The Rhetoric of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark 978-1506433356

Table of contents :
Abbreviations ix
Acknowledgments xiii
Introduction xv
1. The Discourses of Jesus since Form Criticism 1
2. The Discourses of Jesus as Rhetoric 41
3. Satan Cannot Cast Out Satan (Mark 3:20–35) 71
4. Whoever Has Ears Had Better Listen!
(Mark 4:1–34)
119
5. What Defiles a Person? (Mark 6:53–7:23) 185
6. The Marvel of the Coming Son of Man
(Mark 11:27–13:37)
213
Conclusion 289
Appendix: A Brief History of
Greco-Roman Rhetoric
299
Glossary of Select Rhetorical Terms 319
Bibliography 329
Index of Modern Authors 369
Index of Ancient Literature 373

Citation preview

A NEW VIEW OF MARK

Young & Strickland

RHETORICAL CRITICISM OFFERS Young and Strickland analyze Jesus’s four largest discourses in Mark in the context of Greco-Roman rhetoric in an attempt to hear them as a first-century audience would have heard them. Their analysis uncovers how the discourses are constructed; what issues each discourse seeks to treat; how the argumentation, arrangement, and style of each discourse contributes to its overall purpose; and how the discourse fits into the overall narrative context of the Gospel. The authors demonstrate that, contrary to what some historical critics have suggested, first-century audiences of Mark would have found the discourses of Jesus unified, well-integrated, and persuasive. They also show how these speeches of the Markan Jesus contribute to Mark’s overall narrative accomplishments.

“A wonderful gift for experts and novices in ancient rhetoric. Experts will appreciate the fresh and compelling reading of the four largest discourses in Mark. Non-experts will discover an accessible introduction to rhetorical criticism of the New Testament. Both will be reminded that the writer of Mark was not a simple collector of traditions about Jesus but, rather, a skilled writer who was obviously persuasive to the first-century audience.” Mark Black | Hazelip School of Theology, Lipscomb University

“Of the rhetorical analysis of Mark’s Gospel, I know of no finer work than that of Young and Strickland. This analysis is both clear and compelling, and shows that a rhetorical analysis of Mark’s chreiai and other aspects of his Gospel is not merely useful but necessary to fully understand Mark’s portrait of Jesus. Highly recommended.” Ben Witherington III | Asbury Theological Seminary

“This is an important introduction to Gospel studies in the twentieth century with a spotlight on international Markan scholarship. Its main contribution is the analysis of four Markan discourses viewed from the perspective of ancient rhetoric. I highly recommend this book to those who wish for an especially helpful introduction to contemporary Markan studies along with a modus operandi for criticism based upon the dictates of ancient rhetoric.” Thomas H. Olbricht | professor emeritus, Pepperdine University

DAVID M. YOUNG is senior minister for the North Boulevard Church of Christ in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and the author of Extreme Discipleship: Following Jesus from the Gospel of Mark (2007). MICHAEL STRICKLAND is associate dean of the Turner School of Theology at Amridge University and the author of The Evangelicals and the Synoptic Problem (2014). RELIGION / NEW TESTAMENT

THE RHETORIC OF JESUS IN THE GOSPEL OF MARK

Praise for The Rhetoric of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark

THE RHETORIC OF JESUS IN THE GOSPEL OF MARK David M. Young & Michael Strickland

The Rhetoric of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark

The Rhetoric of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

FORTRESS PRESS MINNEAPOLIS

THE RHETORIC OF JESUS IN THE GOSPEL OF MARK Copyright © 2017 Fortress Press. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Email [email protected] or write to Permissions, Fortress Press, PO Box 1209, Minneapolis, MN 55440-1209. Cover image: © The British Library Board Cover design: Rob Dewey Print ISBN: 978-1-5064-3335-6 eBook ISBN: 978-1-5064-3847-4 The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences — Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z329.48-1984. Manufactured in the U.S.A.

For Rachel and Jonathan David For Helen, Lila Beth, and Charlie

Contents

Abbreviations Acknowledgments Introduction

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

ix xiii xv

The Discourses of Jesus since Form Criticism The Discourses of Jesus as Rhetoric Satan Cannot Cast Out Satan (Mark 3:20–35) Whoever Has Ears Had Better Listen! (Mark 4:1–34) What Defiles a Person? (Mark 6:53–7:23) The Marvel of the Coming Son of Man (Mark 11:27–13:37)

1 41 71 119

Conclusion

289 299

Appendix: A Brief History of Greco-Roman Rhetoric Glossary of Select Rhetorical Terms Bibliography Index of Modern Authors Index of Ancient Literature

185 213

319 329 369 373

Abbreviations

ABR

Australian Biblical Review

AJP

American Journal of Philology

ANRW

Aufstieg und Niedergang der Römischen Welt

Anton

Antonianum

BDAG

Bauer, Danker, Arndt, Gingrich, Greek-English Lexicon

BAR

Biblical Archaeology Review

BDF

Blass, Debrunner, Funk, Greek Grammar

BETL

Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium

Bib

Biblica

BibLeb

Bibel und Leben

BJRL

Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester

BN

Biblische Notizen

BT

Bible Translator

BTB

Biblical Theology Bulletin

BZ

Biblische Zeitschrift

BZNW

Beihefte zur Zeitschrift fur die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft

CBQ

Catholic Biblical Quarterly

CBQMS

Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series

ClQ

Classical Quarterly

CW

Classical World

x

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

DeltBibMel

Δελτίο βιβλικών μελετών

DTT

Dansk Teologisk Tidsskrift

EstClas

Estudios Clásicos

ET

English Translation

ETL

Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses

EvT

Evangelische Theologie

ExpTim

Expository Times

FoiVie

Foi et Vie

FRLANT

Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments

HBT

Horizons in Biblical Theology

HTR

Harvard Theological Review

HvTSt

Hervormde teologiese studies

Int

Interpretation

IrEccRec

Irish Ecclesiastical Record

JAAR

Journal of the American Academy of Religion

JANES

Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society

JBL

Journal of Biblical Literature

JECH

Journal of Early Christian History

JBLMS

Journal of Biblical Literature Monograph Series

JJS

Journal of Jewish Studies

JQR

Jewish Quarterly Review

JR

Journal of Religion

JSJ

Journal for the Study of Judaism

JSNT

Journal for the Study of the New Testament

JSNTSup

Journal for the Study of the New Testament, Supplementary Series

JSOT

Journal for the Study of the Old Testament

JSOTSup

Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, Supplementary Series

JTS

Journal of Theological Studies

THE RHETORIC OF JESUS IN THE GOSPEL OF MARK

LB

Linguistica Biblica

LCL

Loeb Classical Library

LEC

Library of Early Christianity

LNTS

Library of New Testament Studies

LumVie

Lumière et Vie

LuthTheoJour Lutheran Theological Journal LXX

Septuagint

N-A27

Nestle-Aland, Novum Testamentum Graece, 27th edition

Neot

Neotestamentica

NICNT

New International Commentary on the New Testament

NovT

Novum Testamentum

NovTSup NPNF

1

Supplements to the Novum Testamentum Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Series 1

NT

New Testament

NTheoRev

New Theological Review

NTS

New Testament Studies

PennSpAn

Pennsylvania Speech Annual

PRSt

Perspectives in Religious Studies

OT

Old Testament

QJSp

Quarterly Journal of Speech

RB

Revue Biblique

RelSRev

Religious Studies Review

RSR

Recherches de Science Religieuse

RSSCW

Research Studies of the State College of Washington

ScEs

Science et Esprit

SEÅ

Svensk Exegetisk Årsbok

SJT

Scottish Journal of Theology

SM

Speech Monographs

SNTS

Society for New Testament Studies

xi

xii

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

SNTSMS

Society for New Testament Monograph Series

SouthSpJ

Southern Speech Journal

SwJT

Southwestern Journal of Theology

TBT

The Bible Today

TDNT

Theological Dictionary of the New Testament

TSFBul

Theological Students Fellowship Bulletin

TvT

Tijdschrift voor Theology

TZ

Theologische Zeitschrift

WestSp

Western Speech

WissWeis

Wissenschaft und Weisheit

WTJ

Westminster Theological Journal

WUNT

Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament

ZNW

Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft

ZTK

Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

Acknowledgments

This book has been more than twenty years in the making. When I submitted the first version of this book to the faculty of the Graduate School at Vanderbilt University in the form of my doctoral dissertation, my faculty committee recommended that I publish it as a book. But, alas, life took me in other directions, including the birth of my daughter only two months after graduation. Twice since then I have revised and updated portions of the dissertation, but I never found the time to finalize it or submit it for publication. So it lay on a shelf, gathering dust and taunting me as one of the biggest unfinished projects in my life. Then, a year ago, my colleague and friend Michael Strickland informed me that he had seen the dissertation quoted in several works, with at least one author lamenting that I had never published it. Michael, a brilliant scholar in his own right, recommended that he completely update and rework the material, submitting it for publication. Knowing he would strengthen both the research and the writing of the book, I immediately agreed. He changed it from a 1994 doctoral dissertation into a contemporary research book in its own right. That makes this a joint product from both of our hands. It’s a joy to be able to partner with Michael, whose scholarship exceeds that of my own. So I am happy to express my gratitude to Michael for his work transforming this into its current shape. I also wish to express my appreciation, now twenty-three years later, to my major professor at Vanderbilt, Mary Ann Tolbert. Her

xiv

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

scholarship and warm friendship from my Vanderbilt days were influential in my life beyond what she knows. I am also grateful to my church, the North Boulevard Church, which has been generous to me for years. I thank my wife, Julie, for enduring those doctoral years with me. They were long, long years. And to my children, whose arrival changed a whole lot of my plans, I express my appreciation for making themselves more important to me than pretty much anything else I’ve ever done. —David M. Young David Young has served as my mentor, colleague, and fellow biblical scholar for many years. This monograph is primarily the result of his painstaking research and writing, first in his doctoral studies at Vanderbilt University in the early 1990s, and then over the years 1994–2008. I approached David in 2016 with the offer of editing and updating his work so that the rest of the scholarly world could experience the erudite research and argumentation represented within. Most noteworthy, David was gracious in allowing me to work with him but also in offering for me to be named as a coauthor. Be assured that the vast majority of the work done for this book was done by David, and that I, in addition to editing, have simply served to offer some responses to more recent scholarship, as well as more up-to-date references. May this work forward the efforts of rhetorical studies and serve as a resource for future researchers. —Michael W. Strickland

Introduction

Of course, if you choose some other standard than ours, then perhaps you might say he was degraded. But you’ve got to stick to one set of postulates. You can’t play Electro-magnetic Golf according to the rules of Centrifugal Bumble-puppy. —Aldous Huxley, Brave New World Let the reader understand. —The Gospel of Mark

At the dawn of the form-critical era of New Testament scholarship, Rudolf Bultmann confidently described how the discourse material in the Gospel of Mark came together. As with other synoptic material, Bultmann argued, the discourses in Mark are composites of various traditions that came to the evangelist only after a complex history of development. Though the core of some of these traditions may go back to the historical Jesus, their final forms are the results of years of hard use by the church that completely reshaped them into the voice of the church. Mark collected these traditional units,1 which generally circulated independently of one another, and combined them around loose themes to create the discourses of Jesus in his Gospel. These disparate traditions, Bultmann was convinced, did not naturally fit together, and since the editor of the Gospel made little effort to reshape the units into one coherent composition, the discourses of 1. Our argument does not require any particular theory as to the identity of the author of the Gospel of Mark. Nevertheless, for convenience we refer to the author as “Mark,” consistent with the Papias tradition recounted by Eusebius (Historia Ecclesiastica 3.39.13).

xvi

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Jesus in Mark reveal a number of incoherencies, unnecessary duplications, unwieldy repetitions, examples of awkward syntax, failures in sequential logic, and historical implausibilities. In short, Bultmann was unable to read the discourses as unified speech acts within the narrative of the Gospel: The speech material was composed when one mashal was joined to another and small groups formed. Sometimes these came together because of some catchword, or a similarity in content or some outward likeness. This also accounts for the longer “speeches”; i.e., collections of particular units. But this does not account for organic compositions, speeches that are a real unity, dominated by a specific theme and systematically arranged, unless the peculiar character of the ancient traditional material has been completely altered. Happily that did not take place in the Synoptic Gospels.2

Bultmann’s conclusions regarding the lack of “organic composition” and “real unity” in the discourses of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark are typical for much of twentieth-century scholarship. Until only the last three decades—in which a strong literary interest in Mark’s Gospel has emerged—Markan scholarship had been primarily concerned with historical questions: questions regarding the historical Jesus, the early church, or the theology of the evangelist or of his so-called community. For such scholars, the entire narrative of Mark has generally served as little more than a loose collection of materials drawn from a variety of sources that predate the Gospel itself. Thus, the reading methodologies of these historical critics have been specifically designed to look behind the narrative: the traditional units in Mark are distilled from the overall Gospel and placed within a larger repertoire of historical data concerning Jesus and the early Christian communities. As a result of their reading methodologies, historical critics have perceived only fragmentation in the Markan discourses of Jesus, and the overall rhetorical unity of the discourses has been ignored or denied. Instead, historical critics have considered Mark’s handling of the pre-synoptic traditions and sources to have been awkwardly rigid or just downright clumsy. 2. Rudolf Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition, rev. ed., trans. John Marsh (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), 322; emphasis ours.

THE RHETORIC OF JESUS IN THE GOSPEL OF MARK

xvii

Since the early 1980s, however, a number of literary-sensitive studies of Mark’s Gospel have been made with surprising results. Rather than splintering the narrative in order to contribute to an interpretive repertoire of historical issues, literary critics have drawn from repertories composed of historical, sociological, and narrative data to inform various readings of the narrative itself, and have found a high degree of inner consistency and congruency in Mark’s work. Often for these critics, the same phenomena regarded by historical critics as indications of traditional seams or redundancies left from vestigial sources are rather attributed to deliberative storytelling techniques common in first-century narratives—or for that matter, in narratives in general. If one draws from the repertoire of material embracing first-century Greco-Roman rhetoric, a strikingly different picture of the discourse material in Mark emerges from that purveyed by the historical critics. Instead of appearing awkward or clumsy, the discourse material in Mark emerges as skillfully composed, and the narrator of the Gospel can be heard as an effective storyteller. Since the discourses are, in fact, narrative representations of speeches, it makes sense to “hear” them as speeches, drawing upon our knowledge of compositional and rhetorical techniques taught in the first-century milieu. Several recent studies have made use of Greco-Roman rhetoric to examine the overall Gospel of Mark. These studies have provided persuasive evidence that Mark was a skillful writer who efficiently integrated his various narrative and discursive elements into a coherent whole. A few investigations have actually attempted to evaluate the various discursive elements in the Gospel in terms of Greco-Roman rhetoric, but as yet no study has applied a disciplined rhetorical methodology to each of the major discourses of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel. This book analyzes the four major discourses of Jesus in Mark (Mark 3:20–35, 4:1–34, 6:53–7:23, and 11:27‒13:37) in the context of Greco-Roman rhetoric in an attempt to hear them as a first-century audience would have heard them. The analysis will thus uncover how the discourses are constructed, what issues each discourse seeks to treat, how the argumentation, arrangement, and style of each discourse contributes to its overall purpose, and how the discourse fits

xviii

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

into the overall narrative context of the Gospel. The analyses will show that, contrary to what many twentieth-century historical critics have found, first-century audiences of Mark would have found the discourses of Jesus unified, well-integrated, and persuasive. It will also show how the speeches of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel contribute to Mark’s overall narrative accomplishments. Chapter 1 briefly explores the ways the discourses of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel have been treated by source, form, and redaction critics before turning to more recent literary and rhetorical studies. It is shown that historical critics have read the discourses as disjointed because they employed historical methodologies, seeking only to peer behind the discourses, using them as “windows” (with numerous surface distortions) upon extraneous historical data. Literary critics, however, have brought narrative, rhetorical, and sociological methodologies to the discourses and have been able to read them as narrative representations of coherent speech acts, uncovering their rhetorical patterns and taking them as unified “portraits” or “landscapes” rather than as windows. With its focus on the narrative accomplishments of the author—its examination of the warp and weave of the actual story of Mark—literary criticism has provided a larger framework for rhetorical analyses of the discourses of Jesus in Mark. Several rhetorical works are surveyed in chapter 1 to provide a context for our own work, which will study the four major discourses as examples of primary Greco-Roman rhetoric. Chapter 2 seeks to justify the goal of this book by arguing that first-century readers would have heard the discourses as narrative examples of primary rhetoric and would have evaluated them in terms of the canons of Greco-Roman rhetoric.3 It is argued that the author of the Gospel was quite familiar with the general dimensions of Greco-Roman rhetoric and exploited these in his narrative in order to achieve his own persuasive aims. A methodology is proposed to 3. By “primary rhetoric” we mean that of the character Jesus in the Gospel of Mark, and by “secondary rhetoric” we mean the rhetoric of the narrator. The terminology follows the work of George Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric, and Its Christian and Secular Tradition from Ancient to Modern Times (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1980), 4–5. Mary Ann Tolbert (Sowing the Gospel [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989], 11–12) provides a rich description of how these two levels can interplay in the Gospels. Obviously the two levels of rhetoric overlap, since the first is part of the strategy of the second.

THE RHETORIC OF JESUS IN THE GOSPEL OF MARK

xix

aid modern readers in analyzing the discourses as primary rhetoric. This methodology is largely derived from the work of George A. Kennedy, although his methodology is broadened to account for the persistent interplay between the narrator’s own level of rhetoric and that of the character of Jesus in each discourse. Chapters 3 through 6 extensively apply the rhetorical methodology to the four major discourses of Mark: “Satan cannot cast out Satan” (3:20–35), “Whoever has ears had better listen!” (4:1–34), “What defiles a person?” (6:53–7:23), and “The marvel of the coming Son of Man” (11:27–13:37).4 The application of our rhetorical methodology will show how first-century audiences would have heard the discourses, and what they would have understood them to be “about.” The study will also reveal intricate and consistent compositional, stylistic, and logical patterns in each discourse. These patterns create a sense of unity and effectiveness within each speech, usually missed by the historical critics. Furthermore, as the discourse group is progressively studied in the book, it will become apparent that the narrator of Mark consistently followed a well-defined approach to composing the discourses, and that the discourses present a powerful image of Jesus as one who speaks persuasively within the world of the Gospel. These chapters thus expose a narrator who is not clumsy in discourse construction, but who is actually quite skilled both at composing speeches and at integrating them into the overall plan of the narrative. The conclusion briefly summarizes the findings of the study and discusses some implications of Mark’s rhetorical abilities. An appendix gives a brief sketch of the history of Greco-Roman rhetoric for those who are not familiar with the interpretive milieu that has informed our method. From the outset of the Gospel of Mark, the narrator wants the readers to recognize Jesus’s skill as a public speaker. In the earliest reference to Jesus’s teaching in the Gospel (Mark 1:21–28), he is shown to be an effective speaker through Mark’s use of the inclusio “he taught as one having authority” (vv. 21 and 27). In this short, 4. Each chapter begins with an effort to translate the speech in a manner sensitive to its rhetorical qualities. Since these translations attempt to represent more strictly the rhetorical forms of the original, they are often awkward by standards of English grammar and syntax.

xx

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

introductory paragraph, the narrator points out twice that Jesus’s listeners were amazed at his teaching, encouraging the readers also to find amazement in Jesus’s authority as a speaker. To rediscover how Jesus’s discourses in Mark can provoke amazement—or at least a modest degree of admiration—this book calls for a return to a very old way of hearing the discourses of Jesus in Mark. Ironically, the discourses themselves are concerned with how one listens to Jesus in the Gospel. Perceptual terms abound in the discourses that call for listeners to “pay attention,” to “listen,” to “watch.” Especially in the second major discourse, Mark 4:1–34, Jesus is concerned that individuals may hear his teaching but fail to grasp it. The renowned parable of the sower is concerned precisely with the issue of how one hears, and so Jesus frames the parable with the call, “Whoever has ears to hear had better listen!” If contemporary readers listen through the ears of the GrecoRoman rhetorical milieu, the discourses of Jesus can be heard as unified and persuasive, comfortably at home both in the Gospel of Mark and in their social and literary world. Perhaps Jesus’s own words, spoken while describing how to listen to his teaching, best suggest the need to use appropriate methodologies for listening to discourse material: Whoever has will be given more; whoever does not have, even what that person has will be taken away.

1. The Discourses of Jesus since Form Criticism

Throughout its nineteen centuries of circulation, the Gospel of Mark has been asked numerous questions.1 Each generation of admirers and critics has looked to the Gospel for information desired in its own era. As groups and individuals in each milieu bring their peculiar questions to the Gospel, they form methodologies appropriate for finding the answers they seek. Thus, all readings of the Gospel are particular to their own cultural and historical contexts, and all methodologies derive from distinct orientations.

1. Several studies of the history of research of the Gospel of Mark have been made. See J. A. Brooks, “An Annotated Bibliography on Mark,” SwJT 21, no. 1 (1978): 75–82; Howard Clark Kee, “Mark’s Gospel in Recent Research,” in Interpreting the Gospels, ed. James Luther Mays (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1981), 131–47; Jack D. Kingsbury, “The Gospel of Mark in Current Research,” RelSRev 5 (1979): 101–7; Hugh Humphrey, A Bibliography for the Gospel of Mark: 1954–1980 (New York: Edwin Mellen, 1982); Sean P. Kealy, Mark’s Gospel: A History of Its Interpretation (New York: Paulist, 1982); Daniel J. Harrington, “A Map of Books on Mark (1975–1984),” BTB 15, no. 1 (1985): 12–16; L. W. Hurtado, “The Gospel of Mark in Recent Study,” Themelios 14, no. 2 (1989): 47–52; B. E. Reid, “Recent Work on the Gospel of Mark,” NTheoRev 3, no. 3 (1990): 98–103; Joanna Dewey, “Recent Studies on Mark,” RelSRev 17, no. 1 (1991): 12–16; Vernon K. Robbins, “Text and Context in Recent Study of the Gospel of Mark,” RelSRev 17, no. 1 (1991): 16–23; Janice Capel Anderson and Stephen D. Moore, Mark and Method: New Approaches in Biblical Studies (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992); William R. Telford, “The Interpretation of Mark: A History of Developments and Issue,” in The Interpretation of Mark, ed. William R. Telford (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1995), 1–61; and Sean Kealy’s updated History of the Interpretation of the Gospel of Mark, 2 vols. (New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 2008).

2

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

TWENTIETH-CENTURY HISTORICAL SCHOLARSHIP In general, the questions twentieth-century Western scholars brought to the discourses of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark were dominated by historical concerns. This historical orientation was the natural result of the emergence of the nineteenth-century consensus regarding the Jesus material in general, and specifically, regarding the relationship between the Gospel of Mark, the Jesus of history, and the traditional material produced in the interim between the two. Through the quest of the historical Jesus and the search for a solution to the synoptic problem, nineteenth-century scholars had generally concluded that the Gospel of Mark was chronologically first and that it represented a fairly reliable picture of the Jesus of history. These two pillars of Markan scholarship, often termed the “Markan hypothesis,” came after nineteenth-century scholars broke with centuries of dogmatic use of Mark’s Gospel and ventured out on a purely historical—though not unbiased—investigation of the Jesus material. 2 The historical orientation of nineteenth-century scholarship was primarily concerned with the relationship between the three Synoptics and with a reconstruction of the life of the historical Jesus. The same historical orientation, though, led twentieth-century scholars to focus on the Gospel of Mark itself. The reasoning was convincing enough: if Mark’s Gospel was chronologically first and thus the earliest account of the life of Jesus, it must be submitted to careful scrutiny in order to determine its value as a source for the historical Jesus. Thus, in academic circles, twentieth-century readers of the Gospel of Mark brought a host of historical questions to the Gospel in general and to Jesus’s discourses in the Gospel specifically: How accurate historically is Mark’s depiction of Jesus and of his sayings? How was the Gospel and its discourse material composed? What sources did Mark employ, and from where did these sources come? What does the Gospel with its sayings material tell us about the early Christian community? Such questions necessitated the development of specific 2. For a history and critique of the Markan hypothesis, see Hans–Herbert Stoldt, History and Criticism of the Marcan Hypothesis, trans. Donald L. Niewyk (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1980); see also the exhaustive survey of the person of Mark throughout Christian history in C. Clifton Black, Mark: Images of an Apostolic Interpreter (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001).

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

3

reading methodologies designed to peer behind the Gospel of Mark and its discourses to the historical exigencies sought. Several methodologies were developed during the twentieth century to answer these and other historical questions extraneous to the narrative. A great deal of information has been provided by these historical methodologies, but the precise narrative accomplishments of the Gospel as well as the rhetorical accomplishments of its discourse material have always fared poorly in the treatment of traditional historical methodologies. The tone for twentieth-century scholarship was firmly set by Willem Wrede, whose Das Messiasgeheimnis (1901)3 drove a wedge between the historical Jesus and Gospel of Mark by showing that the latter was theologically rather than historically oriented. In short, Wrede argued that Mark was something of a creative author whose story of Jesus was not simply a historical account of the life of the Galilean but was a theological piece intended to make a religious statement. Though twentieth-century scholars were slow to accept Wrede’s contention that Mark was something of a creative artist, after Wrede’s Messiasgeheimnis every serious student of Mark has had to acknowledge the existence of a certain distance—a historical and literary gap—between Jesus and the presentation in Mark’s Gospel. For the first half of the twentieth century, Markan scholarship was driven by the need to account for this gap. The earliest response to this gap was to posit the presence of preMarkan sources that would somehow account for the relationship between the historical Jesus and the first written Gospel: a collection of so-called “Peter-traditions,” a Sayings Source (Q), an apocalyptic fly-leaf, an Aramaic account of the Galilean ministry, a Hellenistic Passion narrative, and the like. Source critics thought that they could establish the parameters of these hypothetical pre-Markan sources by examining various narrative and discursive seams in the Gospel of Mark, separating repetitious and redundant elements, uncovering historical and psychological implausibilities or variances in narrative perspectives, and identifying irregular lexical choices. Approaching the discourses with the critical goal of identifying their pre-Markan 3. Willem Wrede, Das Messiasgeheimnis (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1901); translated by J. C. G. Greig as The Messianic Secret (Greenwood, SC: Attic Press, 1971).

4

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

sources, source critics learned to look behind the discourses at the contents and orientations of their supposed pre-Markan sources.4 In order to strengthen their case for the presence of pre-Markan sources behind the discourses in Mark, source critics were forced to make much of apparent narrative and discursive “seams.” Having exaggerated these joints in the discourses, however, source critics were then unable to read the discourses as coherent speech acts and consequently found themselves having to explain why Mark had failed to combine them deftly. Two general solutions to this problem were offered by source critics. Some critics, such as Johannes Weiss,5 R. P. J. Huby,6 and Arthur Cadoux,7 claimed that Mark was too concerned with preserving the integrity of the source material to incorporate that material in a smooth fashion, since it would have required altering the contents of the material. Other critics, such as Julius Wellhausen,8 Alfred Loisy,9 and Benjamin Bacon,10 explained that Mark was simply too unskilled as an editor to integrate the source material smoothly into his narrative. In either case, source critics generally considered Jesus’s discourses in Mark incoherent and disjointed compilations—aggregates of source material loosely arranged around a common theme or word group. These 4. Few Markan scholars today seek to delineate written sources behind the Gospel of Mark, but M.-É. Boismard is an exception. Boismard believes that Mark made use of a “proto-Mark” who had borrowed heavily from Matthew and Luke and gave rise to the Gospel we now have. Boismard even goes so far as to print his reconstruction of this “proto-Mark” in the back of his work (in Greek and in French); see L’Évangile de Marc sa Préhistoire (Paris: J. Gabalda, 1994). See also Lawrence M. Wills, The Quest of the Historical Gospel: Mark, John, and the Origins of the Gospel Genre (London: Routledge, 1997), who argues that Mark and John made use of an earlier Gospel narrative, which he thinks is somewhat recoverable by reading the Vorleben of the Gospels. 5. Johannes Weiss, Das älteste Evangelium: Ein Beitrag zum Verständnis des Markus-Evangeliums und der ältesten evangelischen Überlieferung (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1903). 6. R. P. J. Huby, L’Évangile selon Saint Marc (Paris: Beauchesne, 1924). 7. Arthur Temple Cadoux, The Sources of the Second Gospel (New York: Macmillan, 1935). 8. Julius Wellhausen, Einleitung in die Drei Ersten Evangelien (Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1903); and Das Evangelium Marci Übersetzt und Erklärt (Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1903). 9. Alfred Firmin Loisy, Les Évangiles synoptiques, 2 vols. (Ceffonds: Près Montier-en-der, 1907); and L’Évangile selon Marc (Paris: Emile Nourry, 1912). 10. Benjamin Wisner Bacon, The Beginnings of Gospel Story. A Historico-Critical Inquiry into the Sources and Structure of the Gospel according to Mark, with Expository Notes upon the Text, for English Readers (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1909); Is Mark a Roman Gospel? Harvard Theological Studies 7 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1919); and The Gospel of Mark: Its Composition and Date (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1925).

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

5

discourses are not organically unified speech acts with a consistent style, arrangement, or logic, source critics argued. Instead, as Cadoux explains, Inconsistency of narrative and difference of outlook and interest are taken as evidence of difference of source. Doublets, or more or less variant accounts of what seems to be the same incident or saying are taken to come from different sources. Difference of outlook and interest or discrepancy of narrative between a passage and any two other sources is taken tentatively as suggesting that the passage belongs to the third source.11

By 1919, source criticism in Markan studies was giving way to the Formgeschichtliche Methode. Form critics shared the historical interests of source critics and their proclivity to read behind the narrative, but form critics sought the background of the Gospel material in a proposed body of general traditions (rather than fixed written sources) that went through rather extensive development in the early church before being collected and adapted by the evangelists themselves. The form critics were in agreement that the Gospel of Mark, including its discourse material, is composed of a number of disparate traditions artlessly arranged in an artificial framework and that the traditional material can hardly be considered well-integrated into a coherent story. The task of the form critic was thus to identify the form of tradition present in each Gospel pericope—since identification of the tradition’s form provides the necessary clue for verifying its function in the church—and to uncover the history of each tradition’s development from its origins to its present state in the Gospels. Dibelius12 and Bultmann13 defined the typical discourse forms of the synoptic tradition in two broad categories: “illustrations” (called Paradigma by Dibelius and Apophthegmata by Bultmann), which presented a rounded story culminating in a decisive saying by Jesus; and “sayings” (called Paränese by Dibelius) composed of maxims, parabolic sayings, 11. Cadoux, Sources of the Second Gospel, 29. 12. Martin Dibelius, Die Formgeschichte des Evangeliums (Tübingen: Mohr, 1919). 13. Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition; see also Rudolf Bultmann, “The New Approach to the Synoptic Problem,” JR 6, no. 4 (1926): 337–62.

6

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

prophetic and apocalyptic sayings, community rules, and the like. For each form of discourse material, form critics argued, there is a different Sitz im Leben, or developmental setting, within the life of the early community. For the most part, Aramaic influences within a tradition were taken by form critics to indicate Palestinian origins and thus, more antiquity. Constructions peculiar to the Greek language or to the non-Jewish church were taken to indicate Hellenistic influences and thus, later accretions to the tradition. In addition to identifying actual traditional forms, then, form critics attempted to separate Aramaic influences from Hellenistic influences within the traditions to reveal the history of development of these traditions. The form critics thus continued the historical propensity to read the discourses of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark backward—looking at the present state of each tradition and postulating how that tradition developed in the church prior to its adoption by the editor of the Gospel. By using the other canonical Gospels, as well as noncanonical source material (such as the Gospel of Thomas), form critics thought they could provide a fairly comprehensive history of each tradition that lies behind the discourses of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark, and thereby redefine the Jesus of history and identify the theology of the emerging church. In addition to the seams found by the source critics, then, the historical work of the form critics has resulted in two more methods of fragmentation in the study of the discourses in Mark. First, multiple traditional forms within any given discourse were considered to indicate disparate contextual backgrounds to the elements of that discourse. Thus, for example, since he was able to locate two clearly identifiable apophthegmata in Mark 3:20–35 (3:22–30 and 3:31–35), it was obvious to Bultmann that the “discourse” as it now stands in Mark’s Gospel is not really one well-integrated discourse but an artificial composite that distorts the original orientation of each tradition it uses.14 A second fragmenting method used by the form critics was the application of linguistic data to delineate between Aramaic and Hellenistic influences upon the tradition, an application that resulted 14. The disunity is compounded, Bultmann goes on to indicate, by the loss of several elements obviously original to the first apothegm as well as by the somewhat confused editorial work of the Evangelist. Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition, 13–14, 62.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

7

in an even greater appearance of incoherence in the Markan discourse sections as they presently stand. Bultmann applies this method exhaustively to the discourses, constantly splintering them into various layers of developmental history, each layer awkwardly overlaid upon the former. As a result of the fragmenting process of form criticism, the discourses of Jesus in Mark emerged as fractured and incohesive patchworks of material, often with disjointed or even conflicting layers of meaning. With the publication of Willi Marxsen’s Der Evangelist Markus (1956),15 a new methodology—Redaktionsgeschichte—was applied to the Gospel of Mark to answer a new set of historical questions. Assuming that the so-called editor of the Gospel of Mark had a theological agenda behind his Gospel, the redaction critics reversed the order of the form critics: starting with the (presumed) traditions behind the narrative, the redaction critics sought to explain how and why the evangelist made use of them. The redaction critics thus found a purpose to Mark’s editorial activity, and in order to uncover this purpose they examined the seams of the narrative, the arrangement of the traditions, and the minute alterations made by the evangelist to these traditions, as well as the overall thematic interests in the Gospel. With the redaction critics, the congruity of the discourses of Jesus often fared slightly better than with the source and form critics, for even though they admitted the presence of disjunction and incoherence, the redaction critics generally found that the evangelist had imposed a light sense of unity upon the traditional material in the discourses. For example, Marxsen admits that Mark 13 is composed of several disparate traditions and actually contains contradictions as a result of Mark’s conflation of these. Nevertheless, taken as a whole, a subtle, overarching purpose emerges in the editorial activity of Mark—specifically, an effort to alter his community’s apocalyptic world view into an eschatological one.16 After Marxsen, redaction critics wavered back and forth between 15. Willi Marxsen, Der Evangelist Markus, FRLANT (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1956); translated by James Boyce, Donald Juel, William Poehlmann, and Roy A. Harrisville as Mark the Evangelist: Studies on the Redaction History of the Gospel (Nashville: Abingdon, 1969). 16. Marxsen, Mark the Evangelist, 153ff.

8

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

positions that acknowledged Markan creativity, hence perceiving more unity to the discourse material in the Gospel (e.g., Étienne Trocmé,17 Joachim Gnilka,18 and Dieter Lührmann19) and those that denied creativity, generally searching for redactional purpose only in a few editorial words and in the general arrangement of the traditions (e.g., Walter Grundmann,20 D. E. Nineham,21 and Rudolf Pesch22). In both cases, however, with redaction critics, the concern remained primarily historical, as they continued the tendency to look behind the text, seeking the historical theology of the Markan community or that of the evangelist himself. Redaction critics continued to base their understandings of the Jesus discourses upon the evangelist’s presumed use of pre-Markan traditions, rather than attempting to account for the various elements in the Gospel in strict narrative or rhetorical terms. Furthermore, because redaction critics often found the genius of Mark’s peculiar theology to lie where his use of the traditions actually differs from that of Matthew and Luke, redaction criticism developed a subtle tendency to interpret Mark through the eyes of the other Synoptics. The constant comparison of the discourses of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel with similar discourses in the other Synoptic Gospels has done little to aid in the appreciation of Mark’s own rhetorical accomplishments in the discourses of Jesus. Source, form, and redaction critics in the twentieth century thus generally concluded that the discourses of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel as they presently stand are incoherent and awkwardly composed. J. Meager states the position to which historical critics had come regarding the discourses of Jesus in the three-quarters of a century after Wrede: “[In Mark’s Gospel] the leaven of clumsiness is 17. Étienne Trocmé, The Formation of the Gospel according to Mark, trans. Pamela Gaughan (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1963). 18. Joachim Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 2 vols., Evangelisch-Katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 2 (Zürich: Benziger, 1978). 19. Dieter Lührmann, Das Markusevangelium, Handbuch zum Neuen Testament 3 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987). 20. Walter Grundmann, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 2nd rev. ed., Theologischer Handkommentar zum Neuen Testament 2 (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1959). 21. D. E. Nineham, The Gospel of St Mark, Pelican Gospel Commentaries (Middlesex: Penguin, 1963). 22. Rudolf Pesch, Naherwartungen: Tradition und Redaktion in Mk 13 (Dusseldorf: Patmos, 1968); and Das Markusevangelium, vol. 2, Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 2 (Freiburg: Herder, 1977).

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

9

manifestly operative, on various scales and in varying degrees, throughout the received material.”23 Such scholars cite several reasons for finding incongruities in the discourses: apparent seams, an apparent lack of sequential logic, repetitions, doublets, historical and psychological implausibilities, thematic disparities, linguistic variations, and the like. Yet these tensions only arose in the history of research when readers began attempting to read behind the text.24 This was the driving force behind twentieth-century historical criticism: the desire to see through the narrative to historical realities that lie behind the Gospel itself, such as the life of the historical Jesus, the early Christian community, or the Sitz im Leben of the individual evangelists. For traditional historical critics, the Gospels are mere mediums for the historical phenomena sought: they are “accounts” or “records” of something extraneous to the narrative. The rationale for treating the Gospels as “accounts” rather than as narratives25 has varied between the extremes of source critics, who often believed that the Gospel writers depended upon reliable eyewitnesses of Jesus for their material (die Petrusüberlieferung), to form critics, who often asserted that the evangelists were mere collectors (Sammler) of traditions that were actually created by the church. In both cases, the assumption was 23. John C. Meagher, Clumsy Construction in Mark’s Gospel: A Critique of Form- and Redaktionsgeschichte (New York: Edwin Mellen, 1979), 146. 24. For an analysis of similar phenomena in historical criticism of the Hebrew Bible, see Robert Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic Books, 1981). Alter responds with an analysis of biblical narrative, showing that occurrences of repetition and duplicity are deliberate narrative techniques in the biblical writings. He proposes that the biblical writers had different notions of “unity” than do we. See also his The Art of Biblical Poetry (New York: Basic Books, 1985) and The World of Biblical Literature (New York: Basic Books, 1992). Likewise, see David R. Law, Historical-Critical Method: A Guide for the Perplexed (London: T&T Clark, 2012), for a thorough investigation and potential “end” to the historical-critical method in biblical studies. 25. Our use of the term “narrative” is not intended to imply skepticism regarding the correlation between the story Mark tells and the actual life of Jesus. Rather, we use the term in admission of the fact that, no matter what its relationship to the historical Jesus, Mark’s Gospel tells a story that was ultimately shaped by its storyteller. The presence of both story and storyteller makes Mark’s Gospel a narrative (see Robert Scholes and Robert Kellogg, The Nature of Narrative [London: Oxford University Press, 1966], 3). By its very nature, narrative implies creativity, choice, and authorial determination. Cf. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 32. See also R. Seamon, “Narrative Practice and the Theoretical Distinction between History and Fiction,” Genre 16 (1983): 197–218; and Paul Ricoeur, “The Narrative Fiction,” in Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences, ed. and trans. John B. Thompson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981): 274–96. With respect to the Bible, see also Alter, Art of Biblical Narrative, 23–46.

10

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

the same: the Gospels were not the products of the creative genius of their authors. The historical critics determined that the Gospels are not true literature. Instead, they are mere records—perhaps poor records—of Jesus or the early Christian community. The value of the Gospels lay in whatever historical evidence they provide for the Gospel critics.26 The desire to peer behind the discourses is what led historical critics to assume that repetitions within them are evidence of multiple sources rather than the use of rhetorical devices intended to highlight, recapitulate, or otherwise draw attention to an issue. It curbed the historical critics’ ability to see framing words, periodic sentences, or chiastic episodes as rhetorical strategies; instead, historical critics were led by their presuppositions to consider these devices to be indications of traditional layers awkwardly juxtaposed by sometimes clumsy redactors. Slight scene changes, such as Jesus’s turn from the Pharisees to the crowds in Mark 7:1–23, were considered redactional seams rather than common storytelling transitional methods of the period (or, in this case, of any period). In short, it led them to break the discourses into pieces and to claim that no coherency could be found. THE TRANSITION TO LITERARY APPROACHES In some ways, the historical preoccupation of twentieth-century biblical scholarship merely reflected what was happening in more general literary circles of the time, where there was little emphasis on literary aesthetics but a great deal of emphasis on historical and biographical backgrounds.27 The determination that Mark is, as the 26. See the critique of the historical method in Mark by Jürgen Roloff, “Das Markusevangelium als Geschichtsdarstellung,” EvT 27, no. 2 (1969): 73–93. 27. See René Wellek, “Literary Theory, Criticism, and History,” in Concepts of Criticism, ed. Stephen G. Nichols (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1963), 1–20; René Wellek and Austin Warren, Theory of Literature, rev. ed. (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1956), 38–45, 73–135; and Wilfred L. Guerin, Handbook of Critical Approaches to Literature (New York: Harper & Row, 1979), 17–68. For a discussion and evaluation of the historical-critical paradigm as it has been applied to the Bible, see Edgar Krentz, The Historical-Critical Method (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975); Norman R. Petersen, Literary Criticism for New Testament Critics (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), 9–48; Alter, Art of Biblical Narrative; Hans W. Frei, The Eclipse of the Biblical Narrative (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974); Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 21–29; and Mark Allan Powell, What is Narrative Criticism? (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990), 10. See also the criticism of Tzvetan Todorov, The Poetics of Prose, trans. Richard Howard (Ithaca, NY:

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

11

redaction critic Étienne Trocmé suggests, “a clumsy writer unworthy of mention in any history of literature,”28 however, was actually aided by the tendency to compare the Gospel of Mark to the high-cultured literature of the Greco-Roman milieu.29 If the canons of GrecoRoman “literature” are limited to the standard works used in the ephebic schools (Homer, Hesiod, Euripides, Virgil, Terence, Cicero, etc.), by comparison the Gospels appear to be something other than “literature”: collections of traditions, combinations of sources, community products, cult legends, and so on.30 As early as the church fathers, the Gospels were declared to be nonliterary in this sense.31 Nineteenth- and twentieth-century scholarship concurred, opening the door to the variety of theories discussed above about how these nonliterary productions came to be, about their nature, their genre, and so forth. It was only in this environment that, for example, it could be argued that the Gospels form a “unique” genre.32 Since the late 1960s, however, the Gospels have begun to be more Cornell University Press, 1977), 53–65, who claims that historical criticism is reflective of the modern critics’ own parochial attitudes, which have caused modern historical critics to think of ancient narrative as primitive and the Bible as patchwork literature. 28. Trocmé, Formation of the Gospel, 72. 29. The contemporary problem goes back to as early as Karl Ludwig Schmidt, “Die Stellung der Evangelien in der allgemeinen Literaturgeschichte,” in Eucharisterion, ed. Hans Schmidt (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1923), 50–134. Schmidt distinguished between Hochliteratur and Kleinliteratur. The former was considered “true” literature; the latter was considered the product of the community, with little or no creative genius assigned to the final composition. Schmidt classified the Gospels as Kleinliteratur. 30. See Nils Wilhelm Lund, Chiasmus in the New Testament: A Study in Formgeschichte (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1942), 8, 23. 31. The fathers seemed to derive comfort from this conclusion, taking it to imply that the power of the Bible lies not in its artistic design but in its simple truth. See Max W. Laistner, “The Christian Attitude to Pagan Literature,” History, n.s., 20, no. 77 (June 1935): 49–54; Max W. Laistner, Christianity and Pagan Culture in the Later Roman Empire (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1951); Gerard L. Ellspermann, The Attitude of the Early Christian Latin Writers toward Pagan Literature and Learning, Patristic Studies 82 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press 1949); Harald Hagendahl, Latin Fathers and the Classics (Goteborg: University of Goteborg, 1958); James J. Murphy, “Saint Augustine and the Debate about Christian Rhetoric,” QJSp 46, no. 4 (1960): 400–410; Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric; and Matthew Kempshall, Rhetoric and the Writing of History, 400–1500 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2011). 32. The position has become common among historical critics; see Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition, 368ff.; Gerd Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1974), 197; Pesch, Das Markusevangelium, 1:1–2; Werner Georg Kümmel, Introduction to the New Testament, 2nd ed. (Nashville: Abingdon, 1986), 37. Cf. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 50, 55–57.

12

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

closely compared with ancient literature and have been shown to have been more at home in their literary milieu than previously thought. Various scholars have found in the Gospel of Mark elements of Greek drama, including both tragedy and comedy,33 GrecoRoman biography,34 aratology,35 apomnemoneumata,36 eschatologically oriented historiography,37 and general popular literature such as the novel,38 the Hebrew Bible or Jewish apocalyptic,39 even the Greek epic of Homer.40 No consensus has been reached on the genre of the Gospels, but this is understandable when one realizes that the Gospels were produced by and for the nonaristocratic populace—they were “popular literature.”41 Precious little of the literature produced 33. T. Moser, “Mark’s Gospel: A Drama?,” TBT 80 (1975): 528–33; G. Bilezikian, The Liberated Gospel: A Comparison of the Gospel of Mark and Greek Tragedy (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1977); F. G. Lang, “Kompositionsanalyse des Markusevangeliums,” ZTK 74, no. 1 (1977): 1–24; Augustin Stock, “Literary Criticism and Mark’s Mystery Play,” TBT 100 (1979): 1909–15; Jerry H. Stone, “The Gospel of Mark and Oedipus the King: Two Tragic Visions,” Soundings 67, no. 1 (1984): 55–69. 34. Charles H. Talbert, What Is a Gospel? The Genre of the Canonical Gospels (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1985); David E. Aune, “The Gospels as Hellenistic Biography,” Mosaic 20, no. 4 (1987): 1–10; David E. Aune, The New Testament in Its Literary Environment, LEC 8 (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1987); R. A. Burridge, What Are the Gospels? A Comparison with Graeco-Roman Biography, SNTSMS 70 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992); Christopher Bryan, A Preface to Mark: Notes on the Gospel in Its Literary and Cultural Settings (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 9–64; and Justin Marc Smith, Why Bíos? On the Relationship between Gospel Genre and Implied Audience, LNTS 518 (London: Bloomsbury, 2015). 35. Walther Schmithals, Das Evangelium nach Markus (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1979). 36. Vernon K. Robbins, Jesus the Teacher (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984). 37. Adela Yarbro Collins, Is Mark’s Gospel a Life of Jesus? The Question of Genre, Père Marquette Lecture in Theology 21 (Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press, 1990); and Adela Yarbro Collins, The Beginning of the Gospel: Probings of Mark in Context (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992). 38. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 59–70. Michael E. Vines, The Problem of Markan Genre: The Gospel of Mark and the Jewish Novel (Leiden: Brill, 2002), makes a similar argument but suggests that Mark is more Jewish than Hellenistic. 39. Norman Perrin, “The Literary Gattung ‘Gospel’––Some Observations,” ExpTim 82, no. 1 (1970): 4–7; Norman Perrin, The New Testament: An Introduction, 2nd ed. (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1982), 143–45; Meredith Kline, “The Old Testament Origins of the Gospel Genre,” WTJ 38 (1975): 1–27; Howard Clark Kee, Community of the New Age: Studies in Mark’s Gospel (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1977). 40. Dennis R. MacDonald, The Homeric Epics and the Gospel of Mark (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000). 41. See Guy Bonneau, Stratégies rédactionnelles et fonctions communautaires de l’évangile de Marc (Paris: Gabalda, 2001), who argues that Mark neither invented a new literary genre nor merely adopted one, but combined elements of various genre to create something like a “life of a prophet.”

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

13

by the nonelite masses in the Greco-Roman world remains. Genres are determined by reading conventions, and reading conventions are, in turn, shaped by the social world of the authors and readers of literature. Since those who preserved Greco-Roman literature were mostly from the aristocracy and their interests were primarily in their own elite literature, there is little literature available today from the majority of society with which to compare the Gospels.42 Mark’s Gospel belongs to the level of popular literature, which does not read like the literature of the elite, but which is still capable of accomplishing its narrative aims among the largely illiterate populace of the GrecoRoman world. Seen this way, the literary quality of the Gospel of Mark has been increasingly recognized by the work of the literary critics. As Bryan states in his study of Mark’s genre: Mark’s Greek is the language of popular written style (which tends to be close to spoken language) rather than that of the literati. It could have been read aloud to good effect, and would have been understood by everyone present, whatever their level of education.43

Whatever the genre of the Gospels, the recent work of literary criticism has brought a new set of questions to the Gospel of Mark, and new methodologies have been developed to answer these questions.44 42. For an excellent discussion of the Gospels as belonging to the realm of popular culture and popular literature, see Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 59–78. 43. Bryan, Preface to Mark, 55. 44. The volume of material on literary criticism is enormous. One of the first to argue that the Gospels should be treated as narratives was Erich Auerbach, Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, trans. Willard R. Trask (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953). For more recent literature, see William A. Beardslee, Literary Criticism of the New Testament (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1969); Petersen, Literary Criticism; David J. A. Clines, David M. Gunn, and Alan J. Hauser, eds., Art and Meaning: Rhetoric in Biblical Literature, JSOTSup 19 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1982); Adele Berlin, Poetics and Interpretation of Biblical Narrative (Sheffield: Almond, 1983); Edgar McKnight, The Bible and the Reader: An Introduction to Literary Criticism (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985); Edgar McKnight, Post-Modern Use of the Bible: The Emergence of Reader–Oriented Criticism (Nashville: Abingdon, 1988); Meir Sternberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985); David Jasper, The New Testament and the Literary Imagination (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press, 1987); Tremper Longman, Literary Approaches to Biblical Interpretation (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1987); Robert W. Funk, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative (Sonoma, CA: Polebridge, 1988); Stephen D. Moore, Literary Criticism and the Gospels: The Theoretical Challenge (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989); Powell, What Is Narrative Criticism?; Mark Allan Powell “The Bible and Modern Literary Criticism,” in Summary of Proceedings: Forty-Third Annual Conference of the American Theological Libraries Association, ed.

14

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Literary criticism tends to ask questions about the narrative itself, rather than about historical issues the text might discuss. Petersen explains the difference between historical and literary critics: One could say that the historical critic looks through the text to what it refers or points to and treats the text as evidence for something else, while the literary critic looks at the text for what it says in itself by means of the patterning or shaping—the informing—of its content. 45

Thus, literary critics have brought to Mark questions about its particular narrative accomplishments (How is the plot of Mark developed? How are the characters depicted? What are the stylistic implications of the narrative and its discourses?), about the social setting and the sociology of the narrative (How does the narrative speak to various social classes? What ideology does the story convey?), about the particular literary setting of the Gospel (What is its genre? How does it relate to the storytelling techniques common to its day?), as well as many other questions. The applications of these methodologies to Mark have produced a new view of Mark’s literary pedigree. Contrary to some of the conclusions of historical criticism, over the last thirty years literary criticism has uncovered an organized and coherent texture to the story of the Gospel and to its discourses. Literary critics take seriously the fact that, no matter what its relationship to historical people or events, Mark’s Gospel as we have it tells a story and creates its own narrative world.46 This story world is the Betty A. O’Brien (St. Meinrad, IN: American Theological Library Association, 1990), 78–94; and George Aichele, Jesus Framed, Biblical Limits (London: Routledge, 1996). 45. Petersen, Literary Criticism, 5. Compare with the “synchronic analysis” of Edwin Keith Broadhead (Teaching with Authority: Miracles and Christology in the Gospel of Mark [Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992], 26), which, he says, “views a text as a systematic whole which is limited to a single relational axis of plane. The significance of the text is found in relationships created by organizational patterns within the common framework.” 46. Roman Jakobson’s communicative model provides theoretical justification for treating the narrative world of a work as opposed to the real world to which it refers. Roman Jakobson, “Linguistics and Poetics,” in Style and Language, ed. Thomas A. Sebeok (Cambridge, MA: Technology Press, 1960), 350–77. Cf. Petersen, Literary Criticism, 33–48; Powell, What Is Narrative Criticism?, 6–10. See also Robert Beck, Nonviolent Story: Narrative Conflict Resolution in the Gospel of Mark (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1996), who proposes a semiotic model for understanding how a story is told, then shows that Mark’s Gospel has a plot consistent with storytelling techniques throughout history. Though Mark may seem simple, Beck suggests, it is really a complex narrative. Compare also to the semiotic reading of Mark by Ole Davidsen, The Narrative Jesus: A Semiotic Reading of Mark’s Gospel (Aarhus, DNK: Aarhus University Press, 1993).

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

15

construct of a narrator, who has carefully composed each part of the narrative to contribute to the whole. Thus, whereas historical critics tended to dissect the discourses of Jesus in Mark and to attempt to locate them in the history of pre-Markan traditions, literary critics have attempted to read them as unified discourses and have tended to see them as well-integrated parts of the overall narrative of the Gospel. Literary approaches are legitimate precisely because Mark can be read as a coherent narrative, and there is no evidence that Mark did not fully intend his Gospel to be heard by his audience as a unified, well-integrated presentation. The Gospel narrator tells a single story about a central character, moving from a clear beginning to a definite end. The story bears a unified narrative point of view, the characters are consistently portrayed, and the thematic and organizational elements are constant. Even the language of the Gospel is surprisingly consistent in terms of the syntactical style, the choice of words, and word formations. Further, the story raises issues that it later resolves; predictions are made that are later fulfilled; expectations are raised, later to be realized. To cite the critics Rhoads, Dewey, and Michie regarding Mark, “The unity of the Gospel is apparent in the remarkable integrity of the story it tells.”47 The transition to literary approaches in Markan studies over the past thirty years has been remarkable. Prior to 1980 it was difficult to find a commentary that treated the narrative of Mark seriously. In the last twenty years, however, one might have difficulty finding a commentary that does not use some literary model for interpreting Mark’s Gospel. As Juel suggested even as early as 1994, there is virtual agreement among students of Mark that his Gospel is worth reading as a narrative and that the Gospel must be treated, at least to some degree, as a complete story.48 Harrington sums up the shift well: 47. David Rhoads, Joanna Dewey, and Donald Michie, Mark as Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel, 2nd ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999), 3. W. R. Telford (The Theology of the Gospel of Mark, New Testament Theology [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999], 27) remains more skeptical, suggesting that “Mark’s story world is less coherent than literary critics claim,” and still arguing that Mark’s Gospel has a considerable number of disjunctions, discrepancies, and inconsistencies. Telford’s assessment is not shared by many readers of the Gospel of Mark. 48. Donald H. Juel, A Master of Surprise: Mark Interpreted (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994),

16

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Perhaps the most important development in Markan studies over the past twenty years has been the shift in emphasis from the world behind the text (history, sources, etc.) to the text itself and to the reader of the text. For most of the twentieth century the focus in Markan research was on the person of Jesus (Mark as an entry point for recovering the historical Jesus), on the sources collected and used by the Evangelist Mark (form criticism as a literary and historical tool), and on the life and times of the Markan community (redaction criticism); however in recent times there has developed a greater concentration on how the form of Mark’s text that is available now to us communicates and on how it has been read in the past and is read today.49

Literary approaches to Mark’s Gospel have come to dominate Markan studies. As Horsley says, “during the last two decades the ‘reading’ and literary analysis of Mark and other Gospels has become a virtual growth industry.”50 Such approaches have taken many directions. Indeed, recent decades have seen an explosion of interdisciplinary literary approaches to the Gospel of Mark, driven by sociological, political, anthropological, linguistic, semiotic, postmodern, feminist, ideological, psychological, and other interests.51 A number of these have adopted more traditional literary approaches and seek to explore the nature of the narrative of Mark’s Gospel more or less for narrative reasons (i.e., to understand the relationships of the various elements of the narrative world created by Mark’s story). These readings develop numerous methodologies whose strategies and terminologies frequently overlap—reader response criticism, compositional criticism, narrative criticism, 25. Juel himself writes a literary commentary on Mark, adopting something of a reader response approach; see The Gospel of Mark, Interpreting Biblical Texts (Nashville: Abingdon, 1999). 49. Daniel J. Harrington, What Are They Saying about Mark? (New York: Paulist, 2004). See also Anderson and Moore, Mark and Method. 50. Richard Horsley, Hearing the Whole Story: The Politics of Plot in Mark’s Gospel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), viii. 51. One should not assume that the rise of literary interests in the Gospel of Mark has eclipsed historical interests, however. Rather some literary approaches to the Gospel of Mark have been developed, to a large extent, for historical purposes. However, these purposes have been greatly broadened to include not only interests in the historical Jesus and how the Jesus material came into being but a broad array of other interests: the social world that developed and transmitted those traditions, the politics and ideologies of early Christianity, as well as the reading strategies used for Mark’s Gospel by interpreters in the last nineteen hundred years. In this sense, the Gospel of Mark is still read for historical purposes, but the recent literary studies have often been much kinder to the narrative and rhetorical unity of the Gospel.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

17

rhetorical criticism, genre criticism, anthropological/social criticism, and the like.52 RHETORICAL-CRITICAL STUDIES Many literary critics thus begin with the recognition that, whatever sources might lie behind Mark’s Gospel, the final product contains a story that is the result of creative, purposeful choice. One of the tasks of the literary critic, then, is to show how the narrative and rhetorical choices made in the narrative influence the whole of 52. A bibliography of such works on the Gospel of Mark would be enormous. Some of the more prominent works from various literary perspectives include Robert Fowler, Let the Reader Understand: Reader-Response Criticism and the Gospel of Mark (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1991); Morna D. Hooker, The Gospel According to Mark (London: A. C. Black, 1991); John Paul Heil, The Gospel of Mark as Model for Action: A Reader Response Commentary (New York: Paulist, 1992); Hugh Humphrey, “He Is Risen!”: A New Reading of Mark’s Gospel (New York: Paulist, 1992); David Bruce Taylor, Mark’s Gospel as Literature and History (London: SCM Press, 1992); W. Randolph Tate, Reading Mark from the Outside: Eco and Iser Leave Their Marks (San Francisco: International Scholars Publications, 1994); John G. Cook, The Structure and Persuasive Power of Mark: A Linguistic Approach (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995); William R. Telford, Mark (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995); Stephen H. Smith, A Lion With Wings: A Narrative-Critical Approach to Mark’s Gospel (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996); Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, In the Company of Jesus: Characters in Mark’s Gospel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2000); Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, Hearing Mark: A Listener’s Guide (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2002); John K. Riches, Conflicting Methodologies: Identity Formation in the Gospel of Mark and Matthew (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000); Edwin Keith Broadhead, Mark (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001); James R. Edwards, The Gospel According to Mark (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002); Douglas W. Geyer, Fear, Anomaly, and Uncertainty in the Gospel of Mark (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow, 2002); Marion C. Moeser, The Anecdote in Mark, the Classical World and the Rabbis (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002); Peter G. Bolt, Jesus’ Defeat of Death: Persuading Mark’s Early Readers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003); Whitney Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel: First-Century Performance of Mark (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2003); Camille Focant, L’évangile selon Marc (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2004); Gudrun Guttenberger, Die Gottesborstellung im Markusevangelium (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2004); Francis J. Maloney, Mark: Storyteller, Interpreter, Evangelist (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2004); Paul L. Danove, The Rhetoric of Characterization of God, Jesus, and Jesus’ Disciples in the Gospel of Mark (New York: T&T Clark, 2005); Eugene Boring, Mark: A Commentary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006); Suzanne Watts Henderson, Christology and Discipleship in the Gospel of Mark (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). Several methods are on display in the multiauthor effort Kelly R. Iverson and Christopher W. Skinner, eds., Mark as Story: Retrospect and Prospect (Atlanta: SBL, 2011); in that volume, see especially Christopher W. Skinner, “Telling the Story: The Appearance and Impact of Mark as Story,” 1–16; Francis J. Maloney, “Writing a Narrative Commentary on the Gospel of Mark,” 95–114; and R. Alan Culpepper, “Mark 6:17–29 in Its Narrative Context: Kingdoms in Conflict,” 145–63. Telford, Mark, 86–94, describes some of the differences between compositional criticism, rhetorical criticism, narrative criticism, reader-response criticism, and structuralism.

