Mark’s Story – little ones at the centre?

Mark’s Storytelling

Much modern scholarship concerning the Gospels has sought to establish them as narratives. Scholars have stressed that the ‘evangelists are narrative thinkers, narrative theologians’ ¹ with their own interests and convictions, not simply vehicles for a detachable theology. Those interests and convictions are expressed through storytelling techniques such as character, plot, setting and structure. Rhoads & Michie write of Mark’s Gospel that ‘a literary study of its formal features suggests that the author succeeded in creating a unified narrative’ ² Others would go further and state that, ‘the implied author of Mark is a storyteller – and a masterful one’ ³ .

Scholars working within this understanding of Mark point to a number of his storytelling characteristics, such as thematic arrangement of material (e.g. 2:1-3:6; 4:1-34; 13:1-37), symbolism (4:8, 20, 28-32; 8:11-18; 11:13; 12:2) and repetition (cf. 4:11f; 8:17f). Mark’s repetition seems to enjoy a particular penchant for ‘the threefold repetition of similar actions and events.’ ⁴ There are ‘three sea stories carefully positioned’ ⁵ (4:35-41; 6:47-52; 8:13-21), three stories of Jesus healing children (5:41f; 7:29; 9:25-27), three passion predictions (8:31ff; 9:31f; 10:32-34), three occasions when the disciples sleep in Gethsemane (14:33-41), three denials of Jesus by Peter (14:66ff), three (increasingly desperate) questions from Pilate to the crowd (15:9, 12, 14) and the crucifixion is narrated in three three-hour divisions (15:25,33f). Scholars may contest whether sonship is stated in Mark 1:1, but it also seems likely that the gospel as a whole is constructed around three key moments of the revelation of Jesus’ sonship (baptism 1:11, transfiguration 9:7, and the centurion at the cross 15:39). Surely we can say that, if Mark had a favourite number, it would be three.

This apparent enjoyment of content in three parts comes to further expression in what is perhaps Mark’s most notable narrative device of placing one story inside another, his sandwich-technique (or intercalation). Miller writes, ‘This distinctively Markan technique occurs at least six times (3:20-34; 5:21-43; 6:7-31; 11:12-25; 14:1-11; 14:53-72) enabling the evangelist to narrate two stories simultaneously by inserting one inside another’ ⁶

Scholars differ over the precise number and role of the intercalations, but one view is that their purpose is that the inner story (the filling) provides the key to the outer halves. Marcus argues that, in the intercalation in 3:20-35, the ‘strong man’ motif is central because, “it lays bare the underlying cause of the opposition to Jesus” ⁷ and as such provides the key to understanding that opposition from both his family and the Jerusalem teachers. Likewise scholars point to the death of John the Baptist (6:7-30) and the cursing of the fig-tree (11:12-25) as examples of where the intercalation rests on the inner story to make the whole intelligible. If this way of viewing the intercalations is correct, then added weight is given to those central stories, a point which some scholars^8,9 believe also to be present in Mark’s thematically arranged blocks of narrative.

A further feature of narrative criticism is to attempt to discern an underlying structure to Mark’s work and, if the scholars are correct in identifying a careful selection and use of material within his gospel, we would expect such a structure to be clear and deliberate. However, at first sight we might be disappointed as scholars have struggled to find an agreed overall structure of Mark’s Gospel. Indeed Marcus’ somewhat exasperated comment ‘Of the making of many Markan outlines there is, seemingly, no end’ ¹⁰ points to the lack of consensus on this point. However, the question of a narrative structure and, in particular, whether Mark’s story divides fundamentally into two or three parts (a see-saw or a sandwich) has a profound bearing on the question of where (and whether) it is possible to identify the heart of his concerns, so it is worth considering in more detail.

