent and bring change and minister to all who believe. I find myself countenancing disbelief - disbelief that leads to unbelief! I fight against myself, and, in moments when I relax and turn to the people and places that restore me, I find Christ again. He leads me out of the wilderness of my disillusionment. Each time it is with the same words, "follow me."   I find resonance with Moloney, who writes...

"As we read the Gospel of Mark, our own terror and failure can be given sense and purpose. He 'is going before us into Galilee.' There we will see him, as he has 'gone before us', summoning us towards our experience of resurrection, as we continually meet him, touch him and we are inspired by his living presence in our 'Galilees'. His never failing presence to the failed and failing disciples always has and always will make sense out of our nonsense." (12) 

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