18

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

the story.53 A number of literary studies have been made of the Gospel of Mark, as well as of individual narrative elements in the Gospel. The discourses of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel, however, are narrative representations of speeches, and as such they require special sensitivity both to narrative and to rhetorical issues. Over the past three decades, several studies have made substantial attempts to account for the choices present in the discourses of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel in specifically rhetorical terms. A survey of the few works that have will help situate this present work in the history of recent literary/rhetorical research on the discourses of Jesus. The structural studies by Jan Lambrecht54 and Joanna Dewey55 demonstrate that, when read from the perspectives of literary criticism, the discourses of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark present themselves as structurally unified. Both Lambrecht and Dewey consciously move away from redaction criticism, treating instead the formal features of various discourses in Mark and pointing out well-developed structural plans based on such devices as chiasms, link words, parallelisms, and inclusios. Lambrecht disagrees with the bulk of Markan scholarship and argues that Mark 13 is not a loose collection of free logia or a reworked apocalyptic flyleaf. Rather, it is a unified composition resulting from the artistry of the redactor, who completely imposed his own interests and techniques upon whatever material he had at his disposal. Furthermore, Lambrecht finds the entire discourse to be well-integrated within the overall context of the Gospel, appropriately functioning as Jesus’s farewell discourse. Lambrecht’s final schema of the discourse is very detailed, but his synopsis reveals the formal structure he believes the redactor has imposed upon the material:56

53. Many will be discussed in the next chapter. 54. Jan Lambrecht, Die Redaktion der Markus-Apokalypse: Literarische Analyse und Strukturuntersuchung (Rome: Päpstliches Bibelinstitut, 1967). 55. Joanna Dewey, Markan Public Debate: Literary Technique, Concentric Structure, and Theology in Mark 2:1–3:6, SBL Dissertation Series 48 (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1980). 56. Lambrecht, Redaktion der Markus-Apokalypse, 286. Translation ours.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

19

Introduction (vv. 1–4) “Then Jesus said to them” (v. 5a): Speech (vv. 5b–37) A Tribulation: Instruction and Warning (vv. 5b–23) a: Deceiver (vv. 5b–6) b: Wars (vv. 7–8) c: Persecution (vv. 9–13) b′: War (vv. 14–20) a′: Deceiver (vv. 21-23a) B Arrival: Announcement (vv. 24–27) a: The Heavenly Causes (v. 24-25) b: The appearance of the Son of Man (v. 26) c: The Collection of the Chosen (v. 27) A′ Time: Instruction and Warning (vv. 28–37) a: Parable of the fig tree (v. 28–29) b: Logion about the certain, near date (v. 30) c: Logion of reinforcement (Bekräftigung) (v. 31) b′: Logio about the sudden, unknown time (v. 32) a′: Parable of the absent master (vv. 33–36) “But what I say to you, I say to all, keep watch” (v. 37)

The intricate chiastic structure of the discourse that Lambrecht identifies gives the discourse unity and provides clues for its interpretation. Further integration is provided by the use of a number of inclusios in the discourse:57 εἰπὸν ἡμῖν and ἤρξατο λέγειν αὐτοῖς (vv. 4–5a) with προείρηκα ὑμῖν (v. 23b); βλέπετε μή τις ὑμᾶς (v. 5b) with ὑμεῖς δὲ βλέπετε (v. 23a); πλανήσῃ (v. 5b) and πλανήσουσιν (v. 6b) with πρὸς τὸ ἀποπλανᾶν (v. 22b); ἐλεύσονται (v. 6a) with ἐγερθήσονται (v. 22a); ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόματί μου (v. 6a) with ἐγερθήσονται (v. 22a); Ἐγώ εἰμι (v. 6a) with ψευδόχριστοι (v. 22a); 57. Ibid., 273.

20

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

πλανήσουσιν (v. 6b) and (βλέπετε) μή (v. 5b) with μή (πιστεύετε) (v. 21c). The use of chiasms, inclusios, and other structural devices provides Lambrecht with sufficient evidence to declare the discourse an “Einheit des Ganzen hin zum Teil.” Dewey’s study of various Markan pericope is similar to that of Lambrecht’s analysis of Mark 13. Although she focuses primarily on the Streitgespräche of Mark 2:1–3:6, Dewey also applies her “rhetorical critical” methods to Mark 4 and to Mark 11–12. Dewey takes her methodological point of departure from James Muilenburg, who, at the end of the 1960s, had called for more “rhetorical” studies of the Bible.58 For Dewey, the task of rhetorical criticism is to study the compositional and stylistic techniques of the Gospel narrative, showing how all its parts fit together in order to determine what the narrator meant. Like Lambrecht, Dewey finds Mark to be something of a literary artist. “Mark is a writer of considerable narrative skill, adept at interweaving the elements of his story.”59 The glue that holds the narrative of Mark’s material together for Dewey, as for Lambrecht, is made of formal compositional features: chiasm, word and form repetition, framing, inclusio, interpolation, and the like. Her analysis of Mark 2:1–3:6 (the bulk of her study) reveals a chiastic structure to the material linked by a number of compositional devices. Turning to the discourse of Mark 4, Dewey is also able to find a chiastic structure governing the entire discourse:

58. James Muilenburg, “Form Criticism and Beyond,” JBL 88, no. 1 (1969): 1–18. Muilenburg called for scholars “to recognize the structure of a composition and to discern the configuration of its component parts, to delineate the warp and woof out of which the literary fabric is woven, and to note the various rhetorical devices that are employed for marking, on the one hand, the sequence and movement of the pericope, and on the other, the shifts or breaks in the development of the writer’s thought” (ibid., 10). Muilenburg meant something different with his “rhetorical” method than the precise methodology adopted in our book. For Muilenburg, “rhetorical criticism” meant the analysis of formal features in the text much like what was being practiced by the American New Critics in general literary studies in the 1950s and early 1960s. 59. Dewey, Markan Public Debate, 3.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

A vv. 1–2a

Introduction

B vv. 2b–20

Parable material

C vv. 21–25

Sayings material

B′ vv. 26–32

Parable material

A′ vv. 33–34

Conclusion

21

She is able to identify even further a concentric structure to the first half of the discourse:60 a vv. 2b–9 b v. 10 c vv. 11–12 b′ v. 13 a′ vv. 14–20

The parable of the sower The question of the disciples about its meaning The saying on mystery and obduracy, an interpretation The reproof to the disciples for not understanding The interpretation of the parable of the sower

This structure, Dewey argues, highlights the parable theory of verses 11–12. Though Dewey concedes that there may be a few narrative inconsistencies in the discourse (e.g., the change in audience), she thinks that ancient readers would have seen the overall unity and interpreted the discourses using these formal patterns as a guide. 61 By using a variety of rhetorical techniques, Dewey argues, the Markan narrator has provided a frame for the Jerusalem public debates of Mark 11–12.62 This frame for the discourse section is created by the entrance into and the exit from Jerusalem (Mark 11:11 and 13:1). Within this frame, Mark has interposed and overlapped units to create a tight “interweaving” of the sections that “gives

60. Ibid., 149. 61. Dewey’s study of Mark 4 compares with that of Joel Marcus, The Mystery of the Kingdom of God, SBL Dissertation Series 90 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986), but the latter is never able to break with historical criticism. Though Marcus identifies many of the same structural features in the parable discourse as had Dewey and points out their narrative functions, ultimately he cannot avoid the temptation to attribute them to mere redactional process. Thus, though he calls his work “composition criticism” and wants to move away from the older assumptions of redaction criticism, methodologically he remains a redaction critic, reconstructing a hypothetical Markan community and reading Mark 4 in light of that community’s supposed problems. 62. Dewey, Markan Public Debate, 153.

22

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

a climactic progression” and forms “effective dramatic narrative” by its adept placement within the context in the overall narrative. 63 Benoît Standaert64 shows that the entire Gospel of Mark is unified by what he terms a “rhetorical/dramatic” structure, and he demonstrates that the world in which Mark’s Gospel was produced was saturated with self-conscious rhetorical interests. Standaert copiously notes the pervasive presence of Greco-Roman rhetorical and dramatic traditions in Mark’s Gospel, and, like Lambrecht and Dewey, he also shows formal structuring devices, such as concentric patterns, chiasms, and inclusios. Strangely, however, Standaert does not always consider the discourses to be fully integrated in the sense of orations with consistent and progressive rhetorical argumentation. For example, about chapter four he concludes, The parabolic discourse of chapter 4 in Mark does not constitute a single unified oratorical piece: brief narrative propositions subdivide the chapter into seven distinct units (3–9, 10–12, 13–20, 21–23, 24–25, 26–29, 30–32), framed by an introduction (vv 1–2) and a conclusion (vv 33–34).65

Rather than finding consistent rhetorical argumentation in the Markan discourses, then, Standaert finds structural order. This is important for our study because it helps clarify the essence of the formalistic approaches of both Dewey and Standaert (and to a lesser degree, Lambrecht)—each of whom finds the unity of the discourses to be something more like an overlaid pattern of structuring devices upon otherwise diverse traditional units. Perhaps because of the still overbearing influence of the Redaktionsgeschichtliche Methode, Dewey and Standaert are unable to imagine that the Markan discourses were actually composed, to use Bacon’s term, aus einem Guß,66 (from the same mould) and are thoroughly integrated in argument, arrangement, and style, as well as in formal features. Neither Dewey nor Standaert is able to read the discourses without peeking back to the 63. Ibid., 159, 162. 64. Benoît H. M. G. M. Standaert, L’Evangile selon Marc. composition et genre littéraire (Brugge: Herdruk, 1978). 65. Ibid., 201. Translation ours. 66. Bacon, Gospel of Mark, 204.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

23

supposed pre-Markan traditional material; consequently, in the end, the unity they describe tends to be more structural than organic. 67 Bas M. F. van Iersel68 also pays close attention to the compositional structures of Mark’s Gospel, though his commentary goes beyond mere compositional studies. Rather, adopting what he calls a “synchronic” approach to Mark, which tries to combine the “what” of the narrative with its “how,” Iersel reconstructs the authorial audience and proposes that Mark wrote to provide reassurance to Christians who had failed during the Neronian persecution. Much of his thesis rests on the many references to persecution in the Gospel of Mark, though Iersel also makes much of the so-called “Latinisms” of Mark. Reconstructing the authorial audience using a reader response methodology enables Iersel to suggest how a first-century audience would have heard the Gospel of Mark, though he also raises questions about how subsequent readers might hear Mark’s Gospel. How would first-century audiences have heard Mark? Here, Iersel makes considerable reference to narrative structuring devices that link various elements of the story, repeating, interpreting, and amplifying one another. Like Lambrecht, Dewey, and Standaert, Iersel argues that Mark made use of a number of such devices (e.g., “lines” and “circles,” as well as chiasmus), both for narrative and memorization purposes. He argues that such structuring devices would have 67. For example, Standaert divides Mark 4 into three “moments” with both a concentric pattern and a chiastic pattern. On either side of the main body of the discourse lies the introduction (4:2) and conclusion (4:33–34), forming an inclusio (ἐν παραβολαῖς πολλά and παραβολαῖς πολλαῖς). The three moments are vv. 3–20, vv. 21–25, and vv. 26–29. A close examination of these moments shows the discourse’s concentric pattern: A vv. 3–20 B vv. 21–23 A′ vv. 24–25 B′ vv. 26–32 and its chiastic pattern: A v. 3 Ἀκούετε B v. 9 Ὃς ἔχει ὦτα ἀκούειν ἀκουέτω B′ v. 23 εἴ τις ἔχει ὦτα ἀκούειν ἀκουέτω A′ v. 24 βλέπετε τί ἀκούετε As far as the actual content of the discourse, Standaert concludes that the two themes of parables as revealing and parables as concealing, each represented in separate sections of the discourse, are merely juxtaposed. He does not think that there is complete thematic coherency between vv. 3–9 and vv. 11–12. Standaert, L’Evangile selon Marc, 211. 68. Bas M. F. van Iersel, Mark: A Reader-Response Commentary, trans. W. H. Bisscheroux, JSNTSup 164 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998).

24

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

been taught in the schools, under such names as hysteron proteron, prohysteron, and hysterologia.69 These devices, he argues, were particularly helpful in composition where there were few marks of punctuation, no paragraph indicators, and no page numbers. Van Iersel sees examples of chiasmus, or as he more frequently calls them, concentric patterns, throughout the Gospel of Mark. Van Iersel’s commentary is rhetorical in that it considers how each part fits together to contribute to the whole, and how that whole would have been heard by its intended audience. These structuring devices create a coherence and unity to the discourses of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel, van Iersel argues, even if they sometimes leave awkward transitions, holes, and empty spaces in the text. His analysis of Mark 4 is similar to that of Dewey, though he finds a slightly different concentric pattern. In Mark thirteen van Iersel finds three concentric circles that provide an overall unity to the discourse addressing the struggles of the Markan community faced during persecution:70 Signs

pseudo teachers, 5–6 wars and disasters, 7–8 persecutions, 9–13 desecration and flight, 14–20 pseudo messiahs, 21–23

The Coming

the clearance of heavens, 24–25 the coming of the Son of Man, 26 the gathering of the elect, 27

Signs

parable of the fig tree, 28–29 day and hour known only by God, 30–32 parable of the door keeper, 33–37

69. Iersel draws considerable material from John W. Welch, ed., Chiasmus in Antiquity: Structures, Analyses, Exegesis (Hildesheim: Gerstenberg, 1981); and John Breck, The Shape of Biblical Language: Chiasmus in the Scriptures and Beyond (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1994). 70. Iersel, Mark, 391.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

25

Throughout his analysis of the discourses in Mark, Iersel shows sensitivity to both modern theories about how readers “hear” a text as well as ancient sensitivities to concentric structuring devices. Though he does not add significantly to the actual rhetoric of the discourses of Jesus in Mark, the work of Robert L. Humphrey is worthy of mention because of the rhetorical structure he sees in the overall Gospel of Mark.71 Going even further in the exploration of concentric circles in Mark, Humphrey posits a more elaborate structure than most others could ever have imagined. Humphrey starts with the presupposition that the Gospel of Mark was intended to be read aloud and, therefore, would have been structured for the ear more than for the eye. Humphrey believes that Mark is arranged in three narrative sections of similar length (1:2–6:29, 6:30–11:19, and 11:20–16:8), each centered around a key narrative movement (4:1–34, 8:27–9:13, and 13:1–37). Each of these key narrative moments is preceded by three narrative episodes and followed by three parallel episodes, all of which are to be interpreted in light of the key narrative in the center. These narrative movements all possess four common elements—testimony of Jesus’s identity, an element of “kenosis” or death, affirmation of Jesus as God’s Son, and an element of testing or temptation. Obviously, Humphrey finds great unity to the text of Mark and believes that Mark’s Gospel was skillfully crafted. He believes that the parable discourse and the apocalyptic discourse in Mark are critical for understanding the Gospel, but his analysis does not offer significant rhetorical insight into these chapters as speeches. Nevertheless, Humphrey’s position does suggest a carefully thought-out composition in Mark’s Gospel and credits Mark with fairly sophisticated rhetorical skill. Barry Henaut72 takes a different approach to Mark 4 than compositional critics, but, like them, he considers that text a unified whole. Considering different ways that interpreters have treated the material of Mark 4, Henaut asserts that the oral phase of the traditions behind 71. Robert L. Humphrey, Narrative Structure and Meaning in Mark: A Rhetorical Analysis, Studies in the Bible and Early Christianity 60 (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, 2003). 72. Barry W. Henaut, Oral Tradition and the Gospels: The Problem of Mark 4, JSNTSup 82 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993).

26

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

the Gospel is now forever lost, as textuality makes the oral tradition completely unrecoverable. Indeed, he argues, there may even be literary relationships among the earliest Jesus material, and “this relationship serves as a barrier to the oral phase—a phase lost to us because, even assuming a prior oral history for a unit, the very communal, anonymous and changeable nature of this medium makes it impossible to trace a tradition’s history through this transmission.” 73 Turning to the actual narrative of Mark 4, Henaut shows that the material there presents a much more unified presentation of parables than form and redaction critics have suggested. He does this through both a structural analysis that shows that sections previously considered redactional (e.g., 4:1–2, 10–13, and 33–34) are thoroughly integrated into the Gospel structure itself. Further, he does a lexical study of the chapter that demonstrates his thesis that language of the tradition and that of the editor are integrated to the point that it is not possible to separate the two with any sense of certainty. He suggests that the reason that historical critics have been able to distill individual traditions in Mark 4 is their critical presupposition that the units are best understood outside of their present Gospel context.74 Although her work is sensitive to the formal features of the discourses of Jesus in Mark, Mary Ann Tolbert has intentionally freed herself from the constraints of having to account for the Vorleben of the narrative and is thereby able to read the discourses as they presently stand in Mark’s Gospel.75 Attempting to hear the discourses as the first-century audience would have heard them, Tolbert shows that, rather than being filled with misdirection resulting from clumsy handling of traditions, the discourses of Jesus in Mark are thoroughly unified and integrated within their own narrative contexts and in the context of the rhetorical practices of the period. Her use of readerresponse criticism and her understanding of the literary and rhetorical milieu of Mark permit Tolbert to account for the various features of the discourses of Jesus (repetitions, abrupt scene changes, seams, 73. Ibid., 15. For potential examples of oral Jesus traditions combining with written ones, see Michael Strickland, “The Integration of Oral and Written Jesus Tradition in the Early Church,” JECH 5, no. 1 (2015): 132–43. 74. Henaut, Oral Tradition, 149–50. 75. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

27

etc.) in purely narrative and rhetorical terms. Thus, Tolbert not only goes beyond form and redaction criticism but actually advances on the more formalistic approaches of Dewey and Standaert by providing a reading of the discourses that treats them as unified speech acts embedded within the narrative of the Gospel. Her analyses of the discourses are consistent with her literary and rhetorical methods for the entire Gospel. Mark 3:7–35 is treated as one unit set off by Jesus’s movement “by the sea,” although Tolbert does admit that there are three “sharply divided episodes” in the section. The main purpose of the overall unit is to repeat and to summarize the motifs already given in 1:16–3:6 and to point forward to events yet to occur in the narrative world, which is consistent with established techniques for popular literature. Thus, the theme of the religious leaders’ rejection of Jesus, already present in 3:6, reappears in 3:22. The “parable” of the divided house in 3:25 foreshadows the eventual fall of Jesus’s own house at the end of the narrative. The parable discourse in Mark 4 is extremely important for Tolbert, since it not only shows Jesus as the Sower of the Word but also contains a plot summary of the first half of the Gospel. Arguing against those who consider the parable of the sower to be obscure, Tolbert points out that Mark’s second interpretation of the parable (which she considers to be vv. 24–32) explains that hidden things are intended to be brought to light. Consistent with this, Mark presents the parable in very clear fashion, even providing opportunity to hear it twice, by virtually repeating the parable in the first interpretation (vv. 10–23). The parable reveals the various soil types Jesus will encounter in his sowing of the Gospel: the hardened “path” being the Pharisees, the rocky ground being the disciples, the thorny ground being the rich young man and Herod, and the good soil being those healed by Jesus. Thus, Tolbert does not isolate the actual parable of the sower from its discourse context as so many parable scholars had done. Rather, she takes the entire discourse as a unit: vv. 1–2 serve as the introduction; vv. 3–9 give the parable of the sower; vv. 10–23 provide a first interpretation; vv. 24–32 give a second interpretation; and vv. 33–34

28

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

form the conclusion.76 With her recognition that the entire discourse is unified around a central theme and an unfolding message, Tolbert goes well beyond what previous parable scholarship had done, fulfilling the program that she herself had advocated in her earlier work on parables.77 Regarding 7:1–23, Tolbert does not have much to say, concluding her brief treatment with the observation that “the fundamental point of the proceedings is that the heart is the basis of good or evil, not outward custom, appearance, or ritual.”78 Tolbert finds Mark’s narrative to be divided into two parts. The second of these is composed of 11:1–16:8. Central to this section is the city of Jerusalem, where the “careful temporal plotting” and the “increasingly public nature of Jesus’ assertion of authority” distinguishes this second section as the climactic recognition sequence—a device common to Greco-Roman literature and drama.79 The plot of this section is summarized in the parable of the tenants, which is introduced by the preceding controversy with the scribes. The significance of the parable is that it presents Jesus as the apocalyptic preacher of the coming destruction, the true heir of the vineyard. Tolbert finds a careful rhetorical structure to the parable: an inclusio formed by ἀμπελῶνα framing four acts of sending out with the last act stressed by the presence of direct discourse. Tolbert does not organize the material from 11:27 to 13:37 as one long discourse unit per se, but she does treat the section as unified thematically around the thesis that Jesus is the heir. In the material of 12:13–44, the narrator seeks to demonstrate Jesus’s mastery over the traditions and cultic practices of Israel. Here, Mark draws deeply upon techniques of Hellenistic rhetoric, depicting Jesus as effectively outmaneuvering the Jewish leaders through his rhetorical skills. The temple discourse in Mark 13 is termed by Tolbert “The Rejected Stone and the Temple Stones,” reflecting her ability to read the discourse as integrated in its larger context: 76. Ibid., 149. 77. Mary Ann Tolbert, Perspectives on the Parables: An Approach to Multiple Interpretations (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979). 78. Tolbert, Sowing the Word, 184. 79. Ibid., 232.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

29

As the parable of the Tenants implies and the opening of the Apocalyptic Discourse confirms, for the rejected stone to become the new centerpiece, the buildings presently standing must first be completely dismantled and the tenants presently in control must first be destroyed; only then can the new edifice rise and the faithful tenants be installed. 80

She treats the discourse as well-integrated and coherent. It is divided into three sections: (1) the tribulations preceding the coming (13:5–23), which are surrounded by an inclusio that is formed by “see” and “lead astray”; (2) the actual coming of the Son of Man in the clouds (13:24–27); and (3) the parables of the fig tree and the lord of the house (13:28–37). The discourse illustrates that the death of Jesus comes as a result of evil people and shows the disciples the need to endure. Tolbert’s study provides valuable analyses of Mark 4 and 13 and persuasively demonstrates that both speeches are coherent in form and content and fit comfortably into the overall rhetoric of the narrative. Her work is one of the first to take seriously the narrative and rhetorical accomplishments of the Gospel of Mark in terms of its own literary and rhetorical milieu. Whitney Taylor Shiner studies the characters in the Gospel of Mark using a method similar to that of Tolbert.81 She begins by placing the Gospel of Mark in its first-century literary and rhetorical context, paying particular attention to how Mark’s characterization compares with characters found in literature from approximately the same period, focusing on four in particular: Xenophon’s Memorabilia, Philostratus’s Life of Apollonius of Tyana, Iamblichus’s Pythagorean Life, and the Wisdom of Ben Sira. She finds some similarities between the characterization of the disciples in Mark and that of these contemporary works, but also finds considerable dissimilarities. Overall, she finds that “Mark’s rhetorical aims affect his presentation of the disciples not only on the macro-level of the Gospel as a whole, but also on the micro-level of the individual episode or group of episodes.” Her conclusion is that “Mark’s presentation of Jesus so dominates his 80. Tolbert, Sowing the Word, 260. 81. Whitney Taylor Shiner, Follow Me! Disciples in Markan Rhetoric, SBL Dissertation Series 145 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995).

30

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Gospel that it is questionable whether he intended any coherent characterization of the disciples.”82 Shiner does not provide a detailed analysis of the discourses of Jesus in Mark, but her methodology gives a glimpse of how one can see Jesus’s speeches in light of comparable Greco-Roman literary works. She notes that, somewhat analogous to the didactic and propagandistic material found in contemporary literature, Jesus’s speeches in Mark are not necessarily intended by Jesus to be amenable to rational analysis; rather, his speeches derive their force from divine authority.83 She is especially interested in Mark 4, where Jesus presents didactic material to the public but then follows it with a private interpretation to the disciples. This strategy of public discourse followed by private interpretation, she notes, is present in some form in each of the works she analyzes, as well as in various apocalyptic works of the era. She concludes that such “pseudo-secrecy” adds weight to the material for the reader as well as lending authority to the teacher. Shiner’s study makes an important rhetorical contribution to Markan studies because it provides literary analogies to the speeches of Jesus in the Gospel. Seeking a more ancient understanding of rhetorical analysis, Brian J. Incigneri interprets the Gospel of Mark as an ancient rhetorical text whose rhetoric reveals its social setting and its purpose.84 Incigneri complains that redactional models of reading Mark have fallen short of appreciating Mark’s accomplishment, and he explicitly avoids, as had Tolbert, consideration of the Vorleben of the Gospel, opting instead to consider the Gospel only from “the moment it was born.”85 At the same time, Incigneri believes that much of what has been termed rhetorical criticism in recent years has fallen short of an authentic appreciation of what ancient rhetoric actually is—a strategy to persuade audiences to certain beliefs and actions, and not just the structure or stylistics of how a narrative is told. In recent literary studies, he argues, “little consideration has been given by rhetorical 82. Ibid., 30. 83. Ibid., 186–91. 84. Brian J. Incigneri, The Gospel to the Romans: The Setting and Rhetoric of Mark’s Gospel, Biblical Interpretation Series 65 (Leiden: Brill, 2003). 85. Ibid., 3–11.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

31

critics to the Gospel as a rhetorical narrative addressed to a specific audience.”86 Thus, though literary critics frequently use the term “rhetoric,” they often mean little more than arrangement and style. They generally fail to appreciate that classical rhetoric was more than just a way of structuring or adorning speech. It was the very process of constructing and delivering speeches; in short, the very art of persuasion. Appreciating the rhetoric of Mark as an act of persuasion in a particular social setting provides the ability to account for the entirety of Mark, including sections that have often stumped interpreters. Incigneri’s work does not exactly offer a rhetorical analysis of the narrative or the speeches of Jesus in Mark, however. Rather, Incigneri looks at the rhetoric of the Gospel in order to construct a theory about the specific social and historical milieu of Mark’s Gospel and the Gospel’s purpose. In this sense, Incigneri’s rhetorical analysis is socialized—he believes that the rhetoric of the Gospel reveals its social context. The bulk of Incigneri’s study develops his thesis that the rhetoric of Mark belongs not to an Eastern, rural setting such as in the Galilee but to an urban, Western setting, which he proposes is the city of Rome itself. From here, Incigneri believes he can demonstrate that the rhetoric of Mark suggests its social and historical context: Mark was written to suffering Christians just after the fall of Jerusalem (he dates it to 71 CE), perhaps as Titus was returning to Rome, in order to persuade them to remain faithful in spite of their trials. In this sense, Incigneri argues that the rhetoric of Mark indicates that the Gospel was composed to mirror the situation confronting Roman Christians at the outset of persecution—Mark is not a general story intended for just any audience. It is a specific response to the particular social situation of disciples in Rome at the fall of Jerusalem. Incigneri does not offer an extensive analysis of Jesus’s discourses in Mark, though he does point out various places where these discourses suggest the social place of Mark’s audience. Thus, for example, the Isaian citation of the parable discourse (“to outsiders everything is spoken in parables”) is rhetorically constructed to answer the question his suffering readers would naturally have about why others cannot 86. Ibid., 38.

32

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

see the truth of the kingdom of God. Mark 13 is, however, crucial to Incigneri’s argument. The rhetoric of Mark 13, he suggests, reveals that, as it currently stands, the so-called apocalyptic discourse is not primarily interested in predicting the destruction of the Jerusalem temple. Rather, it is a warning to the disciples in Rome that persecution will come and an encouragement for them to endure. Mark has constructed the apocalyptic discourse carefully around admonitions to watch (βλέπετε): V. 5

See that you are not led astray by those predicting the end of the world and a rescue by Jesus.

V. 9

Rather, look for a different kind of “end”—when you are arrested.

V..23 But you should notice that I have foretold that there will be suffering when the gospel is proclaimed but that, ultimately, you will be saved. V..33 Instead of trying to predict the end of the world, see that you are ready when the master of the house comes on the day of your arrest and trial.

Each of these admonitions skillfully guides the hearer of the discourse to understand it as an address to the suffering Christians of Rome about what to do when they face persecution. Cleverly, then, the reader is led through a number of rhetorical stages in the text: 1. An emotive recalling of the traumas and anxieties of recent years (wars and rumours of wars, natural disasters, the civil war, the persecutions, the betrayals, the news of the destruction of the Temple), along with repeated reminders that none of these events had led to the end of the world. Rather, such trials are bound to occur, and are concomitants of announcing the gospel (vv. 5–18). 2. A promise that Jesus will gather to himself those who endure to the end, and will show Rome that he is Lord (vv. 19–31). 3. A warning that no one knows when either “that hour” (the moment of arrest and trial) or “that day” (the end of the world) will come, and therefore the disciple should simply remain alert for either event (vv. 32–37).87

87. Incigneri, Gospel to the Romans, 310.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

33

The 1989 publication of Burton Mack and Vernon Robbins’s Patterns of Persuasion in the Gospels signaled a complete break with the assumptions of form criticism.88 Like the form critics, Mack and Robbins seek to discover the logic at work in the growth and development of the saying and story, since this logic might help us to understand the issues at stake in the expansion, abbreviation, and recasting of traditions in literature available to us from early Christianity.89

Unlike the form critics, however, Mack and Robbins discover a rationale for the development of the Gospel traditions in the compositional techniques of Greco-Roman rhetoric, especially the ancient chreia, rather than in hypothetical “laws” of the development of oral tradition. Pointing out the similarity between the pronouncement story and the ancient chreia, Mack and Robbins discuss the chreia as the fundamental unit in literary and rhetorical composition in antiquity. The chreiai were “mini-speeches” composed by students and intended to train them in the art of composition; the works of Theon and Hermagoras provide descriptions of how the chreiai were to be composed. Essentially, Mack and Robbins demonstrate that the student was taught to develop a chreia using the principle of “elaboration” (ἐργασία). Students would be given a saying from some notable author and challenged to develop a self-contained literary or rhetorical “speech” according to a prescribed set of rules. By applying these rules to the various pericopes in the Gospels, Mack and Robbins seek to describe how the traditions behind these pericopes developed. Mack and Robbins discuss in detail two of the discourses of Jesus in Mark: the parable discourse (Mark 4) and the Beelzebul controversy (Mark 3). Mack, who writes the chapter on Mark 4, takes the entire parable discourse as a single unit, signaled by the closing period that vv. 33–34 make. He identifies a variety of structural devices in the discourse that unify its parts. More than this, however, he finds the discourse to be unified organically, coherent in argument with 88. Burton L. Mack and Vernon K. Robbins, Patterns of Persuasion in the Gospels (Sonoma, CA: Polebridge, 1989). 89. Ibid., 2.

34

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

each part supporting the total purpose of the speech. This is where Mack and Robbins break with form criticism. Mark 4 is not a collection of parables merely strung together around a common word or theme. Neither is it, as the redaction and composition critics might argue, a collection of traditions integrated merely by the imposition of structural or formal devices. Rather, Mack and Robbins show that the discourse is actually a chreia (the sower parable) with its logical elaboration (the rest of the discourse). The last two thirds of the discourse have been generated by the first third. The discourse is essentially unified. Mack’s study of Mark 4 reveals a thorough rhetorical unity: the introduction (4:1–2a); the chreia (4:2b–9); a request for the rationale (4:10), followed by a direct statement of the rhetorical rationale (4:11–12) and the rationale presented as a paraphrase of the parable (4:13–20); the rhetorical contrary (4:21–23); the judgment (4:24–25); an example (4:26–29); a rhetorical analogy (4:30–32); and the conclusion (4:33–34). The theme of the section is the kingdom of God, but Mark does not make a straight comparison. Rather, the discourse plays off the cultural expectations of the original audience to demonstrate the uniqueness of the Jesus movement. The chapter on the Beelzebul controversy is written by Robbins. As Mack had considered Mark 4 unified, so Robbins also treats Mark 3 as unified, although he admits that Mark has drawn upon preMarkan traditions, and Robbins is also interested in how Matthew and Luke used the same traditions. Robbins finds in the Beelzebul controversy a high degree of epideictic rhetoric, which guides him in his analysis. The section, he concludes, actually contains a double chreia, the second of which is elaborated to refute the first: the Pharisaic accusation against Jesus is refuted by his syllogistic argumentation through analogy and falsity. The basic accomplishment of the discourse is the demonstration of who is good and who is bad. By reading the discourses in terms of Greco-Roman rhetoric, Mack and Robbins move very close to the aims of this present work. Nevertheless, neither seeks to account for the discourses within the framework of the narrator’s overall rhetoric. Instead, both isolate the discourses from their narrative contexts and attempt to describe how

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

35

these discourses were generated by the tradition (rather than by the narrator or by the character Jesus) along the paths of rhetorical compositional techniques. Indeed, Robbins explicitly treats the discourse of Mark 3 in isolation from its Markan context, choosing rather to deal with it as material common to the general synoptic tradition. It will be suggested in the next chapter that Robbins’s isolation of the discourse from the Markan narrative leads him to misidentify its species. Nevertheless, Mack and Robbins’s study is exciting for rhetorical critics, and it provides a new approach for accounting for the development of the Gospels themselves. The commentary by the prolific scholar Ben Witherington III represents one of the more serious efforts to read the Gospel of Mark in light of Greco-Roman rhetoric in recent critical study.90 Witherington notes that many studies treat the rhetoric of Mark, but by rhetoric most of these mean something more like literary art—the artistic skill of adornment or structuring. Witherington takes note of the deeper meaning that ancients attached to the term “rhetoric” as the art of persuasion and suggests that Mark’s rhetoric should be read as an ancient form of persuasion. And of what is Mark trying to persuade us? Witherington argues that Mark belongs to the ancient genre of biography, or “bios” as the Greeks called it, and that Mark is trying to persuade his audience (who he thinks are Gentile converts in Rome in the late 60s) of who Jesus is and why they must remain faithful disciples in spite of the persecutions against them. Witherington takes seriously the rhetoric of the Gospel of Mark both on the macro-level (that of the entire story), and the microlevel (that of individual pericopes), though he believes that more of Mark’s rhetoric is found on the micro-level. Indeed, Witherington follows Mack and Robbins and asserts that much of Mark’s Gospel is actually composed of chreiai, small narrative stories built around the main character, Jesus. Witherington regularly treats the rhetorical qualities of these chreiai in the commentary part of his work. Unlike Mack and Robbins, however, Witherington proposes the pericopes in Mark did not boil up from shards of earlier tradition through cre90. Ben Witherington III, The Gospel of Mark: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001).

36

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

ative elaboration by Mark (ergasia), but were more likely edited down by Mark to fit his own rhetorical aims, from a large body of material that was available to him. Mark composed the Gospel using this material, but he did not create the material. Indeed, Witherington is critical of theories that imply Mark created his story.91 “It is ironic that these authors” (i.e., Mack and Robbins) “carry forward the tired old form-critical theory that the Gospel writers had little material to work with and thus had in large measure to act as creators or authors of the material they included in their Gospels.”92 On the macro-level of Mark’s rhetoric, Witherington generally concludes that Mark has a simple but profound ability to persuade his audience regarding his subject, Jesus. “Mark’s rhetoric is simple but effective, especially in a largely oral culture.”93 “Mark’s Greek is not elegant and his rhetoric not advanced, but we should not make the mistake of thinking that because of this the content of his Gospel and the arrangement of his material is not profound, powerful, and persuasive, for indeed it is.”94 Of special interest to Witherington is the apocalyptic quality he sees in the rhetoric of Jesus throughout Mark (or what he calls “the apocalyptic point of view”). By calling Mark’s rhetoric apocalyptic, Witherington does not mean that he thinks that the Gospel is apocalyptic literature. Rather, he suggests that the story presumes a great cosmic battle between good and evil, with Jesus’s mission being to overthrow Satan’s stronghold on this world, and with the call to discipleship requiring a radical reordering of one’s world. This apocalyptic point of view often must express itself in paradox, mystery, metaphor, and, at times, harsh and argumentative rhetoric. The purpose of such discourse is to provoke to intense thought and, ultimately, action. “Thus Mark presents Jesus as one who must cast the truth like a stone through a plate glass window.”95

91. Witherington, Gospel of Mark, 57–58. He is especially critical of reader-response theories such as those of Stanley Fish. For example, see Stanley Fish, Is There a Text in This Class? The Authority of Interpretive Communities (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1980). 92. Witherington, Gospel of Mark, 11. 93. Ibid., 16. 94. Ibid., 19. 95. Ibid., 60.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

37

On the micro-level of the individual discourses of Jesus in the Gospel, Witherington offers abundant historical and literary commentary, but he also provides substantial rhetorical analysis, occasionally engaging David Young’s own 1994 dissertation on the rhetoric of these texts.96 For example, Mark 3:20–35 forms, Witherington suggests, the first intercalation in Mark’s Gospel, and though the material in these verses do not constitute one unified discourse,97 it does make use of Greco-Roman rhetorical strategies to establish obedience to God as the real criterion for being an “insider” in the Gospel. Because the material in the unit constitutes a defense of Jesus, Witherington considers the material judicial. He is more sensitive to the Greco-Roman background of Mark’s παραβολαὶ than are most interpreters, noting their treatments in the rhetorical handbooks of the milieu. He does not, however, consider Mark 4 a unified speech arranged according to the canons of GrecoRoman rhetoric, even if it does make extensive use of rhetorical strategies. Rather, Witherington is “unpersuaded that we can dissect this parable into specific parts of a rhetorical speech. It is a comparison in the form of a narrative, and as such is not a syllogistically driven speech. We must look more generally at its overall rhetorical function and purpose.”98 He sees the piling of parables in Mark 4 and the theory of mystery involved in the Isaian citation in light of Mark’s apocalyptic rhetoric: “The purpose of such apocalyptic rhetoric was not simply to be mysterious or enigmatic but to communicate in a way that would elicit whether one was responding in faith or not.” 99 Witherington notes a number of rhetorical features in the discourse material of Mark 7:1–23, but he does not believe that, as it currently stands, Mark 7:1–23 forms a unified speech. Rather, he suggests, Mark has likely combined several traditions, as vv. 14–23 seems to follow smoothly from the material in vv. 1–8, and the Corban material from vv. 9–13 appears to be from another context. Mark 13, however, is a much more carefully arranged discourse, Witherington 96. David M. Young, “Whoever Has Ears to Hear: The Discourses of Jesus in Mark as Primary Rhetoric of the Greco-Roman Period” (PhD diss., Vanderbilt University, 1994). 97. Witherington, Gospel of Mark, 153–54. It does not contain enough of the requisite parts of a Hellenist speech, he argues. Rather, it is really two discourses, as Mark clearly indicates. 98. Ibid., 163n66. 99. Ibid., 167.

38

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

believes. Agreeing with Willem S. Vorster’s complaint that scholarly attention to the material behind Mark 13 has obscured analysis of the actual speech of Mark 13,100 Witherington regards the discourse as a narrated speech. Lambrecht and Dewey are both correct, Witherington argues, in their identification of the structure of the discourse, and this provides Witherington the framework for his interpretation of the text. Witherington’s commentary is one of the most rhetorically sensitive works yet to appear on Mark’s Gospel. Witherington understands the world of Greco-Roman rhetoric and is capable of situating Mark’s Gospel in that world. He treats rhetoric more fully than many others, recognizing it as more than just a set of structural devices or the art of arrangement and adornment. Nevertheless, Witherington’s commentary seeks a broad interpretation of the Gospel of Mark, and even seeks to bridge the horizon of Mark’s Gospel with that of contemporary believers. This broader purpose sometimes takes Witherington away from explorations of the full rhetorical quality of the discourses of Jesus in Mark. Thus, he often identifies rhetorical features and the social context of the material, then provides rather traditional historical, literary, and theological commentary without seeking a full account of the actual rhetoric of the discourses themselves. This is not a flaw in Witherington’s work, but it does invite further explorations into the full rhetorical quality of Jesus’s discourses in Mark’s Gospel. The publication of such works as those by Tolbert, Mack and Robbins, and Witherington has opened the way for more detailed rhetorical analyses of the Synoptic Gospels.101 By showing that the Gospel material in Mark displays compositional and rhetorical skill in 100. Willem S. Vorster, “Literary Reflections on Mark 13.5–37: A Narrated Speech of Jesus,” in The Interpretation of Mark, ed. William R. Telford (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1995), 269–88. Previously published in Neot 21, no. 2 (1987): 203–24. 101. Though it is beyond the scope of this work to delve into the so-called Synoptic Problem, it is worth noting that Alexander Lorne Damm argued in his PhD thesis, Ancient Rhetoric and the Synoptic Problem (University of Toronto, 2010) that the rhetoric of Matthew and Luke were better explained as adaptations of Mark’s rhetoric than Mark’s as a reworking of Matthew’s and/ or Luke’s. Damm demonstrates that, for Mark to have changed the rhetoric of the other Synoptic Gospels, he would have violated fundamental rhetorical principles. The thesis has been published as Ancient Rhetoric and the Synoptic Problem: Clarifying Markan Priority. BETL 252 (Leuven: Peeters, 2013).

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS SINCE FORM CRITICISM

39

its development, Mack, Robbins, Tolbert, Witherington, and others have provided justification for this work, which carries their theses further to a careful examination of the full rhetoric of the discourses of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark. It will be shown that, though they are very brief by the standards of the milieu, the Jesus discourses in Mark were composed in conformity with the rhetorical techniques of the first century. Contrary to the fragmenting conclusions of the historical critics, which resulted more from their chosen method of reading than from the actual narrative accomplishments of the Gospel itself, this work will demonstrate that the four major discourses of Jesus in Mark are coherent in both form and argument, and that each is wellintegrated into its narrative context. First-century popular audiences, which were capable of hearing and judging effective rhetoric, would have found the Gospel persuasive and unified in its presentation of the discourses of Jesus.

2. The Discourses of Jesus as Rhetoric

The goal of this study is to hear the discourses of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark as first-century audiences would have heard them. Though attempting to read the Gospel in terms of its own cultural/literary milieu, we are, of course, nonetheless employing a contemporary reading model that we find compatible with our goals and with the text under consideration.1 We assume a reading model similar to that generally proposed by the reader-response critics, especially by Wolfgang Iser in his seminal The Act of Reading.2 In this model, understanding, or as Iser calls it, “actualization” or “meaning effect,” occurs at the point of intersection between the text and the reader as the latter constructs a mental image based upon the instructions of the former. In fiction, actualization is possible because the author has drawn from a set of social and literary conventions generally shared by the author and the intended audience. The author interprets these conventions according to their peculiar strategic aims in such a way that the audience will be able to fulfill the expectations of the author. From the standpoint of the critic of an ancient text, who cannot enter into the mind of either the author or the ancient audience, direct analysis must proceed from the text itself. Thus, for the critic, both 1. See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 4–6, who discusses how one’s goal as well as the nature of the text under consideration become the determinant factors in selecting a reading model. 2. Wolfgang Iser, The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978).

42

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

author and audience are treated as constructs of the narrative, the former being the totality of reportorial and strategic choices found in the narrative; the latter being the embodiment of “all those predispositions necessary for a literary work to exercise its effect.”3 Using this model, it becomes clear that in order to read the discourses of Jesus in Mark as an ancient audience might have read them, one must (1) be familiar with the shared repertoire from which authors and hearers would have drawn to understand speeches, and (2) examine the specific strategies the author uses to configure elements of the repertoire in the speeches. It will be shown in this chapter that the shared repertoire of the author of the discourses in Mark and his first-century audience would have consisted largely of the vast material of the Greco-Roman rhetorical tradition. A methodology is thus proposed that provides a means for examining each of the discourses in the light of Greco-Roman rhetoric, locating their place in the total narrative of Mark, disclosing their persuasive aims and strategies, and revealing their stylistic patterns. The subsequent chapters, chapters 3 through 6, point out patterns and strategies in each of the four discourses, confirming that the author did compose the discourses drawing upon the repertoire of Greco-Roman rhetoric. When read in this way, the discourses prove to be both coherent and persuasive, and it becomes possible to propose how a first-century audience would have understood them.4 3. Iser, Act of Reading, 34. For further discussion of “author,” “audience” “conventions,” “fiction,” and “reading,” see Wayne C. Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961); Jonathan Culler, Structuralist Poetics: Structuralism, Linguistics, and the Study of Literature (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1975); Jane P. Tompkins, ed., ReaderResponse Criticism: From Formalism to Post-Structuralism (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1980); Susan R. Suleiman and Inge Crosman, The Reader in the Text: Essays on Audience and Interpretation (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980); and Stephen Mailloux, Interpretive Conventions: The Reader in the Study of American Fiction (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1982). See also Robert M. Fowler, Loaves and Fishes, SBL Dissertation Series 54 (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981); Robert M. Fowler, “Who Is ‘The Reader’ of Mark’s Gospel,” in Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers 1983, ed. Kent Richards (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1983), 31–53; Fowler, Let the Reader Understand; James L. Resseguie, “Reader-Response and the Synoptic Gospels,” JAAR 52, no. 2 (1984): 307–24; Norman R. Petersen, “The Reader in the Gospel,” Neot 18 (1984): 38–51; Robert Detweiler, ed., Reader Response Approaches to Biblical and Secular Texts (Decatur, GA: Scholars Press, 1985). 4. Primary Greek and Roman material cited hereafter is taken from the Loeb translations unless otherwise indicated.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

43

THE GRECO-ROMAN RHETORICAL MILIEU Rather than drawing upon a contemporary interpretive repertoire composed of historically oriented, non-rhetorical theories about preMarkan sources, tradition development, or early Christian communities, the interpretation in this book draws upon what is known about the rhetorical conventions of the era. We are fortunate to possess a substantial amount of information about rhetorical theory and practice from the Greco-Roman world.5 In addition to scores of individual speeches, there exist a number of theoretical discussions of rhetoric, including philosophical evaluations, technical handbooks, and historical surveys. Together, the available material permits us to reconstruct with some certainty the general dimensions of GrecoRoman rhetoric, including such things as how, when, and where individuals learned rhetorical skills, what the generally accepted conventions of rhetoric were, how rhetoric functioned in society, rhetoric’s relationship to other intellectual disciplines, and so forth.

5. Besides those works discussed below, see Richard Volkmann, Die Rhetorik der Griechen und Römer (Leipzig: Teubner, 1885); R. C. Jebb, The Attic Orators from Antiphon to Isaeos, 2 vols. (London: Macmillan, 1893); Charles Sears Baldwin, Ancient Rhetoric and Poetic (New York: Macmillan, 1924); M. L. Clarke, Rhetoric at Rome: A Historical Survey (London: Cohen & West, 1953); Donald L. Clark, Rhetoric in Greco-Roman Education (New York: Columbia University Press, 1957); Charles S. Rayment, “A Current Survey of Ancient Rhetoric,” CW 52, no. 3 (1958): 75–76, 78–80, 82–84, 86–91; George Kennedy, The Art of Persuasion in Greece (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963); George Kennedy, The Art of Rhetoric in the Roman World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972); Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric; G. M. A. Grube, The Greek and Roman Critics (London: Methuen, 1965); Donald Andrew Russell and Michael Winterbottom, eds., Ancient Literary Criticism: The Principle Texts in New Translations (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972); Josef Martin, Antike Rhetorik: Technik und Methode, Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft 2, part 3 (Munich: Beck, 1974); James J. Murphy, ed., A Synoptic History of Classical Rhetoric (New York: Random House, 1972); James J. Murphy, Rhetoric in the Middle Ages: A History of Rhetorical Theory from Saint Augustine to the Renaissance (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974); Brian Vickers, In Defence of Rhetoric (Oxford: Clarendon, 1988); and Patricia Bizzell and Bruce Herzberg, The Rhetorical Tradition: Readings from Classical Times to the Present (Boston: Bedford, 1990). Christian Walz, Rhetores Graeci, 9 vols. (London: Black, Young & Young, 1832–36); and Leonhard von Spengel, Rhetores Graeci, 3 vols. (Lipsiae: B. G. Teubneri, 1853–56) contain the most complete collection of Greek rhetorical works; the Loeb library contains texts and translations of many Greek and Latin works. The standard encyclopedia of rhetorical terms is Heinrich Lausberg, Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik: eine Grundlegung der Literaturwissenschaft, 2 vols. (Munich: Max Hueber, 1960); see also the biographical dictionary by Donald C. Bryant, ed., Ancient Greek and Roman Rhetoricians: A Biographical Dictionary (Columbia, MO: Artcraft, 1968).

44

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The data are sufficient to draw significant conclusions with considerable certainty. In the Greco-Roman period, by the time of the writing of the Gospel of Mark, there had already evolved a five-hundred-year tradition of rhetoric that was well developed and surprisingly uniform in practice.6 So influential had rhetoric become in Greece, the Hellenistic world, and in both the Roman Republic and the Empire, that it is not too much to assert that the art and practice of rhetoric permeated virtually every level of Greco-Roman society and influenced virtually all discourse. In the same way that, for example, American culture is saturated with the visual art of television, the GrecoRoman world was saturated with the aural art of rhetoric. Rhetoric was taught to children in the schools as a primary objective for reading and writing.7 Among adults, expertise in rhetoric was considered demonstrative of one’s social status and political prowess. Some made their living by teaching rhetoric at the “college” level or by writing speeches. Even popular entertainment was provided by traveling orators with their impromptu and impassioned speeches.

6. The appendix in the back of this book gives a historical survey of Greco-Roman rhetoric. 7. We possess a considerable amount of information about how people learned to read and write in the Greco-Roman world, from a child’s first years in school, through the middle years, and eventually, for elite young men, to advanced training in the rhetorical and philosophical schools. Rhetoric permeated every level of education. See the works of Kenneth J. Freeman, Schools of Hellas (London: Macmillan, 1922); Aubrey O. Gwynn, Roman Education from Cicero to Quintilian (Oxford: Clarendon, 1926); Matthias Lechner, Erziehung und Bildung in der Griechische-römischen Antike (Munich: Max Hueber, 1933); Werner Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture, 3 vols., trans. Gilbert Highet (New York: Oxford University Press, 1939); Luella Cole, A History of Education: Socrates to Montessori (New York: Rinehart, 1950); Martin P. Nilsson, Die hellenistische Schule (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1955); Henri I. Marrou, A History of Education in Antiquity, trans. George Lamb (New York: Sheed & Ward, 1956); D. L. Clark, Rhetoric in Greco-Roman Education; Frederick A. G. Beck, Greek Education, 450-350 B.C. (New York: Barnes & Noble, 1964); James Bowen, A History of Western Education, vol. 1, The Ancient World (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1972); and Stanley F. Bonner, Education in Ancient Rome: From the Elder Cato to the Younger Pliny (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977). See also Plutarch’s treatise On the Education of Children. Even in the Jewish educational system of Palestine, Greco-Roman rhetoric had left a permanent mark. See F. H. Swift, Education in Ancient Israel (Chicago: Open Court, 1919); Eliezer Ebner, Elementary Education in Ancient Israel (New York: Bloch, 1956); James Walter Carpenter, The Jewish Educational System in Palestine (PhD diss., American University, 1958); James L. Kinneavy, Greek Rhetorical Origins of Christian Faith, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 80–91; and especially Rainer Riesner, Jesus als Lehrer. Eine Untersuchung zum Ursprung der Evangelien Überlieferung, WUNT 2/7 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1981), 97–244.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

45

The pervasiveness of rhetoric made it available to people at every level of Greco-Roman society. Though it is suggested below that the author of Mark’s Gospel was likely trained in the rudiments of rhetoric, it is not necessary to assume that the readers of the Gospel were explicitly trained in rhetoric in order to assert that they would have heard the discourses in Mark in terms of Greco-Roman rhetoric. The vast, nonliterate masses would have had regular contact with standard rhetorical conventions in virtually every public setting in the Hellenistic and Roman world: the open-air law courts, the agora, the theater; in public and private readings of decrees, letters, and literature; in public declamations and religious preaching; indeed, even in normal discourse, a certain rhetorical protocol was called for. As Mack points out, Rhetoric defined the technology of discourse customary for all who participated in the culture of the Greco-Roman age. This technology could be learned. Whether one became highly skilled as a rhetorician, or merely a competent critic of one’s times, one knew that the rules of discourse were firm, achievements were recognizable, and cheating at the game of persuasion was dangerous. Formal education may have been costly and thus not available to many. But the products of the Hellenistic school were not private commodities. They were fully public affairs. Techniques of rhetoric were tested in the public arena, just as were performances in music, literature, gymnastics, theater, and so on. The agora, the gymnasium, and the theater, as well as the family courtyard and the city chambers, were all good places to give and hear an interesting speech. All people, whether formally trained or not, were fully schooled in the wily ways of sophists, the eloquence required at civic festivals, the measured tones of the local teacher, and the heated debates where differences of opinion battled for the right to say what should be done. To be engulfed in the culture of Hellenism meant to have ears trained for the rhetoric of speech. Rhetoric provided the rules for making critical judgments in the course of all forms of social intercourse. Early Christians were not unskilled, either as critics of their cultures of context or as proponents of their own emerging persuasions. 8

8. Burton L. Mack, Rhetoric and the New Testament (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990), 30–31.

46

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

By the first century CE, rhetorical instruction had long become essentially descriptive of what was considered persuasive and eloquent speech. The rhetorical system saturating the New Testament milieu had been worked out over generations, thoroughly influencing the way that anyone who participated in the culture gave or received discourse. The rhetorical handbooks were thus largely codifying what the culture at large already considered to be good speaking technique, rather than prescribing how to be persuasive. Thus again, it need not be argued that audiences must have had formal rhetorical education in order for them to understand rhetorical conventions of the day. By the first century CE, the rhetorical heritage was shaping discourse itself far more than teachers of rhetoric were shaping the heritage. It is not likely that the illiterate masses would have been able to label every inclusio or enthymeme in the Markan discourses, at least using the definitions of the literate elite. Nevertheless, because of the pervasiveness within the culture of the five-hundred-yearold rhetorical system—a system that now defined what was effective social intercourse on every level—even the illiterate masses would have been able to “hear” good rhetoric and offer some judgment as to its strategies. The genius of Greek rhetoric lay in the Greek polis, where the power of persuasion was considered of utmost importance. The need to find the most effective way to persuade others of one’s position honed rhetorical theory down to a science and led to the consideration of rhetorical practice as an art.9 In many ways, rhetoric retained the goal of persuasion as its ultimate objective throughout the GrecoRoman period. Nevertheless, in a more general way, rhetoric also became considered the art of effectual and stately oratory. In this sense, by the fifth century BCE rhetoric had taken on major cultural importance, serving as an indication of one’s political and cultural poise.10 Becoming a good orator was considered a necessary step in becoming the ideal citizen, and oratory was in many ways blended 9. According to the prolegomenon in Hermogenes, Rhetores Graeci 3.611 and 4.19 [Walz], the definition of rhetoric as the art of persuasion originated with Corax and Tisias. This definition was commonly repeated throughout the development of rhetoric. See, e.g., Plato, Phaedrus 271D, Gorgias 453A, et ad passim; Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.2.1; Cicero, De Inventione 1.2.3; Tacitus, Dialogues c.30.27; and Augustine, On Christian Doctrine 4.25.55. 10. Quintilian, living centuries after the need for democratic persuasion had waned, under-

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

47

with Greek culture in general. Greco-Roman rhetoric thus developed as the art of oral persuasion, but throughout its history there were constant drifts toward rhetoric as verbal prowess in general. This later tendency, termed letteraturizzazione by G. Kennedy,11 frequently exhibits itself in common places, figures, tropes, and other stylistic elaborations, and it moved rhetoric out of the discipline of oral persuasion and into the larger arena of verbal power and decor in general. Thus, throughout its history, rhetoric consistently played a fundamental role in studies of verbal artistry, composition, narrative, poetry, and even in general conversation. This point is important for our analysis of the Gospel of Mark, for it provides rationale for treating Mark’s written narrative with rhetorical sensitivity. The dominant place afforded rhetoric in GrecoRoman culture soon developed to the point where rhetorical theory became something of a critical standard for judging and composing all linguistic expressions, including written narratives as well as oral discourses. From the very beginning of a child’s education rhetoric was taught. The progymnasmata, early compositional exercises taught to children during the middle and teenage years of school, focused on developing rhetorical skills above all other concerns.12 These exercises thus blended written composition with oratorical aims, generally submitting the former to the latter. Indeed, even when written literature was studied in the schools, it was most often evaluated in rhetorical terms. The classic texts of Greek and Latin literature, including the works of Homer and Virgil, were all treated as source books for teaching rhetoric. Students went to the written narratives in order to learn effective techniques of oratory. Though his work was known as written narrative, Homer was actually considered the first rhetorician by the Greeks.13 In the technical handbooks, oratorical techniques were generally illustrated from literature, continuing the tendency toward rhetorical domination of written narrative. Several of these handbooks actually stood rhetoric in this more general sense. He defines rhetoric as “the knowledge of how to speak well.” Institutes 2.15.38. 11. Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric, 5, 110–19. Kennedy takes the term from Vasile Florescu, Le retorica nel suo sviluppo storico (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1971), 43. 12. See the appendix at the back of the book. 13. See n. 1 in the appendix.