Narrative Structure

Despite Marcus’ comment, there does seem to be widespread agreement ¹¹ that the ‘Who do you say I am?’ question (8:27) is a significant moment in Mark’s narrative. Whilst the reasons for taking this view may vary among scholars, we can note the following in favour of seeing this as a watershed moment. Firstly, in terms of the written gospel, this encounter happens at (or close to) a simple midpoint of the narrative. Secondly, the question of 8:27 is introduced with a remarkably (and uniquely) symbolic healing, where the two-stage restoration of sight seems to prefigure the two-stage opening of Peter’s understanding. Thirdly, in Mark 8:27-30 we see for the first time the answer to the ‘Who is this?’ (4:41) question from Jesus’ own followers (prior to this only the demons seem to know who Jesus is - 1:24; 3:11; 5:7). Fourthly, after this encounter there is a subtle shift from a ministry based around the sea of Galilee to one which is land-based and focused increasingly on Jerusalem (10:32; 11:1, 11, 15, 27). Fifthly, this episode brings about Jesus’ first mention of the way of suffering which lies ahead for him and his disciples (8:31, 34) and finally, from this point onwards, Mark’s Jesus seems less interested in a public ministry of healing and teaching and more committed to one of preparation of his disciples for what lies ahead (9:30f; 35, 10:29f, 42-45).

These observations support the idea of a model of the gospel which is split fundamentally into two parts, with scholars pointing to the ‘pivotal importance of this [8:27-30] moment’ ¹² . If this is the case, then it is perhaps possible to speak of a narrative centre or turning point in Mark’s Gospel. Myers states neatly that the question of 8:29 is ‘the fulcrum upon which the gospel narrative balances’ ¹³ or as Henderson puts it, ‘interpreters have identified Mk.8:27 as the turning point at which the possibility of seeing clearly begins in earnest.’ ¹⁴

All this supports the idea of a Markan narrative split fundamentally into two parts, turning powerfully at or around the moment of Peter’s confession (8:27-30). As such we might see the broad structure of Mark’s Gospel as a see-saw, pivoting around this question.

However, this is not the only way of reading Mark. Other scholars point to the geographical undergirding of a three-part reading, with part one being based in and around Galilee, part two being ‘on the way’ to Jerusalem and part three being in Jerusalem itself. France writes, ‘the three-stage geographical progression is widely noted, and several interpreters have taken it to be the principal structural basis of Mark’s story.’ ¹⁵

We can also note that the narrative which follows 8:27-30 is filled with material which seems distinctively Markan in arrangement. There are the three passion predictions (8:31; 9:31; 10:33f), each of which stands at the head of what appears to be a carefully crafted three-part pattern: Jesus predicts his death, the (named) disciples mistake what this means, Jesus then teaches to correct them. Myers writes of this threefold pattern, ‘Each cycle consists of Jesus’ prediction of his political fate (portents), the disciples’ inability to recognize the implications of the way (“blindness”), and Jesus’ rejoinding instructions. . .each stated in the form of a paradox.’ ¹⁶

As well as this apparently carefully structured and deliberate series of cycles, there are also three examples of what it means to follow (or not follow) Jesus properly: children (9:36f; 10:14f), the rich young man (10:17-22) and Bartimaeus (10:46-52). By finishing the section (if that is what it is) with the story of Bartimaeus there is a sense of climax as he is presented as the true disciple (Marcus writes of the ‘paradigmatic function of Bartimaeus’ ¹⁷ and Myers calls him ‘Mark’s archetypal disciple’ ¹⁸ ) who sees who Jesus is (even prior to his healing) and responds to his touch with a simple following ‘on the way’ (10:52). Moreover, Bartimaeus is named in contrast to the blind man at Bethsaida and perhaps in deliberate parallel with the named disciples in this section, who so conspicuously mistake what it means to follow Jesus. There is also closure, as the section becomes ‘framed’ between these two stories of Jesus healing blind men. As such, scholars argue, the section seems to have been deliberately and carefully constructed to form a central unit in the narrative as a whole. Ernest Best writes, ‘It is now generally accepted that 8:27-10:45 forms the centre of Mark’s instruction to his readers on the meaning for them of Christ and their own discipleship’ ¹⁹ .