48

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

seem to know no difference between written narrative and rhetoric.14 Consequently, their descriptions of, for example, how to achieve sublime arguments or how to compose balanced sentences apply equally to written narrative and to oral argument. This really should come as no surprise, since ancient narrative was intended to be read aloud, generally being composed for the ear rather than for the eye.15 Thus, in composing narratives, authors made use of structuring and stylistic devices designed for hearing rather than for seeing. Rhetorical strategies thus became common in all the written narrative genres, including history and biography.16 As Standaert observes of ancient composition, 14. E.g., Demetrius, On Style and [Longinus], On the Sublime. 15. See Augustine’s amazement at Ambrose’s strange habit of reading quietly; Confessions 6.3.3. See J. F. D’Alton, Roman Literary Theory and Criticism: A Study in Tendencies (London: Longmans, Green, 1931), 93–94; Jürgen Blunck, “ἀναγινώσκω,” in New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, ed. Colin Brown, vol. 1 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1975), 245–46; Scholes and Kellogg, Nature of Narrative, 181; George Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation through Rhetorical Criticism (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1984), 5–12; Henri I. Marrou, “Education and Rhetoric,” in The Legacy of Greece: A New Appraisal, ed. Moses I. Finley (Oxford: Clarendon, 1981), 196; and Michael Slusser, “Reading Silently in Antiquity,” JBL 111, no. 3 (1992): 499. For orality and Mark, see Malbon, Hearing Mark; Joanna Dewey, “The Gospel of Mark as Oral-Aural Event: Implications for Interpretation,” in The New Literary Criticism and the New Testament, ed. Edgar V. McKnight and Elizabeth Struthers Malbon (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1994), 145–63; Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel; and Bridget Gilfillan Upton, Hearing Mark’s Endings: Listening to Ancient Popular Texts through Speech Act Theory, Biblical Interpretation Series 79 (Leiden: Brill, 2006). Surprisingly, Witherington (Gospel of Mark, 10–11) deemphasizes the orality of Mark, suggesting that “Mark is not meant to be heard, but rather to be taken in through the act of reading.” Witherington is arguing against those who believe Mark is intended for public performance. 16. See Anne Marie Guillemin, Le public et la vie littéraire à Rome (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1937), 119–21; and D’Alton, Roman Literary Theory, 438–524. Cf. Cicero, De oratore 61–101. Cicero (De legibus 2.5; cf. De oratore 2.51) considered rhetorical skill fundamental to writing history. Quintilian (Institutes 10.1.73–75) even judges the historians in terms of rhetoric. See also Pliny, Epist. 5, 8, 9–11; the analysis by A. D. Leeman, Orationis ratio: The Stylistic Theories and Practice of the Roman Orators, Historians and Philosophers, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: A. M. Hakkert, 1963), 1:333–37; and Polybius (Histories 10.21 [24] 6–7; 8.10.6) who compares the encomium with history. According to D’Alton (Roman Literary Theory, 523–24), the historians generally wrote history as rhetorical declamation, further fusing the bond between historiography and rhetoric. See also F. W. Walbank, “History and Tragedy,” Historia 9, no. 2 (1960): 231: “History like other compositions would normally be read aloud, often in public gatherings.” For assessments of how rhetoric shaped the writing of ancient history, see Robert G. Hall, “Ancient Historical Method and the Training of an Orator,” in The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture: Essays from the 1995 London Conference, ed. Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, JSNTSup 146 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 103–18; and Robert G. Hall, “Historical Inference and Rhetorical Effect,” in Persuasive Artistry: Studies in New Testament Rhetoric in Honor of George A. Kennedy, ed. Duane F. Watson, JSNTSup 50 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991), 308–19. Hall believes that ancient historiography was thoroughly shaped by the rhetorical interests of

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

49

It is not possible to appreciate adequately any composition of antiquity, without being aware of the elements of this common rhetorical baggage. It should be remembered that all ancient writings were meant to be read aloud and that as a rule many laws of discourse also extended to the complete universe of text.17

It thus makes sense to draw upon the repertoire of Greco-Roman rhetoric when reading an ancient narrative such as Mark’s Gospel, especially when the modern reader’s goal is to hear that narrative as a first-century audience would have heard it. Moreover, when the portions of the narrative under consideration are actually representations of primary rhetoric (i.e., speeches), it does not make sense to read them without drawing upon the repertoire of Greco-Roman rhetoric.18 RHETORIC AND THE GOSPEL OF MARK The New Testament was born in a culture in which rhetoric was highly esteemed and where certain canons of persuasion were universally taught. One can rightly expect that any person fluent in Greek or Latin, especially any person capable of writing in either of these languages, had been exposed—at least in general terms—to its writers. The goal of historical writing, he argues, was to provide a record of the deeds of a great person, but to do so in order to glorify the subject. Rhetoric also greatly shaped ancient biography. As Standaert demonstrates, Xenophon’s Agesilas and Isocrates’s Evagoras both mix rhetoric with the narrative genre of biography. Indeed, the origins of Greco-Roman biography lay in the laudations of rhetoric: “le genre biographique etait un genre laudatif, tant dans la tradition grecque que chez les latins” (Standaert, L’Evangile selon Marc, 437n2). See also Friedrich D. Leo, Die griechisch-romische Biographie nach ihrer litterarischen Form (Leipzig: Teubner, 1901); Marcel Durry, Éloge funèbre d’une matrone Romaine (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1950); and Arnaldo Momigliano, The Development of Greek Biography (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971). 17. Standaert, L’Evangile selon Marc, 26; translation ours. The original says, “Il n’est pas possible d’apprécier de façon adéquate n’importe quelle composition de l’antiquité, sans avoir pris connaissance des éléments de ce bagage rhétorique commun. On doit se souvenir que tout écrit ancien était destiné à être lu à haute voix et que donc en règle générale bien des lois du discours s’étendaient également a l’ensemble de l’univers des textes.” 18. Mark’s Gospel reflects the general world of Greco-Roman rhetoric, even though it also makes use of rhetorical (or literary) strategies drawn from the Jewish Scriptures. Cf. Roland Meynet, Rhetorical Analysis: An Introduction to Biblical Rhetoric, JSOTSup 256 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), who argues that there is a biblical rhetoric distinct from classical rhetoric. Meynet’s rhetorical analysis, however, is more akin to literary structure and artistry than persuasive strategy and composition, as we intend to mean by “rhetorical criticism.”

50

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Greco-Roman rhetoric. Indeed, in such a rhetorical environment, it would be surprising if Mark’s Gospel were not heavily influenced by Greco-Roman rhetoric. The author of the Gospel wrote in Koine Greek, and it is safe to assume that the author learned to write in one of the many schools in the Greco-Roman world of the first century, where the influence of rhetorical theory would have been pervasive and where at least the rudiments of rhetorical practice would have been learned. By now, many literary and rhetorical studies of the Gospel have, in fact, demonstrated the rhetorical nature of the Gospel. Standaert makes an extensive investigation of the Gospel, focusing especially on the question of how it was composed. He concludes that the overall narrative is “une piece oratoire” presented in dramatic fashion.19 Close analysis of the overall arrangement as well as the narrative techniques employed throughout the story reveal that the narrative was composed according to the rhetorical rules of the milieu: In the light of rhetorical teaching and the actual practice of the ancients, it turns out that Mark composed in a very conventional way; he had to know the rules in use at the time, since he conformed to them down to the least subdivision.20

The rhetorical structure, Standaert argues, actually provides a general sense of unity to the story: In conclusion, this approach to the whole gospel reveals a unified composition according to a concentric model, and also demonstrates the use of certain conventional processes that subdivide and articulate the overall composition. It turns out that the author of the second gospel was subject to certain conventions of oratorical organization.21

19. Standaert, L’Evangile selon Marc, 9. 20. Ibid., 8; translation ours. The original says, “À la lumière de l’enseignement rhétorique et de la pratique effective des anciens, il s’est avéré que Marc compose de façon fort conventionnelle: il a dû connaître les règles en usage à son époque puisqu’il s’y est conforme jusque dans le moindres subdivision.” 21. Ibid., 63; translation ours. The original says, “En conclusion, cette . . . approche de tout l’évangile révèle une composition unifiée selon un modèle concentrique, et manifeste aussi le recours à certains procédés conventionnels qui subdivisent et articulent la composition d’ensemble. Il s’avère que l’auteur du second évangile était soumis à certaines conventions de la disposition oratoire.”

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

51

Tolbert’s work on the Gospel also demonstrates the heavy influence of Greco-Roman rhetoric upon Mark and the discourses in it.22 The entire narrative is structured by rhetorical indicators such as hook words, inclusios, chiasms, concentric patterns, rhyming and periodic cola and commas, and a vast number of rhetorical figures of diction and of thought. Moreover, Tolbert is able to show that the story progresses by means of a technique similar to rhetorical amplification, with certain central issues established in the discourses then elaborated throughout the rest of the narrative. Even the style of the narrative and many of its arguments are shown by Tolbert to have been coordinated by Greco-Roman conventions. About the Gospel, then, she concludes that “there can be no doubt of Mark’s thorough immersion in the realm of rhetoric.”23 Jean Radermakers finds a number of rhetorical techniques employed in the narrative of Mark and demonstrates Mark’s dependence on the Greco-Roman rhetorical heritage.24 The analyses of various sections of the Gospel by Lambrecht, Dewey, and Mack and Robbins already discussed in chapter 1 reveal Mark’s reliance upon rhetorical devices to structure parts of the Gospel. Mary Ann Beavis assembles considerable evidence that Mark was thoroughly familiar with the rhetorical tradition of the milieu, including citations from other scholars and parallel material from the New Testament period.25 Additionally, a number of journal articles have appeared over the last two decades showing the rhetorical quality of various sections of the Markan narrative.26 Christopher Bryan compares Mark’s Gospel to the ancient Hellenistic biographies and concludes that Mark is literarily and rhetorically at home among these works.27 He shows that many of rhetorical features of Mark’s Gospel are common to popular Hellenistic literature, including the use of asyndeton, historical present, and parataxis. 22. See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 41–46. 23. Ibid., 43. 24. Jean Radermakers, La bonne nouvelle de Jésus selon saint Marc, 2 vols. (Brussels: Institut d’études théologiques, 1974). 25. Mary Ann Beavis, Mark’s Audience: The Literary and Social Setting of Mark 4:11–12, JSNTSup 33 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989), 7–44. 26. Many of these are incorporated and noted in the subsequent chapters. 27. Bryan, Preface to Mark.

52

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Indeed, he suggests that in “eight of eleven major features we have found Mark exactly to what would have been expected of a Hellenistic ‘life.’”28 By situating Mark among the ancient biographies, Bryan is able to provide explanations for some of Mark’s rhetorical features. For example, Bryan suggests that Mark chose a paratactic style (his frequent use of καί) in order to make his Gospel easier to listen to, quoting Quintilian’s concern that the narration of history requires not so much the rhythms of periodic style as “a certain continuity of motion.”29 His analysis of Mark’s rhetoric consistently shows an author aware of the basics of rhetorical composition in the first century. Upton analyzes the endings of Mark’s Gospel using Xenophon’s Ephesiaca as a control text for studying Mark’s aurality and orality.30 By comparing Mark to both ancient rhetoric and drama, she is able to find examples of assonance, alliteration, homoioteleuton, asyndeton, and other rhetorical strategies in the narrative of Mark’s Gospel. Recent research in the Gospel of Mark has demonstrated, then, that Mark drew heavily from the repertoire of Greco-Roman rhetoric in the composition of his narrative. This does not necessarily imply that Mark had studied in Athens, Antioch, Rome, or Alexandria. Rhetorical training could be found virtually anywhere one could find Hellenistic or Roman culture. During the time of the empire, elementary-school teachers were to be found more or less everywhere and grammarians and rhetors in any place of importance.31 “Wherever the Greeks settled—” Marrou observes, “in the villages of the Fayum . . . in Babylon, in far-off Susiana—one of their first tasks was to set up their own institutions, their educational establishments—their primary schools and gymnasiums.”32 As Mack points out, there were dozens of Hellenistic cities in Palestine during the time of Jesus, twelve within a twenty-five-mile radius of Nazareth. One such city, Gadara, only twenty miles east of Nazareth, boasted 28. Ibid., 61. 29. Ibid., 74–75, quoting Quintilian, Institutes 9.4.129–130. 30. Upton, Hearing Mark’s Endings. 31. Marrou, History of Education, 296. 32. Ibid., 99; see also 143–44 and 396n5. Marrou points out that the papyri demonstrate that Greek literacy was fairly common throughout the Hellenistic world, even in the rural areas. In many areas, primary education was extended to girls as well as to boys.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

53

of the Cynic poet Menippus, the Epicurean rhetorician Philodemus, the Cynic epigrammatist Meleager, and the prominent rhetorician Theodorus.33 By the time of the New Testament, Judaism itself had become thoroughly Hellenized, even in Palestine.34 It is not too much to say, then, that whatever its provenance, the author of the Gospel of Mark would have understood the basics of Greek rhetoric, and that the readers of the Gospel would have approached the Gospel drawing upon the conventional rhetorical repertoire.35 Juvenal’s remark about the extent of Greco-Roman education is enlightening: “Today the whole world enjoys Greek culture and Latin culture. Gaul has grown eloquent and raises British lawyers, and Thuse is already about to hire a rhetor!”36 33. Mack, Rhetoric, 29–30. In addition to Theodorus, two of the most prominent rhetoricians of the first and second centuries CE were Jewish: Caecilius of Calacte and Hermogenes of Tarsus; see Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation, 9. See also Henry J. Leon, “The Jews of Rome in the First Centuries of Christianity,” in The Teachers’ Yoke, ed. E. Jerry Vardaman and James Leo Garrett (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 1964), 162. 34. See, e.g., Saul Lieberman, Hellenism in Jewish Palestine (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1950); Saul Lieberman, Greek in Jewish Palestine (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1966); Avigdor Tcherikover, Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews (New York: Atheneum, 1970), esp. 297–332; Henry Fischel, Rabbinic Literature and Greco–Roman Philosophy: A Study of Epicurea and Rhetoric in Early Midrashic Writings (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1973); Martin Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism, 2 vols., trans. John Bowden (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974); Martin Hengel, Jews, Greeks, and Barbarians: Aspects of the Hellenization of Judaism in the Pre-Christian Period, trans. John Bowden (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980); and Martin Hengel, Hellenization of Judaea in the First Century after Christ (London: SCM, 1990). Marius Reiser, Syntax und Stil des Markusevangeliums im Licht der hellenistischen Volksliteratur (Tübingen: Mohr, 1984), argues effectively that Mark’s Greek was thoroughly at home in its Hellenistic milieu and quite comparable with that of the biographies and romances of the time. G. H. R. Horsley has convincingly shown that the Greek of the Gospels is Hellenistic Greek and not Jewish Greek: see G. H. R. Horsley, “The Fiction of ‘Jewish Greek,’” New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, vol. 5, Linguistic Essays (North Ryde, AUS: Macquarie University, 1989), 5–40. See also Bryan, Preface to Mark, 53–54, who gives examples of ancient (non-Jewish) Hellenistic “Lives” that share Mark’s paratactic style and that employ many of Mark’s stylistic features. Joseph Fitzmyer (“Did Jesus Speak Greek?” BAR 18, no. 5 [September/October 1992]: 58–63) shows the probability that even the historical Jesus spoke Greek, although it would have been a second language. Even Maurice Casey (Aramaic Sources of Mark’s Gospel [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998]), who seeks to reconstruct the Aramaic sources behind the Gospel of Mark, concedes that Greek was widely used throughout Hellenistic and Roman Palestine. Interestingly, most Jewish funerary inscriptions are in Greek; see Pieter W. van der Horst, “Jewish Funerary Inscriptions: Most Are in Greek,” BAR 18, no. 5 (September/October 1992): 46–52. 35. For discussions about Greco-Roman education and the Gospel of Mark, see MacDonald, Homeric Epics, 2–7. 36. Juvenal, Satirae 15.108–112.

54

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Furthermore, recognizing the rhetorical character of Mark does not necessarily imply that its author advanced all the way to the rhetor in his education.37 All Greco-Roman education by the first century CE was rhetorical in orientation.38 No matter how much formal education the author of the Gospel received, he would have learned some of the basics of speech making: developing an argument, acceptable arrangement, the rudiments of style, and so forth. As early as their teenage years,39 students would have been practicing the rhetorically oriented progymnasmata. The progymnasmata were composed of a series of graded exercises designed to teach the student the rudiments of invention, arrangement, and style.40 The list of progymnasmata was generally the same throughout imperial times and included the following compositional exercises: fable, narrative, chreia, aphorism, confirmation or refutation, commonplace, eulogy or censure, comparison, prosopopoeia, thesis, and discussion of the law. Each of these increased over the preceding in degree of sophistication, and many simulated various parts of speech composition. 37. Cf., however, John Paul Pritchard, A Literary Approach to the New Testament (Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1972), 38, who argues that Mark was written by one either well trained in rhetoric or aided by a well-trained rhetorician: In his selection and organization of material Mark shows the work of a skilled rhetorician. He not only sized up his audience’s interests, but he also knew how to gratify them. Organization, Aristotle and later critics insist, is perhaps the final technique to be mastered by a writer. Mark’s organization appears to have had the aid of a trained collaborator. Pritchard’s view contrasts with that of Eugene Boring (Mark, 23), who agrees that “Mark is a carefully composed literary composition” but suggests that “this does not mean that the author was striving for literary elegance, or that he was capable of doing so. The author’s straightforward rough-and-ready Greek does not measure up to classical literary standards and is less elegant than that of any of the other Gospels.” Cf. Bryan, Preface to Mark, 55: “Mark’s Greek is the language of popular written style (which tends to be close to spoken language) rather than that of the literati. It could have been read aloud to good effect, and would have been understood by everyone present, whatever the level of education.” 38. See the appendix at the end of the book. 39. Quintilian recommends that one wait for the rhetor (i.e., during the teen years) for most of these, but as Marrou suggests (History of Education, 160), the education system was becoming increasingly top heavy, and one can imagine that many grammatikoi were already hurrying to have their preteen students practice these exercises. For the progymnasmata, see Ronald F. Hock and Edward N. O’Neil, The Progymnasmata, vol. 1 of The Chreia in Ancient Rhetoric (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986); Donald L. Clark, “The Rise and Fall of Progymnasmata in Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Grammar Schools,” SM 19, no. 4 (1952): 259–63; George Kennedy, Greek Rhetoric Under Christian Emperors (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983), 52–73; Bonner, Education in Ancient Rome, 250–76; and Moeser, Anecdote in Mark, 53–106. 40. Surviving works on the progymnasmata include works by Aelius Theon, Hermogenes of Tarsus, Priscian, Aphthonius of Antioch, Nicolaus of Myra, and the Vatican Grammarian. See Hock and O’Neil, Progymnasmata.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

55

For example, in the exercise called chreia, the student took a saying from a famous historical figure and constructed a descriptive paragraph around it in accordance with certain rhetorical strategies. In the prosopopoeia, or as they were sometimes called, the ethopopoeia, students imagined themselves to be some famous person at a critical point in their life, then composed a short speech representing how that character might have spoken.41 By the time students had mastered the last of the progymnasmata, they were ready to begin composing full speeches. Since the author of Mark was likely familiar with at least the simpler progymnasmata, it is not necessary to argue that he received an advanced rhetorical education to be able to assert that he had learned the basics conventional strategies for composing speeches.42

41. See Quintilian, Institutes 3.8.53; Hermogenes, Progymnasmata 15.34; Libanius, Opera 8.372; Aphthonius, Progymnasmata 45.21. The exercise of prosopopoeia was similar to the general narrative practice of writing speeches for characters in the romances, biographies, and historiographies of the day. For example, the student might be assigned to write a speech representing what Achilles might say over the body of Patroclus, or what Medea might say when about to slay her children. The exercise was important for teaching both the technical aspects of rhetoric, such as arrangement and style, and for teaching the psychological exigencies of oration. It is possible that the exercise of the prosopopoeia served as a template for the composition of the speeches of Jesus in the Gospels. Augustine refers to the practice in Confessions 1.17. Cf. Hans-Martin Hagen, ΗΘΟΠΟΙΙΑ: Zue Geschichte eines rhetorischen Begriffs (Diss., FriedrichAlexander-Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg, 1966). The practice of composing speeches for characters within “historical” narratives was also common. See the explanation given by Thucydides, History 1.22: As to the speeches that were made by different men, either when they were about to begin the war or when they were already engaged therein, it has been difficult to recall with strict accuracy the words actually spoken, both for me as regards that which I myself heard, and for those who from various other sources have brought me reports. Therefore the speeches are given in the language in which, as it seemed to me, the several speakers would express, on subjects under consideration, the sentiments most benefiting the occasion, though at the same time I have adhered as closely as possible to the general sense of what was actually said.

Polybius (Histories 12.25.1) demands strict rules for historians who practiced such speech-compositions in their works. 42. David Neville, Mark’s Gospel—Prior or Posterior? A Reappraisal of the Phenomenon of Order, JSNTSup 222 (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 114–45, gives a good summary of the actual compositional techniques and conventions of the first century, including writing equipment, compositional expectations, research methodologies, and the like.

56

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

RHETORIC AND NEW TESTAMENT CRITICISM As stated above, it is not new to claim that New Testament documents are rhetorical in nature. Prior to the twentieth century, the rhetorical quality of the New Testament was assumed, and it was only after the demise of rhetoric in the general curricula of the West that an awareness of the rhetorical quality of the New Testament was lost. The early church fathers took for granted that the New Testament writings were to be read as rhetorical compositions, although they saw a great difference between the Bible and the classics, and they refused to classify the New Testament with the gratuitous sophistic rhetoric of their day. For example, though he expressly denies that they contain the same rhetorical tricks as the declaimers, Augustine (who himself had once been a professor of rhetoric) found “eloquence” to be the constant companion of the truth found in the Scriptures. Regarding Paul, Augustine observes in his Ciceronian way that “Wisdom is his guide, eloquence his attendant; he follows the first, the second follows him, and yet he does not spurn it when it comes after him.”43 Augustine praises Paul for Paul’s expert use of the figure of climax, the period, the question, and Paul’s vehemence of delivery.44 Amos is acclaimed for his carefully balanced clauses and his stylistic force.45 Rhetorical readings of the New Testament continued for centuries throughout the Middle Ages and into the Reformation. This should come as no surprise, for the standard educational system in the West for centuries continued to focus on rhetoric, even using the works of Hermogenes, Cicero, Quintilian, and others as textbooks up until the modern era. Martin Bucer and Heinrich Bullinger naturally understood Paul in terms of classical rhetoric.46 In the seventeenth century, Solomon Glassius published a full account of rhetorical figures in the Bible.47 Bengel’s commentary on the New Testament assumes that

43. Augustine, On Christian Doctrine 4.7.12. 44. Ibid., 4.7.11–14. 45. Ibid., 4.7.15–21. 46. See Mack, Rhetoric, 10. 47. Solomon Glassius, Philologia Sacra (Jena,1625).

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

57

rhetoric is the key to understanding the Scriptures,48 and throughout the nineteenth century works were published that read sections of the New Testament, especially from Paul, in terms of classical rhetoric. 49 Indeed, it has only been within the last hundred years that an awareness of the rhetorical quality of the New Testament was lost, due likely to the rise of scientific historiography, the interest in hermeneutics over aesthetics, and the general decline of rhetoric from the curricula of educational systems in the West. By the time of his dissertation of 1910, for example, Rudolf Bultmann was troubled by Paul’s relationship to classical rhetoric.50 Ever since, throughout the source, form, and even redaction critical era, as has already been seen, the rhetorical quality of the New Testament was all but ignored. Since the late 1960s, however, there has been a reawakening of rhetorical interests in the New Testament. This reawakening is usually dated from the 1968 presidential address of James Muilenburg to the Society of Biblical Literature and from the English publication of Chaïm Perelman and L. Olbrechts-Tyteca’s Traité de l’argumentation: La nouvelle rhétorique.51 This latter work provided renewed interest in rhetoric by showing—against the assumptions of many—that rhetoric deals with the development of argumentation and is not merely concerned with stylistics. Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca’s work revealed how rhetoric is present in virtually all human discourse, and consequently it helped revitalize the need for the disciplined study of rhetoric. The former work, that of James Muilenburg, openly called for a “rhetorical criticism.”52 Muilenburg was 48. Johann Albrecht Bengel, Gnomon of the New Testament, ed. J. C. F. Steudel; trans. Andrew R. Fausset, 5 vols. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1858–59). 49. See, e.g., Karl Ludwig Bauer, Rhetorica Paullina, 2 vols. (Halae: Impensis Orphanotrophei, 1782); Stevenson MacGill, Lectures on Rhetoric and Criticism(Edinburgh: W. Oliphant & Son, 1838); Christian Gottlob Wilke, Die neutestamentliche Rhetorik: Ein Seitenstuck zur Grammatik des neutestamentlichen Sprachidioms (Dresden: Arnold, 1843); C. F. Georg Heinrici, Das zweite Sendschreiben des Apostels Paulus an die Korinther (Berlin: Hertz, 1887); E. W. Bullinger, Figures of Speech Used in the Bible, Explained and Illustrated (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1898); and others. 50. Rudolf Bultmann, Der Stil der paulinischen Predigt und die kynisch-stoische Diatribe, Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 13 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1910). 51. Traité de l’argumentation: La nouvelle rhétorique (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1958); translated by John Wilkinson and Purcell Weaver as The New Rhetoric: A Treatise on Argumentation (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1969). 52. Muilenburg, “Form Criticism and Beyond.”

58

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

searching for a corrective to the overbearing role that form criticism had played in biblical scholarship, and he sought it in a new awareness of the creative accomplishments of the biblical writers. His call helped legitimize literary and aesthetic studies in general, and eventually led to contemporary rhetorical criticism.53 As has already been seen, a number of works have been published that seek to uncover the rhetorical qualities of the New Testament writings.54 Some of the earliest of these treated rhetoric in terms of literary embellishment, focusing upon stylistics, tropes, and figures. This tradition is much closer to the work of American New Criticism, which was, ironically, losing ground in academic circles outside of biblical scholarship at the same time that biblical scholars were just discovering it. Other rhetorical analysts have come to understand rhetoric more in terms of argumentative strategies or systems. The interest here is much broader than one of mere stylistics. Rather, it considers texts as persuasive acts that are bound by their own aim to certain strategies. An understanding of these strategies can reveal a great deal about the apparent aim of a text, the social setting from which it comes, and the general life setting behind the text, as well as how various readers interact with the text. Though this latter tradition might represent the full blossom of rhetorical criticism, it would be a mistake to dismiss rhetoric as simply structure, stylistics and aesthetics55 Even in the Greco-Roman world, both traditions were always present, and speakers, authors, and listeners were aware of the values of both. 53. Muilenburg meant something different with his term “rhetorical criticism” than we mean. He advocated an approach to the texts of the Scriptures quite similar to American New Criticism, examining the texts in isolation from their historical context (including their rhetorical milieu) in order to identify their formal structuring features. See “Form Criticism and Beyond,” 1–18. 54. Mack gives a lengthy bibliography of works dealing with rhetorical criticism in Rhetoric, 103–10. See especially Bernhard W. Anderson, “The New Frontier of Rhetorical Criticism,” in Rhetorical Criticism, ed. Jared J. Jackson and Martin Kessler (Pittsburgh: Pickwick, 1974), ix–xvii; Vernon Robbins, “Picking Up the Fragments: From Crossan’s Analysis to Rhetorical Analysis,” Foundations and Facets Forum 1, no. 2 (1985), 31–64; Burton L. Mack, Anecdotes and Arguments: The Chreia in Antiquity and Early Christianity, Occasional Papers 10 (Claremont, CA: Institute for Antiquity and Christianity, 1987); Wilhelm Wuellner, “Where is Rhetorical Criticism Taking Us?” CBQ 49, no. 3 (1987): 448–63; and Duane F. Watson, ed., Persuasive Artistry: Studies in New Testament Rhetoric in Honor of George A. Kennedy, JSNTSup 50 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991). 55. As Mack tends to do in his Rhetoric, see pp. 19–24.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

59

In 1989, Martin Warner could write that “rhetorical criticism is a comparative newcomer to the field of biblical studies.”56 Since then, however, rhetorical criticism has begun to emerge as a major critical methodology in biblical studies, though the discipline has broadened in the same ways as has literary criticism. As Amador suggests, “The rediscovery and re-invention of rhetoric in recent years has made a profound impact upon biblical studies, as seen especially in the exponential growth in the number of articles, monographs, Festschriften (even conferences) addressing themselves to rhetorical analyses of biblical texts.”57 Olbricht explains: Rhetorical criticism has embraced many different kinds of criticism including modernism and formalism exemplified by Cleanth Brooks and T. S. Eliot, the reader-response criticism of Kenneth Burke, Walter J. Ong, SJ, and Stanley Fish, structuralism and semiotics of Ferdinand de Saussure and Roland Barthes, the deconstruction of Jacques Derrida and Paul de Man, psychological and psychoanalytic criticism of Michel Foucault and Peter Brooks, Marxism and New Historicism of Raymond Williams, the feminism of Elaine Showalter and Hélèn Cixous, the African-American criticism of Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and the ethical and canonical concerns of Northrop Frye and J. Hillis Miller.58

In 1980, George Kennedy suggested a rhetorical critical methodology that accounts for the material in the biblical text itself.59 This study will apply Kennedy’s methodology to the discourses of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel. Nevertheless, rhetorical criticism has expanded significantly to include much more than analysis of texts in terms of their Greco-Roman rhetorical milieu. These include a variety of concerns and, as one would expect, have generated a new set of terminologies. One leading pioneer in molding rhetorical criticism into a more 56. Martin Warner, Philosophical Finesse: Studies in the Art of Rational Persuasion (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 3. 57. J. D. H. Amador, “The Word Made Flesh: Epistemology, Ontology, and Postmodern Rhetorics,” in The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture: Essays from the 1995 London Conference, ed. Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, JSNTSup 146 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 53. Throughout the 1990s, international conferences were convened solely on rhetorical analysis in Heidelberg (1992), Pretoria (1994), and London (1995). 58. Thomas H. Olbricht, “The Flowering of Rhetorical Criticism in America,” in The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture: Essays from the 1995 London Conference, ed. Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, JSNTSup 146 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 101. 59. Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric.

60

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

interdisciplinary methodology is Vernon Robbins. Robbins and others have developed a socio-rhetorical methodology that moves rhetorical criticism beyond mere analysis of the composition and structure of a text.60 Robbins’s socio-rhetorical methodology seeks to look at least five different textures of a text: 1) inner texture (which is the subject of literary and rhetorical criticism), 2) intertexture (the relationship of the text to the world outside it, including the text’s quotation of, or allusions to, other texts, 3) social and culture texture (the particular “agenda” for social and cultural change which a text may exhibit), 4) ideological texture (the different points of view evoked by a text such as anthropological, feminist, theological, literary or historical), 5) sacred texture (the way a text addresses the relationship of humans to the divine).61

Robbins himself distinguishes between rhetorical criticism as a method and rhetorical criticism as an interpretive theory. In rhetorical criticism as a method, the critic focuses on the speech text rather than on the speaker-author or on the audience-reader. Here, the critic uses the repertoire of rhetorical techniques to analyze the composition and structure of the text itself. In rhetorical criticism as an interpretive theory, the critic focuses almost solely upon the act of reading and pays less attention to the time before or after reading. “Rather the interpreter analyzes the persuasive notion of the text during the time of reading and reenacts the categories of authority and tradition in either a positive or negative manner during this time.” 62 Robbins goes on to propose a reinvention of rhetorical criticism that would include a much broader range of questions: “social, cultural, aesthetic, historical, political, ideological and psychological.” 60. See Vernon K. Robbins, New Boundaries in Old Territory, Form and Social Rhetoric in Mark, Emory Studies in Early Christianity 3 (New York: Peter Lang, 1994); Vernon K. Robbins, “The Present and Future of Rhetorical Analysis,” in The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture: Essays from the 1995 London Conference, ed. Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, JSNTSup 146 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 24–52. The introduction to Robbins’s New Boundaries was written by David B. Gowler and describes a detailed explanation of Robbins’s sociorhetorical method as it stood in the mid-1990s. See also Vernon K. Robbins, Exploring the Texture of Texts: A Guide to Socio-Rhetorical Interpretation (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity International Press, 1996), and The Tapestry of Early Christian Discourse: Rhetoric, Society, and Ideology (London: Routledge, 1996). 61. Condensed from Edith M. Humphrey, And I Turned to See the Voice: The Rhetoric of Vision in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 114–15. 62. Robbins, “Present and Future,” 27.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

61

His reinvention of rhetorical criticism, which he calls “interpretive analytics,” would move rhetorical criticism beyond method, and beyond its place as a subdivision of historical and literary analysis, and into a “revalued and reinvented” discipline that “brings resources from multiple disciplines of study into dialogue with one another on their own terms.”63 What Robbins calls “interpretive analytics” approaches what Stanley Porter calls ideological rhetorical criticism, the development of rhetorical approaches designed to critique the belief systems of original writers as well as their contemporary readers.64 Ideological rhetorical criticism is less concerned with the construction of a text, its arrangement or style, and more concerned with how that text has been used, either by original communities or by more recent readers. Because this kind of rhetorical criticism opens possibilities for hearing a text in a multitude of ways, it has captured the attention of a considerable number of critics with postmodern interests. Rhetorical criticism is still developing, and Stanley Porter observed in 1997 that there is still no agreed upon model of rhetorical criticism. “The field is not static.”65 Because rhetorical criticism is still developing, it remains to be seen what it can fully accomplish. Nevertheless, the increased interest in rhetoric and the Gospels shows that various forms of rhetorical criticism have much to offer.66 Some of the 63. Ibid., 30. Robbins exchanges ideas about the philosophical assumptions of his methodologies with Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, who complains that much of rhetorical criticism is held captive to “empiricist-positivist science.” See Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “Challenging the Rhetorical Half-Turn: Feminist and Rhetorical Biblical Criticism,” in Rhetoric, Scripture, and Theology: Essays from the 1994 Pretoria Conference, ed. Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, JSNTSup 131 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), 32: “By reviving the technology of ancient rhetorical, rhetorical criticism in biblical studies has failed to make the full term to a political rhetoric of inquiry insofar as it has not developed critical epistemological discourses and a hermeneutics of suspicion but instead has sought to validate its disciplinary practices in and through the logos of positivist or empiricist science that occludes its own rhetoricity.” Robbins responds in “The Rhetorical Full-Turn in Biblical Interpretation: Reconfiguring Rhetorical-Political Analysis,” in Rhetorical Criticism and the Bible, ed. Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, JSNTSup 195 (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 48–60. See also L. Gregory Bloomquist, “A Possible Direction for Providing Programmatic Correlation of Textures in Socio-Rhetorical Analysis,” in Rhetorical Criticism and the Bible, ed. Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, JSNTSup 195 (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 61–96. 64. Stanley F. Porter, introduction to The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture: Essays from the 1995 London Conference, ed. Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, JSNTSup 146 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 17–22. 65. Ibid., 17. 66. Among the most notable recent rhetorical critical approaches are Bruce W. Longenecker,

62

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

possibilities of rhetorical criticism are suggested in Mack’s introduction to the method: It can plunge a writing back into its social setting, not only to be used as a window for viewing other social facets, but as a social factor of significance itself. Rhetorical criticism can turn a literary production into the protocol of a persuasion without rejecting other ways of viewing its accomplishments. Rhetorical criticism can place a writing at a juncture of social history and read it as a record of some moment of exchange that may have contributed to the social formations we seek better to understand.67

A RHETORICAL METHODOLOGY The first-century audience of the Gospel of Mark would have heard the discourses of Jesus in terms of the commonly accepted rhetorical practices of the day, and one can assume that the author of the Gospel composed his narrative in such a way as to make these discourses intelligible in terms of Greco-Roman rhetoric. Therefore, if one wants to hear the discourses as a first-century audience would have heard them, one must hear them in terms of speech composition conventions of the milieu. How does the twentieth-century critic proceed to hear Jesus’s discourses in Mark’s Gospel as first-century audiences might have heard them? Several decades ago, George Kennedy set forth a rhetorical methodology based on the canons of Greco-Roman rhetoric in his New Testament Interpretation through Rhetorical Criticism. Kennedy’s methodology has not been widely used, but it remains a solid approach to hearing the biblical material in light of Greco-Roman rhetoric. Kennedy briefly describes four steps for rhetorical analysis.68 Rhetoric at the Boundaries: The Art and Theology of New Testament Chain-Link Transitions (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2005); and Jonathan T. Pennington, Reading the Gospels Wisely: A Narrative and Theological Introduction (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012). For a more exhaustive list, see the excellent annotated bibliography in Ben Witherington III, New Testament Rhetoric: An Introductory Guide to the Art of Persuasion in and of the New Testament (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2009), 141–46. 67. Mack, Rhetoric, 17. 68. Wuellner (“Where Is Rhetorical Criticism,” 455–58) divides Kennedy’s method into five steps. Kennedy himself does not number the steps in his methodology and only vaguely refers to them as regarding “preliminary matters,” “process of analysis” or “detailed analysis,” and “review”; see Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation, 33–38. We have divided his “preliminary

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

63

DETERMINING THE RHETORICAL UNIT Kennedy suggests that before actual analysis of discourse material can be made, several preliminary considerations are necessary, including the delineation of the rhetorical unit and the identification of the rhetorical situation. For convenience, we have chosen to separate these into two steps: the first deals with the rhetorical unit. By rhetorical unit, Kennedy means something like the pericope in form criticism: a self-contained section of the overall narrative, long enough to have an identifiable beginning, middle, and end within the narrative. Actually, the rhetorical unit can be as small as a metaphor or sentential saying,69 but in order to compare the rhetorical material with typical compositions in antiquity, Kennedy recommends that the unit should have some length (at least five or six verses). Often, Kennedy suggests, the rhetorical unit will be marked by an inclusio or by a clear use of proem and epilogue. Kennedy’s further criteria for determining the rhetorical unit are helpful but somewhat general. He suggests that the rhetorical unit will sometimes be marked off by inclusios, that it is frequently indicated by summary statements, and that it will sometimes correspond to the pericopes of form criticism. Kennedy does not provide a detailed list of criteria that might be used to distinguish one literary unit from the next, but in his study of the literary structure of John, George Mlakuzhyil provides a comprehensive list of such structuring devices for the Gospel of John. Mlakuzhyil identifies more than two dozen devices that are used in John’s Gospel to mark off narrative or rhetorical units. Though a few of these might be specific only to the Gospel of John, most are general devices that are broadly found in ancient narrative, including in Mark’s Gospel. Mlakuzhyil describes three types of compositional devices: literary, dramatic, and structural, and lists these as follows: Literary techniques: (1) conclusions, (2) introductions, (3) inclusios, (4) characteristic vocabulary, (5) geographical indicators, (6) chronological indications, (7) liturgical feasts, (8) transitions, (9) bridge-passages, (10) matters” into two steps: determination of the rhetorical unit and description of the rhetorical situation. 69. See the classification of K. Berger, Formgeschichte des Neuen Testaments (Heidelberg: Quelle & Meyer, 1984); and Wuellner, “Where is Rhetorical Criticism,” 455.

64

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

hook-words, (11) techniques of repetition, and (12) change of literary genres [narrative, dialogue, discourse]. Dramatic techniques: (1) change of scenes, (2) alternating scenes, (3) double-stage action, (4) introduction of dramatis personae, (5) change of dramatis personae, (6) law of stage duality, (7) technique of vanishing characters, (8) technique of seven scenes, (9) technique of diptychscenes, (10) sequence of action-dialogue-discourse, (11) dramatic development, and (12) dramatic pattern. Structural techniques: (1) parallelism, (2) chiasmus, (3) concentric structure, and (4) spiral structure.70

We prefer to consolidate Mlakuzhyil’s literary and structural techniques into one category, which we would term literary/rhetorical. In our analysis of the discourses of Jesus in Mark, then, we will seek to determine the rhetorical using both Kennedy’s general principles and Mlakuzhyil’s detailed list of structuring devices under two categories: (1) dramatic and (2) literary/rhetorical. DESCRIPTION OF THE RHETORICAL SITUATION The next step, according to Kennedy, is to identify the rhetorical situation, which roughly corresponds to the Sitz im Leben in form criticism. Citing Lloyd Bitzer, Kennedy describes the rhetorical situation as the particular condition or situation that gives rise to the discourse. The rhetorical situation “controls the rhetorical response in the same sense that the question controls the answer and the problem controls the solution” and is to be defined as “a complex of persons, events, objects, and relations presenting an actual or potential exigence which can be completely or partially removed if discourse, introduced into the situation, can so constrain human decision or action as to bring about the significant modification of the exigence.”71 Establishment of the rhetorical situation should lead to the discovery of the “rhetorical problem” that the speaker faces. Kennedy does 70. George Mlakuzhyil, Christocentric Literary Structure of the Fourth Gospel (Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto, 1987), 33. 71. Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation, 34, citing Lloyd F. Bitzer, “The Rhetorical Situation,” Philosophy and Rhetoric 1, no. 1 (1968): 1–14, esp. 4–6. See also Heinrich Lausberg, Elemente der literarischen Rhetorik (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1982), 21–23.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

65

not have as much to say about the rhetorical problem, or the “stasis,” but for the author of the Gospel, the stasis would have determined the line of argument, and for the critic, identification of the stasis will help unravel the persuasive aims and techniques of the speech. Establishment of the rhetorical situation and of the stasis leads to the identification of the species of rhetoric to which the discourse material belongs. In classical rhetoric, each kind of speech had certain characteristic features: the judicial “seeks to bring about a judgment about events of the past,” the deliberative “aims at effecting a decision about future action,” and the epideictic “celebrates or condemns someone or something.”72 Since different persuasive strategies would have been employed for each of the species of rhetoric, identification of the species helps in tracing the argument of the discourse. Thus, the determination of the rhetorical situation provides the rhetorical critic with the information necessary to examine “the premises of a text as appeal or argument.”73 DETAILED ANALYSIS Kennedy’s third step in his rhetorical methodology is composed of a detailed, line-by-line analysis of the speech, beginning with a consideration of the arrangement of the speech: “what subdivisions it falls into, what the persuasive effect of these parts seems to be, and how they work together—or fail to do so—to some unified purpose in meeting the rhetorical situation.”74 In this step, the speech itself is considered analytically as the critic attempts to determine its “assumptions, its topics, and its formal features such as enthymemes, and of the devices of style, seeking to define their function in context.”75 Consideration of the argumentation and style of the speech helps to reveal “how the raw material has been worked out or rhetorically amplified both in context and in style.”76 This stage of the method considers in more detail the three primary 72. Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation, 36. See Rhetorica ad Herennium 1.2. and Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.3.3–4.3. 73. Wuellner, “Where is Rhetorical Criticism,” 456. 74. Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation, 37. 75. Ibid. 76. Ibid.

66

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

parts of speech preparation offered by Greco-Roman rhetoric: invention, arrangement, and style. Under the heading of invention, rhetorical students learned to determine the appropriate species for any given situation; they learned to construct arguments, proofs, and various appeals for their case; and they learned appropriate topics from which to draw. Under the heading of arrangement, students learned the parts of the Greco-Roman speech, of which there were often five cited (the introduction, the narration, the proof, the refutation, and the conclusion), although in shorter speeches it was not uncommon to limit the arrangement to an introduction, a proposition, an elaboration (ἐργασία), and a conclusion. Under the heading of style, the student learned a host of items, including such things as the three levels of style, effective figures of thought and diction, and methods for attaining eloquence, sublimity, and perspicuity. The detailed analysis of the speech seeks to show how these elements are woven together by the speaker in order to accomplish the speaker’s persuasive aims. OVERVIEW OF THE RHETORIC OF THE DISCOURSE Kennedy’s final step consists of a review of the process of analysis in order to determine the unit’s “success in meeting the rhetorical exigence and what its implications may be for the speaker or audience.”77 Here the entire speech act is considered as a synchronic whole in an attempt to bring “the target text into clearer focus,” but also to look beyond it “to an awareness of the human condition, of the economy and beauty of the discourse, and to religious or philosophical truth.”78 Kennedy points out that since the sum of the discourse may be more than its parts, this final analysis is necessary in order to determine the persuasive impact of the speech. MODIFICATIONS TO KENNEDY’S METHOD In considering Mark’s retelling of the speeches of Jesus, however, Kennedy’s method must be expanded to account for the blend 77. Ibid., 38. 78. Ibid.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

67

of primary and secondary rhetoric present in each discourse and its setting. Since the discourses of Jesus in Mark are presented as speeches embedded in narrative material, there are in reality two levels of rhetoric at work at once in the discourses. On one level is the rhetoric of the narrator, the “secondary” level of rhetoric. This rhetoric represents the overall strategy of the total narrative. It transcends, while at the same time includes, Jesus’s speeches. Here, the narrator is at work in the whole of the Gospel manipulating the hearers of the Gospel for the narrator’s own persuasive aims. The rhetoric at this level operates in every narrative element: style, character depiction, plot, settings, thematic developments, and discourse material. At the primary level, however, are the actual discourses of the characters in the Gospel; in Mark, Jesus is the only character with discourses of any length. Here, the narrator has placed on the lips of Jesus a series of speeches that represent primary rhetorical acts. The representative hearers of these speeches are the other characters in the narrative, and the narrator is often careful to describe their reactions to the discourses. Nevertheless, the real audience for the speeches remains the readers, for whom the narrator narrated the speeches as representations of primary discourse. The narrator thus intends to accomplish their own persuasive aims by affecting discourses from the character Jesus. The readers of the Gospel hear the discourses as primary speeches, but they are actually being manipulated by two levels of rhetoric. Both the primary and secondary rhetorical levels in Mark’s Gospel are the products of the narrator and both participate in the overall narrative program.79 Since the secondary rhetoric comprises the persuasive strategy of the entire Gospel, the primary rhetoric should be considered subordinate to its aims. Thus, in the world created by the Gospel narrative, the speeches of Jesus will have their own persuasive aims, specific to the situations in the narrative to which they belong. In the larger rhetoric of the Gospel, however, the speeches may have a different aim, specific to the persuasive purposes of the overall 79. To help conceptualize how the two levels of rhetoric operate within the Gospel, the work of Susan Sniader Lanser (The Narrative Act: Point of View in Prose Fiction [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981]) is helpful. Lanser diagrams narrative after the fashion of “Chinese boxes,” describing how each level fits into the larger level. Tolbert (Sowing the Gospel, 90–106) applies Lanser’s model to the narrative of Mark.

68

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

narrative. For example, Jesus’s discourse in Mark 4:1–34 is shown to be deliberative rhetoric on the primary level, calling attention to the need for people to pay attention to the teaching of Jesus. On the secondary level, however, it is discovered that the same discourse functions as a plot synopsis for the first part of the Gospel, describing how various people in the Gospel respond to the kingdom of God. The narrator thus arranges the material both around and within the discourses of Jesus in order to accomplish the narrator’s own persuasive aims. Thus, the rhetorical unit is actually established on the secondary level of rhetoric. Since this secondary level of rhetoric is, in fact, explicitly narrative, one can expect it to draw from the general repertoire of literary and dramatic conventions, as well as specific rhetorical conventions. Further, just as Greco-Roman rhetorical theory had a long and well-developed history, so did Greco-Roman literary and dramatic theory. Literary theory was consciously studied in Greece and Rome, and for centuries critics treated virtually every aspect of Greco-Roman literature: poetic inspiration, textual criticism, genre studies, character, plot and theme development, the social and moral implications of poetics, and so forth. In each examination of the rhetorical units of the discourses, the general literary/rhetorical and dramatic structures the narrator uses to give them shape are pointed out.80 The narrative or secondary level of rhetoric also creates the rhetorical situation, and the narrator creates that situation in such a way as to make the discourse naturally accomplish the narrator’s objectives. Thus, specific exigencies are presented to Jesus that provide him with his opportunity to “speak.” Sometimes these take the form of challenges to Jesus’s authority; other times they are more subtle exigencies, such as the gathering of a crowd or a remark by the disciples. Throughout the discourse units, even within the speeches themselves, 80. For modern surveys of Greco-Roman literary and dramatic theory see J. W. H. Atkins, Literary Criticism in Antiquity, 2 vols. (New York: Peter Smith, 1952); Grube, Greek and Roman Critics; Scholes and Kellogg, Nature of Narrative; Russell and Winterbottom, Ancient Literary Criticism; Donald Andrew Russell, Criticism in Antiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981). A large amount of literary-critical material survives from antiquity in the works of the poets, philosophers, playwrights, rhetoricians, and literary critics. In addition to the rhetorical works discussed above, some of the principal texts that survive include Plato, Ion, Phaedrus, Republic, and Laws; Aristotle, Poetics; Horace, Ars Poetica; and Plutarch, On the Study of Poetry.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS AS RHETORIC

69

interpretive comments are provided by the narrator to help the readers of the Gospel “understand” the discourses as the narrator intended them to be understood. For instance, the narrator sometimes explains how Jesus’s interlocutors respond to his discourses. One example of this is the narrator’s description of the disciples’ confusion at the teaching of Jesus in the discourses of chapter 4 (vv. 10–13) and chapter 7 (v. 17). In both discourses, the speeches of Jesus—the primary rhetoric—are interrupted by narrative intrusions—explicit voices of the secondary rhetoric. Prior to both of these intrusions, Jesus has been speaking in “parables”; the confusion of the disciples provides the narrator with a rationale for continuing the discourse and offering an interpretation of the parables—for the disciples on the level of the primary rhetoric and for the readers of the Gospel on the secondary level. Furthermore, by having Jesus turn privately to “insiders” (3:31–35) or to disciples (4:10–34, 7:17–23, 13:3–37) in each of the discourses, the narrator is able to establish a certain pattern to Jesus’s teaching that excludes “outsiders” from the kingdom, but offers the secret of the kingdom to the readers of the Gospel by sharing private information with them.81 In order to accomplish the narrator’s rhetorical aims, the primary rhetoric (i.e., the discourses themselves) may even be obliged to compromise strict adherence to standard rhetorical patterns. This principle helps account for the few departures from Greco-Roman canons within the discourses, especially within the two deliberative speeches in Mark.82 The last discourse in the Gospel, a deliberative speech regarding the need to be watchful regarding the coming Son of Man, seems to be an example of such a compromise. There, the narrator wants to culminate the presentation of the authority of Jesus by showing him to be rhetorically superior to the religious leaders in Jerusalem. Evidently the narrator intends to impress the readers of the 81. Perhaps the most astonishing intrusion of the voice of the narrator into one of Jesus’s discourses occurs in the last discourse, Mark 13:14, where the narrator evidently feels compelled to “wink” at the readers of the Gospel regarding the precise nature of the sacrilegious abomination. The “wink” is telling for our purposes: it demonstrates that the “speech” is really composed for the readers of the Gospel, not for the characters within the Gospel. See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 72–73, 263–64. 82. Although by the New Testament period, deliberative rhetoric was discussed least by the rhetoricians and, consequently, had the fewest restrictions governing it (as is discussed in the next chapter).

70

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Gospel with the power of Jesus’s teaching by having Jesus win a series of debates with the religious leaders, asking a question they cannot answer, and then having them condemned by him. The result for the primary rhetoric, however, is the separation of rhetorical material that evidently belongs to the same discourse—namely, the parable of the tenants in Mark 12:1–12 and the eschatological discourse of Mark 13:1–37—as we shall argue later. Again, the subordination of the primary rhetoric to the aims of the secondary rhetoric is clear. At both rhetorical levels, the general principles of Greco-Roman rhetoric are at work, although they are easier to identify at the primary level, where the discourses actually represent speech-acts. Since the two levels of rhetoric are inseparably interwoven in every discourse, hearing the discourses as the first-century audience would have heard them requires that both levels of rhetoric be considered. Our main focus is on the more overt, primary level of rhetoric—that of the character of Jesus within the narrative world. Nevertheless, since the secondary, narrative level of rhetoric is always present, actually shaping the primary rhetoric and speaking through it, we will attempt to uncover the general makeup of each level, focusing more on the secondary level when discussing the rhetorical unit and the rhetorical situation, and focusing more on the primary rhetoric when doing the detailed analysis. The analyses in the next four chapters confirm the rhetorical nature of the discourses as Mark composed them and suggest what understanding Mark’s intended audience might have had of his Gospel.

3. Satan Cannot Cast Out Satan (Mark 3:20–35)

And he comes into a house, and again a crowd gathers, so that they were not even able to eat. And having heard, his family came out to grab him, for they were saying “He is mad!” And the scribes who had come down from Jerusalem were saying “He has Beelzebul!” and “By the prince of demons he casts out demons!” And calling them in comparisons, he says to them, “What power has Satan to cast out? And if a kingdom were against itself divided, No power to stand would that kingdom have. And if a house were against itself divided, No power would that house have to stand. And if Satan stands against himself and is divided, No power to stand has he, but his end has come. Indeed, no power has anyone to enter a strong man’s house to plunder his goods, Unless first that person binds the strong man, And then that person can plunder the strong man’s house. In truth I tell you that All will be forgiven humanity their sins and the evil things they say; but whoever says evil things against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness but is guilty of an eternal sin. He said this because they were saying, “He has an unclean spirit.”

72

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

And his mother and brothers come and are standing outside the house. They sent for him, calling him. And a crowd sat around him. And they say to him, “Look, your mother and brothers are outside requesting you.” And answering them he says, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those with him sitting around him he says, “These are my mother and my brothers. Whoever does God’s will, This is my brother, my sister, and my mother.”1

The first discourse of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel of significant length is found in 3:20–35. The unity of this discourse has often been challenged by the historical critics who see in it two or even three disparate traditions combined by a final editor.2 This study of the section, however, reveals its thorough integration: the discourse and its narrative setting would have been heard by the first-century audience as a unified piece that shows Jesus proving his accusers wrong while embracing as his own family those who are obedient to God. Though the discourse is brief, it is an important discourse because it is the first complete discourse in the Gospel and because it establishes a pattern all other major discourses will follow—namely, a public comparison followed by private explanation. THE RHETORICAL UNIT The first step in Kennedy’s method is determining the rhetorical unit. The rhetorical unit is that section of the narrative that directly 1. Translation ours. Since this translation attempts to represent more strictly the rhetorical forms of the original, it is often awkward by standards of English grammar and syntax. 2. Michael Humphries (Christian Origins and the Language of the Kingdom of God [Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1999]) offers a challenging combination of form criticism and rhetorical criticism in his study of the Beelzebul controversy. Humphries examines the material in Mark 3:19b–30 with Q 11:14–26, which Q scholars believe preserves a separate version of the same tradition. By comparing the two, Humphries believes he can distill the original form of the saying and show how the tradition developed along the lines of ancient chreia. He believes the two narratives contain one of the earliest sayings of Jesus regarding the kingdom of God, but the saying developed considerably in the hands of the early church. By the time Mark used the material, it was embedded in an exorcism story, which Q preserves. Mark replaced the original exorcism story with the account of Jesus’s family and their doubts about his sanity. The shift manipulates the early kingdom language of Jesus in order to accomplish Mark’s own narrative goals. Humphries thus finds a rhetorical unity to the account in Mark’s Gospel, but his historical interests still lead him to exploit so-called seams and rhetorical shifts in Mark 3 to peer behind the text.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

73

generates the discourse under consideration, including the discourse itself and its immediate narrative material. Kennedy suggests that the rhetorical unit should have a clear beginning, middle, and end,3 and notes several other criteria for determining the rhetorical unit. As mentioned in the previous chapter, Kennedy’s somewhat general descriptions for determining the rhetorical unit can be further refined using the lists of structuring devices proposed by George Mlakuzhyil in his study of the Gospel of John. Consolidating Mlakuzhyil’s three categories into two, (1) dramatic and (2) literary/rhetorical, and reading the Gospel of Mark guided by these lists, it becomes clear that the rhetorical unit for the Beelzebul discourse in the Gospel of Mark is composed of 3:20–35.4 First, the narrator makes use of the dramatic techniques of scene change and introduction of dramatis personae to mark off the narrative unit of 3:20–35. In the immediately preceding section, Jesus and the disciples are alone on a mountain where the former appoints the latter to “be with him,” “to preach,” and “to have authority over the demons” (3:13–19). Beginning at 3:20, the scene changes from Jesus and the twelve on the mountain to Jesus and a host of characters in a house.5 It may be significant that the narrator uses the present tense ἔρχεται to introduce the unit, since the verb is a favorite Markan device for moving the narrative, and since the present tense of this verb is used elsewhere to mark major narrative shifts (6:1; 10:1) as well as minor ones (1:40; 14:37, 41).6 It is skillfully used with other 3. Cf. Aristotle’s (Poetics 7.3–7) definition regarding effective plot construction in general: “A whole is what has a beginning a middle and an end. . . . Well constructed plots must not therefore begin and end at random, but must embody the formulae we have stated.” 4. We follow the verse numbering of the N-A27, which begins v. 20 with the sentence Καὶ ἔρχεται εἰς οἶκον. 5. Precisely which house Jesus is in is not stated. In 1:29 he is in Simon’s house, and in 2:15 it appears that Jesus is in Levi’s house (but see Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “Te oikia autou: Mark 2:15 in Context,” NTS 31, no. 2 [1985]: 282–92, who argues that it is Jesus’s house). Cf. E. Ravarotto, “La ‘casa’ del Vangelo di Marco è la casa di Simone-Pietro?” Anton 42, no. 3–4 (1967): 399–419; and A. Lancellotti, “La casa di Pietro a Cafarnao nei Vangeli sinottici. Redazione e tradizione,” Anton 58, no. 1 (1983): 48–69. 6. According to Henry St. John Thackeray (The Septuagint and Jewish Worship, Schweich Lectures [London: British Academy, 1920], 20–21), the historical present is characteristically used to introduce a new scene, a new character, a change of locality, or a turning point in Hellenistic dramatic narrative. “It heralds the arrival of a new character or a change of locality or marks a turning-point in the march of events” (ibid., 21). Witherington (Gospel of Mark, 18) notes that Mark uses the historical present 151 times, compared to Matthew’s 20 times and Luke’s 1 time. The more common use of the aorist ἦλθεν or ἦλθον can also signal a narrative break in Mark,

74

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

verbs in the same tense in this unit, as well as with verbs of the imperfect and aorist tenses, with the result that those sections spoken in the present tense come to the foreground, while those in the past tense remain as background. The overall effect of the use of the historical present upon the passage is unmistakable; as the stylist Longinus observes, “if you introduce events in past time as happening at the present moment, the passage will be transformed from a narrative into a vivid actuality.”7 In 3:20–22, new characters are introduced one after another: a crowd gathers in v. 20, Jesus’s family comes in v. 21, and scribes from Jerusalem show up in v. 22. Thus, though the disciples are apparently still with Jesus (see αὐτοὺς in v. 20), they fade in importance as new characters take center stage. The scene changes again at 4:1, closing this unit at 3:35. There, in 4:1, Jesus is again by the sea, another crowd gathers, and the disciples take center stage again. The scribes no longer appear, and the crowds eventually fade from the stage. In accordance with Aristotle’s injunction, the entire episode of 3:20–35 is thus marked off from the previous and subsequent episodes in orderly fashion, and it has its own self-contained degree of magnitude.8 Furthermore, the episode contributes to the Gospel’s overall plot by returning to the theme of the conflict between Jesus and the religious leaders of the Gospel.9 This see 1:9, 14; 3:1; etc. Carroll D. Osburn (“The Historical Present in Mark as a Text-Critical Criterion,” Bib 64, no. 4 [1983]: 486–500) points out that Mark’s use of the historical present is skillful, differing little from the use of the historical present in classical and Septuagintal Greek. In general, he concludes, it denotes a semantic shift from one type of material to another. Compare to F. C. Synge, “A Matter of Tenses—Fingerprints of an Annotator in Mark,” ExpTim 88, no. 6 (1977): 168–71, who argues that the change of tenses from aorist to present in Mark is evidence of a “pre-Markan editor.” 7. [Longinus], On the Sublime 25.1. For uses of the “historical present,” see Herbert Weir Smyth, Greek Grammar, rev. Gordon M. Messing (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1920), par. 1883: “In lively or dramatic narration the present may be used to represent a past action as going on at the moment of speaking or writing.” See also Friedrich Wilhelm Blass and Albert Debrunner, A Greek Grammar of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, trans. and rev. Robert W. Funk (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961), par. 321: “The historical present can replace the aorist indicative in a vivid narrative at the events of which the narrator imagines himself to be present.” According to Nigel Turner (James Hope Moulton, Wilbert Francis Howard, and Nigel Turner, A Grammar of New Testament Greek, 3rd ed., 4 vols. [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1906–76], 4:60–62), the usage is common to cultured and unliterary Greek, classical, papyri, the Septuagint, Josephus, and New Testament Greek. 8. See Aristotle, Poetics 7.8–11. 9. For Aristotle, a good plot can be episodic as long as the episodes follow a clear progression

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

75

conflict is finally resolved in the crucifixion of Jesus and the subsequent empty tomb.10 Literary and rhetorical structuring devices are also used by the narrator to mark off the rhetorical unit of 3:20–35. These include the general use of thematic introductions and conclusions, the presence of characteristic vocabulary, the use of geographical and chronological indicators, and the use of chiastic patterning. The presence of the first of these devices, thematic introductions and conclusions, is demonstrated more fully below. Here, it is merely suggested that the cluster of accusations presented at the beginning of the section introduces the theme of Jesus’s authority. This theme is discussed in the subsequent verses and is finally concluded in 3:35 with Jesus’s rejection of his own family—who had not acknowledged his authority. The development of this theme provides the unit with a clear beginning, middle, and end. The narrator has also marked off the unit with clear geographical and chronological/temporal indicators, a favorite structuring device in Mark’s Gospel.11 Jesus’s travels in Galilee lead him from “the mountain” in 3:13 to “the house” in 3:20 to “the sea” in 4:1. Throughout the first part of Mark’s Gospel, Jesus moves from location to location, and each change of location signals a new situation for Jesus. The new location of “the house” in 3:20 signals the beginning of a new rhetorical unit, while the change to the sea in 4:1 signals the close of the same unit and the beginning of another. Chronologically as well, Mark signals a new section with the use of πάλιν in both 3:20 and 4:1, each time moving the narrative forward in time, in addition to harking back to previous episodes in the ministry of Jesus. leading to “tension” or “complication” followed by “discovery” and the “denouement.” See Poetics 10.1ff., 16.1ff., 17.5–11, 18.1–3; cf. 9.11. 10. The opposition to Jesus on the part of the scribes and Pharisees reaches its first climax at 3:6; see Eugene LaVerdiere, “Jesus and the Call of the First Disciples: Conflict with Scribes and Pharisees,” Emmanuel 94, no. 5 (1988): 264–69, 272–73, 292. 11. See Bas M. F. van Iersel, “De betekenis van Marcus vanuit zijn topografische structuur,” TvT 22, no. 2 (1982): 117–38; C. W. Hedrick, “What is a Gospel? Geography, Time, and Narrative Structure,” PRSt 10, no. 3 (1983): 255–68; Augustin Stock, “The Structure of Mark,” TBT 23, no. 5 (1985): 291–96; Augustin Stock, “Hinge Transitions in Mark’s Gospel,” BTB 15, no. 1 (1985): 27–31; Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 106–26; Riches, Conflicting Mythologies, 115–43; and Dean B. Deppe, The Theological Intentions of Mark’s Literary Devices: Markan Intercalations, Frames, Allusionary Repetitions, Narrative Surprises, and Three Types of Mirroring (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2015), 95–98.

76

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

In 3:20, the crowd “again” gathers around Jesus. The previous explicit references to the crowd are in 2:1–17 and 3:7–12, with an implicit reference in 1:32–34. In 4:1, Jesus is “again” by the sea, moving the narrative forward and recalling his last episode by the sea in 3:7–12. The technique of alternating scenes in Mark’s Gospel serves to provide “aural” structure to the Gospel. The use of πάλιν in these scenes links various units together, evincing “variations on a theme,” moving the narrative forward while at the same time amplifying key points. As Tolbert explains regarding ancient literature in general and Mark’s Gospel specifically, “repetitions of words, sentences, and episodes become very common signposts to guide audiences through material.”12 This provides a “characteristic vocabulary,” which Mlakuzhyil refers to as the frequent use of the same words in adjacent verses. Of course, characteristic vocabulary helps to unite the entire Gospel of Mark, but each section will usually have its own peculiar vocabulary developing its own episode. Generally, the repetition of characteristic terms will help guide the establishment of the theme of the episode. There are a number of instances of repetitions of terms from word groups in 3:20–35: δύναμαι (vv. 20, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27), οἶκος / οἰκία (vv. 20, 25, 27 [2x]), μερίζω (vv. 24, 25, 26), ἵστημι (vv. 24, 25, 26), μήτηρ (vv. 31, 32, 33, 34, 35), and ἀδελφός (vv. 31, 32, 33, 34, 35). Another feature that marks off 3:20–35 as a rhetorical unit is its chiastic structure. Chiasm is a structuring device in which two parts are balanced against each other with the second in some fashion serving as an inverted repetition of the first. Chiasm is a favorite structuring device in Mark’s Gospel.13 Mark 3:20–35 makes several uses of chiasm (or the similar feature of concentric structuring), with the entire unit being structured as follows: 12. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 107; see also 106–26 and 311–15. 13. For chiasm as a structuring device in Mark, see M. Philip Scott, “Chiastic Structure: A Key to the Interpretation of Mark’s Gospel,” BTB 15, no. 1 (1985): 17–26. Augustin Stock (“Chiastic Awareness and Education in Antiquity,” BTB 14, no. 1 [1984]: 23–27) shows that chiasm as a structuring device was common in antiquity and that it would have been easily recognized and appreciated by the readers of Mark’s Gospel. Compare Donald J. Clark, “Criteria for Identifying Chiasm,” LB 35 (1975): 63–72, who admits the presence of chiasm in Mark but suggests that it might be due to typical human thought construction rather than to a conscious literary technique.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

A

Jesus and the crowd (v. 20) B

B′ A′

77

Jesus’s family appears (v. 21) C

The accusation of the scribes (v. 22)

C′

Response to the scribes (vv. 23–30) The family reappears (v. 31) Jesus and the crowd (vv. 32–35).14

The chiasm functions to balance the entire episode, with the scribes’ accusation against Jesus and his initial response at the center. THE RHETORICAL SITUATION The second step in Kennedy’s rhetorical methodology is the identification of the rhetorical situation. As already stated, Kennedy describes the rhetorical situation as the particular condition or exigence that gives rise to the discourse. The discourse will be in response to a particular problem or need. Thus, involved in determining the rhetorical situation is a consideration of “the persons, events, objects, and relations,” as well as the time and place, that combine in the narrative to create the context.15 Generally, the rhetorical situation gives rise to what Kennedy terms the “one overriding rhetorical problem.” This problem helps the speaker determine what to say, dictating the speech’s argument, style, and species. Students of Greco-Roman rhetoric were given precise information on how to determine the “rhetorical problem,” or more precisely, the exact “issue” (Greek = στάσις, Latin = 14. See also Jan Lambrecht’s concentric schema of the overall unit in “The Relatives of Jesus in Mark,” NovT 16, no. 4 (1974): 241–58 and Marcus Interpretator. Stijl en boodschap in Mc. 3,20–4,34 (Brugge-Utrecht: Desclée de Brouwer, 1969), 252. A Jesus at home and the initiative of the relatives (vv. 20–21) ___B The accusation of the scribes (v. 22) ______C Jesus’s apology (vv. 23–29) _________a Refutation (vv. 23b–26) _________b The binding-logion (v. 27) _________a′ Judgment (vv. 28–29) ___B′ Repetition of the accusation (v. 30) A′ Arrival of the relatives and the proclamation of true kinship by Jesus (vv. 31–35). 15. Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation, 35.

78

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

constitutio or status) behind any necessary speech, and how that issue should then guide the development of the speech.16 For the rhetorical critic, an understanding of the rhetorical problem and the issue of the speech guides in disclosing the argument that the speech makes. For our purpose as well, if it can be shown that the argument effectively responds to the situation at hand, with each part of the discourse working toward that end, the overall unity of the discourse can be more easily seen. What is the rhetorical situation in Mark 3:20–35? Source, form, and redaction critics often compared Mark 3:20–35 with Matthew 12:22–32, 46–50 and Luke 8:19–21; 11:14–23; and 12:10 and concluded that Mark’s account has clumsily omitted the true beginning of the pericope. Bultmann observes that “the discussion presupposes an exorcism preceding it, and no story original to the tradition would be likely to begin with a reference to some activity of Jesus in quite general terms.”17 Though Bultmann may be correct that “controversy” stories generally begin as the result of a specific controversial action, he ignores two important factors in the case of this discourse. First, though it is not Jesus who performs it, there is an action that prompts the accusation of the scribes in this situation: the arrival of Jesus’s family, their desire to seize Jesus, and their accusation against him. In Mark’s Gospel, the scribes are presented as responding to the accusation made by Jesus’s family, rather than to any action of Jesus himself. This is similar to several of the controversies in the latter part of Mark, where the discussions are often started by Jesus’s adversaries themselves (see 10:1–12; 12:13–17; 12:18–27; and 12:28–34), rather than by any definite action of Jesus. Second, Bultmann’s fragmented method of reading leads him to ignore the previous sections of Mark’s narrative in which Jesus does cast out demons in the presence of the crowds and the scribes (1:21–28, 32–33; 3:7–12). If one begins with the assumption that 16. See Quintilian, Institutes 3.6.1: “Every cause has an essential status upon which it rests, and this helps determine how each kind of cause should be handled.” Aristotle’s Categories had laid down ten total possible statuses, but after the work of Hermogenes and by the time of the work of Cicero, the statuses had been narrowed to four: status coniecturae, status finitionis, status qualitatis, and status translationis. See Lausberg, Handbuch der Literarischen Rhetorik, 64–85; and O. A. L. Dieter, “Stasis,” SM 17, no. 4 (1950): 345–69. 17. Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition, 13.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

79

3:20–35 is connected to its narrative context, as literary critics are apt to do but as form critics are hesitant to do, Bultmann’s assertion seems out of place. In the narrative itself, then, the rhetorical situation of 3:20–35 is actually created by a number of circumstances. The first of these is the presence of the crowd, which Mark links to Jesus’s previous experiences with the crowds by the use of πάλιν. Up to 3:20, whenever the crowd is present, Jesus either proceeds to heal, to cast out demons, or to teach (1:32–33; 2:1–12, 13; 3:7–12). The presence of the crowd in 3:20 would already lead the reader to assume that Jesus will proceed with one of these actions. The more explicit circumstance creating the rhetorical situation is the coming of οἱ παρ’ αὐτοῦ to seize Jesus on the accusation that he is insane (ἐξέλθῃ). A considerable amount of discussion has been generated over the meaning of v. 21 and of the phrase οἱ παρ’ αὐτοῦ. The general term οἱ παρ’ αὐτοῦ is used only here in the New Testament. In Hellenistic Greek, its usual meaning is something like “envoys” or “adherents,” but in the Septuagint it can also mean “family.”18 Several have attempted to argue that the term here refers to Jesus’s disciples, who are elsewhere described as οἱ παρ’ αὐτοῦ (e.g., 1:36, 3:14).19 Reading thus, these critics suggest that it is the disciples who have “gone out” of the house “to calm” (κρατῆσαι) the crowd, taking αὐτοῦ to refer to the crowd rather than to Jesus. The argument, however, clearly strains the antecedent of αὐτοῦ, which more naturally refers back to the “him” of the phrase in question. Further, αὐτοῦ is nowhere else used in Mark to refer to the crowd. This interpretation also stretches the meaning of κρατῆσαι, which elsewhere in Mark’s Gospel means “to arrest” or “to seize” (6:17; 12:12; 14:1); 18. See Prov 31:21 LXX, Susanna 33; see also Josephus, Ant. 1.10.5. Cf. Vincent Taylor, The Gospel according to St. Mark (London: Macmillan, 1957), 236; and Robert Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, Word Biblical Commentary 34a (Dallas: Word, 1989), 172. John R. Donahue and Daniel J. Harrington (The Gospel of Mark, Sacred Pagina Series 2 [Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2002], 133–35.) point out that the papyri generally use the phrase to mean “family members” and note that the Western text found this so embarrassing that they changed the reading. 19. See, e.g., John E. Steinmueller, “Exegetical Notes,” CBQ 4, no. 4 (1942): 355–59; P. J. Gannon, “The Interpretation of St. Mark III 20–21,” IrEccRec 64 (1944): 298–312; Henry Wansbrough, “Mark III.21—Was Jesus Out of His Mind?” NTS 18, no. 2 (1971/72): 234–35; and David Wenham, “The Meaning of Mark III.21.” NTS 21, no. 2 (1975): 296–97. See also the variants in D and W, which alter the text to remove the implication that Jesus’s family was opposed to him: ἀκούσαντες (ἤκουσαν – D) περί αὐτοῦ οἱ γραμματεῖς καί οἱ λοποί.

80

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

other arrests are also introduced by the formula ἔλεγον γὰρ ὅτι. Furthermore, the rhetorical context makes it clear that it is the family of Jesus under question: verses 31–35 specify that his mother, brothers, and sisters are those who have come to him. This understanding of οἱ παρ’ αὐτοῦ as Jesus’s family is consistent with Mark’s overall presentation of the family of Jesus. In Mark’s Gospel, the family of Jesus does not accept his authority (see 6:1–6).20 Jesus’s family came out to seize Jesus because “they were saying that he is mad.” Mark’s use of ἔλεγον could possibly have “the crowds” as its subject, but its natural subject seems to be οἱ παρ’ αὐτοῦ, since this nominative is closest to the verb. Furthermore, Jesus’s discourse clearly implies that it was his own house that was bringing charges against him (vv. 25, 33–35). The first accusation raised against Jesus, then, was likely raised by his own family. The exact nature of this first charge is stated in one term: ἐξέστη. Mark uses the term ἐξίστημι four times, here and at 2:12, 5:42, and 6:51. Besides here, the term is consistently used to describe the reactions of those around Jesus to something spectacular he has done. Here, the term is apparently used in the pejorative sense of “He is out of his mind,” or “He is mad.”21 Mark does not specify why Jesus’s family might have made this accusation, but the next time we read of the members of his family (6:1–6), their skepticism is based upon their familiarity with him. Loisy suggests that they were accusing Jesus of being in a state of “exaltation mystique,”22 but the narrator of the Gospel does not explain why they were skeptical. Finally, the rhetorical situation is most directly created by the two accusations of the scribes who had come down from Jerusalem. Perhaps emboldened by the charge of Jesus’s own family, the scribes sharpen the accusations against Jesus, casting doubt on the source of his power. Their accusation is twofold: (1) that he is possessed by

20. See John Dominic Crossan, “Mark and the Relatives of Jesus,” NovT 15, no. 2 (1973): 81–113; Lambrecht, “Relatives of Jesus.” For a more recent thorough discussion, see Stephen C. Barton, Discipleship and Family Ties in Mark and Matthew, SNTSMS 80 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). 21. Cf. Festus’s charge against Paul in Acts 26:24 and Paul’s contrast of ἐξέστημεν with σωφρονοῦμεν in 2 Cor 5:13. 22. Loisy, Les Évangiles synoptiques, 1:698.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

81

Beelzebul,23 and (2) that he casts out demons by the power of the prince of demons. Though these charges are very similar to each other and might be seen as a parallel construction of only one charge, Jesus’s response seems to imply that they are not exactly the same. The first is closer to the charge of the family of Jesus, that is, that he is no longer in control of himself. The scribes advance this accusation by asserting that it is Beelzebul who is now in control of Jesus. The second accusation goes even further, explaining that Jesus’s power to cast out demons, which has already served in Mark’s narrative to help establish Jesus as God’s Son, is actually derived from the prince of demons. The presence of the crowds and of Jesus’s disciples (all of whom seem to be somewhat neutral), Jesus’s family (who appear very skeptical), and the scribes (who are openly hostile toward Jesus), then, creates the general rhetorical situation for the Beelzebul discourse. In the narrative of Mark’s Gospel, the dramatic setting of “the house” likely implies something about the situation as well, but this will be discussed later. The three accusations give rise to the specific rhetorical problem—the issue—to which Jesus must respond with his discourse. To comprehend fully the rhetorical situation, it is important to understand the implications of the charges against Jesus. The narrative of Mark’s Gospel has already professed Jesus as God’s anointed Son who is under the guidance of God’s Spirit (1:1, 8, 10–11, 12). Jesus has been presented as the preacher of the kingdom of God, as the One of divine Authority who is winning the battle against the powers of Satan (1:14–15, 22–27, 32–33; 3:11). In the narrative thus far, Jesus has consistently exercised caution in his dealings with demons, apparently wanting to avoid any confusion on the part of the crowds stemming from the demons’ intimate knowledge of him.24 Already the crowds have come to realize that Jesus is acting 23. For a thorough discussion of the background of “Beelzebul,” see Humphries, Christian Origins, 13–22. As Mary Ann Beavis (Mark, Paideia Commentaries on the New Testament [Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011], 68) notes, Beelzebul is denoted the “prince of demons” thirteen times in the Testament of Solomon. 24. Three times before 3:20–35, Jesus orders the demons to be silent, Mark explains, “because they knew who he was” (1:25, 34; 3:11). Exactly why Jesus did not want the demons to testify about him is not clear, and the question seems closely bound to the broader issue of the messianic secret in Mark’s Gospel, which, since Wrede’s Messiasgeheimnis, has received immense treatment in the literature; see Gaëtan Minette de Tillesse, Le secret messianique dans

82

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

under supernatural power (see, e.g., 1:22, 27). Though the narrator would have the readers understand that this power is from God, in the world of the story, the crowds and other characters still have room for skepticism regarding the source of Jesus’s power. The charges brought against Jesus in 3:21–22, then, deal with his power, and Jesus finds himself having to show that this power comes from God. 25 The blasphemous nature of the charges against Jesus and his work is reinforced in the climactic arrangement of the charges themselves: first, Jesus’s family claims that he is mad, then the scribes claim that Jesus is possessed, and finally the scribes assert that Jesus is acting under the power of Satan. The first charge may be innocent, arising from confusion on the part of Jesus’s family regarding the nature of his work.26 The second charge, however, links Jesus’s work to Satan by implying that Jesus is not in control of his actions, but that Beelzebul is. The third culminates the accusations by implying that Jesus’s motives are fully evil—he is not the passive victim of Satan, he actively promotes Satan’s work. The figure of climax is used to heighten the narrative effect of the charges. Rhetorically, the third accusation is the vilest—the scribes have exercised the most impugning prosecutory method available, calling Jesus’s good work evil, completely maligning his actions and his motives. As Rhetorica ad Herennium 2.3.5 encourages any would-be accuser who can find no real evil motive in the defendant: “if he possibly can, let him brand the defenl’Evangile de Marc (Paris: Cerf, 1968); Heikki Räisänen, Das “messiasgeheimnis” im Markusevangelium (Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, 1976); and Christopher Tuckett, ed., The Messianic Secret (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983). Vincent Taylor (Mark, 228) and Grundmann (Das Evangelium nach Markus, 100) both suggest that, though their testimony is correct, evil spirits are not the kind of witnesses Jesus would want. Presumably, then, the crowds might actually be tempted to think that Jesus was working closely with the demons. Guelich (Mark 1–8:26, 148–49) argues that Mark’s own acceptance of the witness of these spirits disproves the view of Taylor and Grundmann, but Guelich’s objection ignores the distinction between degrees of narrative. In other words, Mark may well be using the testimony of the demons to establish Jesus’s authority to Mark’s readers, while having Jesus refuse to admit such testimony before the crowds. If this is so, Mark’s own use of the testimony for his readers is actually heightened rhetorically, for it is somewhat played against the background of Jesus’s own refusal to permit the evidence. The readers feel that they are being given privileged evidence for the authority of Jesus. 25. See P. Mourlon Beernaert, “Jesus, a Free Man. Texts: Jesus and His Family (Mk 3 and 6),” LumVie 39, no. 2 (1984): 155–66, who shows how the controversy in Mark 3:20–35 is related to the previous narrative concern for Jesus’s authority. 26. See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 147–48.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

83

dant with the stigma of some one fault, or indeed, of as many faults as possible.”27 Of course, Jesus’s response to the accusations must contain some sort of denial of them, and the remainder of the section shows that, in fact, it does. If Jesus were to choose to respond point by point, he would have to show that (1) he is not mad, (2) he is not possessed by Beelzebul, and (3) he does not cast out demons by the power of Satan. Greco-Roman rhetoricians, however, taught that straightforward responses may not always be appropriate. For example, Rhetorica ad Herennium 1.6.9 advocates “the Subtle Approach” (insinuatio) for the beginning of a speech under certain conditions, such as if the hearers have already been convinced of the opponents’ position.28 At any rate, the charges brought against Jesus and his denial of these charges create what rhetoricians termed the “conjectural issue” (status coniecturae or στοχασμός). Simply put, the conjectural issue is created when there is an accusation of a crime on the part of the prosecutor and a denial on the part of the defense. The less reputable rhetoricians urged the prosecutor to incite as much suspicion of the defendant as possible in the conjectural issue, so that “no act, no word, no coming or going, in short nothing that he has done may be thought to lack a motive.”29 Though his family may not be going this far, it is clear that this is exactly what the scribes are doing with their accusations against Jesus. In his defense, then, Jesus must weaken the suspicion against him created by his accusers and provide evidence of his innocence. Examination of the actual speech shows that this is precisely what Jesus does. The presence of the conjectural issue clarifies several other points for our reading of the discourse. First, it helps identify the genus of the speech, since the particular issue behind any proposed speech was the determinant factor for the genus of that speech. 27. See also Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.10.1, who urges that it is crucial to show the depraved motives of the enemy: “The motives which lead men to do injury and commit wrong actions are depravity and incontinence.” Rhetoric to Alexander iv (1426b) exhorts the accuser, in cases where there may be no explicit law broken, to show “that the actions of your adversaries are actually dishonest and illegal and detrimental to the mass of citizens.” 28. See also Cicero, De Inventione 1.15.20; Quintilian, Institutes 4.1.44; and Fortunatis, Artis Rhetoricae 2.14 (Karl Halm, Rhetores Latini minores [Lipsiae: B. G. Teubneri, 1863]). 29. Rhetorica Ad Herennium 2.1.3.

84

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Rhetoricians uniformly identified three genera of speeches: judicial, deliberative, and epideictic. Though a great number of rhetorical principles applied to every kind of speech, each genus was generally considered to have its own specific rules as well. The deliberative speech addressed situations in which policy was being established; it was more political in nature. For Aristotle, the deliberative generally applies to questions concerning ways and means, war and peace, the defense of the country, imports and exports, and legislation,30 but in biblical literature, it can have to do with the decision a person is required to make when confronted with the Gospel of Jesus Christ.31 Epideictic has to do with praise or blame and serves to show the honorable or the disgraceful. The real goal in epideictic is to confirm in a person, place, or thing values already held by the audience. In this sense, all of Mark might be termed epideictic, since it seeks to show Jesus as the Son of God, obviously an honorable position for Mark’s readers. It is also in this sense that Robbins takes the unit of 3:20–35, treating the crowd as spectators rather than as judges and developing the passage as found in all three Synoptic Gospels along the lines of epideictic logic. What Robbins’s position fails to account for, however, are the judicial implications of the charges against Jesus. The accusations of the scribes, though they have to do with values of good and evil, are treated in a legal fashion. Jesus’s family comes out “to grab” (κρατῆσαι) Jesus—a term frequently used in Mark to indicate an arrest (as mentioned above). Furthermore, though the Mosaic law does not explicitly discuss demon possession, it is clear that collusion with Beelzebul would have been considered criminal to first-century Jews—quintessentially evil and in violation of God’s moral law.32 Thus, though the scribes do not cite a law per se, the rhetoricians recognized that forensic situations might be created by unwritten moral laws, the violations of which are recognized as evil by all.33 If the scribes’ charges could be made to stick, Jesus would at least have 30. Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.4.1. 31. See Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation, 39–72. 32. See Lev 19:26, 31; Exod 22:18; Deut 18:10–13; and 2 Kgs 21:5–6. 33. Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.10.3.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

85

been guilty of grievous moral wrong in the eyes of the crowds, and it is likely that under Jewish law he could even have been punished with death. This creates a judicial issue, and Jesus’s response in Mark’s Gospel34 is more in harmony with judicial approaches advocated by the rhetoricians: he does not offer praise of himself but responds to the criminal charges leveled against him.35 The discourse of Mark 3:20–35 would best be understood, then, as a judicial speech. The anonymous Rhetorica ad Herennium (1.1.2) defines the judicial speech: “The judicial is based on legal controversy, and comprises criminal prosecution or civil suit, and defense.” When the rhetorical situation is understood to be judicial, the roles of the characters of 3:20–35 become obvious: the scribes are the prosecutors, Jesus is the defense, and the crowds serve as judges (as they often do in Mark’s Gospel). The precise role of the family of Jesus is trickier to determine and depends upon their motives for seizing Jesus and upon the precise meaning of the phrase ἔλεγον γὰρ ὅτι ἐξέστη. If the family of Jesus actually considers him “out of his mind,” and if they have come to seize Jesus because of their disbelief, one could treat them as co-prosecutors with the scribes. Since their accusation is less serious than that of the scribes, however, it may be better to treat Jesus’s family members as “witnesses” used by the scribes to support their own claim that Jesus is acting by the power of Beelzebul. In this view, the family’s charge that Jesus is mad serves to embolden the scribes, who then proceed to make their more serious charges against Jesus. As such, the members of Jesus’s family are witnesses for the prosecution, and their credibility needs to be challenged by Jesus. This is exactly what Jesus does in the discourse.

34. It should be remembered that Robbins’s treatment of the pericope works from a reconstruction of the tradition based upon all three Synoptics. 35. It seems that Robbins has confused the two rhetorical levels within the narrative. It is likely true that on the narrative level—that between the narrator and the implied audience—the concern is epideictic, that is, the confirmation of Jesus’s authority. However, on the primary level—that between Jesus and his accusers—the concern is clearly judicial.

86

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

DETAILED ANALYSIS The next step in Kennedy’s method is to make a detailed, line-byline analysis of the speech, focusing especially upon its argument, arrangement, and style in an effort to uncover the persuasive effect of the discourse and how the effect is achieved. Remembering that Greco-Roman students were provided with very specific instructions for how to respond rhetorically to typical situations, one should be able to follow the logic of Jesus’s speech and evaluate its effectiveness. If the argument of the discourse emerges as integrated and effective vis-à-vis the rhetorical situation, the unity of the discourse can be maintained against the accusations of the historical critics to the contrary. Generally, in judicial situations, the defense was concerned with the rebutting of charges. All speeches had two broad categories of “proofs” from which to draw: inartificial, which included tangible validations such as witnesses and contracts, and artificial, which were composed of less tangible persuasive techniques constructed by the speaker. In this second category, the speaker could draw from three areas to persuade: (1) ethical, which derived from the character of the speaker, (2) emotional, which attempted to move the audience on the basis of its frame of mind, and (3) logical, which operated on the basis of reasonable argumentation. Rebutting charges in judicial rhetoric, however, involved, as Aristotle observes, not only the proving of the truth but also the winning over of the hearers,36 and a primary concern for the defense in judicial speeches was to weaken suspicion.37 Thus, though logical arguments are important in judicial speech, the need to convince the audience requires more. A host of techniques were urged by the teachers of judicial rhetoric to remove suspicion, but the most important had to do with motive. Whereas the prosecution was urged to stigmatize the defense with whatever evil motive could be found,38 the defense 36. Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.1.10. 37. Rhetorica ad Herennium 2.1.3. 38. Aristotle does not leave much room for what kinds of motives lead people to do wrong: “The motives which lead men to do injury and commit wrong actions are depravity and incontinence” Rhetoric 1.10.4.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

87

was taught to show that there was no motive present that would have led the defendant to commit the crime. According to Cicero, the defense should offer “examples and comparisons” (exampla et similitudines) that demonstrate that they did not have sufficient motive to have committed the crime. He will weaken the suspicion of premeditation if he says that there was little or no gain for the defendant, or greater gain for others, or no greater gain for him than for others, or that the loss was greater than the gain so that in no way was the size of the gain which he is said to have sought to be compared with the loss which he incurred, or with the danger which he faced.39

If Jesus can show that he had no motive to cast out demons if under Satan’s influence, if he can show that it would have actually been harmful to himself were the accusations true, he can both prove the falsity of the charges as well as win the audience over to his side. This is, in fact, the approach he takes in his speech. In order to help follow our analysis of the discourse, at this point we present a summary of the discourse in terms of its rhetorical arrangement: [3:20–22

Accusation by his family that Jesus is mad Accusation by the scribes that Jesus is possessed by Beelzebul Accusation by the scribes that Jesus exorcises by the power of the head demon]

3:23

Exordium/Pr Exordium/Propositio opositio Satan cannot cast out Satan

3:24–27

Pr Probatio obatio (Response to the scribes’ charges) Comparison: Divided kingdoms cannot stand Comparison: Divided houses cannot stand Enthymeme: Satan cannot stand if divided against himself Comparison: Strong men cannot be plundered unless first bound (Satan does not have the power to bind Jesus)

39. Cicero, De Inventione 2.9.29. See also Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.10.10–15.

88

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

3:28–29

Transitional Invective ag against ainst the scribes Blasphemers against God’s Spirit will never be forgiven

[3:31–32 3:33–35

Crowd reports that Jesus’s family is outside seeking Jesus] Epilog Epilogue ue (Response to the family’s charge) “Only those who do God’s will belong to my family.”

EXORDIUM/PROPOSITIO The opening line of the speech constitutes both the exordium and the propositio,40 posed in the form of a rhetorical question that implies the inconsistency of the charge of the scribes: “How can Satan cast out Satan?” Tightly compacted and balanced in structure—only awkwardly captured in English translation—the question begins the proof Jesus will offer against the charges of the scribes. The use of the rhetorical question, according to Quintilian, serves to “increase the force and cogency of proof.”41 Reworded in the form of a propositio, Jesus’s opening line says something like, “Satan cannot cast out himself,” or “Even Satan does not have the power to cast out Satan!” When stated as a propositio, it becomes clear that the question is actually an enthymeme, one of the artificial proofs Aristotle urges. Enthymemes, according to Aristotle, are rhetorical syllogisms, that is, logical syllogisms in which either one or more of the postulates or the conclusion has been suppressed in order to make the logic easier to hear. Aristotle encourages the speaker to make the enthymeme short, since “length causes obscurity,” and in speaking, the presence of the entire argument “is simply a waste of words, because it states much that is obvious.”42 The enthymeme at the outset of Jesus’s discourse is short indeed, providing only a premise in the argument. 40. Here we disagree with Witherington (Gospel of Mark, 154), who argues that “3:23 surely cannot be both the exordium and the propositio.” However, it is possible for one to contain the other, so that, as José Enrique Aguilar Chiu (1 Cor 12–14: Literary Structure and Theology [Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto, 2007], 100) states, “the exordium in some manner embraces the propositio.” He shows that 1 Cor 12:1–11 contains both the exordium and the propositio, agreeing with Standaert (L’Evangile selon Marc, 30–31). Aguilar Chiu further suggests that the exordium is found in all eleven verses, while the propositio is located in v. 3. 41. Quintilian, Institutes 9.2.7. 42. Aristotle, Rhetoric 2.22.2–3.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

89

If one supplies what is obvious but lacking from the argument, the logic becomes clear: 1. Satan cannot cast out Satan; 2. Jesus casts out Satan (by the scribes’ own admission) 3. Therefore, Jesus is not under the influence of Satan. The function of the syllogism, as one would expect, is to remove suspicion by showing the impossibility of the charge. In the next few verses, Jesus will argue that, were he under Satan’s influence, he would have no motive for casting out demons. Here the argument is demonstrative, drawn from generally acknowledged premises and showing the logical contradiction of the accusation against Jesus. The style of the syllogism reinforces its effectiveness. Not only is it posed in the form of a rhetorical question, but it is arranged in well-rounded, periodic form: verb / noun / noun / verb (a b b′ a′—ῶς δύναται Σατανᾶς Σατανᾶν ἐκβάλλειν). Though periodic structures ought not be overworked,43 they are especially appropriate for emphatic points in the discourse. Since this sentence constitutes Jesus’s introduction and propositio to the speech, the periodic form serves the role of catching the attention of the listeners. Here, δύναται holds the emphatic position in the sentence. Indeed, a form of δύναμαι is used four more times immediately following this verse. As will be seen in the “proof” section of the discourse (vv. 24–27), the notion of Satan’s “power” or “ability” (his δύναμις) becomes a recurrent theme. PROBATIO Verse 23b functions as the extremely brief introduction and the statement of facts for the Beelzebul discourse. Verses 24–27 function as the “proof” of the propositio. Often, judicial speeches would contain five or six distinct sections. For example, Quintilian divides the speech into prooemium, narratio, probatio, refutatio, and peroratio.44 43. Demetrius, On Style 1.15. 44. Quintilian, Institutes 3.9.1.

90

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Rhetorica ad Herennium replaces the probatio and refutatio with divisio, confirmatio, and confutatio.45 Shorter speeches, like the one under consideration, however, might have only Aristotle’s “necessary parts”—the statement of facts and the argument46—or his more lengthy four part division: the prooemium, the statement of facts, the proof, and the epilogue.47 This speech combines the introduction with the statement of facts, proceeds immediately to the proof, and concludes with an epilogue. In the probatio (= Aristotle’s πίστις), the speaker seeks to establish the veracity of the speech’s statement of facts.48 It is here that the central arguments of the speech are developed. Often, the probatio was divided into headings, some of which proved the assertions of the speaker, others refuting the arguments of the opponents. Since the issue in this speech is conjectural, tying the charge and the denial to the same central questions (“Is Jesus possessed?” and “Does he cast out demons by the power of Satan?”), the proof of Jesus’s denial will also be the refutation of the scribes’ charge. The introduction/propositio for this discourse already contains an enthymeme establishing the impossibility of Jesus’s casting out Satan by the power of Satan. The probatio moves quickly to four periods that make assertions supporting the introduction/propositio (vv. 25–27). The first two are paradeigma drawn from everyday life. They serve directly to support the third period, which constitutes another enthymeme demonstrating the fallacy of the scribes’ second accusation. The fourth period is closely linked to the first three in structure, theme, and function, but is a lengthened paradeigm that addresses explicitly the first accusation of the scribes rather than the second. The first two periods in the probatio are paradeigma—inductive arguments serving as illustrations of the thesis, which is asserted in the introduction/propositio. Jesus has already observed that Satan 45. Rhetorica ad Herennium 1.3.4. 46. Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.13. 47. Ibid., 3.13. Witherington (Gospel of Mark, 154n26) argues that 3:31 begins a new speech, and thus 3:33–35 could not serve as an epilogue because it belongs to a separate speech. However, as we show below, the use of the present tense at the end of the section—“the crowd says,” “Jesus says,” “Jesus says”—allows for vv. 33–35 to function as the epilogue. 48. For ease, we shall call the “proof” section of the speech the probatio, reserving use of the term “proof” for more general use of evidence and argumentation.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

91

cannot cast out Satan. Now he demonstrates the absurdity of the scribes’ charge by pointing out that any kingdom divided against itself cannot stand, and that any house divided against itself cannot stand. The obvious conclusion, which is stated in the next period, is that if Satan were divided against himself, he would not be able to stand either. Ideally, in rhetorical argument, paradeigma support the stronger proofs of enthymemes. Thus, for example, Aristotle observes that If we have no enthymemes, we must employ examples [παραδείγματα] as demonstrative proofs, for conviction is produced by these; but if we have them, examples must be used as evidence and as a kind of epilogue to the enthymemes.49

As has already been seen, Jesus’s speech opens with an enthymeme, and the third period in the probatio will consist of a second enthymeme. The two paradeigma of the probatio, then, function precisely as Aristotle recommended: they offer ancillary support for the main argument, that it is impossible for Satan to cast out Satan. The exact nature of the paradeigma of vv. 25–26 can be further defined. They are, according to the narrator, παραβολαῖς, a subdivision of the paradeigma in Aristotle’s rhetoric. Though parable scholars have not agreed upon a single definition of “parable,” typically twentieth-century parable scholars have agreed that parables are plotbearing narrative metaphors or similes with one point of comparison. The conclusion by these scholars that parables are “narrative” in form (i.e., that each by definition must tell a story) has caused parable scholarship to ignore some of what the evangelists considered “parables”—including the parables of 3:25–26. Moreover, the form critics’ attempts to strip away all “later accretions” to the parables and to situate them in the life of the historical Jesus (rather than within the contexts of the Gospels) have prevented a generation of scholars from seeing parables as rhetorical strategies embedded in larger discourse contexts, not to mention the contexts of the entire Gospel narratives.50 Further, the abiding suspicion of anything remotely 49. Aristotle, Rhetoric 2.20.9. 50. Cf. the criticism of Donald Juel, Master of Surprise, 47: “By liberating the parables from their literary setting, modern parable scholarship has done a great disservice to Scripture and to

92

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

similar to allegory has led parable scholars to regard much of what the evangelists considered parable material to be later additions, out of context both historically and literarily. Finally, the identification of parables with extreme metaphoric language has invited all kinds of hermeneutical approaches, which, though intriguing in themselves, have tended to detract from the pedagogic, rhetorical nature of the Gospel parables, drowning them instead in existential, psychoanalytical, structural, or otherwise esoteric connotations.51

EXCURSUS: ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ IN GRECO-ROMAN RHETORIC Mark 3:25–26 forms an instructive point for introducing the rhetorical nature of parables because it plainly goes against what most scholars identify as parables and clearly uses παραβολαί in the rhetorical sense of “comparative analogy.” The parables of Mark 3:25–26 are not “unified stories” (Jülicher), “narrative in form,” “tell[ing] a story” (Boucher), “fully self-contained” and “autonomous” (Via) that function to “rip one’s life apart” (TeSelle).52 They are brief comparative proverbs or general analogies drawn from everyday life, serving contextually as stylistic and inductive support for Jesus’s discursive point.53 Assuming that the first-century readers of Mark’s Gospel the community of its interpreters. . . . The first task of interpreters is to understand the parables in their narrative setting.” 51. See John Dominic Crossan, “Parable as Religious and Poetic Experience,” JR 53, no. 3 (1973): 330–58, who expressly asserts that Jesus’s parables are “poetic metaphor,” different from the rabbinic parables, which were “didactic metaphor.” The latter is merely instructive; the former leads to “participation-in” or “the experience of.” Cf. John Dominic Crossan, “The Seed Parables of Jesus,” JBL 92, no. 2 (1973): 244–66. 52. See Adolf Jülicher, Die Gleichnisreden Jesu, 2 vols. (Freiburg: J. C. B. Mohr 1886); Madelaine Boucher, The Mysterious Parable: A Literary Study, CBQMS 6 (Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1977), 13; Dan Otto Via, The Parables: Their Literary and Existential Dimension (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1967), 21–24; and Sally McFague TeSelle, Speaking in Parables: A Study in Metaphor and Theology (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975), 78–79. 53. See Mack and Robbins, Patterns of Persuasion, 146: “The issue is not whether parables as a genre exist. The issue is whether Mark’s statement that Jesus taught en parabolais refers to parables as modern scholars define them, or to parables and other imagistic sayings in their rhetorical function as comparisons.” We agree with Mack and Robbins, 146–47: “Our thesis will be that the term παραβολή in Mark . . . is best understood against the background of its technical significance in the Greek rhetorical tradition.”

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

93

would not have been familiar with Jülicher or Via’s understanding of “parables” but would have been familiar with that of the Greek and Latin rhetoricians, when Mark describes Jesus’s discourses as being “parabolic,” we should understand them as involving rhetorical strategies intended to support or enhance the propositio of the discourses through analogy. In contrast with the interpretations of modern parable scholarship, ancient readers and writers explicitly understood and treated parables as rhetorical strategies.54 A survey of the “parable” terminology in the handbooks bears this out. A few uses of the term παραβολή occur in Greek literature before Aristotle, and, as McCall shows, these have the general meaning of “comparison” or “comparative illustration.”55 With Aristotle, however, a fuller development of the rhetorical theory of “comparisons” is made; in defining παραβολή, Aristotle treats it as a subclass of general comparative proof, παράδειγμα. The παραδείγματα are inductive proofs that make their point through comparison or illustration. The παραβολαί are short comparisons drawn from everyday experience and are distinguished from, on the one hand, comparisons drawn from historical examples (πράγματα προγεγενημένα = exempla), and on the other hand, comparisons made of longer fables (λόγοι = fabella). Aristotle’s “invented proofs” can be schematized as follows: πίστει ἔντεχνοι (general invented proofs) ἐνθύμημα (deductive proofs) παράδειγμα (inductive analogies) πράγματα προγεγενημένα (analogies from history) παραβολή (analogies from common experience) λόγοι (analogies from fables) 54. Cf. Donahue’s remark about parables: “What is pointed to by the metaphorical predication [of parables] is ultimately beyond the power of language to express; metaphorical language cannot be translated into discursive language but must be experienced.” John R. Donahue, The Gospel in Parable: Metaphor, Narrative, and Theology in the Synoptic Gospels (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988), 9. 55. See Marsh H. McCall, Ancient Rhetorical Theories of Similes and Comparison (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969), 1–23. Elian Cuvillier (Le concept de ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ dans le second évangile: Son arrière plan littéraire, sa signification dans le cadre de la rédaction marcienne, son utilisation dans la tradition de Jésus, Études bibliques, nouvelle série 19 [Paris: Gabalda, 1993]) extensively applies much of McCall’s work to the Gospel of Mark.

94

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

For Aristotle, παραβολαί are specifically defined as brief comparisons drawn from common experience that serve inductively to prove the veracity of the propositio.56 Actually, Aristotle treats general “comparisons” under two major headings, proof and style. In Aristotle, the term παραβολή is reserved only for proofs; to discuss stylistic comparisons, Aristotle chooses to use the term εἰκών.57 His treatment of εἰκών is, unfortunately, confused, but in short, when he uses it with precision, Aristotle considers εἰκών a subordinate form of metaphor, basically distinguished from the metaphor by its use of ὡς. For Aristotle, εἰκών is the rough equivalent of our term “simile”58 and is a kind of metaphor or figure of style, whereas παραβολή is a not a figure but a form of proof. ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ AS RHETORICAL PROOF The distinction between παραβολή and εἰκών did not last;59 later rhetoricians tended to use the two terms interchangeably, with the result that παραβολή and its Latin equivalent similitudo were used both to refer to inductive proofs and to figures of style. As proof, the παραβολή/similitudo is considered an inductive argument drawn from common experience either serving as an auxiliary to stronger deductive arguments60 or being used as a contrary showing the fault of the opponent’s position.61 After Aristotle, Quintilian had the most to say about παραβολή/similitudo as proof, but as McCall points out,62 the material is not always clear. Essentially, Quintilian agrees 56. For Aristotle’s discussion of παραβολή, see Rhetoric 2.20.1–8. 57. Cf., however, his use of αντιπαραβολή in Rhetoric 3.19.4–6 to describe the process of contrasting one’s own view with that of one’s opponent, which is quasi-stylistic for Aristotle. 58. Aristotle frequently uses εἰκών in a sense less precise than “simile” to refer to stylistic comparisons in general; see McCall, Rhetorical Theories of Simile, 36. 59. Demetrius’s distinction between παραβολή and εἰκασία is vague; the former, he suggests, is longer (although his examples are hardly longer than a dozen words) and more refined, suited more for poetic composition than prosaic; On Style 89, 274. See McCall, Rhetorical Theories of Simile, 147–55. 60. Rhetorica ad Herennium 2.19.29, although Rhetorica ad Herennium is mostly concerned with similitudo as a matter of style. 61. Cicero, De Inventione 1.30.46–47. In his non-rhetorical writings, Cicero often uses the term similitudo to denote philosophical argument by analogy; for example, see Tusculan Disputations 1.33.80, 4.13.30; De Amicitia 14.50. See also McCall, Rhetorical Theories of Simile, 119–29. 62. McCall, Rhetorical Theories of Simile, 178. Quintilian tends to use similitudo in a variety of

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

95

with Aristotle that the παραβολή/similitudo forms a subcategory of paradeigm that are drawn from common experience serving as inductive proofs. Quintilian thinks that as proof, comparisons are best when they have no metaphoric quality, that is, when their referents are immediate.63 As for the subject of the παραβολή/similitudo, Quintilian recommends using animals and inanimate objects, and identifies three categories of similitudo: the like, the unlike, and the contrary.64 In the end, however, Quintilian questions the persuasive effect of the παραβολή/similitudo when used as proof rather than stylistic enhancement.65 ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ AS STYLISTIC DEVICE The post-Aristotelian rhetoricians had more to say about the stylistic uses of the παραβολή/similitudo than its use as proof. As already pointed out, Aristotle avoided the use of παραβολή in referring to stylistic comparisons, instead using the term εἰκών. He treated the εἰκών as a subdivision of the metaphor (the later rhetoricians would use the term “figure” instead of “metaphor”). What distinguishes the εἰκών from the metaphor for Aristotle was the use of “like” or “as” with the former. He concluded that stylistically the εἰκών has poor instructive value, since its poetic quality detracts from prose speech. 66 After Aristotle, however, the παραβολή appears more as a stylistic device than as a matter of proof. As such, the παραβολή could add adornment or clarity to a point. After Aristotle, The term παραβολή is used in the section devoted to style; It designates a literary form close to the developed similitude. The παραβολή seeks to offer beauty and a grand style, but also clarity. It is not merely

ways, with various degrees of precision, at times explicitly differentiating it from παραβολή, and at times using the two synonymously. 63. Nevertheless, occasionally he seems to distinguish similitudo from παραβολή, the latter of which may possess slightly more of a metaphoric quality. See McCall, Rhetorical Theories of Simile, 194–98. 64. Quintilian, Institutes 5.11.30–34. 65. See ibid., 5.11.22–33; see also McCall, Rhetorical Theories of Simile, 198–200. 66. Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.3.1–4; McCall, Rhetorical Theories of Simile, 41–52.

96

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

an argumentative process; it has an aesthetic dimension which becomes more and more important.67

Though not using the actual Greek term παραβολή, the Latin Rhetorica ad Herennium does treat similitudo as a stylistic figure. For Rhetorica ad Herennium, the similitudo is a figure of thought, and it is completely separated from the metaphor. Rhetorica ad Herennium defines similitudo as “a manner of speech that carries over an element of likeness from one thing to a different thing.” The comparison is used, Rhetorica ad Herennium explains, “to prove or clarify or vivify.”68 Rhetorica ad Herennium further relates that “the resemblance between the two things [being compared] need not apply throughout, but must hold on the precise point of comparison.”69 Four kinds of similitudo are identified by Rhetorica ad Herennium, each with a different purpose: (1) the contrasting similitudo with the purpose of embellishment; (2) similitudo by negation with the purpose of proving; (3) the concise similitudo with the purpose of clarifying; and (4) similitudo by detailed comparison with the purpose of making vivid. It is clear that for Rhetorica ad Herennium, the similitudo is not a mysterious metaphor but a figure of analogy, closely linked to the exemplum or historical illustration. Its purpose is to amplify the point under consideration. Demetrius is more Aristotelian in his determination that stylistic comparisons are subcomponents of metaphor—they are metaphors using ὡς—but whereas Aristotle avoided using παραβολή to refer to stylistic comparisons, Demetrius divides stylistic comparisons into παραβολαί and εἰκασία. For Demetrius, the former are a bit longer and more poetic than the latter. Consequently, Demetrius recommends that παραβολαί (as stylistic enhancements) be used sparingly in prose, since their careful arrangements lend more to poetry than 67. Cuvillier, Le concept de ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ dans le second évangile, 39. Translation ours. The original says, “Le terme παραβολή utilizé dans la partie consacrée au style; il désigne un forme littéraire proche de la similitude développée. La παραβολή vise la beauté et la grandeur du style, mais également la clarité; ell n’est plus simplement on procédé argumentatif, elle a un dimension estétique qui devient de plus en plus importante.” 68. Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.45.59. 69. Ibid., 4.48.61.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

97

to prose. In forceful speech, which seeks to appear completely unenhanced, παραβολαί should be avoided.70 In addition to his discussion of παραβολή/similitudo as a method of proof, Quintilian also treats the similitudo as a stylistic device, generally dissociating it with metaphor and closely linking it to historical analogy (exemplum).71 Quintilian explains that the illuminating purpose of the similitudo requires that it be neither obscure nor unfamiliar, but that it be drawn from everyday life and understandable by all listening. For example, Quintilian suggests using the similitudo of sowing seed as a comparison for giving culture to the mind of the student.72 Generally, however, Quintilian has difficulty distinguishing between similitudo as a method of proof and as a stylistic figure, coming near “suggesting that the similitudo of embellishment is at its finest when it is most similar to a similitudo of proof.”73 This brings the discussion full circle, because the rhetorical terminology for the παραβολή/similitudo was ambiguously applied both to proof and to stylistics throughout the rhetorical handbooks. This should really come as no surprise, since, as McCall points out, Comparison belongs to every section of oratory, and to philosophy as well; it serves as an embellishment of style, as an element of proof, as a type of argument, and it can be used to advantage in all the various parts (for example, exordium, peroration) of a speech.74

How Mark’s use of the term παραβολή in the probatio of Jesus’s speech would have been understood by the readers of the Gospel, whether as proof or a stylistic enhancement, is probably indicated by its presence in the probatio and its location between enthymemes: 70. Demetrius, On Style 80–88. See also Aristotle’s reservations on the use of the stylistic comparison above. 71. Quintilian, Institutes 4.1.70 and 6.3.61–62 does, however, briefly discuss metaphor and similitudo in the same contexts, distinguishing them with the use of “like” or “as.” Strangely, though, when Quintilian does on these brief occasions draw metaphor and similitudo together, he considers metaphor a subcategory of comparison. See McCall, Rhetorical Theories of Simile, 234–35. 72. Quintilian, Institutes 8.3.74–75; see also 5.11.24–25. 73. McCall, Rhetorical Theories of Simile, 226. 74. Ibid., 119.

98

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

it functions as proof of Jesus’s assertion and would likely have been taken as such by the first-century readers. ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ: FORM OR CONTENT? The comparisons in 3:25–26 appear as brief maxim-like assertions about the inability of a divided kingdom or of a divided house to stand. The form of the comparisons is thus nonnarrative, and it is this fact that has likely caused parable scholarship to ignore them. But again, though the form of these two παραβολαί is not consistent with modern definitions of parables, it is consistent with GrecoRoman standards, which were never really concerned with the form of parables, except to point out that they generally bear a more attractive style. Rather, rhetoricians were concerned with the content of the παραβολή/similitudo, which was defined as a comparison distinguished from other comparisons not by form but by content: it was drawn from everyday experience. To cite Aristotle’s examples of a παραβολή, it is as if one were to say that magistrates should not be chosen by lot, for this would be the same as choosing as representative athletes not those competent to contend, but those on whom the lot falls; or as choosing any of the sailors as the man who should take the helm, as if it were right that the choice should be decided by lot, not by a man’s knowledge.75

Quintilian takes an example from Cicero:76 But if those who have just come into harbour from the high seas are in the habit of showing the greatest solicitude in warning those who are on the point of leaving port of the state of the weather, the likelihood of falling in with pirates, and the nature of the coasts which they are likely to visit (for it is a natural instinct that we should take a kindly interest in those who are about to face the dangers from which we have just escaped), what think you should be my attitude who am now in sight of land after a mighty tossing on the sea towards this man who, as I clearly see, has to face the wildest weather? 75. Aristotle, Rhetoric 2.20.5. 76. Quintilian, Institutes 5.11.23, citing Cicero Pro Murena 2.4. Cicero, however, in this reference uses the term comparatio rather than similitudo.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

99

Quintilian immediately goes on to point out that παραβολαί77 are more often about things than people. He provides further illustration: If you wish to argue that the mind requires cultivation, you would use a comparison drawn from the soil, which if neglected produces thorns and thickets, but if cultivated will bear fruit; or if you are exhorting someone to enter the service of the state, you will point out that bees and ants, though not merely dumb animals, but tiny insects, still toil for the common weal.78

In each illustration above, as McCall points out, the form seems irrelevant to the point. The παραβολή/similitudo simply appears as a generalized comparison drawing its strength from its appeal to common knowledge from everyday experience. The obsession of modern parable scholarship with the parable as a plot-driven narrative form simply is not supported by the rhetorical evidence. ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ: ESOTERIC METAPHOR OR PEDAGOGIC ANALOGY? The overly metaphorical readings of parables by modern scholars are not supported by the rhetorical evidence. As pointed out above, the παραβολή/similitudo is not generally associated with metaphor. Aristotle seems explicitly to avoid such connection; metaphor is a stylistic enhancement to the discourse, but the παραβολή is actual proof. As with Aristotle, the Latin rhetoricians treat παραβολή/similitudo in the same overall category as historical comparisons (exempla) and invented comparisons (fabella), neither of which are considered metaphor. Even when Quintilian (rarely) discusses metaphor and similitudo in the same context, the former is considered a subcategory of the latter. Instead of an oblique and mysterious figure—as often understood today, then, the rhetoricians taught that the παραβολή/similitudo should be an analogy so clearly drawn that it could be considered “proof” of the propositio. This is not to say that parables have no metaphoric quality; rather, it suggests that in 77. Now translating the term similitudo. 78. Quintilian, Institutes 5.11.24.