It is important to note that those who argue for a three-part understanding of Mark do not dispute the significance of Peter’s confession (8:27-30) but see this as opening a central section rather than the second and final section of the gospel. Furthermore, those who see Mark’s Gospel as fundamentally a narrative in three parts can point to Mark’s own technique of intercalation and thereby suggest that the whole Gospel can be seen as an intercalation in its own right. If this is correct and the gospel as a whole can be seen as a kind of sandwich, then the filling is the central section, framed between the two blind men (‘its most striking structural feature’ ²⁰ ), in which Jesus ‘on the way’ teaches his disciples what it means to follow him. If this is indeed the way that Mark structures his gospel, then we have a broad outline which is split fundamentally in three parts, with a prologue and an epilogue:

PROLOGUE – 1:1-13

PART I – 1:14-8:21

PART II – 8:22-10:52

PART III – 11:1-15:47

EPILOGUE – 16:1-8

If we accept this as the basic outline of Mark’s Gospel, we can then draw on insights regarding his characteristics as a storyteller and see how they apply to the central section. It seems we have here a collection of material carefully grouped around the theme of following Jesus, using a threefold pattern of repetition and intercalation. Following the pattern observed elsewhere, it follows that the central passion prediction could be seen as the centre of this central section. Furthermore if, as we shall see, it also contains some of Mark’s most startling language and imagery then structure, style and content converge to produce a narrative centre, a heart-of-the-matter type moment. It is our conviction that we find this in Mark 9:42.

The Central Cycle

If our theory is accurate, the second cycle of prediction-misunderstanding-correction, coming as it does in the centre of this central section, should sow some special features. Firstly, we can note the way Mark introduces the misunderstanding of the disciples after the second prediction. We meet the disciples here arguing ‘on the way’ (9:33f – twice). Mark’s narrative appears to emphasise this phrase to highlight the disciples’ lack of understanding, as being ‘on the way’ should be the place of obedient sacrifice and suffering (8:34 cf. 1:1-3). But, in ‘another instance of Markan irony’ ²¹ the disciples have used this sacred space as a place to argue about status. Mark (alone) records the tacit self-acknowledgment of their guilt in the words of 9:34 and these details provide a distinctive and perhaps ominous narrative foundation for the explosive words which lie ahead.

Once the disciples’ inappropriate use of ‘the way’ has become clear in the narrative, Mark begins Jesus’ corrective teaching with a reversal of values (9:35; cf 10:43) and then brings a child into the narrative to illustrate this and with whom Jesus then closely identifies himself. This time it is not the call to deny self, take up the cross and lose life as in the first cycle, but rather the call to a radical renunciation of position or status and an embracing of humility. Marcus writes, ‘in the upside-down logic of the dominion of God, the person who wants to become first must make him- or herself last of all’ ²²

Kelber sees added significance in the fact that Mark 9:35 ‘does not sound the well-known reversal theme: the first shall be last and the last shall be first’ ²³ but rather there is simply the stark statement that the first must be last and servant of all. In stating the call in this way, Mark’s Jesus makes plain that there is no space for the disciples’ ideas of priority, status and power in the way in which he is leading them. Kelber writes, ‘There is no place in the Kingdom of God for a hierarchically organized leadership structure.’ ²⁴

Secondly, we can compare the words in the corrective teaching of Jesus following the middle passion prediction (9:31ff) with the teaching following the first and third predictions. In the first there is no doubt that Peter is dealt with harshly (8:33), but he is not overtly rebuked in terms of punishment, judgement or eternal condemnation. Equally when James and John approach Jesus after the third prediction (10:32ff), although they are refused what they ask for and are corrected in the sight of the disciples, once again there is no reference to a wider judgement. It seems notable therefore that Mark places the most extreme warnings of Jesus (9:42-48) in the centre of this central section of the gospel following the central passion prediction. Might it be that Mark is here describing what he perceives to be the single greatest danger to a faithful following after Jesus, particularly for those in privileged positions within the community of faith?

A third reason to pause over this verse (and 9:42-48 as a whole) is that it uses at least two significant terms: μικρός and σκανδαλίζω. Although μικρός terminology is used elsewhere in the gospel (4:31; 14:35,70; 15:40) these appear to be simple adjectival uses, whereas here Mark’s Jesus is clearly talking about a group of people. Some argue that the μικρός terminology here refers to children. There are certainly children present in the narrative (9:36f ; 10:13-16) and it is worth noting that Mark records Jesus as bringing a child into the centre of the twelve (9:35- Marcus ²⁵ suggests this is a symbolic action in keeping with Old Testament tradition). It is clear that these children act as examples to the disciples of the kind of qualities they so clearly lack. However, the fact that Marks chooses not to use the terms he elsewhere adopts for children (παιδίον or τέκνov – cf. 5:39f-41; 7:27-30; 9:24, 36f; 10:13-15, 24, 29f; 12:19; 13:12) but instead uses μικροί terminology (here and nowhere else of those who believe) suggests that children are not the primary reference he has in mind. Moreover, immediately before 9:42 we have the dialogue between Jesus and John regarding an exorcist who was ‘not one of us’ (9:38) which seems to point to a different definition of the μικροί.

The discussion between Jesus and John is significant for at least three reasons. Firstly, it introduces John into the narrative. By doing so, Mark brings one of the inner core of Jesus’ disciples (Peter, James and John) into the story and sets up a dichotomy between a leading disciple and the μικροί. There is no doubt that the general sense of misunderstanding is shared throughout the twelve (cf. 9:33f; 10:41) but nonetheless these three are singled out for particular attention within the central section. This is significant as Peter, James and John are, in many ways, the big-three disciples – they are the only ones to be given new names (3:16f), they are present at key moments in Jesus’ ministry (5:37; 9:2; 14:33) and they have these speaking parts in the narrative (8:29, 32; 9:5, 11, 38; 10:28, 35, 37, 39). As such they can be seen to have a special status, and against this backdrop the use of the μικρός terminology appears to have added significance: the narrative contrast between the anonymous and superficially insignificant μικροί and the named, voiced and privileged inner group of disciples makes Mark’s Jesus’ words powerful and (perhaps uniquely) shocking.

Secondly, the discussion between Jesus and John in the narrative raises the issue of control and exclusivity, as John speaks of the exorcist who was ‘not one of us’ (9:38). In narrative terms, John therefore plays the role of a leading figure who seeks to define who is part of the community of faith and whether or not they are permitted to minister and does so in isolation from Jesus himself (this attitude surfaces again in 10:13 where ‘the disciples act as gate keepers’ ²⁶ and seek to control membership of the inner circle around Jesus). Thirdly, this discussion subtly introduces the nature of faith, and the words of 9:39-41 articulate a surprisingly open, generous, inclusive, ‘exceedingly tolerant’ ²⁷ attitude towards those who may not fit within the accepted boundaries of the community. As Hooker writes, ‘the disciples are rebuked for their exclusive attitude, and the strange exorcist is vindicated.’ ²⁸

Not only does the exorcist emerge vindicated but Mark emphasises that even the most minor act (offering a cup of water) will be acknowledged (9:41). So, those who may be considered unorthodox and those whose contribution is miniscule are included, affirmed and rewarded. The link between these sentiments and the μικροί of the next verse seems clear, deliberate and significant. We are left to conclude that the μικροί are humble, unnamed but nonetheless precious and active members of the community of faith whose presence and ministry is valued and affirmed by Mark’s Jesus.