100

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

the world of Greco-Roman rhetoric and literature, the parable was expected to have a referent so near and fitting in the discourse that it would immediately be understood within that context; its metaphoric quality would be slight. If ever the relationship between the comparison and its referent were to be unclear, Quintilian lectures, the proving value of the parable would be lost.79 At this point it is possible to return to the parables of 3:25–26 and to see their true rhetorical function in the discourse. As was previously pointed out, they serve as “proof” for the propositio of the discourse, demonstrating by use of comparisons involving a kingdom and a house the absurdity of the scribes’ charge that Jesus is casting out demons through the power of Satan. In accordance with the admonitions of the rhetoricians, each comparison is brief; each is drawn from common experiences of life (the listeners would be quite familiar with divided kingdoms and with divided households); and each has low metaphoric quality—that is, the referent for each is clearly present in the discourse. One can suppose, then, that for the firstcentury readers of the discourse, as well as for the characters within the narrative, the parables would have had persuasive value relating to Jesus’s propositio. The argument is something like that from the lesser to the greater: if a kingdom cannot stand when divided, and if a house cannot stand when divided, how can Satan stand if divided?80 The parables are both effective and persuasive. On the narrative level, both comparisons appear to have further significance. Jesus declares that no kingdom divided against itself is able to stand and no house divided against itself can stand. The reader of the Gospel can hardly miss the significance of the reference to “kingdom” in Mark, since Jesus’s ministry has already been defined 79. Quintilian (Institutes 5.11.22) is the first to point out the need to keep the metaphoric quality of the parable to a minimum. Cuvillier (Le concept de παραβολή dans le second évangile, 64) studies the use of the term παραβολή in the LXX, concluding that there it can mean something like an “enigma”: “si la dimension illustrative imagé, ne sont plus obligaturrement (c’est meme le contraire qui se produit) un langage clair: les illustrations sont des énigmes qui nécessitent explication, dévoilement.” Though even in the LXX, the term does not carry the metaphoric qualities assigned by many contemporary parable scholars, but stands more in the tradition of a rhetorical riddle than an esoteric metaphor. 80. Cf. Quintilian, Institutes 5.11.9–12.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

101

in terms of the kingdom of God. Thus, though on the primary level of rhetoric the comparison “proves” that Jesus is not operating by the power of Satan, on the secondary level of rhetoric, for the readers of the Gospel, there is a suggestion that God’s kingdom must remain unified in order for it to stand. Further, with reference to the second parable, in the context of this very discourse, the members of Jesus’s house have in fact come to seize him, indicating that Jesus’s own house is divided. Thus again, though the parable functions on a primary level as inductive proof regarding the source of Jesus’s power, on a secondary level it indicts members of Jesus’s own house for dividing against him. The indictment is ironic, however; in the last part of the discourse Jesus will reject these same household members and redefine his family. Only those who do God’s will are truly in Jesus’s house, so his house cannot be described as divided. The discourse thus opens with a one-line exordium and propositio, followed by two comparisons drawn from everyday experience. The next part of the short discourse, the third “proof” in the probatio, is not a paradeigm but an enthymeme, repeating more specifically what had been asserted in the first enthymeme: “if Satan opposes himself and is divided against himself, he is incapable of standing, but his end has come.” The enthymeme serves as the explicit referent to the previous two comparisons and shows through reductio ad absurdum the impossibility of the scribes’ charge that Jesus is casting out demons through the power of the head demon. More detail is supplied in this enthymeme than had been supplied in the first enthymeme. Nevertheless, some reconstruction of the argument still remains necessary. With the lacking elements of the enthymeme supplied, the argument runs something like this: 1. If Satan opposes himself (and is divided) he cannot stand; 2. Therefore, Satan cannot oppose himself; 3. Jesus is opposing Satan (by the scribes’ admission); 4. Therefore, Jesus is not of Satan.81 81. Alternately, but with less effect, the enthymeme may be reconstructed to read thus, 1. If Satan opposes himself, he cannot stand; 2. Jesus is standing;

102

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Once again, the enthymeme is effective, reducing to the point of absurdity the charges of the scribes by showing that Jesus cannot be acting by the power of Satan, lest Satan be found to be destroying himself. Taken together, the initial three responses in the probatio form a distinct group. They are linked by the common formulaic structure of protasis/apodosis with only slight verbal alterations: “if a kingdom were divided, then it has no power to stand . . .” “if a house were divided, then it has no power to stand . . .” “if Satan is divided, then he has no power to stand . . .” The three clauses form well-rounded periods, and each is balanced against the others. However, several notable variations occur between the three periods. First, in the second period, ἡ οἰκία is moved to an emphatic position, serving to highlight the “divided house,” likely underlining what appears to be Jesus’s own divided house, which gave rise to the entire episode. The second variation is the shift from ἐὰν plus the subjunctive in the first two periods, which indicates their hypothetical nature (“if a kingdom or house were to be divided . . .”),82 to the use of εἰ plus the indicative in the third period,83 a statement of fact (“if Satan is divided . . .”) that is clearly untrue. “In other words, the argument shifts from the hypothetical to the assumption that Satan has indeed not risen up against himself.” 84 Further, each cola in the probatio, with the slight exception of 25b, is linked by the stylistic use of homoioteleuton, repeating the sound of the long vowel eta. The use of this device links the three proofs together for the ear: καὶ ἐὰν βασιλεία ἐφ’ ἑαυτὴν μερισθῇ οὐ δύναται σταθῆναι ἡ βασιλεία ἐκείνη καὶ ἐὰν οἰκία ἐφ’ ἑαυτὴν μερισθῇ οὐ δυνήσεται ἡ οἰκία ἐκείνη σταθῆναι καὶ εἰ ὁ Σατανᾶς ἀνέστη ἐφ’ ἑαυτὸν καὶ ἐμερίσθη οὐ δύναται στῆναι ἀλλὰ τέλος ἔχει. 3. Therefore, Jesus is not of Satan. 82. BDAG, s.v. “ἐάν,” 1.a, “used w. subjunctive to denote what is expected to occur, under certain circumstances.” 83. BDAG, s.v. “εἰ,” 1.a, “with the indicative—a. in all tenses, to express a condition thought of as real.” 84. Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 176.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

103

Even with slight variations in structure and rhyme,85 however, the overall effect of the repetitions is unmistakable. The periods are arranged in a figure akin to climax, in which the evidence appears to mount up increasingly, to the point that the accusers seem to be flying in the face of all good reason. As Demetrius points out, using the figure of climax can make a sentence seem “to climb ever higher and higher” adding “energy” to the thought.86 The fourth period of the probatio is somewhat longer than the first three but is structured similarly: “Indeed, no power has anyone to enter a strong man’s house to plunder his goods, unless first that person bind the strong man, and then that person can plunder his goods.” Like the first two periods, the fourth period appears to be a paradeigm, comparing Jesus’s relationship to Satan with a robber’s inability to plunder the house of a strong man without first tying the strong man. Traditionally, the plunderer of this passage has been taken to refer to Jesus, who is depicted as presently binding Satan, the strong man, and plundering Satan’s house through exorcisms or through Jesus’s ministry in general.87 The conditional sentence is taken as “simple”—that is, as a condition congruent with fact: Jesus is binding the strong man and consequently is plundering his house. In this case, the implication would be that Jesus is somehow limiting or even destroying Satan. Though this interpretation is not totally impossible, the rhetorical structure of the probatio more naturally suggests that Jesus is the strong man and Satan is the plunderer. Read this way, the condition is contrary to fact: Satan could only plunder τὰ σκεύη of Jesus, the strong man, were Satan able to bind Jesus. As a contrary-tofact condition, what is implied is that Satan is not able to bind Jesus,

85. See Demetrius, On Style 2.65, who suggests that in repetitions, slight alterations should be used in order to avoid tediousness. 86. Demetrius, On Style 5.270. 87. See, e.g., V. Taylor, Mark, 241; Grundmann, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 111; Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 1:150; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 176–77; Donahue and Harrington, Gospel of Mark, 133; Witherington, Gospel of Mark, 158. Cf., however, Roland Meynet, “Qui donc est ‘le plus fort’? Analyse rhétorique de Mc 3,22–30; Mt 12,22–37; Luc 11,14–26,” RB 90, no. 3 (1983): 334–50, who argues on the basis of Luke 11:24–26 that the strong one is the disciple who must guard against Satan, who is the stronger one.

104

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

therefore Jesus has not been plundered by Satan. Four factors support this understanding of the passage. First, it is clear that though the real burden of Jesus’s speech thus far has been his desire to prove that he does not minister under the influence of Satan, a subtle word play involving the verb δύναμαι has also been at work in the discourse emphasizing Satan’s lack of power. The introduction/propositio started with a rhetorical question implying that Satan is powerless to cast out Satan (v. 23). Each period in the probatio so far has repeated the theme of Satan’s lack of power through the repetition in the apodosis of the phrase “no power has it/ he” (or “will it/he have,” v. 25). The third period (v. 26) is especially important, for it explicitly links the phrase “no power” to Satan. In vv. 23–25, then, a structure has been set up that would have been heard by the original listeners as a building challenge to Satan’s power: “What power has Satan . . . ? No power . . . No power . . . No power has Satan. . . .” The figure is called anaphora or epanaphora by the rhetoricians, and its function is to add vigor and force to the presentation.88 In epanaphora, the stress may fall upon the final clause, as the culmination of the argument. This is the case here, where v. 27 stands as a climax to the word play as the verse reverses the protasis and the apodosis and lengthens the argument. The movement of the apodosis to the forward position is important, for it makes the final use of the term “no power” the head of the final period, emphasizing the inability of the thief to plunder the things of the strong man. Since the phrase “no power” has applied to Satan throughout the probatio, it is natural to take it as applying to Satan in v. 27 as well (i.e., as a description of Satan’s lack of power to plunder Jesus’s things). To apply “no power” to Jesus in v. 27 would be to destroy the force of the epanaphora, which reaches its crescendo in v. 27 with the implication that neither Satan nor anyone else has the power to bind Jesus.

88. Rhetorica ad Herennium 6.18.19. Epanaphora is the repetition of the same word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

105

The use of epanaphora thus implicitly belittles Satan’s power to control Jesus: “What power has Satan . . . ? No power . . . No power . . . No power has Satan. . . . Indeed, no power has anyone . . . to plunder the strong man’s goods (his kingdom, his house).” The second factor supporting such a reading of v. 27, closely connected to the first, lies in the nature of the conditional sentences in the probatio. All agree that the conditions in vv. 24–26 are contrary-tofact conditions; that is, the apodosis is not true, because the protasis is not true. The kingdom does stand, because it is not divided; the house does stand, because it is not divided; Satan’s end is not here, because he is not divided. Since the reader of the discourse has already understood the first three conditional sentences to be contrary-to-fact, it only makes sense that the fourth condition, which is constructed in parallel fashion to the first three, be read as contrary to fact.89 In other words, it would be misleading for the narrator to reverse the final condition of the four periods without significantly altering its structure. Thus, the typical understanding of scholars would have the probatio read as If a kingdom were divided against itself (which it is not) . . . If a house were divided against itself (which it is not) If Satan were divided against himself (which he is not) But no one is able to enter the house of the strong man (which he has done). . . .

It makes more sense to read the final condition as contrary-to-fact: If a kingdom were divided against itself (which it is not) . . . If a house were divided against itself (which it is not) If Satan were divided against himself (which he is not) But no one is able to enter the house of the strong man (which he has not done). . . . 89. This takes the ἀλλὰ in the sense of “yet” or “certainly,” which sense it typically takes in the apodosis of conditional sentences. See BDAG, 38, #4.

106

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The thief has not been able to enter the house of the strong man, Jesus. Third, the traditional reading of v. 27, taking Jesus to be the thief and Satan to be the strong man, creates a strained relationship between v. 27 and v. 26. If the latter verse (26) is taken as a condition contrary to fact, it clearly implies that Satan’s end has not come: “If Satan were divided (which he is not) . . . his end has come (which it has not).” Why would Jesus then immediately proceed to assert that he has in fact bound Satan? Either Satan’s end has come and v. 26 is not contrary to fact, or Satan has not been bound and v. 27 is contrary to fact, with Jesus as the strong one. The tension is resolved if the more natural interpretation of v. 27 is allowed. Finally, taking the final condition as contrary to fact (i.e., Jesus is the strong man) makes more sense in the overall argument of the discourse. The rhetorical situation to which Jesus is responding is not Jesus’s power to plunder Satan. Rather, it is Satan’s power to plunder Jesus. The first charge that the scribes raised was that Jesus had been possessed by Satan. Since v. 27 forms part of the probatio, which seeks to refute the specific charges of the scribes, it makes more sense to understand that Jesus is arguing that he has not been bound by Satan than to be saying that Jesus has bound Satan.90 Rhetorically, then, the final period of the probatio brings the entire argument to a climax, asserting through the comparative example of a thief and a strong man that Jesus does not act by the power of Satan because Satan is unable to plunder Jesus’s “things,” not having the power to bind Jesus. The term τὰ σκεύη is general, and it may be that there is no direct correspondence to this term in the present discourse. Nevertheless, those who take Jesus as the thief have frequently pointed out that σκεῦος can refer in a figurative sense to one’s body.91 They would argue that the parable puts forth Jesus as plundering, through exorcisms, the bodies that Satan has possessed. If Jesus is the strong man, as we have argued above, “σκεύη” would likely be a general reference to Jesus’s mind or his power, which is being questioned 90. Although we are persuaded that Jesus is the strong man who has not been bound by Satan, we admit that there is rhetorical ambiguity in the comparison. 91. See BDAG, 754, #2.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

107

by his earthly family and by the scribes. Satan cannot possess Jesus because Satan cannot bind Jesus. Whatever τὰ σκεύη might refer to, if anything specific at all, it can be no accident that twice the parable refers to the house (οἰκία) of the strong man. Taking Jesus as the strong man, the comparison indicates that it is Jesus’s “house” that Satan wishes to enter in order to plunder Jesus’s possessions. The language is too similar to the rhetorical situation to be coincidental. In vv. 20–21, Jesus has entered a house, and his family has come to seize him based upon accusations that he is mad. In vv. 31–35, the family of Jesus again appears and this time they are explicitly “outside” the house wishing to enter. Jesus refuses to permit his earthly family to enter the house, rather choosing to redefine his family in terms of obedience to God’s will—now including those sitting around him in the house. The implication is obvious: Satan is attempting to plunder Jesus’s house by using Jesus’s mother, brothers, and sisters, who are “outside.” Jesus will not permit his house to be plundered, or “divided”—rather, he redefines his family in terms of those inside: those who do God’s will constitute his real family. Taking all of the periods together, the structure of the probatio and its argument becomes clear and forceful. The second charge brought by the scribes was that Jesus casts out demons by the power of the head demon. In the first three periods of the probatio, Jesus responds to this second accusation. His response, presented in both syllogistic and exemplary form, reduces the accusation to absurdity by showing the unlikelihood that Satan would destroy Satan’s own work. If by Satan’s power Jesus casts out demons, Satan would fall. Therefore, Satan would not cast out demons. Since Jesus casts out demons, he cannot be acting out of the power of Satan. The first charge of the scribes, that Jesus is possessed by Beelzebul, is answered in the final period of the probatio. If our understanding of Jesus as the strong man is correct, Jesus is here asserting that Satan could only have possessed him if Satan were to have bound Jesus first. Since Jesus has effectively argued in the first three periods that he is not under the power of Satan, he can conclude that Satan has not bound him. Perhaps the fact that Jesus casts out

108

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

demons—now understood to be performed by God’s power rather than Satan’s—supplies the premise necessary for Jesus to argue that he is the strong man. Jesus’s response to the charges thus forms a sort of chiasm, binding the scribes’ accusations to Jesus’s probatio: A.

First accusation: Jesus is possessed.

__B.

__Second accusation: Jesus casts out demons by the power of the __chief demon.

__B.′ __First response: Jesus does not cast out demons by Satan’s power (first __three periods). A.′

Second Response: Jesus is not possessed (fourth period).

On a deeper level, the argument also serves to remind the characters in the Gospel and the readers of the Gospel that Satan has “no power” over Jesus. It also suggests that whoever does not do the will of God—no matter what their earthly relationship to Jesus—acts in behalf of Satan, but that Jesus’s house and the kingdom of God will not be divided. RHETORICAL TRANSITION/INVECTIVE That the probatio ends with v. 27 is indicated by Jesus’s use of the formula Ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν in v. 28. The provenance and function of the amen formula has been the subject of a great deal of discussion.92 Whatever its exact source, Mark generally has Jesus use “amen” as an oath, adding solemnity to the saying that it proceeds.93 Additionally, Mark occasionally has Jesus using “amen” to begin the conclusion of a narrative or of a discourse section, indicating that 92. See Gustaf Dalman, The Words of Jesus, trans. D. M. Kay (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1902), 226–29; Gustaf Dalman, Jesus-Jeshua: Studies in the Gospels, trans. Paul P. Levertoff (New York: Macmillan, 1929), 30; Heinrich Schlier, “ἀμήν,” TDNT, 1:335–38; Joachim Jeremias, Abba: Studien zur neutestamentlichen Theologie und Zeitgeschichte (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1966), 149–52; Joachim Jeremias, New Testament Theology (New York: Scribner, 1971), 35; E. Pfeiffer, “Der alttestamentliche Hintergrund der liturgischen Formel ‘Amen,’” Kerygma und Dogma 4 (1958): 129–41; Victor Hasler, Amen: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Einführungsformel der Herrenworte “Wahrlich, ich sage euch” (Zürich: Gotthelf, 1969); K. Berger, Die Amen-Worte Jesu: Eine Untersuchung zum Problem der Legitimation in apokalyptischer Rede, BZNW 39 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1970). 93. See e.g., Mark 8:12, 9:41, 10:15.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

109

the subsequent pronouncement closes the unit.94 In these instances, “amen” serves a dual role, heightening the pronouncement with its oath-like tone and signaling that the pronouncement will conclude the narrative/rhetorical section. It is in these latter two senses that Jesus uses “amen” in 3:28 as well. Verses 28–29 form something of a conclusion to the probatio—a transition from the probatio to the epilogue—presented in the form of an invective against the scribes who brought charges against Jesus. As invective, vv. 28–29 signal the coming epilogue of the speech, which actually begins in v. 33.95 In the longer speeches of Greco-Roman rhetoric, the conclusion (ἐπίλογος, peroratio) generally consisted of three parts: the summing up, the amplification, and the arousal of emotions.96 In the short discourse of Mark 3:20–35, there is no need for summing up, since the material is presented all at once. Nevertheless, vv. 28–29 do seem to achieve the other two goals of the epilogue, although with uncommon brevity. The second part of a typical epilogue was the amplification, through which the speaker would make their final, often emotional, appeal. In the amplification, speakers were generally encouraged to launch an invective against the opponents, depreciating their position in ways that excite the emotions. Thus, the amplification was often called the invective (δείνωσις, indignatio). The third function of the epilogue was the arousal of emotions, in which the speaker would seek by any means possible to create pity for themselves in the hearts of the hearers. Verses 28–29 of the Beelzebul discourse clearly functions as invective, implicitly accusing the scribes of the heinous crime of blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. Rhetorica ad Herennium explains that an appropriate invective consists of showing that the actions of one’s opponents constitute “a foul crime, cruel, sacrilegious, and tyrannical 94. Mark 9:1; 10:29; 12:43; 14:9, 25. 95. Alternately, it is possible that vv. 28–29 represent a shortened refutatio, but the discourse is so brief that they are better treated as a sort of transition to the epilogue. 96. These three were frequently divided differently, creating as few as two and as many as four objectives for the conclusion; see Rhetorica ad Herennium 2.30.47; cf. Aristotle, Rhetoric to Alexander 36 and Rhetoric 3.19; Cicero, De Inventione 1.52.98 and Partitiones Oratoriae 15.52ff.; and Quintilian, Institutes 6.1.1.

110

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

. . . one of those crimes that incites wars and life-and-death struggles.”97 Aristotle encourages the speaker to use the conclusion of the speech to show that the opponents are “either relatively or absolutely bad”;98 Cicero encourages speakers to use the indignatio to arouse “great hatred against some person, or violent offence at some action.”99 In case the readers miss the invective nature of the section, the narrator reminds them that the warning about blasphemy against the Holy Spirit was issued because of the accusations of the scribes (v. 30). The invective is arranged in periodic form with contrasting members, using the device of antithesis.100 Lambrecht finds the arrangement to be chiastic;101 but if one considers the subtle repetition of cognates, the arrangement rather appears to constitute something like an inverted chiasm: A.

πάντα ἀφεθήσεται τοῖς υἱοῖς τῶν ἀνθρώπων B.

B.′ A.′

τὰ ἁμαρτήματα C.

καὶ αἱ βλασφημίαι ὅσα ἐὰν βλασφημήσωσιν

C.′

ὃς δ’ ἂν βλασφημήσῃ εἰς τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον οὐκ ἔχει ἄφεσιν εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα, ἀλλὰ ἔνοχός ἐστιν αἰωνίου ἁμαρτήματος.

At the center of the period lies the multiple use of forms of the word “blasphemy.” The sudden introduction of this term into Jesus’s 97. Rhetorica ad Herennium 2.30.49. 98. Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.19.1. 99. Cicero, De Inventione 1.53.100. 100. The first part of the period is balanced in opposition to the second. See Demetrius, On Style 1.22; and Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.15.21: “Embellishing our style by means of this figure we shall be able to give it impressiveness and distinction.” 101. Lambrecht (“Relatives of Jesus,” 248) schematizes the period thus: Ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι a πάντα ἀφεθήσεται τοῖς υἱοῖς τῶν ἀνθρώπων __b τὰ ἁμαρτήματα καὶ αἱ βλασφημίαι ____ὅσα ἐὰν βλασφημήσωσιν __b′ ὃς δ' ἂν βλασφημήσῃ ____εἰς τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον, a′ οὐκ ἔχει ἄφεσιν εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα, __ἀλλὰ ἔνοχός ἐστιν αἰωνίου ἁμαρτήματος.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

111

speech has confounded historical critics, some of whom assume that it indicates multiple sources.102 The first-century readers of Mark’s Gospel, however, would not have been surprised, for they would have expected Jesus to counter the scribes’ accusation with one of his own. The accusation Jesus levels against the scribes is that they have blasphemed against the Holy Spirit. The accusation is fair, because the scribes’ assertion that Jesus is possessed by Beelzebul and that he casts out demons through the power of Satan implies Jesus’s work is done through the power of an evil spirit. The hearers of the Gospel already understand that Jesus is actually working through the power of the Spirit of God (see Mark 1:8, 10, 12) to cast out “unclean” spirits (Mark 1:23–27; 3:11).103 What the scribes have essentially done, then, is to call God’s Spirit the spirit of Satan. Such an assertion, Jesus retorts, constitutes such serious blasphemy that it cannot be forgiven. The antithetical structure of the response, contrasting blasphemy against the Spirit with “all” other sins, raises Jesus’s accusation to fever pitch: the scribes have absolutely committed the worst offense any human can commit.104 Though we are not told by the narrator what response the crowds had to Jesus’s conclusion, it certainly has a chilling effect upon the readers of the Gospel. NARRATIVE TRANSITION/RHETORICAL EPILOGUE Verses 23–29 contain the body of the discourse, which has been presented effectively and coherently—although with extreme conciseness. So far, the speech has responded to the charges leveled against Jesus by the scribes, and up to this point, the discourse has unfolded in 102. An interesting variation on the form critical challenge to the unity of the text is found in Augustin Stock, “All Sins Will Be Forgiven . . . But . . . ,” Emmanuel 92, no. 1 (1986): 18–21, who suggests the introduction of the blasphemy clause does present a separate concern. He thinks Mark uses an “anthology” method of speaking in which two different situations in the life of the “Markan community” are addressed simultaneously. 103. See Peter Pimentel, “The ‘Unclean Spirits’ of St. Mark’s Gospel,” ExpTim 99, no. 6 (1988): 173–75. 104. Evald Lövestam argues that blasphemy against the Holy Spirit constitutes opposition to God’s final, eschatological act in human history and thus would be considered the consummate sin; see Evald Lövestam, Spiritus Blasphemia (Lund: Gleerup, 1968), and “Logiet om hädelse mot den helige Ande (Mark. 3:28. par. Matt. 12:31f.; Luk. 12:10),” SEÅ 33 (1968): 101–17.

112

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

a way that would have been easily understood by first-century readers. Though it would have been recognized as extremely compact by Mark’s original audience, there is no reason to think they would have found it incoherent. Nevertheless, Jesus has not properly responded to the implicit charge made by his family, viz., that he is mad. As was seen earlier, this charge likely serves to motivate the scribes to level their more serious charges. Presumably the reasoning of the scribes is that if the very family of Jesus can get away with accusing Jesus of being mad, they can succeed in charging that he is acting from the power of Satan. In this way, for the scribes, the family of Jesus actually becomes a witness against Jesus. The involvement of one’s family in accusatory rhetoric was a common device in the milieu: Cicero observes that a person’s ancestry, family, upbringing, education, and home life are all pertinent properties for drawing inferences about the suspect.105 At the end of Jesus’s discourse, he returns to the original accusation made against him by his family, that he is “out of his mind.” Jesus’s response to the scribes had been arranged in a chiastic manner; in the same way, the entire discourse is arranged in a chiasm, with the first accusation against Jesus being responded to last: The implicit accusation of Jesus’s family (v. 21)

A. B.

B.′ A.′

The first accusation of the scribes (v. 22b) C.

The second accusation of the scribes (v. 22c)

C.′

Response to the second accusation of the scribes (v. 23b) Response to the first accusation of the scribes (vv. 24–27) Response to the accusation of Jesus’s family (vv. 33–35)

The first-century audience would have expected Jesus to respond to his family; the only question was how he would respond. The narrator provides the opportunity for this final response by returning the focus to the dramatic action occurring “outside” and “inside” the house. The family of Jesus had faded to the background during Jesus’s 105. Cicero, De Inventione 2.9.29.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

113

response to the scribes. At verse 31, however, they return, and the reader is explicitly told that they include the mother and brothers of Jesus. Several important items are now presented in the narrative. First, the family is described as standing “outside” of the house in v. 31. As was hinted at in 3:14, where the disciples are called to “be with” Jesus, and as will be seen again in our analysis of Mark 4, the Gospel of Mark makes use of the device of “outsiders” and “insiders” to delineate between those who support and those who oppose Jesus.106 By indicating that Jesus’s family members are “outside” the circle of Jesus (τοὺς περὶ αὐτὸν κύκλῳ καθημένους, v. 34), the narrator reveals that they are excluded from the kingdom of God. Remembering that Jesus has already pointed out that no one has the power to enter his house to seize “his things,” and knowing that his family is skeptical of his authority, Jesus refuses to let them in the house to be “with him.” A second narrative feature of importance about vv. 31–36 is the reemergence of the crowd. Though they were first introduced in v. 20 as packing the house so that Jesus and his disciples were unable to eat, the accusations of the scribes and Jesus’s initial response pushed the crowd to the background. Now, with the family of Jesus standing outside and the crowd still inside, the same crowd reemerges as a witness to the discourse and as judges of the whole discourse situation. It also seems significant that the narrator begins this final narrative section with a return to the present tense—ἔρχεται. The first narrative section, containing the major part of the discourse, began with the present tense but moved stealthily to the aorist and the imperfect tenses. In the final narrative section, however, the present tense dominates, especially toward the end. The effect of the present tense in this final section is a certain vividness, making this section appear to be happening as the readers hear the text. Such use of the present tense highlights the last section as the final part of the epilogue. The subtle use of the tenses in the rhetorical unit effectively moves the narrative along and provides emphasis at the appropriate places:107 106. See Crossan, “Mark and the Relatives,” 81–113; W. Ernest Moore, “‘Outside’ and ‘Inside’: A Markan Motif,” ExpTim 98, no. 2 (1986): 39–43; and Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 146–48. 107. Past tenses are in italics to help visibly bring the present tense to the foreground.

114

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Jesus comes the crowd gathers the family went out they were saying the scribes were saying Jesus was saying because they were saying the mother of Jesus comes the family sent the crowd was sitting the crowd says Jesus says Jesus says

Jesus does not directly respond to the accusation of his family. Rather, he discredits them personally as witnesses by implicitly disclaiming them as family members. It has been argued above that the family of Jesus serves as the chief witnesses for the scribes. Rhetorically, the scribes had scored something of coup d’état by claiming Jesus’s own mother and brothers on their side. The persuasive effect of bringing one’s own family in as witnesses against one’s character has already been mentioned. Jesus must, then, in the remaining part of the discourse, find a way to discredit the apparent testimony of his family. He does this through redefining his family so as to exclude those who might think he is mad. The rhetoric is both radical and effective, and its force is final, leaving no room for the family to maneuver. Further, it compels people in the crowd (and on another level, the readers) to decide whether they will be on Jesus’s side or not. The final part of the epilogue of Jesus’s discourse begins with the comment by the crowd: “Look, your mother and brothers are outside looking for you.” Jesus’s response comes in the form of a question, “Who are my mother and brothers?” By means of interrogatio, the raising of a question to increase force or to create doubt,108 Jesus invites the crowd to question his family’s role as proper witnesses. The obvious implication of the question is that those standing outside were not his family. Jesus’s initial question is followed by a narrative comment focusing 108. See especially Quintilian, Institutes 9.2.7–16, and Theon, Progymnasmata 5.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

115

attention on those “inside” the house, who are referred to as being “with” Jesus. The elaborate narrative description of the crowd as being “around” and “with” Jesus creates an emphasis on their role.109 Three different terms are used to accomplish this emphasis: the intensified verb περιβλεψάμενος, the direct object qualified by the prepositional phrase περὶ αὐτὸν, and the adjectival phrase κύκλῳ καθημένους. Since the readers have already begun to understand the importance of being “with Jesus” as a prerequisite to discipleship (see 3:14), the narrative description serves to show that the crowd on the inside is, at least at this point, on the proper side in the fray.110 This will be reinforced by the next line uttered by Jesus. Jesus’s final answer to the situation at hand is uttered in the form of a well-balanced period, forming a short chiasm with an emphasis on the need to obey the word of God at the center: A.

These are my mother and my brothers. B.

A.′

Whoever does God’s will, This is my brother, my sister, and my mother.

By prefacing this final remark with the narrative comment that Jesus looked at those sitting around him, and with the exact use of the imperative Ἴδε,111 the narrator makes it clear that the crowd, who is doing the will of God (presumably at this stage in the narrative by being “with him”), is on Jesus’s side and constitutes his real family. The effect of the period is twofold: it denies Jesus’s earthly family legitimacy as a witness against him, and it wins the favor of the crowd by including them on Jesus’s side. This is precisely what a good conclusion should do: it should discredit the opponent (in this 109. Cf. D. E. Dozzi, “Chi sono ‘Quelli attorno a Lui,’ di Mc 4,10?” Marianum 36, no. 2–4 (1974): 153–83, who wishes to distinguish between three groups of favorable responses to Jesus: the twelve, “those with him,” and the crowds. Against Dozzi is the fact that in Mark 3:31–35, the crowd is “with him,” the same as were the disciples in 3:14. Evidently, the term “with him” is a category in which people move into and out of as they respond in various ways to Jesus. 110. In Mark, the crowds are generally presented in a good way until the Jerusalem ministry. As judges of Jesus’s ministry, they serve at first as positive role models for the readers, and later as negative role models. See Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “Disciples/Crowds/Whoever: Markan Characters and Readers,” NovT 28, no. 2 (1986): 104–30. 111. See E. J. Pryke, “Ide and Idou,” NTS 14, no. 3 (1968): 418–24, who demonstrates that Mark here uses the verb with imperatival force. Cf. Mark 2:24.

116

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

case, Jesus’s earthly family) and should favorably dispose the audience to the speaker (in this case, the crowd).112 The denunciation of Jesus’s family is appropriate because they are presently being used, whether by choice or not, as rhetorical weapons against Jesus.113 The winning over of the hearts of the crowd is especially important for Jesus because, as has already been pointed out, members of the crowd typically function as judges in Jesus’s rhetorical situations. It is likely that the absence of connectives in the period is deliberate, using the technique of asyndeton to add final force. The rhetoricians especially liked brief asyndeton in conclusions, as it has a sort of punctiliar effect, leaving the listeners with a sense of urgency to their decision: “To the conclusion of the speech the most appropriate style is that which has no connecting particles, in order that it may be a peroration, but not an oration: ‘I have spoken; you have heard; you know the facts; now give your decision.’”114 The structure of the period, then, as well as its radical denunciation of the earthly family of Jesus, and its accent on the need to obey God to be with Jesus makes the conclusion of the discourse decisive and effective. RHETORICAL OVERVIEW The discourse of 3:20–35 thus forms a very brief defense by Jesus against three charges: that he is mad, that he is possessed by Satan, and that he operates by the power of Satan. As such, it forms a judicial speech, with Jesus denying the last two charges and rejecting the witnesses who brought against him the first charge. The discourse is far too brief to have included in it every possible 112. Aristotle (Rhetoric 2.4.7–32) discusses in detail how to make an audience favorably disposed to oneself. 113. Aristotle (Rhetoric 1.14.6) points out that when witnesses perjure themselves against their “benefactor,” they have done wrong twice and have a greater degree of disgrace. This is similar to what the family of Jesus has done, whether intentionally or not, by becoming witnesses against their own family member. Jesus’s rejection of them, though harsh, is thus justified. The social dynamics of honor and shame in the narrative are explored by David M. May, “Mark 3:20–35 from the Perspective of Shame/Honor,” BTB 17, no. 3 (1987): 83–87. Though some have attempted to soften the impact of Jesus’s statement upon his family (e.g., G. Danieli, “Maria e i fratelli di Gesù nel Vangelo di Marco,” Marianum 40, no. 1–2 [1978]: 91–109), in Mark’s Gospel there can be little doubt that Jesus is presented as scandalous to his family. See Bertrand Buby, “A Christology of Relationship in Mark,” BTB 10, no. 4 (1980): 149–54. 114. Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.19.6.

SATAN CANNOT CAST OUT SATAN (MARK 3:20–35)

117

element of the traditional judicial speech, but it does contain a short exordium/propositio, the probatio, and an epilogue—the three necessary elements of a discourse in Greco-Roman rhetoric. Jesus responds to the charges brought against him by the scribes by reducing their argument to absurdity: Satan would not cast out Satan! The use of both deductive reasoning (“What power has Satan to cast out Satan”; “And if Satan stands against himself and is divided . . .”) and inductive reasoning (“If a kingdom were against itself divided .....”; “If a house were against itself divided . . .”; “No one has power to enter a strong man’s house . . .”) provides compelling proof for Jesus’s defense, drawing upon both kinds of (invented) arguments advocated by the rhetoricians. The use of multiple periods, asyndeton, climax, anaphora, and homoioteleuton all contribute to a highly polished form for the short discourse, leading us to suspect that the narrator is attempting to create the grand style with this speech. This grand quality especially stands out against the relief of Mark’s usual, paratactic, plain style.115 Further, the invective and the final part of the epilogue about the true family of Jesus both have an almost oracular quality about them, being grounded in the authority of Jesus rather than in logical argumentation. The invective heavily invokes the emotion of fear, threatening the accusers of Jesus, and perhaps even his own family, with eternal guilt. These final ethos- and pathos-oriented appeals are appropriate for the epilogue of a discourse, and with the logical arguments of the probatio, they provide a three-pronged response to the rhetorical situation: logical, emotional, and authoritative. The discourse is brief and to the point, but its effectiveness would have been perceived by a first-century audience. The speech successfully defends Jesus’s authority as a miracle worker and, ultimately, as the Son of God, something that is necessary for the narrative of Mark’s Gospel to accomplish its goal. Indeed, as will be seen in the further analyses of the discourses of Jesus, the issue of his authority 115. See J. A. L. Lee, “Some Features of the Speech of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel,” NovT 27, no. 1 (1985): 1–26, who argues that the discourses of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel exhibit a higher quality of style than the nondiscursive material. See also Richard A. Burridge, Four Gospels, One Jesus: A Symbolic Reading (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014), 40–41: “Mark used to be criticized for his poor Greek and bad style; more recently, commentators have noted the way in which his manner of writing reflects the directness of his account.”

118

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

is a defining issue in Mark’s Gospel.116 The speech establishes Jesus’s authority, and as such, it would have been considered both wellcomposed and persuasive to its first-century audience. Since Mark’s original audience was likely well-disposed toward Jesus anyway, the discourse would have attained its goal of depicting Jesus’s rhetorical authority as the Son of God.

116. For the theme of the authority of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel, see John Chijioke Iwe, Jesus in the Synagogue of Capernaum: The Pericope and Its Programmatic Character for the Gospel of Mark; An Exegetico-Theological Study of Mk 1:21–28 (Rome: Editrice Pontifica Universita Gregoriana, 1999). Iwe argues that Mark 1:21–28 is programmatic for Mark’s Gospel and that its themes are developed throughout the rest of the Gospel.

4. Whoever Has Ears Had Better Listen! (Mark 4:1–34)

And again he began to teach beside the sea. And the greatest crowd gathers around him so that he was getting into a boat to sit on the sea, and all the crowd was next to the sea, upon the earth. And he was teaching them many things in comparisons. And he was saying to them in his teaching: “Listen! Look! The sower went out to sow, and this happened while he sowed: One fell on the path, and the birds came and ate it up. And another fell on rocks, which did not have much earth. And immediately it sprang up, because it did not have much depth. And when the sun rose it was scorched, and because did not have root it withered. And another fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it produced no fruit. And others fell upon good earth, and they were producing fruit, still coming up and growing. And one bore thirty, and one sixty, and one a hundred.” And he was saying, “Whoever has ears to hear had better listen!” And when they were alone, those around him with the twelve asked him about the parables. And he was saying to them, “To you the mystery of the kingdom of God has been given. But to outsiders all things come in comparisons, in order that,

120

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

‘seeing, they may see, but not perceive, and hearing, they may hear, but not understand, lest they repent and it be forgiven them.’” And he says to them “You do not understand this comparison? All the other comparisons: how will you understand them? The sower the word sows. These are those on the path where the word is being sown. And whenever they hear, immediately Satan comes and takes away the word that was sown. And these are those upon rocky earth being sown, who whenever they hear the word, immediately receive it with joy. And they have no root in themselves, but they are seasonal. When pressure and persecution come because of the word, immediately they fall away. And others are those that among the thorns are being sown. These are those who hear the word. And the cares of this world, and the deceit of wealth, and the other desires enter; they choke out the word. And it remains fruitless. And those are the ones sown on good earth, who are hearing the word, and receiving it, and bearing fruit: one thirty, and one sixty, and one a hundred.” And he was saying to them, “Does a lamp come in order to be placed under a bushel or under a bed? Does it not come in order to be placed on a stand? Nothing is concealed except in order to be revealed; Neither is anything hidden but in order to be brought into the open.” “Whoever has ears to hear had better listen.” And he was saying to them, “Watch how you hear. With the measure you use, it will be measured to you, and it will be added to you. For whoever has, it will be given to him or her. And whoever has not, even what he or she has will be taken away.” And he was saying, “Thus the kingdom of God is as a sower sowing seed upon the earth. And the sower may sleep and rise night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows, the sower knows not how. Of its own the earth bears fruit. First the blade, then the head, then the

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

121

full grain in the head. And when it bears fruit, immediately the farmer sends the sickle, because the harvest has arrived.” And he was saying, “How shall we liken the kingdom of God? Or in what comparison shall we put it? It is like a mustard seed, which, whenever it is sown upon the earth is the smallest of all seeds sown upon the earth, and whenever it is sown it comes up and is the greatest of all bushes, and it produces branches large enough for the birds of the sky to nest in its shade.” And with many such comparisons he used to speak to them the word to the extent that they were able to listen. And without a comparison he did not speak to them, but privately to his disciples he explained everything.1

Jesus’s parabolic discourse in Mark 4 has drawn as much attention as any other section of the Gospel.2 Though recently a few interpreters have begun to consider the discourse a unified whole,3 the predominant view for the last century has been that the various units in the chapter are awkwardly arranged and that there is no consistent argument developed in the discourse. Form and redaction critics have attempted to discern how the chapter came together by proposing a series of developmental stages, assuming that the various editors of each stage were insensitive to the work of previous editors, resulting in an uneven patchwork effect in the chapter.4 1. Translation ours. Since this translation attempts to represent more strictly the rhetorical forms of the original, it is often awkward by standards of English grammar and syntax. 2. A bibliography of works on Mark 4 would be massive. The most thorough work on the chapter is that by Vittorio Fusco, Parola e regno: La sezione delle parabole (Mc. 4,1–34) nella prospettiva marciana, Aloisiana 13 (Brescia: Morcelliana, 1980), which includes a large bibliography of works published before 1980. See also Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 186–87, 198–99, 215–16, 226, 237, 246, 253, for further and more recent bibliographical material. 3. See, e.g., G. H. Boobyer, “The Redaction of Mark iv. 1–34,” NTS 8, no. 1 (1961): 59–70, who argues that, though there is a lack of geographical/topographical unity, there is thematic unity. See also J. W. Bowker, “Mystery and Parable: Mark iv. 1–20,” JTS 25, no. 2 (1974): 300–317, who argues that the first twenty verses of Mark 4 are patterned after the typical rabbinic mashal discourse, in which there is a public parable followed by a private interpretation to disciples. Bowker points out that in such discourses, the interpretation does not necessarily correspond to the parable in each detail, although there is general unity. David Daube, The New Testament and Rabbinic Judaism (Salem, NH: Ayer, 1984), 141–50, also argues that the rabbis had the practice of public declaration followed by private discourse. 4. See Dieter Lührmann’s (Das Markusevangelium, 81) reconstruction of how the discourse came together: “Die zum Mk-Text führende Überlieferungsgeschichte läßt sich also relativ einfach in drei Stufen beschreiben: 1. eine Sammlung von drei Gleichnissen, die in griechischer Sprache zusammengestellt worden waren, 2. Anfügung einer Auslegung as das erste Gleichnis,

122

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Our analysis of the chapter seeks to show that, historical critics notwithstanding,5 the chapter contains a cogent discourse that is stylistically and logically consistent when heard through the canons of Greco-Roman rhetoric. The discourse develops a single argument, and first-century readers would have appreciated its force. THE RHETORICAL UNIT The rhetorical unit of the second major discourse in Mark’s Gospel is easy to determine using the criteria extracted from Mlakuzhyil’s work and set forth in the preceding chapter. Dramatically, the major device used to mark the beginning of the section is the change of scene from “the house” in 3:20–35 to “the sea” in 4:1. At the other end, 4:35–36 is transitional, leading to the next dramatic episode in the narrative and to a new scene. The transitional nature of 4:35–36 is indicated both by a time marker (“on that same day, when evening had come”) and by the geographical change implicit in Jesus’s suggestion to the disciples that they go to the “other side of the sea.” Provisionally, then, one can set parameters for the rhetorical unit at 4:1, where the scene first changes, and at 4:34, the last verse before the transition of 4:35–36. Minor support for understanding these as the rhetorical parameters is found in the slight change of dramatis personae from 3:20–35 and 4:35–36. In 3:20–35, the characters die aber schon vor Mk mit der Sammlung verbunden worden war, 3. markinische Erweiterungen 10 – 12.21 –25 (9?) und Rahmung 1f.33f.” J. W. Pryor (“Markan Parable Theology. An Inquiry into Mark’s Principles of Redaction,” ExpTim 83, no. 8 [1972]: 242–45) thinks that Mark combined two independent traditions that have competing parable theories. See also Theodore J. Weeden, “Recovering the Parabolic Intent in the Parable of the Sower,” JAAR 47, no. 1 (1979): 97–120, who argues that the first “hermeneutical eclipse” of the parable of the sower began with the interpretation given in the next few verses. Räisänen’s (Die Parabeltheorie im Markusevangelium [Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, 1973]) position is typical: he finds a four-stage redaction history to the chapter, with the evangelist only being responsible for the insertion of vv. 21–25 and some minor alterations elsewhere. See also S. Pedersen, “Er Mark 4 et ‘lignelseskapitel’?” DTT 33, no. 1 (1970): 20–30; Robert Funk, “The Looking-Glass Tree Is for the Birds,” Int 27 (1973): 3–9; and Amos N. Wilder, “The Parable of the Sower: Naivete and Method in Interpretation,” Semeia 2 (1974): 134–51. Indeed, it has become common to assert that the chapter is fraught with inconsistencies and actually presents two opposing views about the nature of parables. If true, this would make Mark (or Jesus) the feeblest of rhetoricians. 5. Harold A. Guy (The Origin of the Gospel of Mark [London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1954], 22) baldly claims “the confusion in the chapter is evident.”

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

123

include Jesus, his family, the crowd, and the scribes from Jerusalem. In 4:1–34, the characters are limited to Jesus, the crowd, and the disciples. By 4:36, the crowds have been left behind, and Jesus is alone with his disciples in a boat.6 The use of literary/rhetorical structuring devices confirms the parameters of the rhetorical unit at 4:1–34. Though 3:20–35 does not end with a specifically narrative conclusion, it has already been seen that 3:20–35 does end with a rhetorical conclusion—that is, the epilogue of the discourse in 3:33–35. This epilogue would naturally lead the reader to expect an introduction to the next unit, which is found in 4:1–2 in narrative form and in 4:3–9 in rhetorical form. 4:1–2 begins with the formula καὶ . . . ἤρξατο the infinitive, which is elsewhere used by Mark to indicate a narrative introduction (see 2:23 [ἤρξαντο], 6:2, 6:7, 11:15, 12:1).7 As the introduction, 4:1–2 sets up the unit by bringing in new characters and a new setting, by giving a time indication (πάλιν), and by summarizing in advance what the new section is about (Jesus’s teaching in comparisons). The presence of the introduction, as both Mlakuzhyil and Kennedy suggest, indicates the beginning of a new unit in the Gospel at 4:1. The spatial and temporal setting established in 4:1–2 is not specifically changed until 4:35, confirming 4:34 as the end of the unit. Further, 4:33–34 functions as a sort of narrative epilogue to the unit, reaching back to and rounding off 4:1–2 and generalizing about the entire unit and its significance. The summary statement beginning with “And with many such comparisons he used to speak to them .....” forms a conclusion that invites the reader to reflect back upon the discourse before proceeding further with the narrative. As Standaert observes, “The richness of the expressions at the beginning (v. 2) and at the end of chapter (vv. 33–34) follows the same rhetorical principle and emphasizes the importance of these moments of introduction and conclusion.”8 The unit in 4:1–34 is also marked by characteristic vocabulary, 6. This last point is tricky, however, for it is unclear whether the crowds fade as early as 4:10–13 or as late as 4:33–34. 7. See, however, 5:20, 8:31, 10:28, and 10:32 where the formula indicates only a minor break. 8. Standaert, L’Evangile selon Marc, 202. Translation ours. The original says, “La richesse des expressions au debut (v. 2) et a la fin chapitre (vv. 33–34) obeit au meme principe rhetorique et souligne l’importance de ces moments d’introduction et de conclusion.”

124

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

setting the unit off from the sections that precede and follow. The repeated use of such terms as γῆ, παραβολή, ἀκούω, σπείρω, βασιλεία, βλέπω, and λόγος (as well as their cognates) in the unit serves to unify the discourse in the hearing of the readers and reminds them that each smaller section in the discourse is linked by common vocabulary to the other sections in the discourse. In addition to the presence of characteristic vocabulary, several terms in the discourse serve as inclusios, providing formal structure to the unit and functioning as aural clues that signal its beginning and its end. θάλασσα, πλοῖον, and ὄχλος form inclusios linking the narrative introduction of 4:1–2 with the narrative transition of 4:35–36. Jesus went to the sea (θάλασσα) in v. 1 where a huge crowd (ὄχλος) gathered, forcing him into a boat (πλοῖον). In vv. 35–36, Jesus, still in the boat (πλοῖον), crosses to the other side of the sea (θάλασσα, see v. 39) after having left the crowd (ὄχλος) behind. The most obvious inclusio within the unit is formed by the use of the term παραβολή, which describes the teaching of Jesus in the introduction of v. 2 and the word spoken by Jesus in the conclusion of vv. 33–34. Since the discourse is composed mostly of comparisons, and since the term itself is repeated frequently in the discourse, its presence in the introduction and conclusion make it an especially appropriate inclusio. Minor inclusios are formed with γῆ and ἀκούω, each of which has one foot in the discourse and another in either the narrative introduction or the narrative conclusion, and of σπείρω and πετεινόν, both of which frame the discourse itself. In 4:1, the crowd is described as being “on the earth” (ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς); in 4:31, the mustard seed is planted “in the earth” (ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς). In 4:3, Jesus begins the discourse with a call to “listen” (Ἀκούετε), and in 4:33, the narrator explains that Jesus preached as they were “able to hear” (ἠδύναντο ἀκούειν). Verse 3 tells of the “sower” who “went out to sow” (ἐξῆλθεν ὁ σπείρων σπεῖραι); 4:32 speaks of when the mustard seed is “sown” (σπαρῇ). When taken with the major inclusios described above as well as with the other dramatic and rhetorical structuring devices, it is clear that the narrator intends the reader to understand that the rhetorical unit begins with 4:1 and ends with 4:34:

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

narrative introduction

exordium of speech

epilogue of speech

narrative conclusion

125

Transition

θάλασσα (-ῃ)

τὸ πέραν (θαλάσσῃ)

ὄχλος

ὄχλος

πλοῖον

πλοῖον (-ῳ)

παραβολαῖς

παραβολαῖς.(-ῆς)

ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς

ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς Ἀκούετε

ἀκούειν

σπείρων.(-αι) σπαρῇ Table 1. Inclusios in Mark 4:1–36

Further evidence that the rhetorical unit of the discourse begins with 4:1 and ends with 4:34 can be found in the chiastic structure of the section. Though identified differently by different interpreters, the discourse unit is clearly composed of units that have been balanced in a chiastic way. Our conclusions about the structure of the discourse are closest to that identified by Faye:9 A.

vv. 1–2a Introduction B.

vv. 2b–9 Parable Material C.

vv. 10–13 Parabolic Method D.

C′ B′ A′

vv. 14–20 Interpretation vv. 21–25 Parabolic Method vv. 26–32 Parable Material vv. 33–34 Conclusion

9. Gregory Faye, “Introduction to Incomprehension: The Literary Structure of Mark 4:1–34,” CBQ 51, no. 1 (1989): 65–81. Faye’s schematization is similar to that of Jacques Dupont (“La transmission des paroles de Jésus sur la lampe et la mesure dans Marc 4,21–25 et dans la tradition Q,” in Logia: les paroles de Jésus, ed. J. Delobel, BETL 59 [Leuven: Peeters, 1982], 206), but different from that of Dewey (Markan Public Debate, 152, 167), who finds a five part concentric structure, with the sayings material of vv. 21–25 occupying the center. See also Jan Lambrecht, “De vijf parabels van Mc. 4. Structuur en theologie van de parabelrede,” Bijdragen 29 (1968): 45–48; Lambrecht, Marcus Interpretator, 121–24; Jan Lambrecht, “Redaction and Theology in MK., IV,” in L’Évangile selon Marc: Tradition et rédaction ed. M. Sabbe, BETL 34 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1974), 303–4; and Standaert, L’Evangile selon Marc, 209–12.

126

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

In Faye’s schema, the chapter is divided into two halves of three sections each with vv. 14–20 in the center. Faye points out that the sections in each half of the chiasm closely correspond to parts in the other half.10 That the interpretation of the parable is at the center of the discourse will be confirmed by this study as well. The chiasm as a whole holds each part of the unit together, giving the overall discourse a unified sense. THE RHETORICAL SITUATION As was seen in the previous chapter, the rhetorical situation of any given speech is composed of the various exigencies that create the need for the discourse. Frequently, the rhetorical situation will form something of a question requiring an answer or a problem demanding resolution. The rhetorical situation of 3:20–35 was not difficult to identify: Jesus’s family had challenged his sanity, and the scribes from Jerusalem had accused him of collusion with Satan. Jesus’s judicial speech was a direct response to these charges. In 4:1–34, the rhetorical situation is vaguer, since the narrator does not overtly describe any specific questions or problems confronting Jesus, but rather the narrative occasion appears, at first glance, to be quite general. Nevertheless, there are certain exigencies subtly noted in the narrative that help in determining the rhetorical situation. The narrative introduction to the discourse begins with the statement “And again he began to teach beside the sea. And the greatest crowd gathers around him” (καὶ πάλιν ἤρξατο διδάσκειν παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν. καὶ συνάγεται πρὸς αὐτὸν ὄχλος πλεῖστος). First-century readers would not have missed the use of the term πάλιν in this introductory sentence, which would have reminded them of Jesus’s previous episodes by the sea.11 Prior to chapter 4, Jesus is described as being at the sea three different times in Mark’s Gospel, and each is important for understanding the setting for the discourse in Mark 4. 10. Faye (“Introduction to Incomprehension,” 70) notes that even a word count shows symmetry in the chiasm: A has 39 words, A' has 25; B has 112 words, B' has 117; C has 66 words, C' has 74; and D has 74 words. 11. See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 131–41, who demonstrates how the repetition of scenes by the sea with the use of πάλιν serves to provide structure to the first part of the Gospel of Mark.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

127

Jesus’s first appearance at the sea is narrated in 1:16–20. This unit immediately follows the final verses of the extremely important narrative introduction to the Gospel that serves to describe the ministry of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark: he comes preaching the good news of God, the fulfillment of time, the immediateness of the kingdom of God, and the need to repent and believe this good news.12 In 1:16–20, Jesus emerges walking by the sea (παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν), where he sees (εἶδεν) Simon and Andrew. Jesus’s call is simple: “Follow me and I will make you fishers of humans.” Following upon the narrator’s summary of the content of Jesus’s preaching, the disciples’ quick reaction is somewhat startling: they immediately (εὐθὺς) leave their nets and followed Jesus. Going a little further, Jesus sees (εἶδεν) James and John in a boat (πλοίῳ) and immediately (εὐθὺς) calls these two also. The brothers leave their father and their possessions in the boat and followed Jesus. Narratively, then, the first time one hears about the sea in Mark, one hears that it is a place where Jesus calls disciples in his preaching of the kingdom. The second mention of the sea in Mark’s Gospel is found in 2:13–14. Here, Jesus is described as again (πάλιν) going out beside the sea (παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν). Based upon the first encounter with the sea, one might expect to find Jesus again preaching and calling disciples. As Tolbert points out, the use of geographical references to make thematic links is a common procedure in Mark; such references serve as structuring devices intended for the ear. Not surprisingly, the narrator specifically points out in 2:13–14 that Jesus “taught” by the sea, and narrates how Jesus saw (εἶδεν) and called Levi. Like Simon, Andrew, James, and John, Levi also follows Jesus. Thus, as with the first episode by the sea, the themes of preaching/teaching and disciple-calling are present in 2:13–14. A new element is introduced to Jesus’s seaside activities in 2:13–14, however—the presence of the

12. Tolbert (Sowing the Gospel, 108–13) and Robert Lightfoot (The Gospel Message of St. Mark [Oxford: Clarendon, 1950], 15–20) argue that the prologue to the whole the Gospel ends at v. 13; Leander Keck (“The Introduction to Mark’s Gospel,” NTS 12 [1966]: 352–70) and Rudolf Pesch (Markusevangelium 1:71–73) argue that it includes vv. 14–15. Whether the prologue to the entire Gospel ends at v. 13 or at v. 15, it is clear that vv. 14–15 function programmatically to describe the ministry of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark.

128

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

crowd (ὄχλος), which began to follow Jesus as early as 1:21 and continued to grow throughout the first four chapters of Mark. 13 The third reference to Jesus beside the sea occurs in 3:7–12. This time, Jesus withdrew with his disciples to the sea (πρὸς τὴν θάλασσαν), and a great crowd (πολὺ πλῆθος—v. 7 and v. 8) from all around Judea and Galilee followed them,14 hearing (ἀκούοντες) that Jesus was there. Jesus told his disciples to prepare a boat (πλοιάριον) on account of the crowd (ὄχλον), lest they crush him. Jesus subsequently began to heal members of the crowd and to cast out demons. The narrator is careful to point out that Jesus rebuked the demons who cried out that he was the Son of God, lest they make his identity manifest (ἵνα μὴ αὐτὸν φανερὸν ποιήσωσιν). Importantly, the very next scene, without major narrative interruption, has Jesus going up into the mountain and calling to himself his chosen, from whom he named twelve to be “with him . . . to preach . . . and to have power to cast out demons” (vv. 13–15)—that is, to be his chosen disciples. Several key terms, then, are again present at the sea: the boat, the crowd, and the calling of disciples. Additionally, new themes are introduced: the crowds are now described as “hearing” about Jesus, and Jesus is concerned that the demons remain silent lest they make him publicly “manifest.” By the time the reader gets to 4:1, then, he or she has already come to expect the sea to be a place for boats, a place of crowded assemblies, disciple gathering, and teaching and proclamation. The narrator encourages the reader to think of these things by the use of πάλιν in 4:1, linking the episode by the sea in Mark 4 to the previous three episodes by the sea. The reader thus ought to expect the occasion of Jesus’s return to the sea to be associated with crowds,15 teaching/preaching, and disciple calling. Each of these elements is, in fact, present in 4:1–34, and to be sure that the reader does not miss the connection of the seaside activities in chapter 4 with the three previous episodes, the narrator uses much of the same terminology here as 13. Though the actual term ὄχλος is not used in 1:21. 14. ακολούθησαν is read in K, 0133, the Syriac, A, f1 and others. 15. A sort of crescendo occurs in 4:1 with the use of the superlative ὄχλος πλεῖστος; presumably the largest crowd yet has gathered for this scene, drawing attention to it. See Josef Ernst, Das Evangelium nach Markus. Regensburger Neues Testament (Regensburg: Pustet, 1981), 148.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

129

had been used in the previous settings: παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν, εἶδεν, εὐθὺς, ὄχλος, ἀκούοντες, πλοιάριον, φανερὸν. Thus, though no question or controversy has been raised in the narrative introduction to the discourse that would help determine the precise rhetorical situation, implicitly a rhetorical situation is created by the narrative use of the sea, which has been given thematic significance in Mark’s Gospel. In general terms, that situation can be described as Jesus’s need to preach/teach the kingdom and to call believers from the crowd to repentance and discipleship.16 The narrative introduction and the narrative conclusion to the unit (vv. 1–2 and vv. 33–34) explicitly indicate that the issue to be treated in the discourse is Jesus’s teaching and his call to discipleship.17 It is consistent with practices of ancient narrators to provide reliable commentary on the material in the narrative; one should expect narrative rationale for the discourse and its intended “meaning” in Mark. The narrative introduction of 4:1–2 does provide information about the nature of the discourse, categorizing it as “teaching” by the threefold use of the διδάσκ- word group (διδάσκω / διδαχή). That the narrator wants the reader to understand that this discourse constitutes the actual content of Jesus’s “teaching” is made clear by this repetition: “Jesus began to teach by the sea . . . and he taught them in parables ..... and he said in his teaching. . . .”18 The multiple use of the term is not to be understood as evidence of a redactional seam or Mark’s clumsy construction.19 Rather it is a narrative effort to link this discourse to 16. Guelich (Mark 1–8:26, 190), surprisingly, thinks that Mark attaches no special significance to the sea in Mark’s Gospel. 17. One can follow the progressive relationship between Jesus’s teaching by the sea and the characterization of the disciples in the Gospel of Mark. In the first episode by the sea, Jesus preaches the kingdom and calls four disciples. In the second episode, a great crowd is present, and Jesus calls another disciple. In the third episode, he chooses twelve to be his special disciples and to begin preaching themselves. In the present text, Jesus gives the disciples private instruction about his public teaching (see 4:33–34). 18. Even the action of sitting in the boat may be a cultural cue that Jesus is assuming the position of the teacher. See Philip Carrington, According to Mark: A Running Commentary on the Oldest Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1960), 98. 19. W. C. Allen (The Gospel according to Saint Mark: With Introduction and Notes, Oxford Church Biblical Commentary [New York: Macmillan, 1915], 11–12) had considered the repetition of “teach” to be an example of unnecessary redundancy of expression. See also Joachim Jeremias, The Parables of Jesus, 2nd rev. ed., trans. S. H. Hooke (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1972), 13, who assumed that the parabolic material is “out of place” in the “artificially” arranged narrative setting of 4:1–2, 33–34.

130

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

the previous seaside episodes in which Jesus “taught” by calling disciples (see 2:13–14) and to describe what the present discourse will be about: it will be about “what” Jesus taught. The narrative introduction refines its commentary on the discourse by calling it “parabolic” teaching. In 3:23, Mark had already pointed out that Jesus spoke “in parables.” There it was shown that Mark’s understanding of παραβολή was completely congruent with that of Aristotle, Quintilian, and the other rhetoricians. Rather than the definitions given to “parables” by form critics and many parable scholars in recent years, Mark has thus far used the term παραβολή in its general, rhetorical sense—meaning “proof” or “illustration” by comparison drawn from everyday experience. The parables of Mark 3:25–26 were paradeigms: inductive arguments for Jesus’s discursive point. Since this is the understanding of parables that Mark’s first-century readers likely had, and since it has already become clear from the preceding chapter that Mark also understood “parables” in this sense, one should expect the discourse of vv. 3–32 to contain analogies, demonstrating through comparison the central thesis of the discourse. One implication this has for our understanding of Mark is stated by Mack and Robbins: Mark had given some thought to the nature of Jesus’ discourse as it was available to him in the traditions of his community. To characterize this discourse as primarily parabolai might be to distinguish it from other ways in which ancient communities understood ‘teachers’ to speak, i.e., by using philosophical dogmata, proposing ethical maxims, or starting with traditional (e.g., scriptural) precedents of legal, ethical, or paradigmatic significance (cf. “not as the scribes,” 1:22). Jesus would be seen, rather, as one who addressed the (or a) contemporary situation by inventing parabolai from the realm of generally observable human experience.20

As in 3:23, first-century readers would have taken the term ἐν παραβολαῖς πολλά in 4:2 as an indication that the Markan Jesus drew his lessons primarily from the daily experiences of the people. As Myers observes, the parables draw upon “images of the land and the hardened wisdom of peasant life.”21 20. Mack and Robbins, Patterns of Persuasion, 148. 21. Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus (Mary-

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

131

Those with a higher degree of rhetorical training could reasonably be expected to deduce the species of the subsequent discourse by the narrative comment in 4:1–2. The rhetoricians had long explained that paradeigms are most useful in deliberative speech, where enthymematic proof is less available. Isocrates suggests that examples are especially useful in deliberative oratory,22 and Aristotle observes that “examples are best suited to deliberative oratory and enthymemes to forensic.”23 Quintilian actually explains that as a rule all deliberative speeches will be based upon comparison, since they consider what we want to gain by comparison with other options and with how we might gain our objectives.24 Thus, the narrative statement that Jesus spoke in parables would likely prompt the better educated of Mark’s audience to expect a deliberative speech. Analysis of the discourse shows that this is indeed the case. The narrative conclusion of the discourse also provides clues that confirm what is already expected on the basis of the introduction, namely that the rhetorical situation is concerned with Jesus’s need to teach. Reading is a linear process, and the narrative conclusion to the discourse functions to provide a backward glance at the discourse before the reader leaves the unit. This “backward glance” is helpful to the critic in that it provides interpretive information to ensure that the reader understands what the narrator intends in the unit. The narrative conclusion of 4:33–34 explains that the discourse fits Jesus’s custom of speaking (ἐλάλει—iterative imperfect25) the word in “many comparisons” according to his listeners’ ability to hear, and his custom of privately interpreting “all things” to his disciples. The narrative conclusion will be better understood after analysis of the discourse itself, but peeking ahead, several implications from knoll, NY: Orbis, 1988), 169. This contrasts with the typical form-critical identification of the parable of the sower as “parable” proper, distinguished from the rhetorical similitudo of GrecoRoman theory. See, e.g., H. Frankemölle, “Hat Jesus sich selbst verkündigt? Christologische Implikationen in den vormarkinischen Parabelen,” BibLeb 13 (1972): 184–207. See also Pesch, Markusevangelium, 1:229; and Joel Marcus, Mystery of the Kingdom, 41. Guelich (Mark 1–8:26, 189) argues that the form is that of the parable proper and the content that of the similitudo. It seems unlikely that the narrator of Mark made such distinctions. 22. Isocrates, Ad Demon. 34. 23. Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.17.5. 24. Quintilian, Institutes 3.8.34. 25. See BDF par. 325.

132

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

the conclusion emerge. First, it is clear that the discourse was portioned out according to people’s “ability to hear”—that is, that some special “hearing” ability is necessary for understanding this discourse. This theme of the ability to hear is a major paraenetic issue in the discourse, and it is what provides the discourse with its deliberative force. Second, there is the obvious implication that this discourse is deliberately “parabolic,” and that it needs to be interpreted to the disciples. As will be seen in the analysis of the speech, Jesus intentionally withholds the referents of the comparisons from outsiders in order to prevent them from understanding, whereas he supplies the referents to insiders so that “what is concealed might be revealed” (v. 22). Finally, the use of the phrase “speaking the word” is somewhat reminiscent of 2:2–3 where Jesus’s “word” is linked to his “preaching,” which has already been described in terms of the kingdom of God, repentance, and the need to believe the good news. Here, it implies that the discourse is about these same issues, the kingdom and discipleship. Analysis of the discourse itself confirms this. The use of paradeigms (parables)—explicitly stated in the narrative introduction, the narrative conclusion, and the discourse itself—the presence of the crowds, the need to teach, and the implications about discipleship all help create the general sense of the rhetorical situation, and lead to the beginning hypothesis that the discourse will be deliberative. As was seen in the previous chapter, Jesus’s first major discourse was judicial—that is, it belonged to the category of accusation/ defense regarding legal or criminal issues. To say that the discourse of Mark 4 is deliberative places it in the category of those speeches about the expedient or the harmful, and implies that its aim is either hortatory or dissuasive.26 Deliberative rhetoric received considerably less treatment in the handbooks than did judicial, originally being more narrowly understood as political oratory, but later being identified as pertaining to general moral or ethical decisions constituting something of a call for a decision about virtuous living, the common good,

26. Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.3.3; Rhetorica ad Herennium 3.2.2; Cicero, De partitiones Oratorae 3.10, and De Inventione 2.60.155–76; Quintilian, Institutes 3.8.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

133

or the honorable.27 In this regard, the rhetoricians often spent time exploring how to determine what is expedient, what makes people happy, and how to dispose the audience favorably to oneself. This latter point is important because deliberative rhetoric depends heavily upon the character of the speaker, since there may not be an immediate situation at hand from which to draw nonartistic proofs. According to Aristotle, “in deliberative oratory, it is more useful that the orator should appear to be of a certain character.”28 Quintilian is more certain: What really carries greatest weight in deliberative speeches is the authority of the speaker. For he, who would have all men trust his judgment as to what is expedient and honourable, should both possess and be regarded as possessing genuine wisdom and excellence of character.29

This latter point is clearly present in the Gospel of Mark, where Jesus has been presented to the readers as the Son of God, dispenser of the Holy Spirit, envoy for the kingdom, exorcist of demons, healer of the sick, forgiver of sins, interpreter of the Law, and authoritative rabbi. Especially clear on this point is 1:21–27 where Jesus does his first “teaching.” Here, the narrator underlines that the crowds are amazed at Jesus’s “authority”—mentioned twice in the few verses of the pericope to ensure that the readers get the point. By chapter 4, there can be no mistake that the narrator wants the readers to understand that Jesus is the authoritative teacher. The speech of Mark 4 contains little enthymematic argumentation. Its demonstration lies instead in paradeigms; its authority lies in the authority of Jesus, its speaker. 30 Due to its more general nature, the rhetoricians found that the tight rules that applied to judicial rhetoric might be loosened in deliberative rhetoric. For example, the deliberative speech does not always require an exordium, but may open with a more “natural” 27. Quintilian, Institutes 3.8.1–2. The shift is due in part to the absence in the empire of democratic forms of government. 28. Aristotle, Rhetoric 2.1.4. 29. Quintilian, Institutes 3.8.13. 30. Actually, ethos was considered a weighty technique of persuasion in every discourse species, and the rhetoricians had a lot to say about it. See Jakob Wisse, Ethos and Pathos from Aristotle to Cicero (Amsterdam: A. M. Hakkert, 1989); Isocrates, Panegyricus 14 and Antidosis 280; Aristotle, Rhetoric to Alexander 14.8–9; Aristotle, Rhetoric 2.1.5–7; Cicero, The Best Orator; and Quintilian, Institutes 6.2.8–19.

134

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

beginning that may only slightly resemble the exordium of the judicial speech, since in deliberative oratory the audience is likely to be somewhat approving to the speaker already.31 Further, the statement of facts (narratio) may also be optional, since everyone may already be acquainted with the issue at hand.32 With regards to proof, as has already been pointed out, the most persuasive feature of deliberative rhetoric was considered the ethos of the character. Where logical proof is offered, examples will be better suited than enthymemes, since the question generally has to do with expediency or honor. Above, it was suggested that the use of παραβολαί was appropriate to deliberative rhetoric. In this regard, Quintilian goes so far as to say that “as a rule all deliberative speeches are based simply on comparison.”33 At this point a general, tentative statement of the rhetorical situation of the discourse of Mark 4 can be proposed. The discourse will be deliberative; that is, it will constitute a call for a moral choice about discipleship in the presence of the kingdom of God. Its argument will be comparative, positing its motivation in terms of illustrations rather than enthymemes. Its authority will be grounded in the character of Jesus who has been demonstrated to be God’s authoritative messenger. DETAILED ANALYSIS The analysis of the discourse reveals the details of how Jesus responds to the general rhetorical situation in Mark 4. Nevertheless, in order to guide the interpretation of the discourse, at this point an outline based upon its rhetorical structure is provided:

31. Quintilian, Institutes 3.8.6. 32. Ibid., 3.8.10. 33. Ibid., 3.8.34.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

[4:1–2 4:3a

135

Jesus on the sea teaches the crowd on the earth in comparisons] Brief Pr Prelude elude “Listen! Look!”

4:3–9

Exordium Comparisons: A sower sows seed, different types of earth receive it differently; good earth produces fruit “Whoever has ears to hear had better listen!” [4:10 Jesus alone with those around him and the disciples: “What is the comparison about?”]

4:11–12 Pr Propositio opositio34 Insiders receive the mystery of the kingdom, outsiders do not, lest they “see” or “hear” and repent 4:13

Transition This comparison is the key for understanding all the comparisons

4:14–20 First Heading: Ref Refer erents ents to the ccomparisons omparisons How various people “hear” the sown “word”; “good earth” produces fruit 4:21–23 Sec Second ond Heading: The mystery of the kingdom was intended to be rrevealed evealed Comparison: Lamps are intended to shine light “Whoever has ears to hear had better listen!” 4:24–25 Third Heading: Whoever rreceives eceives the mystery had better pr produce oduce fruit “Watch how you hear”; you will receive the measure you use 4:26–32 Epilog Epilogue ue Comparison about the kingdom: Good earth produces fruit of its own power Comparison about the kingdom: Good earth produces fruit in vast amounts [4:33–34 Jesus regularly spoke in comparisons, explaining them to the disciples as they were able “to hear”]

34. Here, contra Witherington (Gospel of Mark, 162), we label 4:11–12 the propositio because it not only serves to explain the parable but lays out the major premise of the rhetorical unit.

136

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

PRELUDE/EXORDIUM The discourse itself opens with a double call for attention: Ἀκούετε, ἰδοὺ. The double injunction forms Quintilian’s “brief prelude” to the exordium.35 The asyndeton created by the juxtaposition of these two imperatives forms a taut, dramatic summons to the listeners to pay close attention—the discourse will deal with serious issues.36 Further, the terms link this speech to that of 3:20–35, which had opened with Jesus’s family “having heard” about Jesus and having accused him of being insane, and had concluded with Jesus telling the crowds to “look” at those who do the Father’s will. The theme of “listen/look” continues throughout the discourse of chapter 4 (4:3, 9, 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 23, 24, 33) and, as will be seen, serves as a key to understanding the deliberative quality of the discourse. The main part of the exordium (vv. 3–8) is formed of four comparisons drawn from the everyday agricultural practices of sowing and reaping. These comparisons are followed by a call to listen. This second call to listen, given in v. 9, forms an inclusio with the prelude based on the word “listen!” It functions to provide a key for thematic interpretation of the exordium: the exordium will be about listening to the teaching of Jesus. Since the exordium could be expected to provide a key for understanding the rest of the discourse, the inclusio also helps establish the theme for the entire discourse. It is about listening to Jesus’s teaching. Formally, the inclusio marks off the limits of the exordium. This latter function of the inclusio is enhanced by the brief narrative intrusion prior to the call in v. 9 (καὶ ἔλεγεν) and the longer intrusion following the call in v. 10 (Καὶ ὅτε ἐγένετο κατὰ μόνας, ἠρώτων αὐτὸν οἱ περὶαὐτὸν σὺν τοῖς δώδεκα τὰς παραβολάς. καὶ ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς . . .), both of which set the call off from its discursive context. The comparisons of the four earth types have received immense treatment, but comparatively few studies 35. Quintilian, Institutes, 3.8.10. 36. According to Demetrius (On Style 4.193), asyndeton is appropriate to elicit emotion and is essentially dramatic. Cf. Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 192, who considers the combination “awkward” while at the same time strangely observing that “though probably coincidental, this unique parable opening corresponds to the ‘seeing’ and ‘hearing’ found in Isa. 6:9–10 that is cited at the end of the discussion in 4:10–12.”

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

137

have attempted to understand the comparisons as part of the argument of the overall discourse in Mark 4. As a group, the comparisons function as the exordium of the speech. As such, the listeners should expect them to prepare the listeners’ minds for the speech to follow. The rhetoricians recommended several different approaches exordia might take in order to prepare the minds of the listeners, depending upon the audience’s previous attitude toward the speaker and the subject being discussed. The use of the comparisons without previously stating their referents and with only vague thematic hints about the subject matter of the discourse makes the introduction something akin to the rhetorical method of insinuatio. By use of insinuatio, speakers could subtly or opaquely introduce their subjects.37 Usually, insinuatio was reserved for times when, for some reason, one’s case had already been weakened before their actual speech. Thus, its use here might imply that Jesus sensed opposition to his discourse, and he therefore intended to approach his point subtly. Such opposition is indeed present in the narrative: in several episodes preceding this discourse it is pointed out that Jesus faced resistance to himself, to his teaching, and to his power. In the episode immediately preceding this one, it will be remembered, Jesus’s own family and the scribes accuse him of insanity, demon possession, and collusion with Satan. Jesus thus had to approach his teaching on discipleship in chapter 4 with subtlety because of previous opposition to his cause. It is not until vv. 14–20 that the opening comparisons will be explained to the readers.38 The comparisons Jesus uses for his exordium describe how four different “earths” received seed a sower sows upon them. Jesus will later explain that the comparisons illustrate how different people receive the word he preaches, but even within the comparisons themselves are narrative and cultural clues that would indicate that the comparisons are about Jesus’s teaching. For example, the use of ἐξῆλθεν to describe the sower is reminiscent of Jesus himself, who has been described twice prior to 4:3 as “going out,” the first time in order to 37. See Rhetorica ad Herennium 1.6.9; Fortunatis, Artis Rhetoricae 2.14; and Quintilian, Institutes 4.1.44–50. 38. In vv. 11–12, Jesus explains why he has used the subtle approach in the exordium: he wishes to keep outsiders on the outside to prevent them from repenting.

138

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

preach (1:38) and the second time to teach (2:13). The sowing of the seed is twice described in relation to the “earth” (γῆ), the term used in the narrative introduction to describe the location of the crowds as listeners (they stood upon the earth). The readers of the Gospel would likely have identified Jesus with the sower and the crowds with the earth. With the narrative emphasis on Jesus as “teaching” on this occasion, it might already become clear to the readers that the parables are about Jesus’s teaching of the crowds and how they respond to it. This is strengthened, as Mack and Robbins point out and as was seen in the previous chapter of this book, by the fact that “sowing seed” was a cultural and rhetorical metaphor for “teaching” in the Greco-Roman milieu.39 Quintilian gives as examples of similitudo the following: “As the soil is improved and rendered more fertile by culture, so is the mind by education”;40 and “if you wish to argue that the mind requires cultivation, you would use a comparison drawn from the soil, which if neglected produces thorns and thickets, but if cultivated will bear fruit.”41 Even without the stated referents yet provided, then, it is already easy to speculate that for first-century readers of the Gospel, and to a lesser degree for characters in the narrative world, the comparisons in the exordium would have been understood as references to Jesus the teacher and how various people respond to the word that Jesus teaches.42 Shortly after the exordium, the referents will be provided to “insiders” and to the readers of the Gospel; these referents will confirm what we already suspect about the meaning of the exordium. Contrary to the assumptions of many parable scholars, the parabolic exordium of the discourse is only vaguely a story. There is no 39. “Mark’s choice of a seeds-parabole to sum up Jesus’ teaching, is therefore extremely suggestive, since the image of agricultural endeavor, especially that of sowing seed, was the standard analogy for paideia (i.e., teaching and culture) during this period.” Mack and Robbins, Patterns of Persuasion, 149. 40. Quintilian, Institutes 8.3.75. 41. Ibid., 5.11.24. 42. Cf. H. J. Geischer, “Verschwenderische Güte. Versuch über Markus 4,3–9,” EvT 38, no. 5 (1978): 418–27, who argues that the one point of comparison for the parables is the risk of sowing Jesus faces, rather than the response various soils have to the sowing, but Geischer seems to ignore Jesus’s own interpretive context in the rest of the discourse. Others have also seen the focus of the parable to be on the sower rather than on the earth’s response to the seed; see Charles Harold Dodd, The Parables of the Kingdom (London: Nisbet, 1935), 145–47; and Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 1:155.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

139

real plot to the “parable,” no narrative progression,43 no denouement. There is no “unified story” with one point of comparison. Rather, the exordium is composed of four “comparisons” or “analogies,” each of which has its own referent. If the rhetorical nature of the Gospel παραβολαί is understood, it comes as no surprise to find the disciples asking Jesus about “the parables” (plural) in v. 10, for four “parables” are given in vv. 3–8. Indeed, the plural παραβολαὶ in v. 10, which has been a major stumbling block for historical critics, is accurately used by the disciples with reference to the material in the exordium.44 The disciples properly discern four comparisons in the exordium, each with a different referent. When taken together as a unified part of the speech (the exordium), the four can also be considered as one “comparison” about how people receive the teacher’s word. The reader is invited to take the comparisons as a unit not only by their rhetorical function but also by the use of epanaphora that links each to the others (“one . . . another . . . another . . . others”). It is likely in this sense that Jesus, in response to the disciples’ question about “comparisons,” answers by explaining the “comparison” (v. 13). The series of comparisons provide simple, everyday examples of what happens when a sower sows seed. The description of the sower sowing is given in periphrasis, with light embellishment provided by the threefold use of the verb σπείρειν: “the sower went out to sow, and it happened in his sowing. . . .”45 The response of the four kinds of earth to the sowing is narrated one kind at a time, in somewhat balanced phrases: 43. There is, however, rhetorical progression with the figure of climax used to heighten the end of the series of comparisons. 44. Étienne Trocmé (“Why Parables? A Study of Mark IV,” BJRL 59, no. 2 [1977]: 458–71) argues that vv. 11–12 actually speak of an interpretation of “metaphorical sayings” of Jesus in general and should thus be plural, but his position is unnecessary. Cf. Joel Marcus, “Mark 4:10–12 and Marcan Epistemology,” JBL 103, no. 4 (1984): 563–67, who argues that the plural refers back to the parable of 3:20–35. Later, Marcus (Mystery of the Kingdom, 44n107) alters his view and suggests that the plural vaguely refers to the comparisons of 4:3–8. See also P. Lampe, “Die markinische Deutung des Gleichnisses vom Sämann Markus 4:10–12,” ZNW 65 (1974): 148. Fusco (Parola e regno, 80–81) suggests that Mark means “among the parables he told them”; see Mark 12:1–12 where Mark again mentions “parables” (plural), where scholars have typically identified only one parable. 45. For periphrasis as ornamentation, see Quintilian, Institutes 8.6.60: periphrasis is “when we use a number of words to describe something for which one or at any rate only a few words of description would suffice . . . a circuitous mode of speech.”

140

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

ὃ μὲν ἔπεσεν παρὰ τὴν ὁδόν . . . καὶ ἄλλο ἔπεσεν ἐπὶ τὸ πετρῶδες . . . καὶ ἄλλο ἔπεσεν εἰς τὰς ἀκάνθας . . . καὶ ἄλλα46 ἔπεσεν εἰς τὴν γῆν τὴν καλήν. . . .

The first comparison speaks of “that which fell on the path.”47 Though the term for “seed” is not mentioned, since “seed” is what farmers “sow,” “seed” is the implied antecedent of “that which.” Perhaps the constant omission of any word for “seed” in the speech is intended to leave the comparisons a bit vaguer—maybe to add to the oblique nature of the exordium. At any rate, when the seed falls upon the path, Jesus says, the birds, having come, eat it.48 The second comparison says that “other” fell upon “rocky [earth] where there was not much earth.” This comparison is somewhat longer than the first, explaining how it happened that the seed “immediately” sprang up because of the small amount of earth49 but was scorched when the sun rose. The longer description of the rocky earth contains six clauses and has led some critics to regard it as the product of accretions from later redactions.50 Rhetorically, however, the longer comparison serves to draw attention to the rocky earth as having some special significance in the series of comparisons. This significance—yet unclear—is heightened by the threefold reference to the failure of this earth “to have”: it fails “to have” much earth, much depth, or any root. The repetition of the phrase “had not” 46. Read ἄλλα with B, C, L, W, Q, 28, 33, 892, pc; cf. Ferdinand Hahn, “Das Gleichnis von der ausgestreuten Saat und seine Deutung (Mk iv. 3–8, 14–20),” in Text and Interpretation, ed. Ernest Best and Robert McLean Wilson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 134–36. 47. The likely meaning of the phrase ὃ μὲν . . . ὁδόν see BDAG, 3, 1d. Jeremias’s concern for the order of sowing/reaping is out of place—the comparison is concerned not with why the sower scatters seed along the path but with the results of the action; see Jeremias, Parables of Jesus, 11–12; Joachim Jeremias, “Palästinakundliches zum Gleichnis vom Sämann,” NTS 13 (1966/67): 48–53; P. B. Payne, “The Order of Sowing and Ploughing in the Parable of the Sower,” NTS 25 (1978–79): 123–29. 48. The sower had been described as “going out to sow,” and the birds are described as “coming . . . they ate” v. 4. Cf. Mark 12:40, where the scribes are described as devouring the goods of the widows. 49. Contra M. Wojciechowski, “Une autre division de Mc 4,5–6,” BN 28 (1985): 38, who ends the first sentence at ἐξανέτειλεν rather than γῆς. 50. See, e.g., Weeden, “Recovering the Parabolic Intent,” 103; Marie-Joseph Lagrange, L’Évangile selon saint Marc, 4th ed. (Paris: Gabalda, 1947), 95; and August Klostermann, Das Markusevangelium: nach seinem Quellenwerthe für die evangelische Geschichte (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1867), 40.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

141

(οὐκ εἶχεν, μὴ ἔχειν, μὴ ἔχειν), using a variant of the figure of diction called “reduplication,” serves to plant firmly in the ears of the hearers the failure of the rocky, shallow earth. As Rhetorica ad Herennium observes, “the reiteration of the same word makes a deep impression upon the hearer.”51 The effect is further heightened by the use of the figure of adjunction in the last clause:52 the verb “withered away” is reserved until the very end, being the very last thing the listeners hear in the exordium about the seed that fell on rocky earth. The third comparison begins with the same formula as did the second, καὶ ἄλλο ἔπεσεν, but structurally the comparison is something of a cross between the first two: its first three clauses are similar to those in the first comparison, but it adds a further clause, more similar to the extensions of the second comparison.53 The seed in the third comparison fell “among thorns,” which grew up and choked it. The result for the seed is that it produces no fruit. Neither of the first two comparisons mentioned the failure of the seed to produce fruit; the reference here prepares the reader for the final comparison in which the seed is said to have produced fruit. The final comparison contrasts with the first three in its introductory formula by its subtle shift from the singular (ἄλλο . . . ἄλλο . . .) to the plural (καὶ ἄλλα). This contrast serves as a mild form of rhetorical climax, drawing attention to the successful fruit-bearing results of the last kind of earth. Further use of the figure of climax is made at the end of the comparison when the amount of the fruit is described as “thirty . . . sixty . . . a hundred.”54 Thus, though the rocky earth 51. Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.28.38. 52. Adjunction is the placing of the verb at the end of a sentence for heightened effect; see Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.27.38. 53. Contra Hans-Josef Klauck, Allegorie und Allegorese in synoptischen Gleichnistexten (Münster: Aschendorff, 1978), 187, who misses the difference between the second and the third comparisons. 54. Jeremias (Parables of Jesus, 150) and others have taken this yield to be in bushels. For example, Myers (Binding the Strong Man, 177), who points out that the typical yield in Palestine was seven- to ten-fold, assumes that the phenomenal crop has dramatic implications to the original, peasant audience: “With such surplus, the farmer could not only eat and pay his rent, tithes, and debts, but indeed even purchase the land, and thus end his servitude forever.” On the other hand, K. D. White (“The Parable of the Sower,” JTS 15, no. 2 [1964]: 300–307) argues that the yield is the number of seeds produced by each seed sown (i.e., one seed produces thirty seeds, another sixty, and another one hundred). See also Gustav Dalman, “Viererlei Acker,” Palästina Jahrbuch 22 (1926): 128. If Jeremias is correct, there is likely a phenomenal effect intended by the comparison. Since, however, the comparison is a “parable” (i.e., an analogy drawn from

142

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

is somewhat emphasized, it is clear that the ultimate emphasis lies on the success of the good earth, and there may be a contrast between the three seeds that failed to produce in the first three comparisons and the “others” in the fourth comparison, which produced in three degrees.55 The narrator provides rhetorical force to the productivity of the good soil through two uses of climax. Further enhancement of the good earth is provided by the subtle shift in tenses between the first three earth types and this last type. In the first three, the action is described in the simple aorist tense: the birds “came” and “ate” the first seed; the sun “rose” and the seed in the second comparison “withered”; and in the third comparison the thorns “choked” the seed, and it “produced” no fruit. In this last comparison, however, the tense changes to the linear tenses of the imperfect and present: the seed continued to produce fruit, and is still coming up and growing. The contrast is vivid: the birds came and ate it. . . . it sprang up because it had not deep earth; and the sun came up and scorched it; and it dried up. . . . and the thorns came up and choked it and it had no fruit. . . . and it continued to give fruit, still coming up and growing.

Often missed by interpreters are the two participles that describe how the seed in the good earth produces its yield: “coming up and growing” (ἀναβαίνοντα καὶ αὐξανόμενα). It will be seen later that the final comparisons in the discourse of chapter 4 return to the “good earth”; they will elaborate on the theme of “coming up and growing” (see vv. 26–32). The exordium of the speech ends by coming back to the introductory call to listen, now put in a slightly elaborated form: Ὃς ἔχει ὦτα ἀκούειν ἀκουέτω. The call functions to remind the everyday experience), it seems more likely that Jesus means nothing extraordinary by the harvest, and that White is correct. The description in the comparison itself is ambiguous. 55. Reading EN as the neuter numeral ἓν rather than the preposition ἐν. See V. Taylor, Mark, 254; and Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 188.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

143

listeners of the opening words, thus signaling to them that the exordium is closing, and it provides an interpretive key for understanding the exordium, namely, that there is a need to listen carefully to the discourse. This call to listen is significant not only because it alerts the listener to the importance of the discourse but also because it provides a clue to the readers for understanding what the speech will be about: hearing. In this way, the call to listen itself provides a subtle referent for the comparisons: those who have ears (cf. the “have nots” of vv. 5–6) are the good earth, because they hear what is being said. The issue of “hearing” will continue to be a central one to the discourse, and “hearing” references are never far away. This frequent use of hearing references constitutes the device of expolitio or commoratio, “refining” or “dwelling” on the point.56 Rhetorica ad Herennium commends the device as especially characteristic of the good orator, since with it “no opportunity is given the hearer to remove his attention from this strongest topic.”57 Since the call to hear is central to the entire speech, its use as an inclusion for the exordium is especially helpful rhetorically. In addition to a call to hear, there is also a subtle warning in the inclusio that one must be especially attuned for hearing (i.e., one must “have ears”). The paraenetic function of the discourse, which one would expect to be present in deliberative oratory, is suggested by the warning to hear, but there are two levels of paraenesis present in the exordium. One contains a call to listen; the other implies that listeners had better examine themselves to see if they have ears (i.e., if they are capable of hearing properly.) “Already, 4:9 implies what 4:10–12, 13–20 make explicit, that not all can hear Jesus in the profound way that his message requires. Only ‘he who has ears to hear’ is addressed by Jesus’ exhortation.”58 56. Rhetorica ad Herennium (4.42.54; 4.45.58) defines the former as “dwelling on the same topic yet seeming to say something ever new” either by repeating the same idea or by descanting upon it. The latter occurs when one “remains rather long upon, and often returns to, the strongest topic on which the whole cause rests.” See also Cicero, De Oratore 3.53.202, and Quintilian, Institutes 9.1.28. 57. Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.45.58. 58. Marcus, Mystery of the Kingdom, 57. In this sense, we can agree with Xavier LéonDufour, “La Parabole du semeur,” in Études d’Evangile (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1965), 280–84,

144

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

NARRATIVE TRANSITION/RHETORICAL PROPOSITION The exordium is separated from the rest of the speech by narrative material: “And when they were alone those around him with the twelve asked him about the comparisons; and he was saying to them.......” This brief comment has been the object of considerable study, since historical critics have had difficulty identifying its role in the discourse. Guelich sums up the historical critics’ problems: This passage sits awkwardly at best in its present context. It introduces a change of setting and audience from 4:1–2 that appears to have been forgotten in the concluding summary of 4:33–34 and the opening scene in 4:35–36. Although Jesus has just completed one parable (4:3–9), the disciples question him about ‘parables’ (4:10) and thus interrupt the sequence of parable (4:3–8) and interpretation (4:14–20).59

Guelich’s complaint about Mark’s use of the plural παραβολαὶ has already been addressed. We reserve until later our treatment of the historical critics’ problem with Jesus’s being alone with the disciples here. At this point, we merely point out that in v. 10, Jesus has moved into some sort of private setting with “those around him” and with the twelve.60 The twelve have already been identified (3:16–19), but who are “those around him”? 3:14 and 4:34 identify those “with Jesus” as his disciples, but it is clear that in 4:10 those “around him” include more than the twelve. Fusco suggests that “those around him” would include the entire crowd of vv. 1–2,61 but this ignores Mark’s statement that Jesus is now away from the crowd. Others understand insiders simply to be anyone who is not an outsider, and they focus who argues that the point of the parable of the sower is the need for the listener to be “good soil.” 59. Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 199. See also V. Taylor, Mark, 254–55; G. Haufe, “Erwägungen zum Ursprung der sogennanten Parabeltheorie des Markus 4,11–12,” EvT 32 (1972): 413–21; Räisänen, Die Parabeltheorie im Markusevangelium, 27–47; Pesch, Markusevangelium, 1:236; Ernst, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 130; and many others. 60. The location of the private setting in the narrative is not stated. Historical critics have been bothered by the notion that Jesus could be alone with some but still in a boat (v. 35). Evidently the narrator is less concerned with the “problem.” See Loisy, Les Évangiles synoptiques, 1:89. 61. Fusco, Parala e regno, 227.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

145

on defining the latter group rather than the former.62 In the preceding discourse, however, the narrator has defined the group of “those around him.” There, the crowd is described as being “around Jesus” (περὶ αὐτὸν), and Jesus identifies those sitting “around him” (repeating περὶ αὐτὸν) in the crowd who do God’s will as his true family. For the narrator, then, those “around Jesus” in 4:10 are those from the crowd who do the will of the Father. The phrase thus serves as more of a type of character than as a fixed group of real characters in the Gospel.63 In this sense, the discourse of chapter 4 and the previous unit in 3:20–35 are intricately connected. As Carrington observes about 4:10: it is a phrase which adroitly connects the present passage with two previous ones, the appointment of “the Twelve” (who then went into a house), and the larger circle of brothers and sisters who were “sitting around him” in the house. It flashes that picture on the screen again. It is impossible to miss the effect.64

Rhetorically, the narrative comment of 4:10 serves to introduce the next part of the discourse. Though deliberative speeches followed a less rigid arrangement than did other types of speeches, generally the deliberative exordium would be followed by the propositio in GrecoRoman rhetoric. In the propositio, the speaker informs the audience of what the speech is about. As was observed above, the narrative setting and the exordium have already given hints about the subject of this speech. The sea, the crowds, and the narrative repetition of the term “teach” all suggest that the discourse constitutes teaching about the presence of the kingdom and a call for discipleship. The exordium subtly hints that the speech is about the inability of some to hear Jesus’s teaching and the need for those who have the ability to listen. 62. Johannes Behm (“ἔξω,” TDNT, 2:576) thinks the term refers to “the broad mass of the people not amongst the disciples.” Robert Meye (“Mark 4:10,” in vol. 2 of Studia Evangelica, ed. Kurt Aland [Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1964], 211–18) thinks that the phrase refers to everyone but the twelve. Nineham (Mark, 136–37) thinks that the outsiders are non-Christians in general. Joachim Gnilka (Die Verstockung Israels: Isaias 6,9–10 in der Theologie der Synoptiker [Munich: Kösel, 1961], 85) thinks the phrase is used in Mark’s Gospel to refer to the Jews. 63. This explains the contrast shortly set up between outsiders and insiders, since it permits for some who presently appear to be “insiders” later to be shown as “outsiders.” See also Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 160–61 and Beavis, Mark’s Audience, 70–75. 64. Carrington, According to Mark, 100.

146

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Verses 11–12 do form the propositio of the discourse, and this propositio confirms what has already been intimated by the narrative introduction and the exordium. The narrator wants to be sure that the readers do not miss the connection between the exordium and the propositio, so the narrative link is provided in the form of a question by the disciples: what are these comparisons about? Jesus gives two answers to the question, the first forms the so-called “parable theory,” and the second comes in the form of an interpretation of the parables. It is the first answer that forms the propositio of the speech: the comparisons are “about” the kingdom of God, the “mystery” of which has been given to “those around Jesus” but withheld from those who are on the outside. Stated another way, the proposition of the discourse is that the kingdom comes to various people in comparisons; insiders understand because they have had the mystery revealed to them, but outsiders do not. The result for the outsiders is that “seeing, they see and do not perceive, and hearing, they hear and do not understand.” The main saying in the propositio is arranged as an antithetical period contrasting those “around” Jesus with those on the “outside.” The contrast is made more vivid by the placement of the pronouns Ὑμῖν and ἐκείνοις, each at the beginning of a clause: “to you . . . , but to those outside. . . .” The antithesis lies in what each group is due to receive: the first group is given the mystery of the kingdom; the second group receives all things in unexplained comparisons so that they will not understand. The antithetical quality of the period not only contrasts insiders and outsiders, then, it contrasts the (revealed) mystery of the kingdom with (unexplained) comparisons. Since the discourse is actually described as “parabolic” (i.e., “in comparisons”), it is vital that one understand this contrast between “the mystery” and “comparisons.” Chapter 3 noted that for the rhetoricians, παραβολαί generally had the function of establishing whatever point needed to be proven by drawing examples from everyday experience, either as argument by analogy or as stylistic illustration. With a few exceptions, parables were not generally considered metaphor but were rather grouped with “historical examples” and “fables.” This means that for

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

147

rhetoricians, parables were intended not to obscure but to clarify or to prove. It is in this regard that Quintilian can urge rhetoricians to select comparisons that are clear and familiar and to keep comparisons adjacent to their referents. Failure to do so results in confusion rather than clarity.65 But what if the speaker wants to confuse some of their audience, as Jesus wants to do here? Since it was universally assumed that one of the fundamental virtues of good rhetoric was perspicuity,66 the rhetoricians have little to say about how to proceed if one wants to confuse an audience. Some hints can be drawn from their discussion of metaphoric language where it is recognized that metaphor has a “strange” quality about it that can be exploited to the speaker’s advantage to create striking speech. For example, Aristotle suggests that metaphors should not be too obvious, “just as, for instance, in philosophy it needs sagacity to grasp the similarity in things that are apart.”67 Or, metaphors may actually mislead the hearer temporarily in order that they may be surprised when the point of the metaphor is made clear (“How true it is! but I missed it!”68). Even here, however, the purpose of metaphors is never really to confuse; it might be to put off the audience temporarily or to provoke them to thought, but it is never to cause them to misunderstand the message. Demetrius shows this when he encourages the use of metaphors and allegories as stylistic devices because “any darkly-hinting expression is more terror-striking, and its import is variously conjectured by different hearers”; but at the same time, he suggests that metaphor should never be excessive, “lest language become a riddle in our hands.” Any metaphor too daring should be changed into simile (εἰκασία), since 65. Quintilian, Institutes 8.3.73–75. When he separates similitudo and παραβολή in the fifth book, however, he admits that the latter is often used to compare things whose likeness is less obvious. This leads him casually to question the validity of παραβολή as proof; see Quintilian, Institutes 5.11.22–23. Further, as Cuvillier (Le concept de ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ dans le second évangile, 64) shows, the term παραβολή could imply something like an enigma in the LXX. 66. See, e.g., Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.2.1–2; Cicero, De Oratore 3.10; Quintilian, Institutes 8.1.1–2.24. As Augustine (On Christian Doctrine 4.10.24) observes, “What advantage is there in purity of speech which does not lead to understanding in the hearer, seeing that there is no use at all in speaking, if they do not understand us for whose sake we speak? He, therefore, who teaches will avoid all words that do not teach.” 67. Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.11.5. 68. Ibid.

148

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

“the foremost aim in the formation of words should be clearness and naturalness.”69 The general rhetorical concern for clarity is partially set aside by Jesus in this discourse, however. He explains that though he wants outsiders to hear, he intends for them to misunderstand. Dangling comparisons provide him with an excellent way of accomplishing this objective: the use of comparisons without providing referents serves to confuse. It now becomes clear why the narrator presents Jesus as alone with the “insiders” in vv. 10–34 The comparisons making up the exordium in vv. 3–8 have no referents provided to “outsiders.” Consequently, these comparisons serve to confuse outsiders. But alone with insiders, Jesus provides the necessary referents. Hence, the antithesis in the propositio (“To you is given the mystery, but to those outside all things come in comparisons”) is between outsiders who hear the comparisons and receive no referents necessary for their interpretation, and insiders who hear the comparisons and are provided with necessary referents. The referents will supply the information necessary for receiving the “mystery” of the kingdom of God, and in a sense, then, the contrasts reveal that referents are part of the “mystery” bringing insiders in contact with the kingdom. The imperative for these insiders who “hear,” then, will be to “listen.” 70 What are the referents to the comparisons? They become the first part of the probatio of the discourse itself as Jesus explains what the comparison (as a whole) means. Nevertheless, he already suggests here in the propositio that the comparisons have to do with the mystery of the kingdom of God. This was clued by the introductory remarks about Jesus teaching by the sea, which in previous episodes included preaching about the kingdom; it becomes explicit here as a response to the disciples’ question concerning what the parables are about. What is the meaning of “the mystery of the kingdom of God?”71 69. Demetrius, On Style 2.80, 97–105. 70. Of course, our distinction between hearing and listening works better in English than in Greek, where there is no lexical difference between the two. Nevertheless, the presence of so many perception terms in the text indicates that the call is not merely to hear but to understand. See E. F. F. Bishop, “ἀκούειν ἀκουέτω: Mark 4:9,23,” BT 7 (1956): 39. 71. The literature on the question is vast, and we limit our discussion to the literary function of the kingdom within the narrative of Mark and its discourses. For further study, see Aloysius

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

149

Already the reader of the Gospel would have encountered three references to “kingdom” in Mark: 1:14, 15, and 3:24. The third of these, which occurs in the earlier comparison, probably does not directly refer to God’s kingdom. The first two are not definitional but are contained in the pronouncement of Jesus that declares the nearness of the kingdom and the need for people to repent and believe. Since 1:14–15 serves as an introductory summary of the work of Jesus (he “preaches” the nearness of the kingdom), it can be assumed that all of his work up to this point is somehow related to the kingdom, including his healings, teaching, preaching, calling of disciples, exorcism of demons, and his confrontation with Jewish leaders. Jesus’s ministry has been intended to bring people to obedience to the word of God, as 3:30–35 points out. This kingdom work of Jesus, then, elicits repentance and discipleship from certain individuals. These individuals immediately become “insiders”—members of the true family of Jesus (see 1:17, 2:14). On the other hand, however, the kingdom work evokes opposition from others, who refuse to repent and to obey the word of God in the face of kingdom preaching. Consequently, whatever its precise meaning in Mark, the kingdom functions to produce insiders, those willing to respond to the preaching of Jesus, and outsiders, those who hear the preaching but fail to repent at it. Narratively, then, the “mystery” of the kingdom can be taken to mean the kingdom itself, which is a “mystery” to outsiders. Jesus’s use of the perfect tense in 4:11, “the mystery has been given [δέδοται] to you,” would thus mean that to insiders who respond to the preaching of Jesus, the kingdom is no longer a mystery but is revealed. This accords with 4:21–23, where Jesus explains that nothing is concealed except in order to be revealed. In other words, the “mystery of the kingdom of God” is the kingdom of God, a mystery to those who will not respond, but revealed to those who repent and obey the word of God. M. Ambrozic, The Hidden Kingdom: A Redaction Critical Study of the References to the Kingdom in Mark’s Gospel, CBQMS (Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1972); Ralph P. Martin, Mark: Evangelist and Theologian (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1973); Werner H. Kelber, The Kingdom in Mark (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974); and Marcus, Mystery of the Kingdom.

150

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Nevertheless, there appears to be a rhetorical meaning to the “mystery” of the kingdom in the discourse of Mark 4 as well. This meaning is implicit in the statement “to you the mystery . . . has been given, but to outsiders all things come in comparisons,” where “mystery” is contrasted with (unexplained) “comparisons.” Rhetorically then, the opposite of the revealed “mystery” is the unexplained discourse of Jesus. This would imply that “mystery” equals the explanatory teaching of Jesus about the kingdom, or, more precisely, the referents of the comparisons given in the exordium. In this sense also the mystery becomes revealed to insiders, for when they are alone with Jesus, away from the outsiders, they have the referents to the comparisons provided. Here, the mystery of the kingdom would be the full explanation of the kingdom, which comes only to insiders and remains a mystery to outsiders. By giving the mystery of the kingdom to insiders, it ceases to be a mystery to them. The commixture of these two levels of “mystery” in the discourse implies that the kingdom of God and the preaching of the kingdom of God are, in Mark’s Gospel, intricately related. As Tolbert points out with reference to 1:21–28 and 2:1–12, in Mark’s Gospel “Jesus’ teaching is identified with his actions; his words and his deeds are one.”72 Furthermore, the commixture confirms what we have already come to expect from reading the exordium and propositio, namely, that this discourse is about the kingdom and itself constitutes the fulfillment of its own promise to reveal the mystery of the kingdom to insiders. To some extent, then, the discourse is about itself: it is a sermon about the method and effects of Jesus’s own preaching of the kingdom; and since the preaching of the kingdom in some sense brings the kingdom, it is a sermon about how the kingdom comes and how it is received.73 72. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 136. 73. As with the literature on the kingdom of God, the literature on the term “mystery” is also vast. Basically, scholars have sought to understand the term either in light of Hellenistic mystery religions (Nineham, Mark, 138; cf. Bruce M. Metzger, “Considerations of Methodology in the Study of the Mystery Religions and Early Christianity,” HTR 48 [1955], esp. 2–3) or in the pre-Christian Jewish sectarian writings (Raymond Brown, The Semitic Background of the Term “Mystery” in the New Testament [Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1968]; Bowker, “Mystery and Parable,” 300–317). Whatever background is sought to the term, in Mark’s Gospel—especially in this discourse, as has been shown—the narrator provides sufficient information for its understanding. See also C. A. Evans, “The Function of Isaiah 6:9–10 in Mark and John,” NovT 24,

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

151

Returning to v. 11, the balanced, prophetic quality of the period (lacking the narrator’s habitually used καὶ) makes for a solemn, almost oracular pronouncement that insiders receive the mystery, outsiders do not. The reason outsiders are kept from the mystery, Jesus explains, is “in order that” (ἵνα) “seeing, they may see, but not perceive, and hearing, they may hear, but not understand, lest [μήποτε] they repent and it be forgiven of them.”74 This second part of the propositio describes the intended results of Jesus’s refusal to provide outsiders with the referents to the comparisons—now understood rhetorically as the mystery of the kingdom. The structure of each of the three clauses is balanced, the first two being parallel descriptions of the outsider’s inability to grasp the mystery of the kingdom, and the last clause explaining what it is Jesus wants to prevent (their forgiveness). The entire sentence is held together by the use of homoeoptoton, playing on the sound created by -ωσιν, and by an inclusio based upon the sound created by -οῖς. The no. 2 (April 1982): 124–38. Our position is close to that of Schuyler Brown, “The Secret of the Kingdom of God,” JBL 92, no. 1 (1973): 60–74, who points out that the secret of the kingdom in Mark 4, as is confirmed by 7:18–23, 9:28–29, 10:10–12, and 13:1–37, is the teaching about the kingdom, which is reserved for the disciples. Contra Aloysius M. Ambrozic, “Mark’s Concept of the Parable,” CBQ 29, no. 2 (1967): 220–27, who thinks that Mark is not concerned with parables as pedagogic strategies but sees them as prophetic words intended to call forth decisions, rather than to teach about the kingdom. 74. Mark’s use of ἵνα evidently caused theological problems as early as the other Synoptics, both of which remove this term as well as the offensive term μήποτε in 12c. Lampe (“Die markinische Deutung,” 141) and Pesch (Markusevangelium, 1:239) argue that ἵνα here is epexegetical, meaning “that is, . . .” Rudolf Otto (Kingdom of God and the Son of Man: A Study in the History of Religion, 2nd ed., trans. Floyd V. Filson and Bertram Lee Woolf [London: Lutterworth, 1951], 91–92, 143–44) argues that the “monstrous idea” of the Markan parable theory rests on a mistranslation of the Aramaic mashal; T. W. Manson (The Teaching of Jesus: Studies in the Form and Content [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1943]) argued that ἵνα is a mistranslation of the Aramaic particle d, which occurs in the Targum of Isaiah and that it should have been rendered οἱ by Mark. Jeremias (Parables of Jesus, 15–18) thinks that ἵνα functions as a formula for introduction to scripture citations in Mark (“in order that the prophecy may be fulfilled”). M. Wojciechowski (“Sur hina dans Mc 4,12,” BN 28 [1985]: 36–37) suggests that Mark used ἵνα simply because the verbs in the LXX version of the Isaian citation were in the subjunctive mood. C. H. Peisker (“Konsekutives hina in Markus 4:12,” ZNW 59, no. 1–2 [1968]: 126–27) argues that ἵνα should be understood against the Hebrew ‫לְמַ֙עַ֙ן‬.Bruce Hollenbach (“Lest They Should Turn and Be Forgiven: Irony,” BT 34, no. 3 [1983]: 312–21) argues that the passage is sarcastic: “because the last thing they want is to turn and have their sins forgiven!” None of these explanations is satisfactory, however. There is no real evidence that Mark’s intended readers would have heard anything other than the full force of ἵνα as “in order that.” See H. Windisch, “Die Verstockungsidee in Mc 4,12 und das kausale hina der späteren Koine,” ZNW 26 (1927): 203–9.

152

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

devices create a sort of rhyme in the middle and last parts of the first two clauses and at the beginning of the last clause, but the end of the last clause cuts the rhyme short in a final return to the -οῖς sound above: ἐκείνοις δὲ . . . ἵνα βλέποντες βλέπωσιν καὶ μὴ ἴδωσιν, καὶ ἀκούοντες ἀκούωσιν καὶ μὴ συνιῶσιν, μήποτε ἐπιστρέψωσιν καὶἀφεθῇ αὐτοῖς.

The effect is to create a smoothness about “seers seeing” and “hearers hearing” that abruptly stops at the last word, making the reference to the lack of forgiveness for those “outside” sound doubly harsh. The pronouncement is actually a citation from Isaiah 6:9–10, which formed part of God’s commission to Isaiah to preach to the Israelites who were “hard-hearted.”75 That preaching, the text of Isaiah indicated, would serve to show the stubbornness of God’s people, for they would “hear” the preaching but would not “perceive” its message. Even when confronted with the word of God, the stubborn Israelites would not be moved but would actually miss the message. The use of this passage by Jesus is especially appropriate here where Jesus is also presenting to the Israelites the word of God.76 By citing the passage, Jesus is calling upon the “witness” of the prophet (or of the Scriptures) to support his method of teaching. Though Jesus appears to be using the citation not as technical “proof” but rather as legitimization of his teaching method, the appeal to the oracle of the prophet nevertheless constitutes powerful testimony. Aristotle commends such “ancient witness,” by which he meant “poets and men of 75. See Gnilka, Die Verstockung Israels. For the problem of which translation Mark uses, see T. W. Manson, Teaching of Jesus, 77–78; Jeremias, Parables of Jesus, 15; and Alfred Suhl, Die Funktion der alttestamentlichen Zitate und Anspielungen im Markusevangelium (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1965), 149–51, all of whom argue for an Aramaic tradition behind the citation. The argument of Manson and Jeremias that reading an Aramaic saying behind the Greek would soften the harshness of the citation in Mark fails, of course, to account for the function of the Greek citation as it occurs in Mark’s Gospel. See previous footnote. 76. See C. A. Evans, “A Note on the Function of Isaiah, VI, 9–10 in Mark, IV,” RB 88, no. 2 (1981): 234–35, and “Function of Isaiah,” 124–38, who argues that Mark’s use of the Isaian text is based upon his sophisticated understanding of Jesus’s preaching as being in the tradition of Isaiah.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

153

repute whose judgments are known by all,” since, he urges, ancient witnesses are the most trustworthy witnesses of all.77 The citation, with the periodic structures of the sentences, adds solemnity to the entire propositio, which comes across with the weight of an oracle. What is meant by the double phrase “seeing, they may see, but not perceive, and hearing, they may hear, but not understand”? As Marcus points out, “seeing” in the New Testament frequently means “understanding,” and in Mark συνιέναι always has the full meaning of “profound grasping.”78 Myers presents a summary of the language of perception in Mark, which includes ἀκούω, νοεῖν, γινώσκειν, and εἰδέναι.79 The list illustrates that there is a general theme of imperceptiveness running throughout the Gospel as people are confronted with the teaching/preaching of the kingdom of God or God’s miracles (they see and hear) but fail to understand. In terms of the discourse, it remains a mystery to them. When read against the rest of the Markan narrative, which establishes a contrast between insiders (those who do God’s will) and outsiders (those who do not do God’s will), the phrase becomes clear. It describes those who, because they are not interested in doing the will of God, find the kingdom mysterious and are consequently not permitted to hear the private instructions about the kingdom, lest they be forgiven of their sins. Including what has been discovered from the exordium of the discourse, the propositio can now be summarized, realizing that it becomes a statement of what the discourse is about. Jesus presents the kingdom in comparisons. Those who are “outside”—whose hearts are hardened, rocky, or thorny, who are not interested in doing God’s will—are not given the private interpretations of the comparisons, and consequently they do not understand the kingdom. Narratively, the kingdom for them is a mystery. To those who are insiders—who possess good hearts willing to do God’s will—the explanation of the kingdom is given. For them, the mysterious kingdom is no longer mysterious, but it is already growing within them. The discourse is thus about how people receive the teaching/preaching of the kingdom. 77. Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.15.13–17. 78. Marcus, Mystery of the Kingdom, 104. 79. Myers, Binding the Strong Man, 184.

154

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

RHETORICAL TRANSITION The close of the propositio is marked off by a third narrative interruption, the subtle καὶ λέγει αὐτοῖς (v. 13). The phrase is similar to the previous two narrative intrusions (vv. 9, 11), except that the previous two were both in the imperfect tense. When compared to the other seven narrative interruptions, the effect of the present tense here is striking: καὶ ἔλεγεν (v. 9) καὶ ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς (v. 11) καὶ λέγει αὐτοῖς (v. 13) καὶ ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς (v. 21) καὶ ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς (v. 24) καὶ ἔλεγεν (v. 26) καὶ ἔλεγεν (v. 30)

Here, and only here, the narrator interrupts with a present tense verb, “And he says to them,” bringing the speech material that follows to the front of the discourse. This subtle shift serves to call attention to the interpretations of the comparisons as the first part of the “mystery” of the kingdom.80 What immediately follows the formula καὶ ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς is a transition from the propositio to the probatio, stated in the form of a question. The probatio of a Greco-Roman discourse was to serve as the discourse’s “proof” and generally followed the exordium and propositio. The probatio should contain the various headings under which the propositio is worked out or “proven.” The probatio for this discourse technically begins at v. 14, where Jesus begins to explain the comparisons given in the exordium (as the propositio had indicated he would do). In v. 13, he makes use of the stylistic device of transi-

80. Of course, the form and redaction critics considered most, if not all, of these narrative comments to be signs of redactional activity rather than narrative signposts. These critics have considered themselves fortunate that Mark left such obvious footprints. See, e.g., Max Zerwick, Untersuchungen zum Markus-Stil: Ein Beitrag zur stilistischen Durcharbeitung des Neuen Testaments (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1937), 60–61; Heinz-Wolfgang Kuhn, Ältere Sammlungen im Markusevangelium. Studien zur Umwelt des Neuen Testaments 8 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1971), 131; and Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 205.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

155

tio,81 reminding the listeners of the previous comparisons and of the insiders’ question about them, and providing the door for moving into the probatio of the discourse. A Οὐκ

οἴδατε

B τὴν

παραβολὴν C′

καὶ

πῶς

πάσας τὰς

C ταύτην B′

A′

παραβολὰς γνώσεσθε

The transition is given in the form of a double question:82 “You do not understand this comparison? All the other comparisons: how will you understand them?” The double question actually forms a small period (or, more precisely, a chiasm): Stylistically, the double question links this comparison to all the comparisons, reinforcing the import of the question: this comparison is the key to understanding all the comparisons. Not a few interpreters have noticed the apparent tension between the probatio, which asserts that insiders have been given the mystery of the kingdom, and the transitio, where Jesus mildly chides these same insiders for failing to understand the kingdom. The issue has been complicated ever since Wrede by the tendency of scholars to link it to the problem of the so-called messianic secret.83 Guelich is typical of historical critics in his assessment of the severity of the problem: So characteristic of Mark’s Gospel is the tension between 4:11 and 4:13 that we are left with the choice that he either added 4:11–12 to accent the special privilege of the “insiders” to heighten their lack of understanding in 4:13 or he added the questions of 4:13 to accent the disciples’ lack of understanding.84 81. See Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.26.35 and Quintilian, Institutes 9.3.98. 82. See Frans Neirynck, Duality in Mark: Contributions to the Study of the Markan Redaction, rev. ed., BETL 31 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1988), 57–58, who argues that dual questions are typical of Mark’s style. 83. See Wrede, Messianic Secret, 101–14. The literature on the “messianic secret” is enormous. For a survey of the research throughout the first three-quarters of the twentieth century, see James L. Blevins, The Messianic Secret in Markan Research, 1901–1976 (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1981). 84. Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 220.

156

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Rather than appealing to redactional elements or to traditional seams, however, it seems that the tension should rather be explained in terms of the rhetorical technique of irony.85 This irony is created by the discrepancy that exists between what the insiders ought to know and what they actually do know. Thus far, the discourse has implied that insiders, because they are on the inside, ought to respond to the teaching of Jesus by bearing fruit. Nevertheless, the question these insiders raise in response to the kingdom shows that even they have failed to grasp Jesus’s teaching, and thus may fail to bear fruit. The obvious implication is that even for insiders, who have the mystery of the kingdom revealed, many do not listen—that is, they fail to comprehend and consequently prove themselves to be bad earth.86 On the level of the primary rhetoric, this irony provides Jesus with the rationale for continuing the discourse and makes the discourse deliberative by implying that even insiders must exercise their “ears” lest “even what they have be taken away.” In the face of the ironic situation, Jesus is thus described as teaching “only as they are able to understand” (v. 33). On the level of the secondary rhetoric, the irony is used to show that certain characters in the Gospel who appear to be insiders later prove themselves to reject the kingdom of God. They are, in terms of the comparisons, like the earths that initially produced when sown upon, only to die before coming to fruition. The narrator is thus able to use the irony of the insiders’ inability to understand to make the discourse into a typological program of the characters in the Gospel, describing how people will respond to Jesus in the narrative. The repeated admonitions to “listen” in the discourse reinforce our interpretation that Jesus is aware of the ironic situation of the insiders and that he is addressing that irony. The Gospel of Mark in general confirms that Jesus gives his disciples the mystery of the kingdom, but they fail to perceive that mystery because of their “hard” hearts (cf. the comparison of the “rocky” ground).87 Thus, since one can be on the 85. Students of Greco-Roman rhetoric were very familiar with irony and its ability to arrest the attention of listeners. See Lausberg, Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik, 1:302–3, 2:729–31. 86. See Joseph B. Tyson, “The Blindness of the Disciples in Mark,” JBL 80, no. 3 (1961): 261–68; Theodore J. Weeden, Mark: Traditions in Conflict (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1971), 27–28; Ernest Best, Mark: The Gospel as Story (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1983), 47. 87. See Mark 6:52, where the disciples fail to understand because “their hearts were hard-

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

157

“inside” and fail to understand the comparisons, the imperative call to “listen” takes on rhetorical significance, and the deliberative nature of the discourse surfaces. As Marcus observes, the reproof to the insiders “calls attention to the importance of understanding what is to follow.”88 PROBATIO: FIRST HEADING What follows the transition is a detailed interpretation of the comparisons that are in the exordium. The interpretation of the comparisons of the earth types serves as the first heading of the probatio in that it provides the referents for the comparisons and the preliminary development of the thesis that only some are truly able to “hear” the word. Indeed, the phrase “hear the word” is used four different times in the interpretation, constituting what rhetoricians called “expolitio” or “commoratio” and constantly keeping before the readers the theme of “hearing,” which has already been firmly established in the brief prelude to the exordium (v. 3) and in the propositio, and implied in the exordium itself. The repetition of the phrase reminds the reader that the comparisons about the kingdom have to do with how people “hear” the word spoken to them. As the first heading of the probatio in the discourse, the interpretations function as primary rhetoric, that is, as rhetoric “created” by the character Jesus for the other characters in the Gospel. Nevertheless, as already indicated, the interpretations also have an important function on the narrator’s level of rhetoric. Tolbert’s Sowing the Gospel shows precisely how the parable and its interpretation function for the narrator’s rhetoric as a plot summary for the ened”; Mark 7:18, where Jesus again chides the disciples for failing to understand about clean/ unclean; and Mark 8:17–21 where Jer 5:21, which is parallel to Isa 6:9–10, is applied to the disciples. See also Jesus’s rebuke of Peter after the confession in Mark 8:27–33 and the eventual abandonment of Jesus by all the disciples after they “stumble” (Mark 14:27). As D. J. Hawkin (“The Incomprehension of the Disciples in the Marcan Redaction,” JBL 91, no. 4 [1972]: 491–500) argues, though the disciples are permitted to pierce the secret of Jesus’s message, they eventually fail to understand the full revelation of Jesus as Messiah. The readers are thus challenged to accept the point missed by the disciples in the narrative. Cf. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 154–59; Ernest Best, “The Role of the Disciples in Mark,” NTS 23, no. 4 (1977): 383–90; and Tyson, “Blindness of the Disciples.” 88. Marcus, Mystery of the Kingdom, 25.