If the positive affirmation of the μικροί is stressed in 9:41, the negative corollary is articulated in 9:42 and revolves around the verb σκανδαλίζω. Mark uses this verb eight times in his gospel (4:17; 6;3: 9:42, 43, 45, 47; 14:27, 29) and each usage is significant within its particular context. However, there seems little doubt that the key usage of this term in Mark lies in 9:42-47, where it is present in an almost rhythmic repetition, four times in as many verses. France writes of its use here as being ‘the cause of another’s spiritual shipwreck’ ²⁹ and certainly the context makes clear that this σκανδαλίζω is so serious that drowning and amputation/mutilation are seen as preferable. The drowning is due to a large millstone, ‘a millstone turned by a donkey’ ³⁰ and France comments, ‘The stone is rather grotesquely pictured as “placed around” (περίκειται) the neck like a collar’ ³¹ .

As we noted earlier, this is shocking language and imagery. Yet even more seriously, for those guilty of σκανδαλίζω, there is the looming destiny of ‘Gehenna’, repeated three times in true Markan style (9:43, 45f; cf. 2 Kings 23:10; 2 Esdras 7:36). Despite its vintage, Nineham’s comment vividly depicts the scene: ‘The suggestion is of maggots preying on offal and fires perpetually smouldering for the destruction of refuse.’ ³²

Clearly this is a powerful image - it is used here and nowhere else in Mark and is specifically linked to the notion of σκανδαλίζω of the μικροί. Moreover, the ominous warning of 9:48 (with its quotation of Isaiah 66:24) points to how serious and irreversible an offence this is for Mark. Whatever the usage of the term elsewhere in the gospel, here there is no room for ambivalence: this σκανδαλίζω is eternal and unalterable.

We can note again the significance that Mark’s Jesus uses this imagery (arguably the harshest in the gospel) in relation to his core followers. From 9:35 onwards Jesus’ words are addressed simply to ‘the Twelve’ who are alone with Jesus up until ‘crowds’ return to the narrative in 10:1. The motif of Jesus drawing the disciples into a private, privileged audience with himself occurs frequently in Mark (2:13; 4:10,34; 6:7,31; 10:32; 11:11; 14:17). This act of drawing aside gives the disciples a privileged place, which Mark’s Jesus makes overt as he contrasts them with those who are ‘on the outside’ (4:11; cf. 3:31f). But this privilege simultaneously creates the inside-outside dichotomy through which they so often fall. In other words, the privilege of membership does not provide the excuse for exclusivity and the disciples must learn that they cannot control the boundaries of Jesus’ followers, however much they may wish to.

If this is a right understanding of Mark’s presentation of the teaching of Jesus in the central section of his gospel, then it is our contention that Mark 9:42 (or perhaps 9:42-48) provides a heart-of-the-matter moment. There appears to be a clear desire on the part of Mark to link the correct understanding of discipleship to the question of how the μικροι are to be treated. As we have seen, it is partly in the disciples’ attitude towards the μικροι that their own motives and ambitions are laid bare. Whilst Jesus advocates a radical, inclusive and generous humility in which his own person is modelled on that of a child (9:37) the disciples are exposed as small-minded, exclusive and preoccupied with their own status (9:34,38). Unless the disciples (and especially the leaders within their number) can understand that following Jesus means a humble surrendering of all worldly notions of status and position, they will never truly follow on the way.

So the verse contains within it the call to that radical reversal of values which, as we have seen, seems surprisingly central to the central section of Mark. The call to honour the μικροι is fundamental to the radical reversal of values which Mark’s Jesus espouses and to the picture of true discipleship we see in Mark’s central section. As Best writes, ‘the cross faces the believer with a challenge to his self-importance as much as it warns him about martyrdom.’ ³³

But this is no mere piece of rabbinic wisdom-teaching, rather Mark depicts it as the stuff of eternal destiny. For Mark, the disciples’ treatment of those who may be outwardly insignificant and unimportant becomes the litmus-test of their understanding of the nature of discipleship as a whole - failing this (or stumbling over it) puts them in unspeakable danger.