158

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

first part of the narrative.89 In the intricate weave of these two levels of rhetoric, which are always present when a character “speaks” in the Gospel, the narrative level of rhetoric may be especially prominent in the probatio of this discourse. Thus, though most features of the parable and its interpretation can and should be accounted for in terms of primary rhetoric (with which we are primarily concerned), it seems that a few elements might have been added for the benefit of the narrator’s own rhetoric. Naturally, these elements would be more easily accounted for in terms of the secondary rhetoric. This analysis of the interpretations thus includes a special consideration of the narrative level of rhetoric in addition to the primary level. In the interpretation, Jesus explains that the “sower sows the word.” The period is constructed to place “the word” at the center: ὁ σπείρων τὸν λόγον σπείρει. The readers of the Gospel should have expected that the seed comparisons in vv. 3–8 referred to a teacher teaching; in the interpretation this is confirmed. It is the word that is being sown—the comparisons will be about how various earth types respond to or “hear” the sown word. This point is important. The chief concern of the comparisons is not the action of the word but rather the action of the earth. To highlight the importance of the response of the earth, the interpretation will subtly shift the antecedents of the opening pronouns of each interpretation back and forth between an implied “seed” and the actual earth, using metonymy to keep the focus on the earth rather than on the seed. 90 89. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 148–64. See also G. O’Mahony, “Mark’s Gospel and the Parable of the Sower,” TBT 98 (1978): 1764–68, who sees the entire Gospel as corresponding to the interpretation of the comparisons. Iersel (Mark, 186–87) argues against Tolbert’s view. 90. In 4:14, the seed is the word, and 4:15 also speaks of “sowing the word.” In vv. 16b, 18b, 19b, and 20b, the narrator also evidently intends the readers to understand that the seed is the word; but in vv. 15a, 16a, 18a, and 20a, it seems that “the earth” is what is being sown. L. Ramaroson (“‘Parole-semence’ ou ‘Peuple-semence’ dans la parabole du Semeur?” ScEs 40, no. 1 [1988]: 91–101) and Gerhard Lohfink (“Das Gleichnis von Sämann [Mk 4,3–9],” BZ 30, no. 1 [1986]: 36–69) both argue that in the early tradition it was the people who were the seed being sown, but that Mark shifts the tradition so that it is the word that is sown. In our view, however, though the comparison speaks of sowing seeds, Mark intends for Jesus to shift the referents in order to keep the focus off the seed, which is not central to the point of the comparisons. See also C. F. D. Moule, “Mark 4,1–20 Yet Once More,” in Neotestamentica et Semitica, ed. E. Earle Ellis and Max Wilcox (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1969), 95–113; P. B. Payne, “The Seeming Inconsistency of the Interpretation of the Parable of the Sower,” NTS 26, no. 4 (1980): 564–68; and P. B. Payne, “The Authenticity of the Parable of the Sower and Its Interpretation,” in vol. 1 of Gospel Perspectives, ed. R. T. France and David Wenham (Sheffield: JSOT Press,

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

159

The interpretations are formulated in similar fashion to the actual comparisons themselves, and the repetition of each comparison provides Jesus with the opportunity to link each comparison with its referent, as the rhetoricians had prescribed. The overall structure of the interpretations is similar to that of the overall “parable” of the earth types, treating each earth type in order. Jesus has already hinted that the comparisons about the earth types are descriptions of how various people receive the word and how some are not permitted to receive the mystery of the kingdom. Even before the interpretations are given, the narrator has provided, as has been seen, sufficient material for first-century readers to begin to understand that the comparisons will be about how various people or groups of people will respond to the teaching of Jesus about the kingdom. At this point, the primary and secondary rhetoric fuse more tightly, since Jesus’s comparisons are about how people respond to his teaching, and since it is the narrative of Mark that will illustrate each comparison. In other words, the interpretations of the discourse in the primary rhetoric will constitute theoretical types, but the narrative itself will provide the concrete examples of the various responses to the sowing of Jesus’s word. As such, then, the earth comparisons and their interpretations serve as a plot summary or interpretive guide to the overall Gospel. This point, developed fully by Tolbert,91 from whom we take much of our material, provides an opportunity to treat the interpretations of the comparisons concretely, briefly noting their theoretical values (primary rhetoric), and then penetrating further to their concrete typological values (secondary rhetoric). The first interpretation identifies the “path” as those kinds of earth that hear the word, but immediately Satan comes and takes away the word that has been sown. On the level of the primary rhetoric, two referents for the comparison are given. First, the earth alongside the path is identified as those individuals who hear the word but do not receive it. Second, the birds of the air are identified as Satan, who 1980), 163–207, who show that elsewhere in Greek, “sown” can be used both with “seed” and with “earth.” Jacques Dupont’s (“La parabole de la semence qui pousse toute seule,” RSR 55, no. 3 [1967]: 12) hypothesis that οἱ σπειρόμενοι refers to “places” where the soil is sown may be right in v. 15 where ὅπου is used, but it stretches the grammar of v. 18 and v. 20. 91. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, esp. 121–26, 148–64.

160

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

takes away the word sown on the earth beside the path. Interestingly, the sower is not identified, presumably to keep attention off the sower and on the earth that receives what is sown. On the narrative level, sufficient information has already been given in the Gospel to identify the earth alongside the path as people like the scribes and Pharisees, who hear Jesus proclaim the good news but never truly listen to it.92 From their first entrance into the narrative, as the use of εὐθὺς indicates, the religious leaders oppose Jesus (2:1–12). Their attitude is exemplified in 3:20–35, where they accuse Jesus of collusion with Satan. Jesus’s comparison and its interpretation here turn the accusation against the scribes by indicating that it was Satan himself who motivated them to oppose Jesus. The second interpretation speaks of “rocky” earth types that, when they hear the word, receive it with great joy, but not having any root in them they do not last. When stress or persecution comes because of the word, they stumble. On the primary level of rhetoric, the interpretation identifies the rocky ground as people who appear to receive the word with productive hearts—they receive it gladly. Because of various hardships and persecutions, however, they fall away, proving their faith to be fleeting. Like the original comparison, the formulation of the interpretation is somewhat longer than that of its parallels, elaborating on the rocky type of earth. This elaboration has drawn the attention of the historical critics, who assume that it represents accumulations on the tradition, but it has been seen that it is more likely accounted for as rhetorical strategy: the narrator wants to focus on the rocky earth. Who makes up the rocky earth on the narrative level of rhetoric? Tolbert argues convincingly that in the Gospel of Mark, the rocky earth represents the disciples themselves.93 This is supported by several rhetorical hints provided by the narrator both before and after this discourse that are re-cued in the discourse. Before it, the narrator has already pointed out that when the disciples first came to follow Jesus, they “immediately” left everything (1:18). Both the comparison and its interpretation indicate that the rocky earth characteristically responds “immediately” to the word, acting in joyous reception of 92. Ibid., 153–54. 93. Ibid., esp. 154–56.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

161

the preaching. Furthermore, a few verses prior to this discourse, Jesus changes the name of “Simon” to “Peter” (Πέτρος—3:16) at the appointment of the twelve. Prior to this passage, Peter is never called “Peter”; after the discourse of Mark 4, he is consistently called “Peter” (Πέτρος) with the only exception being in 14:37. The device of assonance is used to link Peter, the primary disciple, with the rocky ground (πετρώδη) in the comparison and its interpretation. After this discourse, Tolbert’s thesis that the disciples are the rocky earth is confirmed by Jesus’s double reference to their “hard hearts” and to their “falling away” during the persecutions of Jesus. Jesus’s prediction that the disciples will face trials and persecutions and later that they will fall even uses the same terms as are found in the comparison and its interpretation (θλῖψις—13:19; διωγμῶν—10:30; and σκανδαλίζω—14:27, 29). The identification of the disciples with the rocky earth, though perhaps tentative in the minds of the readers at this point, further strengthens the irony being created between the levels of rhetoric in the discourse. The disciples are the ones being given the mystery, but the readers of the Gospel begin to realize that the disciples have no depth, that they are seasonal, and that they will stumble. Thus, the disciples prove that one can be given the mystery of the kingdom but still turn out to be unproductive. The effect for the readers of the Gospel is to heighten the warning to be careful how they “hear” the preaching of Jesus. The third interpretation explains that “others” (ἄλλοι) are those sown among thorns. These are those who have heard the word but who permit the worries of this age, the deceit of wealth, and other desires to choke the word, so that no fruit is produced. On the level of the primary rhetoric, this group is presented as promising to produce fruit when they receive the word taught them, but because of cares of this world, their interest—or in terms of the discourse, their ability to listen—is choked out. Insufficient evidence has been provided at this point in the narrative for the readers to discern who is represented by the thorny earth on the narrative level of rhetoric. Later in the Gospel, however, the rich young man and Judas are both revealed as people who initially hear the word, apparently receive it, and then

162

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

because of the appeal of wealth or the cares of the world, they turn away.94 It is likely that the secondary rhetoric uses this thorny earth as a type for these characters. The final comparison is interpreted as “those” (ἐκείνοις) who fell upon good earth, who hear the word, receive it, and bear fruit: one thirty, one sixty, and another a hundred. On the primary level of rhetoric, the interpretation indicates that the good earth represents those who “hear” the word, receive it, and bear fruit in large quantity. The figure of climax is used in both the comparison and its interpretation to describe the increasing measure of fruit produced by the good earth. The earth, not the seed, produces the fruit in the comparison and its interpretation. Later in the discourse, the good earth is represented as producing of its own ability. The burden is not on the sower or even on the seed, but on the earth that receives it. Again, the deliberative nature of the discourse is subtly apparent. On the secondary level of rhetoric, there are few explicit clues as to who in the Gospel world make up the good earth. Tolbert suggests that examples of the good earth include those who have been healed and who go out and proclaim to the crowds the good news of Jesus.95 In the narrative world of the Gospel, these are the only characters who are not explicitly mentioned as having forsaken Jesus by the end. Furthermore, their spontaneous and favorable reaction to Jesus and their practice of spreading the good news about Jesus’s salvific acts make them the proper candidates in the narrative for identification as good earth. Outside of the narrative world, of course, one can presume that there is a subtle hint by the narrator for the readers also to behave as “good earth.” Treated as a whole, then, the interpretation has both a primary and a secondary rhetorical function. On the narrative level, the interpretation functions as a plot summary for the first half of the Gospel, and even though all the soil types are not yet recognizable in the narrative, it is likely that first-century readers would have understood the interpretations as elements in a plot summary. The secondary level of rhetoric likely accounts for the lengthening of the second description, 94. Ibid., 156–58; Tolbert also proposes Herod the Great as an example of thorny ground; she does not specifically include Judas. 95. Ibid., 161–64.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

163

that of the rocky earth: the longer description was necessary to identify the rocky earth with the disciples and to draw attention to this group who appears to receive the kingdom, only later to be scandalized. Moreover, attention is likely drawn to the rocky earth in order to accomplish the deliberative aims of Jesus (and the narrator who is working through Jesus’s discourse) to “Listen! Look!” In other words, though the discourse will encourage its listeners through elaborations about the “good earth,” the disciples provide negative examples: they appear to be good earth, but underneath their shallow surface lies a hard heart. The deliberative purpose would be, then, to encourage people to be careful to use the mystery given to them, lest they permit a hard heart to cause them to stumble also.96 On the level of the primary rhetoric, the whole interpretation functions as the first heading of the probatio. It elaborates the theme of the exordium and propositio, which is that the teaching of Jesus comes to many people, but only the “good,” namely those who are “inside,” are capable of receiving it and producing fruit. The structure of the interpretation as a whole supports this function through two subtle means. First, there is climactic use of the demonstrative pronouns that open each interpretation, shifting attention from the rocky earth, which was the focus of the three unproductive earth types, to the good earth. In the first two interpretations, the formula is introduced with “these” (οὗτοί, vv. 15, 16). In the third formula, the more general “others” is used (ἄλλοι). In all three of these, the 96. On this point, we are in disagreement with Tolbert (Sowing the Gospel, 160–64), who understands that the parable about the earth types demonstrates that earth types are essentially unchangeable (i.e., they are not changed by the sower or the seed. Instead, their nature is merely revealed by the sowing). The comparisons taken by themselves might imply that Jesus takes such a view of a person’s responses to his sowing, but the rest of the discourse is cast in terms of deliberative rhetoric. By its very nature, deliberative rhetoric implies an opportunity for selfdetermination on the part of the listeners, and Jesus clearly indicates that his listeners (at least “the insiders”) have some power of self-determination in their response to his teaching about the kingdom. Consequently, he frequently calls them to “Listen!” and to “Look!,” warning them that if they have ears, they had better use them. Further, if the Markan Jesus did not think that the disciples were open to the possibilities both of success and of failure, there would be no rhetorical reason for his giving the discourse, and the irony the narrator creates between the revealed mystery and the obduracy of the disciples would be inexplicable (how could Jesus say to the disciples that they have the mystery revealed if they are unchangeably rocky earth?). The point seems to be that insiders receive the word, but it is up to them whether or not they will produce fruit. Perhaps the deliberative quality of the discourse distinguishes between the second and third soil types, with potential for fruit bearing, and the fourth, which actually bears fruit. Which type of soil the insiders will prove to be depends upon how well they “listen.”

164

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

earth is unproductive. But in the final comparison, Jesus switches to the more dramatic, almost deictic “those” (ἐκείνοις97) to describe the productive fruit. The shift is subtle, but effective. Further attention—equally subtle, but stunningly sophisticated—is called to the good earth by the tense of the verbs describing the “sowing” and the “hearing,” which is altered from the first three interpretations to the last one. In the first three interpretations, the seed is “being sown” (σπείρεται, v. 15; σπειρόμενοι, v. 16 and v. 18); the action of sowing is ongoing, in spite of the failure of the earth to produce. In the last interpretation, however, the seed is “sown” (σπαρέντες, v. 20), as though it only takes one sowing for the good earth to produce its fruit. Opposite this use of punctiliar/linear action is Jesus’s subtle use of tense changes to describe the “hearing” of the earth types. The first three earth types “heard” the word (ἀκούσωσιν, v. 15 and v. 16; ἀκούσαντες, v. 18). In each of these three cases, the aorist of the oblique mood is used (the participle or the subjunctive). The implication is that, though the sowing is continuous, the unproductive earth types “hear” only once, and, as the comparison demonstrates, their “hearing” is not “listening.” In v. 20, however, the good earth is described as “hearing” the word—present tense, indicative mood (ἀκούουσιν). Thus, though the sowing is necessary only once, the good earth continues to hear the word of God—they listen and produce abundance of fruit.98 The goodness of the good earth is thus highlighted by the tenses of the verbs used.99 The interpretation of the parable of the sower becomes the key to understanding the discourse, as was signaled by the use of the present tense καὶ λέγει αὐτοῖς to introduce the section in v. 13. The discourse will be about Jesus’s teaching of the kingdom of God and how people receive it. Though three types of earth that fail to pro97. See BDAG, 239, 1c. 98. See Helmut Koester, “A Test Case of Synoptic Source Theory (Mark 4:1–34 and Parallels)” (paper presented at SBL Seminar 31, Atlanta, October 1971), 63; and Eduard Schweizer, The Good News according to Mark, trans. Donald H. Madvig (Richmond, VA: John Knox, 1970), 97. Marcus (Mystery of the Kingdom, 28) thinks that this reads too much into the aorist tense. He cites Frank Stagg, “The Abused Aorist,” JBL 92, no. 2 (1972): 223. 99. Though Tolbert does not develop the point in her book, this subtle use of tenses in the interpretations of the comparisons seems to lend support to her view that the good earth is composed of those healed. In each case, these healed individuals who spread the good news have heard the word only once, but their fruit bearing is ongoing.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

165

duce fruit are balanced against the threefold harvest of the good earth, a subtle contrast is also established between the rocky earth and the good earth. The description of the rocky earth is especially important for the secondary level of rhetoric, that of the narrator, since it establishes the disciples as the shallow, hard-hearted earth. The description of the good earth is especially important for the primary level of rhetoric, since the discourse will exhort the insiders in the narrative world to be careful to listen. The remainder of the discourse focuses on the good earth and how it is revealed as good earth. SECOND HEADING That the discourse is moving to a second heading at v. 21 is signaled by the narrative formula καὶ λέγει αὐτοῖς, which a few verses later will also indicate the movement to the third heading (v. 24). The interpretation of the comparisons in the exordium formed the first major heading of the probatio and elaborated on the theme of how various people hear the preached word. The second and third headings take up the theme adumbrated in the propositio that the mystery of the kingdom is revealed only to insiders. In the second heading, an initial question for the reader arises over who the “αὐτοῖς” of v. 21 are. Up to this point in the narrative, there is no reason to suppose that αὐτοῖς refers to anyone other than “those around him with the disciples” (i.e., those who were alone with Jesus in v. 10). By the time one arrives at vv. 33–34, however, many scholars believe that Jesus is again among the crowds, speaking in general, comparative terms to the crowds. Since nowhere in the narrative between v. 21 and vv. 33–34 are we told that Jesus went back “out” to the crowd from his solitude, scholars are left to conjecture whether or not the narrator uses αὐτοῖς at v. 21 to signal that Jesus has gone back out to the crowd. It is argued below that Jesus never returns to the crowd in the discourse, that he is still alone with the disciples in vv. 33–34 as well as at the beginning of the next narrative unit. Thus, here we take αὐτοῖς to refer to the private group of insiders identified in v. 10. The second and third headings constitute a thematic elaboration of

166

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

the propositio. This elaboration is signaled in several ways in the two headings. First, the four ἵνα clauses of vv. 21–23 serve to remind the readers of the propositio, where ἵνα is first used in the discourse. There in the propositio, outsiders had the mystery kept from them “in order that” they would not understand (v. 12). Here, a lamp is brought not “in order that” it may be put under a bushel or a bed but “in order that” it may be put on a lampstand. Second, the concept of “mystery” in the propositio is very similar to the notions of “hidden” and “revealed” in v. 22. The listeners of the discourse should thus understand that the second heading returns to the theme of the mystery revealed to the insiders of v. 11. Third, the repetition of the phrase, “whoever has ears to hear had better listen” in v. 23 clearly takes the reader back to the final sentence of the exordium (v. 9). There, the warning to “listen” was followed by Jesus’s statement that the mystery has been concealed to outsiders and revealed to insiders. In v. 22, the opening of the second major heading, Jesus’s statement that what is hidden is intended to be revealed, followed by the repeated call to “listen,” forms a well-rounded chiasm that links the propositio to the second heading. One can already expect this heading to be about the revealing of the mystery. Fourth, the call to “watch how you hear” in v. 24 takes the reader back to the Isaian citation, which discusses those who “see” but fail to perceive and “hear” but fail to understand. Finally, the mention in v. 25 of “what is given” harks back to Jesus’s statement in v. 11 that to insiders the mystery “has been given.” How do the second and third headings elaborate on the propositio? The thematic and lexical connections pointed out above should already lead the listener to understand that the second heading will be about the revelation of the mystery of the kingdom of God. In elaborating upon the point, the second heading introduces a new comparison, that of a lamp. The point of the comparison is clearly stated: whatever is hidden is intended to be revealed. Since Jesus has already indicated that the discourse is about how people hear his teaching/ preaching, one should understand the comparison of the lamp to indicate that Jesus intends for his teaching to reveal. The switch to a comparison about a lamp is easily explained:

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

167

It might appear that these sayings in vss. 21–23 are badly chosen, unrelated to the Sower parable, because they suddenly introduce the image of a lamp. But the rationale has established the correlation of “seed” with “logos,” and the new metaphor of “light” is fully appropriate to the notion of logos as teaching. The discourse that uses analogies has not lost its way.100

Thus, it becomes evident that Jesus is arguing that his teaching is intended to be made clear to those “with ears to hear,” just as a lamp is intended to give light and what is hidden is intended to be made manifest. The second heading thus makes its argument in part by contrary.101 Jesus speaks of the kingdom in comparisons, which, if left unexplained, leaves people hearing but failing to understand. On the contrary, however, a lamp comes not to be placed under a bushel or under a bed but to be placed on a lampstand. In the same way, then, Jesus’s comparisons are not intended to remain concealed—on the contrary, they are intended to be revealed (but only to those “with ears”). At three points, the argument is made by contrary reasoning. First, the comparison of v. 21 contrasts a lamp, which is intended to shine, with uninterpreted parables, which are intended to confuse outsiders. In a sense, to the outsiders, the exordium of this speech is something of a lamp under a bed. But Jesus intends for the light of his teaching about the kingdom to shine to insiders. The reasoning is styled in the form of a double question, held together by homoioteleuton (playing on the eta-sound). Μήτι ἔρχεται ὁλύχνος ἵνα ὑπὸ τὸν μόδιον τεθῇ ἢ ὑπὸ τὴν κλίνην; οὐχ ἵνα ἐπὶ τὴν λυχνίαν τεθῇ;

The first question begins with Μήτι, and it expects a negative answer. The second question begins with οὐχ; it expects a positive answer. Even the double question itself, then, is arranged in the form of a contrary. Loosely translated, it might read, “A lamp does not come to 100. Mack and Robbins, Patterns of Persuasion, 157. 101. See Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.18.1.

168

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

be put under a bushel or bed. A lamp does come to be put on a lampstand.” The second part of the heading, v. 22, is composed of a maxim-like declaration that “nothing is concealed except in order to be revealed; neither is anything hidden but in order to be brought into the open.” This maxim constitutes reason-by-contrary with the Isaian citation in the propositio. In the propositio, it was intimated that to outsiders Jesus’s preaching was intended to be unclear. In the maxim here, it is asserted that to insiders Jesus’s teaching would be uncovered. The maxim is linked to the double question by a continuation of the homoioteleuton: οὐ γάρ ἐστιν κρυπτὸν ἐὰν μὴ ἵνα φανερωθῇ, οὐδὲ ἐγένετοἀπόκρυφον ἀλλ’ ἵνα ἔλθῃ εἰς φανερόν. εἴ τις ἔχει ὦτα ἀκούειν ἀκουέτω.

and by epanaphora, playing on the -ου sound: οὐχ ἵνα ἐπὶ τὴν λυχνίαν τεθῇ; οὐ γάρ ἐστιν κρυπτὸν ἐὰν μὴ ἵνα φανερωθῇ, οὐδὲ ἐγένετο ἀπόκρυφον ἀλλ’ ἵνα ἔλθῃ εἰς φανερόν.

Third, the argument-by-contrary is reinforced by the repetition of the call for insiders to hear, already given back in v. 9. The call presents the need for insiders to listen, contrary to outsiders who are doomed by their failure to listen. This last point, however, likely raises the specter of irony in the section, for even though the mystery is intended to be made clear, it still requires “ears to hear.” In other words, the discourse is truly deliberative, requiring the disciples to be perceptive and have soft hearts, or else they will miss the point. Thus, even though the earth types have the appearance of being unchangeable, it is clear that presumed good soil may turn out bad if it does not “listen.” There is a demand to listen placed upon the hearers of the discourse. Summarizing, in the propositio Jesus had argued that he teaches in comparisons in order to conceal the kingdom from outsiders, but in the second heading he confirms that he explains the comparisons to insiders in order to provide them opportunity to understand the

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

169

mystery. The comparisons were thus hidden from outsiders only to be revealed to insiders in the rest of the discourse. The discourse itself becomes the revelation of the mystery to the disciples and can be taken as the exposure to the light for the disciples. Nonetheless, as the call to hear intimates, even insiders may prove to be something other than good earth if they fail to listen. THIRD HEADING The third heading makes further elaboration on the propositio and recalls the interpretation of the comparison of the rocky earth. This heading begins with the imperative: “Watch how you listen,” and is followed by three simple conditional clauses. The conditional clauses are formed of a present indicative in the protasis and a future passive indicative in the apodosis: “with the measure you use, it will be measured to you and added to you; for whoever has, it will be given him/her; and whoever does not have, even what he/she has will be taken away.” The first clause is joined to the imperative by a double homoioteleuton formed of the sounds -ε(ῖ)τε and ὑμῖν: Βλέπετε τί ἀκούετε. ἐν ᾧ μέτρῳ μετρεῖτε μετρηθήσεται ὑμῖν καὶ προστεθήσεται ὑμῖν

The paraenesis is clearly linked to the admonitions of vv. 9 and 23, which assert that whoever has ears had better listen, and it forms an elaboration of these admonitions. In the admonitions, it was made clear that the discourse is deliberative, that is, that “having ears” was not enough. Those with ears must “listen.” In the interpretations of the comparisons, it became clear that at one level only good earth can “hear” the mystery of the kingdom. In the present heading, though, it is revealed that even apparently good earth (i.e., the insiders) must “listen” lest they fail to perceive the mystery. Thus, according to the propositio and the second heading, Jesus reveals the mystery of the kingdom to insiders by giving private interpretation of the comparisons. Insiders can be characterized as “having ears,” that is,

170

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

as having the ability to understand the kingdom. But the beginning of this third heading makes it clear that this is not enough. Those who “have ears” must be cautious “how they hear,” for they will only receive in proportion to their willingness to listen. If insiders receive the mystery of the kingdom but fail to be sensitive to it, if they fail to use any “measure” of understanding, they will not produce fruit, since they will be adversely measured by their own measurement. If they fail to listen, nothing further will be added to them. As indicated above, this is precisely the case with the disciples, who receive the mystery but exercise no care in how they hear. Having “hard hearts,” they become scandalized, and they produce no fruit. The discourse is a call for them to hear with care, lest even what they have be taken away. Thus, not all insiders prove to be good earth, but some are only transparently good, and whether or not they produce fruit reveals their type. The final clauses of the third heading are arranged in the form of antithesis or contentio:102 “For whoever has, it will be given to him or her. And whoever has not, even what he or she has will be taken away.” The contrast makes more vivid the distinction between the fate of those who have and that of those who have not. Again, those who have constitute the good earth, which produces fruit (“it will be given to him or her”). Those who do not have comprise the bad earth types, which do not have the “goodness” to produce fruit. Even the seed they have received will be taken away from them. The clauses are further linked by the figure of traductio,103 formed by the repetition of the term ἔχει. The threefold use of this term, by dwelling upon it, again links the third heading to vv. 9 and 23, where Jesus twice demands that whoever has (ἔχει) ears must listen. Here again, the connection to the call to hear is clear. Whoever has ears to hear will receive the mystery but must listen in order to have fruit added.104 Whoever does not have ears will, like the earth by the path, have even the teaching they receive removed. Again, in the final part of the heading, the irony of the discourse 102. Cf. Cicero, Pro Cluent. 1.4, 6.5; Quintilian, Institutes 9.3.81. 103. See Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.14.20–21; Quintilian, Institutes 9.3.69. 104. Interestingly, A, Q, 0107, 1033, f1, f13 read τοῖς ἀκούουσιν after “will be given.” Cf. J. B. Bauer, “Et adicietur vobis credentibus Mk. 4:24f.,” ZNW 71, no. 3–4 (1980): 248–51.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

171

rises to just beneath the surface. The threefold repetition of “to have” (ἔχει) not only links this part of the heading to the call to listen in vv. 9 and 23, it also links it to the comparison of the rocky earth in vv. 5–6 and 16–17, which three times uses the same negated verb “to have” in describing the rocky earth (οὐκ εἶχεν γῆν πολλήν ..... διὰ τὸ μὴ ἔχειν βάθος γῆς . . . καὶ διὰ τὸ μὴ ἔχειν ῥίζαν). The previous analysis of the rocky-earth comparison and of its interpretation revealed that in the narrative world it likely referred to the disciples. The irony of the third heading is that, because they have been given the mystery, the disciples initially appear to be among those who “have.” Nevertheless, they ultimately prove that they really do not “have” the willingness to listen (they do not have much earth, they do not have depth, they do not have root)—that is, they really “have not”—and thus in the narrative world they will eventually lose even that with which they started. EPILOGUE After the three headings that elaborate on the exordium/propositio, the discourse subtly shifts to its epilogue. In the case of this discourse the epilogue is composed of two final comparisons that clearly point back to the exordium, forming an inclusio that neatly rounds off the discourse. Each comparison is introduced by the narrative formula καὶ ἔλεγεν, separating the epilogue from the rest of the speech and separating each part of the epilogue from each other. Faye has argued that the formula καὶ ἔλεγεν, found twice in the epilogue (vv. 26, 30) and once in v. 9, is consistently used to refer to Jesus’s address to the crowds, while the formula καὶ ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς, used in vv. 2, 11, 13 (λέγει), 21, and 24, is used to refer to Jesus’s address to the insiders.105 Marcus agrees, adding that the return of the discourse to the theme of the kingdom and to the use of parables indicates that with v. 26 Jesus turns again to the crowds.106 The opinion of both is based upon their reading of vv. 33–34, which they take to indicate that Jesus is back among the crowds by the time of the end of the discourse. Our 105. Faye, “Introduction to Incomprehension,” 69. 106. Marcus, Mystery, 48.

172

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

analysis of these two verses, however, shows that this reading of vv. 33–34 is implausible. It is implausible because the referents of the two comparisons in the epilogue are provided to the listeners (the comparisons are clearly stated as referring to the kingdom of God, vv. 26, 30). Since Jesus has already made it clear that the referents to the comparisons are only given to insiders, and since there is no narrative indication that Jesus has moved back out among outsiders, rhetorically it only makes sense that these last two comparisons are also spoken privately to the insiders. Thus, the brief narrative formula καὶ ἔλεγεν is used in vv. 26 and 30 to set these sections off from the rest of the discourse, indicating that this section forms the epilogue of the entire speech. The absence of the indirect object (αὐτοῖς) implies that Jesus is beginning to generalize in his discourse. According to the rhetoricians, this is exactly what an epilogue should do. The final two comparisons conclude the discourse by describing the action of the kingdom of God within the good earth, its spontaneous production, and its immense growth. The very mention of the kingdom of God, the seed, the sower, the earth, and the bearing of fruit in vv. 26–29, as well as the kingdom of God, the term “comparison,” the sower, the earth, the seed, and the “coming up” in vv. 30–32 all serve to link the epilogue to the good earth of v. 8 in the exordium and to the same in v. 20 of the first heading. It seems important that the epilogue uses an aorist, punctiliar form of “throw” in v. 26 (βάλῃ) and of “sow” in v. 31 (σπαρῇ). As will be remembered, the aorist tense was reserved only for the sowing of the good earth in the interpretation of the comparisons in the exordium (v. 20). The same tense here links this comparison to that of the good earth in the exordium and in its interpretation. The epilogue ends the discourse on the theme of the good earth, suggesting that Jesus is still speaking to insiders, and indicating that the primary concern of the discourse is the need for insiders to produce fruit to demonstrate that they are good earth.107 107. Contra Jeremias, Parables of Jesus, 151, who finds the point of the parable to be the patience required of the farmer, and John Dominic Crossan, In Parables: The Challenge of the Historical Jesus (New York: Harper & Row, 1983), 85, who seeks the point in the activity of the

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

173

The first part of the epilogue evidently elaborates on the undisclosed fashion in which the good earth produces its great harvest.108 A sower sows the seed upon the earth, and while the sower sleeps and rises day after day, the earth bears its fruit “by itself.”109 The sower goes about day-to-day business, unaware of the growing seed (the “sowing” was done only once—βάλῃ). In spite of the sower’s lack of attention, however, the seed produces its fruit, and the sower eventually puts forth the sickle when the harvest is ready. Several formal features make the unit distinctively sharp. First, the entire comparison is united, as Marcus observes, by frequent repetition of “o” sounds.110 What should we make of the strangeness of the parable’s style? Demetrius’s On Style is especially helpful for our understanding of this comparison, for the comparison fits the description provided there for those who wish to make a forceful point. In the “forceful style” (δεινός), Demetrius recommends something of a “jerkiness” of phrase placement, brevity (“length paralyses intensity”), symbolic expressions, an avoidance of exact symmetry, a piling up of clauses in a series, the use of asyndeton, the figure of climax, a forceful subject, and even some obscurity.111 Each of these recommendations is reaper. In the context of this discourse, the comparison is about the good earth’s reception of the kingdom. 108. Contra Dupont, “La parabole de la semence,” who sees the parable’s focus to be on the sower—whom he interprets as Jesus. 109. For this meaning of αὐτομάτη see BDAG, 122. Rainer Stuhlmann (“Beobachtungen und Überlegungen zu Markus IV, 26–29,” NTS 19, no. 2 [1972/73]: 153–62) argues that with reference to nature, αὐτομάτη implies “without human effort,” or “by the work of God.” 110. See Marcus, Mystery of the Kingdom, 201: Μήτι ἔρχεται ὁ λύχνος ἵνα ὑπὸ τὸν μόδιον τεθῇ ἢ ὑπὸ τὴν κλίνην; οὐχ ἵνα ἐπὶ τὴν λυχνίαν τεθῇ; οὐ γάρ ἐστιν κρυπτὸν ἐὰν μὴ ἵνα φανερωθῇ, οὐδὲ ἐγένετοἀπόκρυφον ἀλλ' ἵνα ἔλθῃ εἰς φανερόν, εἴ τις ἔχει ὦτα ἀκούειν ἀκουέτω. Further, the syntax of the parable is taut: one would expect ἐάν before ἄνθρωπος or ἄν after it; asyndeton occurs four times in the short parable (αὐτομάτη; πρῶτον χόρτον; εἶτα στάχυν; εἶτα πλήρη[ς] σῖτον); and the transition καὶ μηκύνηται ὡς οὐκ οἶδεν αὐτός is abrupt. Additionally, the growth of the fruit is described in climactic fashion: first the grass, then the head, then the grain of the head. Finally, the conclusion of the comparison with the putting forth of the sickle provides a final thematic force to the parable: when the fruit is ready, it is immediately harvested. 111. See Demetrius, On Style, 5.240–301.

174

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

present in the parable of the self-producing earth, leading to the obvious conclusion that Jesus is employing something like the forceful style at this point in the discourse.112 But why? Unfortunately, Demetrius is the only rhetorician to describe the forceful style, and though his description gives much technical advice, it provides only a little rationale for using the forceful style. Evidently, Jesus’s use of the style here is designed to add emotional force to the point, as though Jesus is here speaking from a rush of emotion about the spontaneous production of fruit by the good earth. Though the subject of the peroratio does not seem to call for such forceful language, the fact that the material formally constitutes the epilogue does justify the use of forceful style, since in deliberative speech the forceful style adds to the urgency of the implicit call to act (i.e., to “listen”). In other words, Jesus’s use of an emotional style in the final discussion of the good earth following the repeated calls to listen strengthens the discourse’s deliberative quality and perhaps startles the hearers into listening more closely. The use of emotional appeal in the epilogue was a common rhetorical device, since it was recognized by the rhetoricians that emotional appeals are often the strongest. Actually, as Aristotle recommends, the epilogue can have as many as four aims: to dispose the hearer favorably toward oneself and unfavorably toward the adversary; to amplify and depreciate; to excite the emotions of the hearer; and to recapitulate.113 The comparison of the self-producing earth partially serves three of these aims: it recapitulates the notion that Jesus has been sowing the word; it amplifies the subject of the good earth by explaining how it produces of its own power; and it stylistically excites the emotions of the hearers. Exactly what does the comparison say about the good earth? This first comparison in the epilogue has drawn more critical attention than the second, primarily because of its reference to the activities of the sower, who is described as “sleeping and rising night and day” 112. Cf. however, On Style 5.274, where Demetrius asserts that παραβολαί are hardly suitable for the forceful style owing to their length and natural charm. But for Demetrius, παραβολαί are pure matters of style; Jesus is using the παραβολαί here as “proof” by comparison, something quite different from Demetrius’s understanding of παραβολή. 113. Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.19.1.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

175

and as not knowing how the seed grows. In the earlier comparisons of the earth types, contrary to what many have suggested, the identity of the sower did not prove to be the central issue. Nevertheless, it does seem clear that since the discourse is about Jesus’s teaching, the sower in the comparisons refers to Jesus. If the comparison of the selfproducing earth constitutes an elaboration of the earlier comparisons, then one should expect that the sower here would also be Jesus. How, then, can Jesus, the Son of God, be described as sleeping and as not knowing how the seed grows? The first description—the sower as “sleeping”—really poses no problem for Mark’s presentation of Jesus, because Mark elsewhere presents Jesus as performing ordinary human actions such as sleeping. Indeed, it seems more than coincidence that in 4:35–41, the narrative section immediately following the conclusion of this discourse, Jesus is explicitly described as “sleeping” and “getting up” (καὶ αὐτὸς ἦν ἐν . . . καθεύδων/ καὶ ἐγείρουσιν αὐτὸν; v. 38). Furthermore, in Mark 13:34–37, Jesus describes himself as a man “away on a journey,” who may come back at dawn in the evening or at midnight, vaguely reminiscent of the description here. Whatever theological problem the reference to the sower as “sleeping” may create for contemporary readers, then, no narrative problem is created because Mark elsewhere presents Jesus as sleeping and rising. The description of Jesus as “not knowing” how the seed comes up is more problematic, since it seems to indicate that Jesus himself does not understand the power of the word he sows. Several interpreters have taken this to indicate that the sower is really someone else, perhaps the disciples. But this clearly violates the connection between the epilogue and the exordium that has been carefully drawn by Jesus. Dupont attempts to overcome the problem by taking the phrase “how the farmer knows not” to mean that the farmer merely “cares not”: “Jesus gives the impression of being uninterested in what is happening.”114 This is admittedly stretching the semantic range of μηκύνηται ὡς οὐκ οἶδεν αὐτός, but in the context of the comparison, Dupont may be correct. The real point of the comparison, as with the comparison in the exordium, is not the role of the sower. 114. Dupont, “La parabole de la semence,” 381–83.

176

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The real point is the power of the good earth to produce fruit when seed is sown in it. The role of the sower in the comparison of the selfproducing earth is thus intentionally minimized (the sower sleeps, does daily business, pays no attention) in order to highlight by contrast the power of the good earth when it receives the word. If Tolbert is correct in her understanding that the good earth represents those healed in the Gospel,115 this interpretation is confirmed, because those healed in the Gospel consistently grow without any further work on Jesus’s part. Indeed, they grow in his absence. This reference to the sower, who earlier represents Jesus, would not be inconsistent with Greco-Roman rhetoric, where it was taught that a comparison need not correspond in every detail. As Rhetorica ad Herennium points out, “the resemblance between the two things need not apply throughout, but must hold on the precise point of comparison.”116 The point of the comparison is that that seed produces by itself without any attention by the sower. The description of the sower sleeping and rising and ignorant of the earth’s production is rhetorical, not theological. The comparison, then, highlights that the good earth will not need continued tilling by the sower. It produces of its own, first the blade, then the head, and then the full grain of the head (note the similarity to the thirty, sixty, and one hundred that the good earth produces above). This elaborated description of the development of the fruit also likely has a rhetorical rather than theological function. By detailing the production of the good earth from seed to ripened fruit without the use of conjunctions and in climactic fashion, Jesus manages to heighten the sense of the good earth’s productivity. The point is that good earth is distinguished because it brings forth its fruit to full harvest. The conclusion of the comparison is pointed: “whenever it delivers fruit, immediately the farmer sends forth the sickle (ἀποστέλλει τὸ δρέπανον), because the harvest has arrived.” The introduction of the sickle and of the harvest is somewhat unexpected, 115. See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 161–64. It may be that the fact that the sower “sleeps” indicates that Jesus does not know who will produce and who will not—which would explain the continued sowing the disciples receive, even though they will eventually fail. 116. Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.48.61.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

177

since the harvest has not previously been mentioned in the discourse. The function of the harvest, like the listing of the stages of the earth’s production, is likely rhetorical more than theological;117 the sickle and harvest serve to bring the comparison to a point: good earth produces ripe fruit ready for harvest. The contrast is with the rocky and thorny earths, both of which come up as though they are going to produce fruit, but neither of which actually survives until the harvest. The final part of the epilogue consists of a second comparison that also focuses on the good earth. The first comparison emphasized the self-producing quality of the good earth: it comes up to full harvest of its own accord. The second comparison emphasizes the immense production of the good earth. As was seen above, the first comparison in the epilogue was composed in a moderately forceful style, likely intended to provide an emotional explanation about the need for good earth to produce right up until harvest and implicitly calling the insiders to be this kind of earth. The second comparison is not as forceful in its style but likely combines elements of the grand style with those of forceful style.118 The effect is to end the discourse with a lofty style, since its subject matter—hearing the word of the kingdom—constitutes a lofty subject. The comparison is again explicitly identified as one relating to the kingdom of God. In this last comparison, Jesus uses two technical rhetorical terms for “comparison,” ὁμοιώσωμεν and his usual παραβολή. The coupling of ὁμοιώσωμεν, a common word in the rhetorical works for “comparison,”119 with παραβολή provides confirmation to an understanding of Mark’s use of the latter term in the sense of a general comparison. The comparison itself is drawn from the smallness of the mustard seed,120 which, whenever planted, becomes one of the largest bushes, large enough for the birds to nest in it. 117. Nevertheless, the mention of the harvest, as the reader will later discover, does vaguely introduce the theological notion of the eschatological coming of the Son of Man, brought up more explicitly in 12:1–12 and 13:26–29; cf. 8:38. Read this way, Jesus is the sower who sends the angels with the sickle (see 13:27). 118. As Demetrius (On Style 2.36–37) points out, styles change within speeches themselves, and certain combinations are appropriate. 119. McCall, Rhetorical Theories of Simile. 120. According to Claus-Hunno Hunzinger, “σίναπι,” TDNT, 7:288, the mustard seed had the status of the smallest seed in Jewish folklore.

178

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The overall structure of the comparison is schematized by Crossan.121 The kingdom is as a mustard seed A

which when sown

B

upon the earth

C B’

being smaller than all the seeds upon the earth

A’ and when sown D C’

it grows up and becomes greater than all the shrubs.

The final clauses employ the use of homoeoptoton, playing upon the repetitions of the “ou” sound: καὶ ποιεῖ κλάδους μεγάλους. ὥστε δύνασθαι ὑπὸ τὴν σκιὰναὐτοῦ τὰ πετεινὰ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ κατασκηνοῦν.

Two repetitions in the comparison recall the exordium, ὅταν σπαρῇ and ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς. These repetitions form an inclusio that rounds off the entire discourse and indicates its thematic unity. The repetition of the phrase, ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς in v. 31 constitutes the figure of antistrophe,122 and emphasizes that the comparison has to do with the earth, which receives what is sown, rather than with the seed. The indication is that Jesus conceptualizes the kingdom in terms of his own preaching and how good people produce fruit when they receive it. In the exordium and in the first heading, it was “the word” that was sown. Here, it is the content of that word that is sown: the kingdom of God; and the emphasis here is on the earth, which is transformed by the kingdom.123 There is no confusion between the comparisons, for the discourse itself already stands as evidence that in Mark’s Gospel the 121. Crossan, “Seed Parables of Jesus,” 256. 122. See Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.13.19. 123. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 162, who refers to the parable as the “The Parable of the Transforming Earth.”

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

179

kingdom of God actually comes in the taught word of Jesus. This was intimated as early as 1:14–15, and becomes a central theme here.124 Thus, though there is considerable debate as to what precisely Mark thought the kingdom is, what has been hinted all along in the discourse becomes evident at this point. Mark understands the kingdom, at least in part, to be the teaching of Jesus that confronts various kinds of individuals and elicits good fruit from good earth. Not a few have pointed out the grammatical difficulties in the comparison: the relative ὃς (masculine) has κόκκῳ as its antecedent, but the neuter participle ὂν is used a bit later to refer back to κόκκῳ. Indeed, in the absence of a verb in the clause, ὂν has to take the sense of “is.” Of course, historical critics have assumed that this is an indication of the awkward redactional work of Mark.125 Black assumes that the inconsistency is the result of a mistranslation of an Aramaic original.126 Marcus speculates that the use of the neuter pronoun heightens the smallness of the (masculine) seed: “apparently the mustard seed is so insignificant that it cannot even retain its proper gender!”127 The use of the neuter participle is indeed a solecism, but it likely constitutes something of an “accusative absolute,”128 perhaps used because its relative clause is parenthetic. The parenthetic nature of the clause is demonstrated by the repetition of the verb σπαρῇ both before and after the clause. At any rate, the syntax adds the stylistic effect of forcefulness to the comparison by the strain of its construction. What is the point of the comparison? Jesus has already identified its referent as the kingdom. The rest of the discourse provides sufficient contextual material to make sense of the final part of the exordium. The kingdom comes when Jesus sows upon the good earth. It has already been pointed out in the first part of the exordium that for the good earth, sowing is punctiliar; it only requires one sowing for the good earth to produce (in contrast to the other earths, which continue to receive sowing but fail to produce). In this last comparison of the epilogue, one finds the same “self-producing” quality of the good 124. See Marcus, Mystery of the Kingdom, 40–43. 125. See, e.g., V. Taylor, Mark, 270, and Crossan, “Seed Parables of Jesus,” 256–57. 126. Matthew Black, An Aramaic Approach to the Gospels, 3rd ed. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1967), 165. 127. Marcus, Mystery of the Kingdom, 203. 128. Lagrange, L’Évangile selon saint Marc, 119; cf. BDF, par. 424.

180

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

earth depicted vis-à-vis the seed that grows from the smallest when sown to one of the largest bushes when mature.129 Again, the point seems to be that even though it receives no further work from the sower, the good earth produces in great quantity. One understands one’s own goodness by consideration of the fruit produced. The final reference to the birds building their nests in the tree is reminiscent of the birds who eat the seed from the earth beside the path (vv. 4 and 15). There, the birds obviously refer to Satan, as the interpretation in v. 15 states. Here, the reference could hardly be Satan, as though Satan somehow finds a home in the fruit of the kingdom produced by the good earth. Instead, the figure is a rhetorical contrast between the bad earth, for which birds function to remove the kingdom, and the good earth, in which the birds find a home. The parallel is not precise; nevertheless, it is emphatic: just as the birds destroy fruit in the bad earth, they reveal the goodness of the good earth. With the discourse closed, the narrator provides a narrative conclusion that points out that the method of this discourse was Jesus’s customary discursive method: And with many such comparisons he used to speak to them the word, just as they were able to hear. But without a comparison he would not speak to them; but to his own disciples he explained all things.

Because of the use of the imperfect tense for ἐλάλει, the conclusion is frequently taken to mean that Jesus continued speaking on this occasion beyond what is recorded. Taken in this sense, a problem arises over the implication that Jesus continued speaking to the crowd in v. 33, though in vv. 10–32. he is supposedly away from the crowd. Since no narrative indication is given that Jesus ever returned to the crowd in the discourse, it is supposed that there is an inconsistency created by the combination of sources or awkward redactional technique. Such a reading is unnecessary, however. The conclusion does not 129. It may also be that the smallness of the seed is emphasized to typify the hidden quality of the kingdom of God presented in the preaching of Jesus and quickly realized in its fullness when received by the good earth. See J. G. Strelan, “‘For Thine Are the Statistics?’ Sermon Study on Mark 4:26–29,” LuthTheoJour 22, no. 1 (1988): 32–36.

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

181

indicate that Jesus “kept on teaching” the crowd after the epilogue of the discourse. Rather, he does not keep on teaching, but has already finished the epilogue of the discourse. Further, though v. 36 mentions Jesus leaving the crowd, v. 35 signifies that he is still with the disciples in the boat, presumably in a private setting. The verb ἐλάλει should rather be understood as an example of the customary or iterative imperfect,130 describing Jesus’s general custom of speaking to crowds in parables and explaining these to his disciples privately as they are able to hear. The narrative conclusion is thus a general statement about Jesus’s teaching method based upon the previous two discourses that demonstrate it. Analysis of the discourses of chapter 7 and of 11:27–13:37 shows that the summary statement accurately describes how Jesus speaks in comparisons to the crowds and interprets them privately to the disciples. RHETORICAL OVERVIEW The discourse of Mark 4 thus forms a key for understanding all the discourses of Jesus in the Gospel. This is indicated by the narrative conclusion, which identifies the method used in this discourse as Jesus’s standard method; by Jesus’s statement in the propositio about the need to understand “this” comparison; and by the general theme of the discourse itself, that it is about “hearing” Jesus’s words of the kingdom. Indeed, the discourse is, as we have seen, actually a discourse about Jesus’s discourses and how they are received. As deliberative rhetoric, Jesus does not make use of enthymematic argument but rather depends upon paradeigms—specifically, comparisons. And as the discourse itself explains, Jesus uses comparisons both to conceal and to reveal. To outsiders, comparisons are given without explanation: the kingdom is presented but not understood. To insiders, the comparisons are given along with “the mystery”—their referents. The comparisons are interpreted to insiders, who must be careful that they pay attention. Even the structure of the propositio and its subsequent transition serve to highlight the fundamental theme of “understanding” the 130. BDF, par. 325.

182

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

preaching of the kingdom. The clauses are arranged in the form of a chiasm, with “seeing” and “hearing” at the focal point: a

the disciples asked about parables b

to you the mystery is given c

c′ b′ a′

to those outside, all things come in parables d

so that seeing, they may not see

d′

and hearing they may not hear lest they turn and be forgiven you do not know this parable how will you know any parable?

Two surprises surface in the discourse, however. First, even though insiders have the mystery revealed to them, the discourse shows that they also can fail to understand if they do not “listen.” Even insiders may prove to be hardened earth. Second, it is somewhat striking that the elaboration about the kingdom in the probatio is also given, at least in part, in comparisons. Thus, even when interpreting comparisons to insiders, Jesus uses further comparisons. The effect is to make the entire discourse suggestive and indirect. Perhaps this is due to the failure of propositional language to adequately express the nature of the kingdom. Or, perhaps the revelation of the mystery to insiders comes in the form of other potentially misunderstood comparisons, as though there are various levels at which listeners can prove themselves to be poor earth. This latter point especially makes sense in light of the exordium, where two earth types, the rocky and the thorny, appear at first to be good earth, but only later prove to be unproductive. One can go further into the “meaning” of the discourse. It is comparative teaching about how people respond to the kingdom. As the propositio implies, however, the very preaching of the kingdom, and the responses to it, in some ways constitute the revelation of the kingdom. In other words, the kingdom is tightly bound to the teaching of Jesus. When Jesus speaks about the kingdom, he must also speak

WHOEVER HAS EARS HAD BETTER LISTEN! (MARK 4:1–34)

183

about his teaching, since the kingdom evidently occurs in the teaching/preaching of Jesus.131 The discourse itself, then, becomes more than a description of the kingdom; it is to be understood as the actual presentation of the kingdom of God. It is a discourse about itself, and the discourse becomes its own referent for the comparisons it uses. As such, it requires the listeners within the narrative to “listen” in order to participate in the kingdom. For the readers of the Gospel, the discourse represents the kingdom, demanding of them as well “ears to hear.”

131. Cf. Matt 13:19 where the connection between the comparison and the kingdom is made explicit in the phrase “word of the kingdom.” See also Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 161, who argues that the kingdom of God in Mark cannot be defined in propositional language but must be experienced like seed growing: “By employing two more parables about seeds and earth, the second interpretational unit following the parable of the Sower, 4:24–32, provides an imagistic clarification of this productive good earth, which is, indeed, the kingdom of God for the Gospel of Mark.”

5. What Defiles a Person? (Mark 6:53–7:23)

And having crossed over to the earth, they came into Gennesaret and moored. And after they came out of the boat immediately the whole region, recognizing him, went running through and began to bring the sick on their mats to the place where he was. And wherever he entered villages, cities, or fields, in the marketplaces they would place the sick and beg him that they might touch the hem of his garment. And whoever he touched was healed. And the Pharisees and certain scribes from Jerusalem gathered around him, and were seeing certain of his disciples, that they eat bread with unclean hands, that is, unwashed hands. For the Pharisees and all the Jews, unless they have washed their hands with the fist, do not eat, holding to the tradition of the elders. And from the marketplaces they do not eat unless they wash themselves, and many other traditions that they have received they hold to, washing cups and pots and bronze vessels. And the Pharisees and scribes ask him, “Why do your disciples not walk according to the tradition of the elders, but with unclean hands they eat bread?” And he said to them, “Well did Isaiah prophecy about you hypocrites, as it is written, ‘This people with their lips honors me but their heart is far from me. Vainly they worship me teaching for teaching human commands.’ Leaving the command of God, you hold to human tradition.” And he was saying to them,

186

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

“In a fine way you reject the command of God, in order your tradition to keep. For Moses said, ‘Honor your father and your mother’; and ‘Whoever speaks evil of father or mother is to die’; but you say, ‘If one tells his or her father or mother, “What you would have gained from me is Korban” (that is, given to God)’—then you no longer permit that person to do anything for father or mother, thus making void the word of God through your traditions which you hand on. And many similar such things you do.” And calling again the crowd, he was saying to them, “All of you: hear me and understand. There is nothing outside a person which entering that person can defile him or her; but the things that come out of a person are what defile that person.”1 And when he entered into a house away from the crowd, the disciples asked him about the comparison. And he says to them, “What? Even you fail to understand? Do you not realize that nothing outside though entering a person is able to defile that person, because it does not enter the person’s heart, but the stomach, and it comes out into the latrine? What comes out of a person is what defiles a person. For from within, out of a person’s heart, come evil thoughts, fornication, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, and foolishness. All these evil things come out from within, and they defile a person.”2

The third major discourse in the Gospel of Mark extends from 6:53 to 7:23 and deals with the issues of the traditions of the elders and codes of purity. The unity of the discourse has been frequently challenged by form and redaction critics who have found the narrative explanation in vv. 3–4 and the audience shifts of v. 14 and v. 17 especially troubling. As has already been seen, historical critics have 1. Interestingly, A, D, W, Θ, f1.13, pm, sy, samss include 7:16 εἰ τις ἔχει ὦτα ἀκούειν ἀκουέτω. The verse is absent in a, B, L, D*, 0274, 28, samss, bopt. V. Taylor (Mark, 344) and Schmithals (Das Evangelium nach Markus, 1:343) consider the reading authentic. 2. Translation ours. Since this translation attempts to represent more strictly the rhetorical forms of the original, it is often awkward by standards of English grammar and syntax.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

187

tended to break the discourse into various traditional units, attempting to distill the Sitz im Leben of each unit. The result of their efforts has been a truly fragmented reading of the discourse. For example, Roger Booth,3 who exercises a stiff redactional method, peels off various supposed layers of traditional material, finding various Sitzen for each, and reduces the original discourse to the following fragment: Διὰ τί οἱ μαθηταί σου κοιναῖς χερσὶν ἐσθίουσιν τὸν ἄρτον; καὶ ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς, ἀκούσατέ μου πάντες καὶ σύνετε. οὐδέν ἐστιν ἔξωθεν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ὃ δύναται κοινῶσαι αὐτόν: ἀλλὰ τὰ ἐκ τοῦἀνθρώπου ἐκπορευόμενά ἐστιν τὰ κοινοῦντα τοῦ ἀνθρώπου.

Other studies have focused on the so-called “summary statement” of 6:53–56, attempting to identify an early traditional report4 or the redactional hand of the evangelist.5 In either case, the section is isolated from its subsequent discourse by historical critics. For those who identify it as part of the tradition, it is sometimes supposed that the unit came from an early miracle source and was somewhat awkwardly integrated here.6 The landing “at Gennesaret” in 6:53 has bothered historical critics because of its apparent geographical tension with 6:45, where the disciples are said to be going toward Bethsaida, not Gennesaret. Consequently, some have suggested that the verse is “out of place” at this point in the narrative and that it should rather be moved to another place in the narrative.7 In 7:1–23, historical crit3. Roger P. Booth, Jesus and the Laws of Purity: Tradition History and Legal History in Mark 7. JSNTSup 13 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1986). See also Bruce Chilton, “A Generative Exegesis of Mark 7:1–23,” in Jesus in Context: Temple Purity, and Restoration, ed. Bruce Chilton and Craig A. Evans (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1997), 297–317, who tries to trace the Vorleben of the discourse through a complicated process of evolution from an early Aramaic source, through a community influenced by James, and finally from a circle associated with Barnabas. 4. E.g., Karl Ludwig Schmidt, Der Rahmen der Geschichte Jesu: Literarkritische Untersuchungen zur ältesten Jesusüberlieferung (Berlin: Trowitzsch, 1919), 195; V. Taylor, Mark, 331; Ernst, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 198; Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 354–55. 5. Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition, 341; Paul J. Achtemeier, “Toward the Isolation of Pre-Marcan Miracle Catenae,” JBL 89, no. 3 (1970): 284. 6. See Paul J. Achtemeier, “The Origin and Function of the Pre-Marcan Miracle Catenae,” JBL 91, no. 2 (1972): 198–221; Achtemeier, “Toward the Isolation,” 265–91; K. Kertelge, Die Wunder Jesu im Markusevangelium (München: Kösel, 1970); and Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 355. 7. Grundmann, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 187; Thierry Snoy, “La rédaction marcienne de la marche sur les eaux (Mc 6,45–52),” ETL 44 (1968), 234–36; and Achtemeier, “Toward the Isolation,” 281–84, suggest that the verse originally followed 6:44 (the feeding of the five thousand). Schmithals, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 1:339, locates it between 5:20 and 5:22.

188

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

ics have generally assumed that two or three units have been brought together by the editor around the themes of ritual cleanness and the traditions of the elders.8 These scholars divide the unit into separate traditions either at v. 13 or at v. 15, assuming that vv. 3–4 is a gloss from the final redactor and that the logion of v. 15 constitutes the original saying around which the unit ultimately grew. Indeed, the logion of v. 15 has played a critical role in the ongoing discussions of the historical Jesus, since it is assumed to be one of the earliest and most historically dependable sayings of Jesus.9 A rhetorical reading of the discourse, on the contrary, demonstrates its cohesiveness and effectiveness as a single discourse act within the narrative context of the Gospel in general and of 6:53–7:23 specifically. From the standpoint of first-century readers, the discourse would have been intelligible and persuasive. THE RHETORICAL UNIT As one has come to expect, the third major discourse unit in the Gospel of Mark is delineated by several literary/rhetorical and dramatic devices. Though the chapter division in English translations falls at 7:1, it is likely that the rhetorical unit begins, although in a general way, at 6:53. Here, the narrator provides an introduction describing a new scene in which a controversy develops between Jesus and the religious leaders. No narrative break occurs between the latter part of chapter 6 (vv. 53–56) and the beginning of chapter 7 (vv. 1–23.). Rather, the entire unit occurs at the same place and time in the narrative world. Consequently, it is better to take 6:53–56 with 7:1–23, understanding the entire unit from 6:53 to 7:5 as the narrative introduction to the discourse. 8. Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition, 17–18; V. Taylor, Mark, 334–42; Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus, 1:227; Neil J. McEleney, “Authenticating Criteria and Mark 7:1–23,” CBQ 34, no. 4 (1972): 431–60; Jan Lambrecht, “Jesus and the Law: An Investigation of Mk 7,1–23,” ETL 53 (1977): 24–82; and Heikki Räisänen, “Jesus and the Food Laws: Reflections on Mark 7.15,” JSNT 16 (1982): 79–100. 9. See Jesper Svartvik, Mark and Mission: Mk 7:1–23 in Its Narrative and Historical Contexts; Coniectanea Biblica New Testament Series 32 (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 2000). Svartvik (ibid., 109–204) gives an extensive discussion of the history of the logion in both academic and patristic literature.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

189

Prior to 6:53–7:23, Jesus has walked across the sea and joined the disciples in the boat. 6:52 provides a conclusion to the previous narrative section with the narrative comment that the hearts of the disciples were hardened. In 6:53, Jesus and the disciples arrive on the other side, landing “upon the earth” at the village of Gennesaret.10 People from the entire region quickly gather around Jesus, “immediately” recognizing him and bringing to him their sick to be healed. In 6:56, the narrator explains parenthetically that wherever Jesus went, people brought him their sick, and he healed them. Verse 56 indicates that the narrator is generalizing thus far; no specific rhetorical problem has been established. Rather, the general setting for the discourse is being provided: Jesus is again by the sea, the crowds are present, and Jesus is miraculously healing people. In 7:1, the narrative introduction narrows with the arrival of the Pharisees and certain of the scribes from Jerusalem, who notice that the disciples are eating with unclean hands. This observation leads them to accuse the disciples of violating the elders’ traditions regarding ritual cleanness. The narrative introduction thus moves from general to specific, neatly leading to the discourse of Jesus. After the discourse, the narrator does not give a narrative conclusion to the unit. Instead, the epilogue of the speech itself in vv. 20–23 serves as the narrative closure.11 In 7:24, Jesus arises “from there” (i.e., the house in Gennesaret, 6:53, 7:17) and departs for the region of Tyre. Mark 7:24 forms the narrative introduction to the next unit, indicating an end to this unit at 7:23. Through the device of narrative introductions, and using the epilogue of the discourse as the narrative conclusion, one can set the limits of the third discourse and its narrative elements at 6:53 and 7:23. In addition to the narrative introductions and conclusions, the repetition of certain terms also helps unite the discourse section. The theme of “uncleanness” (κοινός) is introduced in 7:2; the repetition of the term in v. 23 forms an inclusio, linking the charge of the scribes and Pharisees to the discourse of Jesus. Additionally, the term and its cognates become examples of characteristic vocabulary in the discourse, occurring seven times (vv. 2, 5, 15 [2x], 18, 20, 23). Other 10. Γεννησαρ in D, it, vg (2 mss), syrs pe. 11. The same technique was used in 3:20–35; see chapter 3 above.

190

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

examples of characteristic vocabulary that serves to unite the discursive unit are παράδοσις (vv. 3, 5, 8, 9, 13 [2x]), ἐσθίω (vv. 2, 3, 4, 5), and καρδία (vv. 6, 19, 21). The use of characteristic vocabulary helps to mark off this narrative unit from other sections surrounding it. The unit is also marked off by geographical indicators and narrative transitions. Geographically, the section begins with Jesus’s arrival on the other side of the sea in the village of Gennesaret (6:53). Though the unit itself does not close with a change of geography, the next unit opens with Jesus going from the Gennesaret area to the city of Tyre, marking off the section at 7:23. Transitions occur at the beginning of the unit, when Jesus moves off the sea onto the earth; at the beginning of the next unit, where Jesus moves to Tyre and deals with a different situation; and at least once within the unit, when Jesus moves away from the crowd into a house. This transition to the house provides an opportunity for Jesus to interpret for the disciples the “parable” told in the public part of his discourse. In addition to these literary/structural techniques marking off the rhetorical unit, the narrator has also provided dramatic indications that the unit begins with 6:53 and ends with 7:23. Already noted above is the narrative or dramatic change of scenes; this is accompanied by the introduction of dramatis personae to mark off the unit. In 6:53, Jesus arrives upon the earth across the sea, where he and his disciples are met by crowds. Jesus is depicted as healing the people who have come from all over. A slight shift occurs in 7:1 where the Pharisees and scribes are introduced. They come on the scene criticizing the disciples, who were eating with unwashed hands. By 7:1, the narrative stage has its full cast of characters. Using the technique of vanishing characters, the narrator then successively removes characters from the stage, leaving Jesus alone with the disciples for the final part of the discourse. Thus, in the initial part of the discourse, Jesus is addressing the crowds, the scribes and Pharisees, and the disciples. At v. 14, however, Jesus speaks specifically to the crowds and to the disciples. In v. 17, Jesus and the disciples go “into a house,” where Jesus concludes the discourse alone with the disciples. At 7:24, the narrator introduces a new cast of characters, marking a new narrative section.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

191

THE RHETORICAL SITUATION The presence of the crowds, the Pharisees, the scribes, the disciples, and Jesus reminds the reader of the first major discursive situation of Mark, found in 3:20–35. There, a forensic situation arose when Jesus’s family came to “grab” him, claiming that he was mad. Seizing the opportunity created by Jesus’s own family, the scribes subsequently charged that Jesus was working by the power of Beelzebul. The rhetorical situation of 6:53–7:23 derives from an implicit charge issued against Jesus (vis-à-vis the disciples) over the matter of ceremonial purity. While at Gennesaret, the disciples were eating bread with unwashed hands. The Pharisees and scribes who had come from Jerusalem notice the disciples’ actions. The narrator informs the reader in an aside that the Pharisees and all the Jews unless they have washed their hands with the fist [ἐὰν μὴ πυγμῇ νίψωνται τὰς χεῖρας] do not eat, holding to the tradition of the elders [κρατοῦντες τὴν παράδοσιν τῶν πρεσβυτέρων]. And from the market places they do not eat unless they wash themselves; and many other traditions that they have received they hold to [καὶ ἄλλα πολλά ἐστιν ἃπαρέλαβον κρατεῖν], washing of cups and pots and bronze vessels.

The scribes and Pharisees thus question Jesus: “Why do your disciples not walk according to the tradition of the elders, but with unclean hands they eat bread?” (Διὰ τίοὐ περιπατοῦσιν οἱ μαθηταί σου κατὰ τὴν παράδοσιν τῶν πρεσβυτέρων, ἀλλὰ κοιναῖς χερσὶν ἐσθίουσιν τὸν ἄρτον). Though in the form of a question, the scribes and Pharisees are actually accusing Jesus’s disciples of violating the religious traditions of the elders regarding handwashing.12 By asking Jesus the question rather than the disciples, the accusers are acknowledging 12. The entire eleventh tractate of the sixth division of the Mishnah is devoted to the issue of “handwashing” (Yadaim). Though not all traditions reflected in that tractate go back to the time of Jesus, it is likely that many do. The exact nature of these traditions, as well as the question of how widespread the practice of handwashing was, is left unspecified by Mark. Cf. the historical complaints of Jacob Neusner, “The Idea of Purity in Ancient Judaism,” JAAR 43, no. 1 (1975): 15–26. See also Jacob Neusner, “First Cleanse the Inside,” NTS 22, no. 4 (1975/76): 486–95; R. Booth, Jesus and the Laws, 155–87; Hannah K. Harrington, “Did Pharisees Eat Ordinary Food in a State of Ritual Purity?” JSJ 26, no. 1 (1995): 42–54; J. C. Poirier, “Why did the Pharisees Wash Their Hands?” JJS 47, no. 2 (1996): 217–33; and Eyal Regev, “Pure Individualism: The Idea of Non-Priestly Purity in Ancient Judaism,” JSJ 31 (2000): 176–202.

192

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

that Jesus is responsible for the actions of his disciples. Consequently, the accusation of the scribes and Pharisees is really leveled against Jesus himself. Rhetorically, then, another “forensic” situation arises in the Gospel with the Pharisees implying that Jesus and the disciples have broken the law.13 According to the rhetoricians, Jesus could treat the accusation in several ways, depending upon his defensive objectives. These objectives, deriving from the particular rhetorical situation, help determine the peculiar status of the speech.14 First, Jesus could deny the accusation that his disciples were eating without first washing their hands, creating the conjectural issue (status coniecturalis). Second, Jesus could admit that the disciples had eaten without washed hands, but could reinterpret the act itself so as to call it something other than an act of “uncleanness” (status finitionis or status qualitatis). In reinterpreting the act, Jesus could urge that eating without washed hands does not really transgress the spirit of the elders’ traditions; he might choose to deny the applicability of the particular law to this occasion, or he might choose to deny the rightness of the elders’ traditions altogether. Third, Jesus could counter that the issue has arisen for the wrong reasons or before the wrong group of “judges,” or that it ought to be resolved in another context (the status translationis). As is seen in the analysis of the discourse, Jesus actually responds to the Pharisees’ indictment in two ways. In the first part of his discourse, Jesus goes on the offensive, castigating the scribes and Pharisees for making void the word of God with their traditions. 13. Though the traditions under consideration are religious in nature, the scribes and Pharisees treat them as God-ordained “laws.” Later, in 14:53–65, the traditions of the elders are again taken as civil laws by the Jewish leaders, and Jesus is condemned to death as a result of his breaking them. Cf. C. E. Carlston, “The Things That Defile (Mark vii.14) and the Law in Matthew and Mark,” NTS 15 (1968/69): 75–96; Wilfried Paschen, Rein und Unrein: Untersuchung zur biblischen Wortgeschichte (München: Kösel, 1970); Hans Hübner, Das Gesetz in der synoptischen Tradition (Witten: Luther, 1973); Hans Hübner, “Mark vii.1–23 und das ‘jüdisch-hellenistische’ Gesetzes Verständnis,” NTS 22 (1976): 319–45; and Robert Banks, Jesus and the Law in the Synoptic Tradition, SNTSMS 28 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975). 14. The divisions of the statuses varied from rhetorician to rhetorician, but essentially there were two major headings, the status generis rationalis and the status generis legalis. The former group focused on the presumed deed itself, and included the status coniecturae, status finitionis, status qualitatis, and status translationis. The latter focused on the meaning of the laws called upon in the dispute and included the scriptum et voluntas, leges contrariae, syllogismus, and ambiguitas. See Lausberg, Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik, 1:85–123.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

193

Afterward, turning to the crowds and later to the disciples, Jesus denies that food can make a person unclean, and rather argues that it is what comes from the heart of a person that makes that person unclean before God. Thus, in general terms, Jesus chooses a double defense. First, he challenges the legal and juridical prerogatives of the elders in toto, accusing them of violating the word of God with their traditions. The unstated conclusion is that, since in principle the traditions of the elders are against God’s word, their specific handwashing traditions are also against God’s word and therefore do not condemn Jesus but rather condemn the scribes and Pharisees.15 Second, Jesus declares a different definition for ritual uncleanness, removing the implied guilt from himself and the disciples by showing that their actions were not criminal. Jesus thus draws elements from the status qualitatis (the disciples did eat with unwashed hands, but their actions were not “unclean” or wrong), the status finitionis (eating with unwashed hands should not be called “unclean”) and the status translationis (the elders are the wrong ones to bring the charges, their traditions are illegal, and they are the lawbreakers). The type of discourse Jesus will use, then, is the judicial discourse. As with the discourse of 3:20–35, the prosecutors are again the religious leaders of the Jews, identified here as the scribes and the Pharisees. On the primary level of rhetoric, the “jury” would likely consist of the crowds, but on the narrative level, the jurors are, of course, the readers of the Gospel. Jesus proceeds as the defendant, making use of rational argument as his primary defense, denying the authority of the traditions of the elders, and denying that the disciples’ act was “unclean.” As will be seen below, Jesus makes use of enthymemes to establish his argument against the scribes and Pharisees. This is what one was taught to do in judicial speeches, since enthymemes were considered strongest of the logical proofs.16 Nevertheless, the narrator has actually supplied another powerful source of “proof” for Jesus’s position in the first part of the narrative introduction: Jesus is shown, immediately prior to his argument in chapter 7, to possess divine power 15. In American terminology, Jesus is accusing the traditions of the elders of being “unconstitutional.” 16. Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.1.11, 3.17.6.

194

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

indicative of his divine status. Since Jesus will challenge the authority of the elders to speak for God, it is important that the narrator establish Jesus’s ethos as having the authority to speak for God. The introduction to the book of Mark begins with the affirmation that Jesus is the Son of God; the controversy in 2:23–3:6 shows him to be “Lord of the Sabbath”; and the miracles in Gennesaret prove his divine power. His authority to rightly interpret ritual cleanness and uncleanness cannot reasonably be questioned by either the crowds in the narrative world or by the readers of the Gospel. The function of the so-called “summary report” of 6:53–56 now becomes clear: it serves to provide immediate “ethical” support for Jesus’s new interpretation of cleanness.17 Jesus will not need to draw attention to his own ethos in the discourse. In the narrative, his miracles have already accomplished this. The rightness of Jesus’s interpretation of cleanness in 7:1–23 is supported by his authority as shown in 6:53–56. DETAILED ANALYSIS In order to aid in following the analysis of the actual discourse, an outline of its rhetorical structure is here provided: [6:53–56

Jesus arrives in Gennesaret where he heals many 7:1–5 Scribes and Pharisees come and accuse Jesus’s disciples of breaking the tradition of the elders by eating with unwashed hands]

7:6–8

Exordium/Pr Exordium/Propositio opositio Your hearts are far from God; you teach the elders’ traditions as God’s commands

7:9–13

First Heading: Y You ou nullify God’s law Paradigmatic Enthymeme: You teach people to violate God’s law by claiming Korban [7:14a Narrative transition: with the crowd]

7:14–19

Sec Second ond Heading: N Nothing othing outside a person entering defiles that person Comparison: What exits the body is dirty, not what enters

17. We use the term “ethical” in its rhetorical sense, i.e., support drawn from the character or the “ethos” of the speaker.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

195

[7:17 Narrative transition: alone in the house with the disciples, who ask “what does this comparison mean?”] Interpretation: All food is clean 7:20–23

Epilog Epilogue ue It is sin that defiles a person

EXORDIUM/PROPOSITIO The narrator begins Jesus’s response in the third major discourse in the same narrative fashion already seen in previous discourses, “And he said to them” (ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς). The use of the aorist tense gives the first part of the discourse a punctiliar, decisive force. In this first part of the speech, Jesus opens by assailing the scribes and Pharisees for replacing God’s word with their traditions. His protest against his accusers piquantly adopts their own language about the traditions of the elders and turns it back on them. The device is similar to Cicero’s remotio criminis and is recommended by the rhetoricians, who found in it the means for a powerful rhetorical defense.18 The scribes and Pharisees have charged that Jesus’s disciples fail to walk according to the elders’ traditions (οὐ περιπατοῦσιν οἱ μαθηταί σου κατὰ τὴν παράδοσιν τῶν πρεσβυτέρων). Jesus responds that the scribes and Pharisees “leave the commandment of God and hold fast human tradition” (ἀφέντες τὴν ἐντολὴν τοῦ θεοῦ κρατεῖτε τὴν παράδοσιντῶν ἀνθρώπων). In the first part of his speech, then, Jesus will argue that he and his disciples are not guilty, but those who perpetuate the traditions of the elders are, because they violate the command of God. The discourse itself is brief, and it is likely that the opening three verses (vv. 6–8) form both the exordium and the propositio of the discourse.19 This is indicated by their unified subject matter and by the 18. “Remotio criminis occurs when the accusation for the offence which is alleged by the prosecutor is shifted to another person or thing.” Cicero De Inventione 2.29.86; see also 1.11.15. 19. In using these labels for the section, we disagree with Witherington (Gospel of Mark, 223–24), who rejects our “macro-rhetorical” grouping of the speeches of Mark 7 into one unit with an exordium/propositio (7:6–8), a probatio (7:9–19), and an epilogue (7:20–23). Our reason for doing so follows Kennedy (New Testament Interpretation, 33–38), who argues that the rhetoric of smaller units can serve to structure the rhetoric of larger units (cf. the “Travel Section” in Luke 9:51–19:27). Wilhelm Wilner (“The Rhetorical Genre of Jesus’ Sermon in Luke 12:1–13:9,” in Persuasive Artistry: Studies in New Testament Rhetoric in Honor of George A.

196

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

narrative shift that begins v. 9. As the exordium, Jesus’s comments in vv. 6–8 seize attention through their scathing epithet for the Pharisees. Further, in these verses Jesus hints at the subject of the discourse: the tradition of the elders violates the command of God, and true purity is purity of the heart:20 Well did Isaiah prophesy about you hypocrites, as it is written, “This people with their lips honors me, but their heart is far from me. Vainly they worship me teaching for teaching human commands.” Leaving the command of God, you hold to human tradition.

The tenor of the speech is marked primarily by reasoning or “logical proof” (i.e., the use of enthymeme and comparison) and by the authority of Jesus, already established in the narrative.21 At the outset, however, Jesus makes a play on the emotions of his audience by referring to the Pharisees as “hypocrites.”22 This ad hominem attack, impugning the motives of the religious leaders as insincere, is obviously intended to stir hostility against them. The Pharisees feign concern about Jesus’s disciples breaking human traditions, but they are unconcerned with their own practice of breaking God’s word. As amplified by the Isaiah citation, the label indicts the scribes and

Kennedy, ed. Duane F. Watson, JSNTSup 50 [Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991], 93–118) makes a similar case. 20. Verses 6–8, then, though brief, accomplish the minimal requirements for an exordium in Greco-Roman discourse: “The exordia provide a sample of the subject, in order that the hearers may know beforehand what it is about, and that the mind may not be kept in suspense. . . . So then the most essential and special function of the exordium is to make clear what is the end or purpose of the speech.” Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.14.5–7. 21. The moral character of the speaker was considered important by most reputable rhetoricians. Quintilian (Institutes 12.1–3) goes farther than most by admitting that, for him, “no man can be an orator unless he is a good man.” See also Cicero, de Oratore 2.43.182: “A potent factor in success, then, is for the characters, principles, conduct and course of life, both of those who plead cases and of their clients, to be approved, and conversely those of their opponents condemned.” Mark labors in the first six chapters to show that Jesus is not only good but that he also possesses divine authority (i.e., he is right). By the time the audience hears Jesus’s speech in Mark 7, they have already heard Jesus called “Christ,” “Son of God,” and “Lord”; they have heard God's voice of approval and have seen the Spirit of God descend upon him; they have witnessed his authority over disease, sin, the Sabbath, the storm, food, etc.; and they have heard him teaching “with authority” twice. There can be no question that underlying the entire speech is the authority of Jesus’s person. 22. Cf. Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.2.14, who notes that epithets may be applied to what is vile or disgraceful. As Rhetorica ad Herennium 2.3.5 urges, the speaker should “brand the [opponent] with the stigma of some one fault, or indeed, of as many faults as possible.”

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

197

Pharisees for giving ceremonial service to God but withholding what God really wants—purity of the heart. The Isaian citation, drawn from Isaiah 29:13 LXX, itself serves as a sort of initial, nonartistic “proof,” being used here as a witness against the prosecution. Witnesses were regarded as important proofs in ancient rhetoric, and the testimony of the biblical prophet here is powerful evidence that the scribes and Pharisees have no authority to bring accusations about ceremonial purity, since the scribes and Pharisees are far from understanding God. Aristotle suggests that one should appeal to such [ancient] witnesses for the past, but also to interpreters of oracles for the future. . . . Ancient witnesses are the most trust-worthy of all, for they cannot be corrupted.23

In ancient rhetoric, the exordium was expected to win the favor of one’s audience. The crowds and disciples constitute the audience for this speech in the narrative world; the audience whose favor the narrator wants to win is composed of the readers of the Gospel. The contempt that the exordium expresses for the prosecutors because of their hypocrisy and their distance from God helps win approval for Jesus on both the primary and secondary levels by inciting resentment toward the scribes and Pharisees.24 Not only is the Isaian citation useful for Jesus as material for the exordium, but since the section also serves as the propositio, the citation introduces the two themes or headings to be developed by Jesus in the body of the discourse. The first heading is intimated in v. 6 of the citation, where Jesus explains that “this people” honors God “with their lips” but their “heart” is far from God. There is a subtle link in the references to the lips in v. 6 and to the narrative introduction, where Mark has explained that the Pharisees are concerned with “physical” purity: purity of the hands, purity of cups, pots, and of bronze vessels. The Isaian citation sarcastically acknowledges that the Pharisees do “honor” God physically, but accuses them of failing to 23. Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.15.13–17. 24. One of Rhetorica ad Herennium’s four ways to make the audience well-disposed to the speaker in the exordium is to bring “hatred, unpopularity, or contempt” upon the speaker’s adversaries. “We shall force hatred upon them by adducing some base, highhanded, treacherous, cruel, impudent, malicious, or shameful act of theirs.” Rhetorica ad Herennium 1.5.8.

198

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

honor God with true spiritual purity, namely, that of the heart. The use of the term “lips” is connected to the Pharisees’ concern with “eating” and with “cups” (vv. 1–4), both of which pertain to the “lips.” Furthermore, there is possibly a mild form of paronomasia between the “hands” (χερσίν, χεῖρας) in vv. 2–3 and the “lips” (χείλεσίν) in v. 6, linking in another way the citation to the narrative introduction.25 Though the theme of “purity of the heart” is mentioned first in the propositio, it is developed second in the discourse, in vv. 14–23.26 There Jesus denies that physical things (things entering the body) can make one impure and asserts that only things coming from the heart determine purity before God. The second part of the citation brings up the other heading developed in the discourse, namely, the hollowness of the worship of the scribes and Pharisees, who rely on human tradition rather than on God’s word. As already noted, the citation provides a double defense that Jesus develops in chiastic order: A

A′

Purity of the heart is what God seeks (v. 6) B

Human teachings are worthless (v. 7)

B′

The teachings of the elders nullify God’s word (vv. 9–13) Only evil from the heart defiles (vv. 14–23)

As the discourse’s propositio, then, the citation is also effective, mentioning both headings to be discussed. In accord with good rhetorical practice, the propositio is brief, plausible, and clear.27 The citation is followed by Jesus’s direct assertion that “leaving the command of God” the scribes and Pharisees “hold to human tradition” (v. 8). It seems most likely that this comment forms a transition 25. Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.21.29–32 advocates the use of paronomasia only sparingly, since it tends to appear overly laborious. It suggests that the device is mostly useful for ornamentation. In this passage, the device serves to link the two levels of rhetoric, narrative and primary, the former occurrence (vv. 2–3) providing information helpful in the interpretation of the latter (v. 6). 26. Cf. also the discourse of 3:20–35 in chapter 3 above. There, the family of Jesus comes to seize him, and the Pharisees accuse him of operating by the power of Beelzebul. Jesus takes up the Pharisees’ charge first, then discredits his family as witnesses. The chiastic order is the same in this discourse. 27. Rhetorica ad Herennium 1.9.14.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

199

from the exordium/propositio to the probatio. The comment provides a brief explanation of the second heading of the citation but is separated from the actual probatio by the narrative insertion, “and he continued saying to them” (καὶ ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς). The transition is arranged in balanced, periodic style, giving it a ring of impressiveness and making it easy to remember:28 ἀφέντες τὴν ἐντολὴν τοῦ θεοῦ κρατεῖτε τὴν παράδοσιντῶν ἀνθρώπων

This period forms the first of three parallel assertions by Jesus from v. 8 to v. 13, all of which claim that the scribes and Pharisees have violated God’s word (vv. 8, 9, 13). The very next verse (9) picks up on the theme that becomes the main point of the first heading. PROBATIO: FIRST HEADING After the narrative comment, “And he continued saying to them,” and with the repetition of the introductory word “Well” (καλῶς), Jesus develops the first heading of the probatio (vv. 9–13). As noted earlier, the narrator introduces the speech with the aorist phrase, “And he said to them.” The narrator’s second comment, “and he continued to say to them,” interrupts the discourse just enough to alert the reader to the transition from exordium/propositio to probatio. Its use of the imperfect tense, in contrast to the first comment in the aorist tense, smoothly—almost unnoticeably—carries the speech forward.29 Later, at v. 18, the narrator uses the present tense to describe Jesus’s address to his disciples alone. The use of anaphora (καλῶς . . . καλῶς) 28. Aristotle (Rhetoric 3.9.3) defines the periodic sentence as one that “has a beginning and an end in itself and a magnitude that can be easily grasped.” It is both pleasant and easy to learn: “pleasant because it is the opposite of that which is unlimited, because the hearer at every moment thinks he is securing something for himself and that some conclusion has been reached. . . . It is easy to learn, because it can be easily retained in the memory.” The periodic sentence is to be opposed to the “continuous style,” which “has no end in itself and only stops when the sense is complete. For Demetrius (On Style 1.10), the periodic sentence is one consisting of several colas or phrases, “arranged dexterously to fit the thought to be expressed.” It has “a certain rounding and concentration at the end.” 29. For this use of the imperfect, see Smyth, Greek Grammar, 427, and Archibald Thomas Robertson, A Grammar of the Greek New Testament in the Light of Historical Research (Nashville: Broadman, 1934), 838, 883–84.

200

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

links the probatio to the exordium and adds force to Jesus’s claim of the scribes’ and Pharisees’ “rejection” of God’s command:30 “Well did Isaiah prophesy of you. . . . Well do you reject God’s command.” This period forms the beginning of the development of the first heading in the probatio, implying that the scribes and Pharisees are not qualified to accuse Jesus’s disciples of uncleanness because they themselves are in violation of God’s command. The opening remark of the narration almost reduplicates the final period of the exordium/propositio, but not exactly. The propositio had ended with the statement “leaving the command of God, you hold to human tradition.” The first heading begins with the phrase “you reject the command of God, in order to hold to your tradition.” The force of the accusation is now heightened with the use of the verb “reject” (ἀθετεῖτε). The scribes and Pharisees not only “leave” (ἀφέντες) God’s commandment (v. 8), but now they also “reject” it (v. 9). This remark, too, is balanced in periodic form: καλῶς ἀθετεῖτε τὴν ἐντολὴν τοῦ θεοῦ, ἵνα τὴν παράδοσιν ὑμῶν στήσητε.

In the first heading, Jesus offers proof for this assertion, primarily through the use of a combined deductive/inductive argument:31 For Moses said, “Honor your father and your mother”; and “Whoever speaks evil of father or mother is to die”; but you say, “If one tells his or her father or mother, ‘What you would have gained from me is Korban’ (that is, given to God)”—then you no longer permit that person to do anything for father or mother, thus making void the word of God through your traditions which you hand on. And many similar such things you do.

At first glance, Jesus’s proof appears to be a paradeigm, an example of the religious leaders’ rejection of God’s word. For modern readers, 30. See Demetrius, On Style 5.268; anaphora is “the repetition, with emphasis, of the same word or phrase at the beginning of several successive clauses.” Cf. Smyth, Greek Grammar, 673. 31. The technique is similar to the defense based upon contrary laws (leges contrariae), in which it is argued that the law cancels out itself through contradiction. Rather than claiming that the law conflicts with itself, however, Jesus argues that the elders’ traditions conflict with the commands of God. The obvious conclusion, then, is that the former are to be rejected because they are opposed to God’s laws. See Rhetorica ad Herennium 1.11.19–20.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

201

the example is a notorious crux: to what practice does the narrator refer?32 Fortunately, whatever historical practice lay behind the reference to Korban here, the narrator has supplied sufficient material for understanding its function in this discourse. Though the law had commanded that people provide for their parents and had condemned those who would curse their parents (the citations are from Exod 20:12 and 21:16), the Jewish leaders had found a “loophole” in their tradition of Korban. The tradition permitted people to call their possessions “Korban,” that is, given to God. Evidently, by declaring their possessions “given to God,” these individuals no longer were bound to provide for their parents as the law had commanded. With their traditions, then, the scribes and Pharisees had skillfully nullified the command of God. The final explanation that “many similar such things” they do makes the overall appearance of the argument inductive, viz., many of the elders’ traditions conflict with God’s command, therefore the traditions of the elders would make void God’s word. Nevertheless, the inductive argument achieves its force through its enthymematic structure. Thus, though the Korban tradition is an example of how the elders voided God’s word, Jesus uses the example in the form of an enthymeme—that is, in the form of a logical, deductive argument against the scribes and Pharisees. As has already been observed, it is characteristic of enthymemes that certain steps in their argumentation are deleted (“length causes obscurity” and “states much that is obvious.”33). Supplying the lacking parts of this enthymeme, one can reconstruct the reasoning: 1. God’s word commands people to care for their parents. 2. The scribes and Pharisees forbid people who have called their sustenance “Korban” to care for their parents. 32. The Greek κορβᾶν renders the Aramaic ‫ קורבני‬and refers literally to an “offering” or “gift”; see BDAG, 144. Guelich (Mark 1–8:26, 368–69) cites evidence that in the time of Jesus, the term also could mean “vow,” which meaning it might have here. See Joseph Fitzmyer, “The Aramaic Qorban Inscription from Jebel Hallet Et-turi and Mk 7:11/Mt 15:5,” JBL 78 (1959): 60–65; Solomon Zeitlin, “Korban,” JQR 53, no. 2 (1962): 160–63; Solomon Zeitlin, “Korban: A Gift,” JQR 59, no. 2 (1968): 133–35; K. H. Rengstorff, “κορβᾶν,” TDNT, 3:862; Z. W. Falk, “On Talmudic Vows,” HTR 59, no. 3 (1966): 309–12; D. J. M. Derrett, “Κορβᾶν, ὅ ἐστιν, Δῶρον,” NTS 16 (1969/70): 364–68; and A. I. Baumgarten, “Korban and the Pharisaic Paradosis,” JANES 16–17 (1984/85): 5–17. 33. Aristotle, Rhetoric 2.22.3.

202

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

3. Therefore, the scribes and Pharisees reject the word of God by their tradition. 4. Since they reject God’s word, the traditions of the scribes and Pharisees are wrong. 5. Therefore, Jesus’s disciples committed no crime and are ritually clean. The enthymeme is forceful for several reasons. First, the entire syllogism is neatly balanced between the opposite positions represented by what Moses says and what the religious leaders say: Μωϋσῆς γὰρ εἶπεν . . . ὑμεῖς δὲ λέγετε. This use of antithesis clearly shows the error of the Pharisees by contrast, and embellishes the style by giving the proof “impressiveness and distinction.”34 Second, according to the handbooks, the use of a foreign term is expected to excite emotion and elicit admiration.35 The use of the Aramaic κορβᾶν does give this speech a certain “foreign air,” enhancing Jesus’s authority for the readers of the Gospel by showing his knowledge of the Aramaic terms for the rabbinic traditions. Finally, the choice of an enthymeme itself as proof is commended in the rhetorical handbooks. As Aristotle suggests, “arguments . . . which depend upon enthymemes meet with greater approval.”36 The conclusion of the enthymeme in v. 13 uses terminology similar to that in the transition statement of v. 8 and in the first sentence of the probatio in v. 9. Verses 12–13a read οὐκέτι ἀφίετε αὐτὸν οὐδὲν ποιῆσαι τῷ πατρὶ ἢ τῇ μητρί, ἀκυροῦντες τὸν λόγοντοῦ θεοῦ τῇ παραδόσει ὑμῶν ἧ παρεδώκατε. Again, the clause is poignantly worded to emphasize the wrongdoing of the scribes and Pharisees. This final form of the charge against the scribes and Pharisees appears as the climax of the brief section, summing up the first heading and serving to incite more anger against the scribes and Pharisees from the crowd in the narrative world and the readers of the Gospel. The transition accused the scribes and Pharisees of leaving 34. Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.9.8. Antithesis is “the contrast of ideas expressed by words which are the opposite of, or are closely contrasted with each other.” Smyth, Greek Grammar, 674. 35. See Aristotle, Rhetoric 3.2.3, 3.7.11. 36. Ibid., 1.2.10–11.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

203

the commandment of God for human tradition; the probatio began by accusing them of rejecting God’s commandment for such tradition; the first heading now culminates with the accusation that they nullify the word of God with their traditions. Through the figure of climax, the sentences seem to “climb higher and higher,” adding power to the charge.37 Further, the first heading is held together by the inclusio that the repetition makes and is syntactically and thematically linked to the exordium. The audience is compelled to agree with Jesus that the vituperation uttered by Isaiah centuries before was actually an indictment against the present prosecutors of Jesus for rejecting God’s word with their tradition. Even though the section is extremely brief, as Quintilian suggests,38 Jesus has thus achieved his attack against his prosecutors by proving that they are the ones who have violated God’s law, and that he is the true interpreter of that law. The heading effectively discredits the traditions of the elders, since these traditions break God’s word. Moreover, since they follow the traditions of the elders, the first heading also discredits the scribes and Pharisees and leaves them the guilty parties in the rhetorical situation. Thus, Jesus’s first response to the accusations of the scribes and Pharisees that his disciples are unclean because they eat with unclean hands is to discredit the “laws” used by the scribes and Pharisees to define ritual cleanness. More than this, however, Jesus actually points out that the traditions held to by his accusers violate God’s word. Thus, if anyone is guilty in the situation, Jesus implies, it is the scribes and the Pharisees. The effect could hardly have been missed by the first-century audience. SECOND HEADING At this point, the narrator again interrupts the discourse, this time to say, “And he called the crowd to him again, and was saying to them . . .” (καὶ προσκαλεσάμενος πάλιν τὸν ὄχλον ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς). The crowd, which had been with Jesus before his crossing of the sea and 37. Demetrius, On Style 5.270. Climax is “an arrangement of clauses in succession whereby the last important word of one is repeated as the first important word of the next, each clause in turn surpassing its predecessor in the importance of the thought.” 38. Quintilian, Institutes 3.6.80–82.

204

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

had gathered to him again in Gennesaret, is summoned so that Jesus might expand upon his speech with a comparison (see v. 17). The presence of the crowd and Jesus’s choice to address them in comparisons is reminiscent of the previous two discourses, where Jesus speaks to the crowds in such fashion. In the imperfect tense, the narrative comment “and he was saying to them” forms a smooth backdrop to the discourse, moving the probatio from the first heading to the second. The issue developed in the second heading, as already hinted in the exordium/propositio, will be that of what makes a person unclean before God. The tradition of the elders had decreed that eating with unwashed hands rendered one unclean. In the comparison offered in v. 15, however, and in the subsequent interpretation, Jesus points out that it is what comes from the heart that defiles a person. The actual comparison is introduced with the phrase “All of you: hear me and understand!” (ἀκούσατε μου πάντες καὶ σύνετε). The connection between this call and the similar calls in the previous discourse cannot be missed. As it is in this discourse, the call to hear in chapter 4 was also linked to comparisons and to one’s ability or willingness to understand. In repeating the exhortation in this discourse, Jesus again calls out (προσκαλεσάμενος) the good earth from the crowd, since it is only the good earth that will understand his presentation. But the inclusion of the nominative πάντες (“All of you”) indicates that Jesus expects that anyone who is willing to listen can understand what he is about to say. If this is so, it would confirm what was concluded in chapter 4, that a person’s “earth type” is based upon that person’s choice about how they will hear the preaching of the kingdom. As was pointed out earlier, in rhetoric the παραβολή forms an inductive proof drawn from everyday experience and takes its conclusion from an inductively gathered principle. Most scholars have ignored Mark’s reference to this comparison since it does not fit the usual definitions of παραβολή. Nevertheless, in spite of modern parable scholarship but in agreement with the rhetorical definitions of the first century, the παραβολή here is a comparison drawn from everyday experience. This comparison derives from the normal

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

205

actions of eating and excrement. Jesus’s point is that food, which enters a person, is not “dirty”—that is, people do not eat physically dirty things. Instead, it is one’s excrement that is considered “dirty”: what comes out of a person is what is unclean. The simple point of the comparison is the contrast between the “cleanness” of food verses the “filthiness” of excrement. The actual interpretation of the comparison will be given in the following verses. It is likely that modern parable scholarship has missed the simplicity of the comparative illustration because scholarship’s definition of παραβολή has been too restrictive. Furthermore, the problem has also been complicated by modern scholarship’s avid desire to remove parables from their rhetorical contexts.39 Nevertheless, Mark does provide an interpretive context for this comparison (as he does with all comparisons). The narrative introduction of 7:1–5 has clearly set up the question to be discussed: “Is the act of eating without washed hands a ‘dirty’ act?” If this is the question to be resolved, the actual point of the comparison should pertain to the act of eating. In the comparison itself, then, drawn from everyday life, one should understand what is “outside a person entering that person” to be food. The opposite of that, what “comes out of a person,” would be excrement. The form of the comparison is antithetical, highlighting the contrast between outside things that go in, and outside things that have come out. οὐδέν ἐστιν ἔξωθεν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου εἰσπορευόμενον εἰς αὐτὸν ὃδύναται κοινῶσαι αὐτόν, ἀλλὰ τὰ ἐκ τοῦἀνθρώπου ἐκπορευόμενά ἐστιν τὰ κοινοῦντα τὸνἄνθρωπον.

The clauses are similarly constructed, each with the predicate consisting of something “outside” plus a participle indicating motion, followed by the main verb, a form of “defile” (κοινῶσαι and κοινοῦντα), and a direct object. The double use of a form of the verb κοινεῖν reminds the reader of the original narrative introduction and the question raised by the scribes and Pharisees about the disciples’ eating with unwashed hands. Since food enters the person at the 39. See, e.g., Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition, 18, and Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, 374–75.

206

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

mouth, the comparison is also connected to the first part of the Isaian citation, which speaks of the Pharisees’ concern for cleanness of the “lips.” Thus, it becomes clear that the comparison is the beginning of the second heading, returning to and developing the theme introduced in the first part of the exordium/propositio, and serving as the actual refutation of the charge of the scribes and Pharisees.40 These prosecutors had charged that Jesus’s disciples were made unclean by eating with unwashed hands. Jesus refutes the charge by redefining cleanness in terms of what comes out of a person, although thus far the refutation is in the form of a comparison without a given referent. What is the referent of the comparison? In chapters 3 and 4, it was seen that Jesus typically gave comparisons to the crowds while only privately providing referents or interpretations to “those with ears.” The same pattern emerges here. In v. 17, the narrator moves Jesus into a house away from the crowd where the disciples ask Jesus about the comparison, and he provides them alone with its interpretation. The move into private quarters is narrated in the present and the imperfect tenses: “And he says to them . . . and he was continuing to say. . . .” The importance of this final section of the discourse is highlighted by the tense changes in this narrative comment. In the narrative transitions before the exordium/propositio, before the first heading, and before the comparison that forms the beginning of the second heading, the narrator made use of the aorist and the imperfect tenses: “And he said to them . . . and he continued to say to them . . . and he continued to say to them. . . .” In this final narrative comment, however, the narrator’s use of the historic present brings the interpretation of the comparison to the forefront of the discourse,41 stressing both its rhetorical role as refutation of the charge against Jesus (primary rhetoric) and its narrative role of showing the disciples as insiders with privileged information (secondary rhetoric). In light of our analysis above of the discourse in chapter 4, the 40. The refutation is “that part of an oration in which arguments are used to impair, disprove, or weaken the confirmation or proof in our opponents' speech.” Cicero, De Inventione 1.42.78. Concerning refutation, Aristotle (Rhetoric 2.25.1) says an argument may be refuted either by a counter-syllogism or by bringing an objection. 41. Cf. [Longinus], On the Sublime 25.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

207

disciples’ question about what the comparison means is not surprising. Nor is Jesus’s first response to the question: “Even you are without understanding?” (οὕτως καὶ ὑμεῖς ἀσύνετοί ἐστε). The subject is emphatic, and it is placed adjacent to the adjective ἀσύνετοί. By asking about the comparison, the disciples, who are supposed to be insiders, reveal their inability to hear and understand. Jesus’s counterquestion acknowledges the irony of the disciples’ question: to them has been given the secret of the kingdom of God (4:11), yet just prior to this episode they were declared to have had hard hearts (6:51–52). Now, hearing the comparison about purity, they prove that they see but do not perceive. They have not yet heeded the deliberative speech in chapter 4 that called them to listen. Jesus follows his first question with a second, which actually constitutes his explanation of the comparison: Do you not realize that nothing outside though entering a person is able to defile that person, because it does not enter the person’s heart, but the stomach, and it comes out into the latrine?

The interpretation is similar in technique to the interpretation of the earth types in chapter 4 in that each point of the comparison is taken one at a time and explained. The first point of comparison has to do with “that which is outside entering a person,” which in the comparison could not make a person unclean. Now, in v. 19, one gets the rationale: nothing entering a person from the outside can defile that person because it contacts the stomach, not the heart. Since the Isaian citation had established the need for the heart and not the lips to be right with God, only that which contacts the heart can defile a person. That the comparison deals with food is now confirmed with the giving of the referent, since it is explained that what is outside contacts the stomach, and since the narrator explains that Jesus is actually declaring “all food clean.”42 The second part of the comparison had to do with “that which is 42. Some attempt to explain this narrative comment as a gloss, but there is no textual evidence for this. See Ernst Lohmeyer, Das Evangelium des Markus, Übersetzt und erklärt (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1937), 142; and Nineham, Mark, 196. Further, the comment is natural since, as it has been seen, the issue of the speech arose out of the question regarding purity in eating habits. The narrative comment confirms the rightness of Jesus’s position in his discourse. Interestingly, Ian H. Henderson (Jesus, Rhetoric, and Law [Leiden: Brill, 1996], 390–91)

208

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

outside the person, which comes out of the person.” We suggested that Jesus was contrasting eating with excrement in the comparison. My understanding of the comparison is now confirmed by Jesus’s interpretation, where what is eaten is spoken of as “coming out into the latrine.” In the comparison, then, what was dirty was excrement; in the referent, what is dirty, what comes out of a person, consists of evil works that have their origins in the heart of the individual and, like excrement, come out from within. Thus, the referent to the comparison demonstrates that food cannot defile a person, but only evil deeds that have their origins within a person’s heart can. At this point, then, it becomes obvious that Jesus is actually presenting a sort of enthymeme through the comparison and its interpretation.43 The enthymeme can be reconstructed as follows: 1. Only things that contact the heart can defile one. 2. External things (such as food) do not come into contact with the heart. 3. Therefore, external things cannot defile one. Of course, the implication for the disciples is that they have not broken God’s law by eating food with unwashed hands. The issue clarified by the enthymeme is one of definition.44 What defiles a person? (Notice again the use of the term κοινεῖν.) The scribes and Pharisees, after the traditions of the elders, have claimed that unclean hands defile a person. Having already discredited the traditions of the elders, Jesus now defines the law of uncleanness in argues, convincingly in our opinion, that in Rom 14:14, Paul shows knowledge of v. 19 and its “gnomic” character. 43. Indeed, the comparison itself appears to be the conclusion of the enthymeme. This is consonant with its maxim like character: “Maxims are premises or conclusions of enthymemes without the syllogism.” Aristotle, Rhetoric 2.21.2. See also ibid., 3.17.17, “One should also sometimes change enthymemes into moral maxims.” 44. More generally referred to as the status finitionis, Cicero refers to it as constitutio definitiva. In the status finitionis there is a dispute about the name of an act described or the meaning of a law; here, the defense can define the law in a certain way and then show that the action does not square with the law. For the defendant, there is the possibility of expressing indignation that the prosecutor attempts to put them in jeopardy not only by distorting the facts but also by altering the meaning of the language. Cicero De Inventione 2.23.55–56. See also Aristotle, Rhetoric 2.23.8, and Quintilian, Institutes 7.3.4.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

209

terms of the heart (“what defiles a person is what comes out of a person . . . out of the heart”), taking his cue from the Isaian citation (“this people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me”). With this definition of uncleanness, Jesus is able to exonerate the disciples from the Pharisees’ charge of being ritually unclean. Since nothing entering the stomach can defile an individual, eating with unwashed hands has not defiled the disciples.45 Ironically, however, though the Pharisees, the crowds, and even the disciples may not know it, Jesus (within the narrative) and the readers (outside the narrative) are aware that the disciples are defiled by Jesus’s own definition, for no matter about their hands, they have already hardened their hearts (6:52). Thus, though they are repeatedly included on the “inside” when Jesus reveals the mystery of the kingdom, they prove themselves to be rocky earth throughout the rest of the narrative. Eventually, the hardness of the disciples’ heart will lead to their falling away during the tribulation of the crucifixion. 46 45. Cf. M. Fitzpatrick, “From Ritual Observance to Ethics: The Argument of Mark 7.1–23,” ABR 35 (1987): 22–27, who agrees that the argument of 7:1–23 is coherent and sets that argument in the context of a supposed Markan community, where the passage presumably renders valueless the cultic laws of the Jews for the church. 46. It is significant that the disciples’ hearts are hardened in 6:52 over the issue of bread, which serves a sort of “comparative” or “parabolic” function in the Gospel, with its referent being the kingdom. In 6:52, Jesus has just walked across the surface of the sea and calmed a storm. The narrator reports that the disciples were terribly afraid, but not because of the immediate miracle—they were afraid “because they did not understand about the bread [at the feeding of the five thousand], and their hearts were hardened.” The very next episode in the Gospel is 6:53–7:23, and the issue here arises over nothing other than the disciples’ eating of bread! Though in 7:1–23 it is the Pharisees who are shown to misunderstand the bread, the reader of the Gospel is aware that the disciples are also guilty of misunderstanding bread. This latter point will be reinforced a few verses later, when the disciples show a complete inability to understand either the feeding of bread to the four and five thousand or Jesus’s warning to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees (8:14–21). Only the Syro-Phoenician woman whose daughter was possessed and whose depiction graphically contrasts with that of the Pharisees and the disciples, is able to understand the simple matter of bread. She understands what Jesus says about bread and requests the “crumbs” that fall under that table. The narrator plainly endorses her understanding: “For this saying you may go your way; the demon has left your daughter.” Thus, the “parable” of bread becomes a narrative tool by which the narrator marks the kind of earth the characters in the Gospel are. The Pharisees and scribes reject the disciples’ eating of bread, as well as Jesus’s “eating” and his plucking of grain on the Sabbath (see 2:18–3:6), and prove themselves to be the earth beside the path, which immediately loses its seed. The disciples participate in several meals with bread, and even see Jesus miraculously increase the loaves of bread to feed four and five thousand people. Nevertheless, though they spring up quickly and appear to be productive earth, they consistently prove themselves “hard-hearted,” and they fail to understand the bread. They are rocky earth. Only the Syro-Phoenician woman understands the issue of the bread, and her daughter is healed as a result. She proves herself to be “good earth” because of her simple faith. Cf. the “feast” of Herod, where his reverence for the prophet

210

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The strength of the enthymeme lies in several factors. First, by actually refuting the claim of the scribes and Pharisees, the enthymeme becomes clearer, and therefore, more compelling.47 Second, the enthymeme has apparently been inferred from the Isaian citation. The deduction therefore is not only backed by the authority of Jesus (who has been shown to bear divine authority all through the Gospel), it is also backed by the Scriptures themselves. Jesus correctly interprets laws regarding ritual cleanness by citing other Scripture. Finally, the enthymeme is strengthened by the list of examples (Aristotle’s second kind of “artistic” proof) given in vv. 20–23: What comes out of a person is what defiles a person. For from within, out of a person’s heart, come evil thoughts, fornication, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, and foolishness. All these evil things come out from within, and they defile a person.

EPILOGUE This final part of the discourse is marked off by the narrative comment “And he was saying” and by the inclusio “What comes out of a person defiles a person [v. 20] . . . they defile a person [v. 23],” again making use of the issue raised by the religious leaders, κοινεῖν. These two rhetorical devices serve to mark off this final section as the epilogue of the discourse. As an epilogue, the section serves several functions. First, it rounds off the discourse with a reference back to the exordium/propositio, which began with the concern for the purity of the heart. Now, in the epilogue, Jesus lists in detail the kinds of evils of the heart that truly defile a person. The discussion of “the heart” thus serves as a general inclusio for the discourse, giving the discourse thematic and rhetorical unity. Second, the epilogue strengthens the second and final heading by explaining what kinds of evils come out from within is choked out by riches and cares of this world and the rejection of the anointing of Jesus by the woman with the alabaster box by those who were more concerned with riches, presumably, Judas. This latter episode occurred while Jesus and the disciples were eating bread (14:1–9). 47. “Enthymemes that serve to refute are more popular than those that serve to demonstrate, because . . . things in juxtaposition are always clearer to the audience.” Aristotle, Rhetoric 2.23.30.

WHAT DEFILES A PERSON? (MARK 6:53–7:23)

211

a person. In other words, the epilogue continues to some extent the interpretation of the comparison of v. 15 by providing detailed examples of things that defile people. Third, the epilogue likely takes a final shot at the scribes and Pharisees by listing as things that defile people sins that have already been connected directly to the scribes and Pharisees.48 Jesus thus implicitly concludes the discourse by charging his own accusers with the religious crime of defilement. Ideally, an epilogue has three parts: the summing up, the amplification, and an emotional appeal.49 Though this discourse is extremely brief, the epilogue of the discourse performs all three expected functions. The inclusio, explaining that the heart is the place of purity and defilement, sums up the discourse; the listing of evils that come from within amplifies the final heading; and several items in the list function as an emotional appeal against the accusers. RHETORICAL OVERVIEW The discourse of 6:53–7:23 would thus have been heard as coherent and clear in terms of Greco-Roman rhetorical theory by its firstcentury readers. Indeed, clarity is one of its strengths.50 By avoiding extensive use of metaphors and ornate language, the speech comes across as unpretentious; yet the persuasive enthymemes, the light periodic style of much of the speech (especially contrasted against Mark’s usual simple, paratactic style), and the effective use of figures make the speech powerful and direct. Though elements of the “plain” style are present, helping accomplish its teaching function,51 the discourse really aspires to the grand or forceful style, with the goal of moving the audience to Jesus’s position. Responding to the accusations by the scribes and Pharisees that Jesus’s disciples defile themselves vis-à-vis the traditions of the elders, 48. Jesus begins the list of defiling sins with οἱ διαλογισμοὶ οἱ κακοὶ. Though as a noun διαλογισμοὶ only occurs in Mark’s Gospel here, the verbal form has already been used three times exclusively of the Jewish leaders who “reason within their hearts” against Jesus (2:6, 8[2x]). The mention of “adulteries” (μοιχεῖαι) will be used again to describe this “adulterous and sinful generation” (8:38). Especially telling is the listing of “blasphemy” (βλασφημία), which term has already been used to condemn the scribes in 3:28–29. 49. Cf. Cicero, De Inventione 1.52.98. 50. For Aristotle (Rhetoric 3.2.1), clarity is the chief virtue in a speech. 51. Cicero (Orator 20.69) identifies the plain style as best suited for teaching.

212

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Jesus discredits the elders’ traditions and consequently his accusers themselves, and redefines ritual cleanness in terms of the heart. As such, he is in line with the Isaian citation, which was concerned with issues of the heart, and he declares all food clean. Furthermore, he has again proven his rhetorical adroitness, powerfully refuting the charges of the religious leaders. The discourse is not fragmented, incoherent, or thematically inconsistent. It is a succinct, effective response to Jesus’s enemies patterned after Jesus’s emerging discursive procedure of public comparison followed by private interpretation.

6. The Marvel of the Coming Son of Man (Mark 11:27–13:37)

And they come again into Jerusalem. And while he was walking in the temple the chief priests and the scribes and the elders came to him, and they were saying: “By what authority are you doing these things? And who gave to you this authority to do these things?” And Jesus said to them, “I will ask you a question, and you answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I do these things. The baptism of John, was it from heaven or from humans? Answer me.” And they were discussing among themselves saying, “If we say, ‘from heaven,’ he will say ‘then why did you not believe it?’ But if we say ‘from humans’”—for they were fearing the crowd, since all thought John had been a prophet. And answering Jesus they say, “We do not know.” And Jesus says to them, “Neither do I tell you by what authority I do these things.” And to them he began to speak in comparisons: “A man planted a vineyard. And he surrounded it with a fence, and he dug a vat, and he built a tower, and he gave it to tenants, and he left. And in time he sent to the tenants a slave in order from the

214

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

tenants to receive from the fruit of the vineyard. And they, receiving him, beat him and sent him away empty. And again he sent to them another slave. And that one they beat in the head and dishonored. And another he sent; And that one they killed. And many others, Some of whom they beat, others of whom they killed. He still had one, his beloved son. He sent him to them lastly saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ But those tenants said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and ours will be the inheritance.’ And receiving him they killed him, and they threw him out of the vineyard.” “What, then, will the Lord of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others. Neither this scripture have you read: ‘The stone that the builders rejected, this has been made the head of the corner. For this is from the Lord, And it is a marvel to our eyes’?” And they sought to arrest him, and they were afraid of the crowd, for they knew that he spoke the comparison about them. And leaving, they went away. And they send to him certain of the Pharisees and Herodians in order to trap him in his words. And coming they say to him, “Teacher, we know that you are true and that nothing upsets you; for you do not look upon human faces, but in truth you teach the way of God. Is it lawful to give taxes to Caesar or not? Should we give or not give?” And knowing their hypocrisy he said to them, “Why do you test me? Bring to me a denarius so that I may look at it.” And they brought him one. And he says to them, “Whose is the image and the inscription?” And they told him, “Caesar.” And Jesus said to them, “The things belonging to Caesar, give to Caesar, and the things belonging to God, to God.” And they remained amazed at him. And the Sadducees come to him (they say that there is no resurrection from the dead), and they were asking him saying,

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

215

“Teacher, Moses wrote to us that if any man dies and leaves a wife but no child, his brother is to take the wife and raise a seed for his brother. There were seven brothers, and the first took a wife, and he died without seed. And the second took her, and he died without leaving seed. And the third also, and the seven—they did not leave seed. Last of all the woman also died. At the resurrection whose wife will the woman be?” And Jesus said to them, “Is it not because of this that you are deceived—because you do not know the scripture or the power of God? Concerning the dead, that they are raised, have you not read in the book of Moses the account of the bush where God spoke to him saying, ‘I am the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? God is not the God of the dead but of the living. You are very deceived.” And one of the scribes approached having heard them discussing, seeing that he answered them well, he asked him, “What is the first command of all?” And Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord, and you are to love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You are to love your neighbor as yourself.’ Greater commands than these there are not.” And the scribe said to him, “You answer well, Teacher. In truth you say, ‘He is one and there is no other,’ and ‘to love him with all the heart and all the mind and all the strength,’ and ‘to love a neighbor more is better than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.’” And Jesus, seeing that he answered thoughtfully, said to him, “You are not far from the Kingdom of God.” And no one dared ask him anything further. And answering, Jesus was saying while teaching in the temple, “How is it the scribes say that the Christ is the son of David? David himself said in the Holy Spirit, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, “Sit at my right hand until I put your enemies under your feet.”’ David thus calls him ‘Lord’; how can he be his son?” And the large crowd was listening to him with delight. And in his teaching he was saying, “Watch out for the scribes who want to walk in long robes and to be greeted in the market places and to sit up front in the synagogues and to recline at the head of the table at dinner; who devour the houses of widows and in a show pray a long time; these will receive greater judgment.” And sitting opposite the offering box he was watching how the

216

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

crowd cast money into the offering box. And many wealthy were casting in much. And a poor widow coming cast in two lepta. And calling his disciples he said to them, “In truth I tell you that this poor widow has cast in more than all those casting into the offering box. For all these out of their abundance cast in, but this one out of her poverty has cast in her whole life.” And as he was going out of the temple one of the disciples says to him: “Teacher, look! What wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!” And Jesus said to him: “You’re looking at these great buildings? Not even a stone will be left here on another stone that will not be destroyed.” And as he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter and James and John and Andrew asked him: “Tell us when these things will be, and what is the sign when all these things are about to be consummated?” And Jesus began to say to them: “Look, lest any of you be deceived; many will come in my name saying, ‘I am he,’ and many will be deceived. But whenever you hear of wars and reports of wars, do not be shaken. It necessarily happens, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes everywhere; there will be famines. These form the beginning of the birth pangs. “But you, Look to yourselves. They will deliver you into the Sanhedrins; in the councils you will be beaten; and before rulers and kings you will stand on account of me as witnesses to them. And to all nations first the Gospel must be preached. “And when they lead you delivering you up, do not worry beforehand what you will say; but what you will say will be given to you in that hour; for it will not be you speaking, but the Holy Spirit. “And brother will deliver brother to death and father child; and children will rise up against parents and they will kill them. And you will be hated by all on account of my name. “And whoever endures to the end, this one will be saved. “Whenever you see the desolating sacrilege standing where it ought not” (let the reader understand), “then those in Judea should flee to the mountains, and the one on

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

217

the roof should not come down and enter to take anything out of the house, and the one in the field should not return to get a garment. And woe to pregnant women and to those nursing in those days! And pray that it not happen in winter. For those days will be destruction such as there has not been since the beginning of creation that God created, until now, and there shall not ever be such. And unless the Lord cut the days short, no flesh would be saved; but because of the elect whom he elected he will cut the days short. “And then if anyone says to you ‘Look! Here is the Christ; Look there!’ do not believe it. For many false christs will arise and false prophets, and they will give signs and wonders to deceive, if possible, the elect. “But you, Look! I have told you all things beforehand. “But in those days after that destruction, The sun will be darkened and the moon will not give light, and the stars will be falling out of the heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. “And they will see the Son of man coming in the clouds with much power and glory. And then he will send the angels and gather the elect out of the four winds from the corner of the earth to the corner of heaven. “From the fig tree learn this comparison: whenever already its branch becomes productive and it puts out leaves, you know that the summer is near. Thus even you, whenever you see these things beginning, know that it is near at the door. “In truth I tell you that in no way will this generation pass until all these things happen. Heaven and earth will pass, but these my words will in no way pass. “But of that day or the hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven nor the Son; only the Father. “Look! Be alert! For you do not know when that time will be. “It is like a person on a journey leaving the house and giving to his slaves authority to each to do their work, and to the door keeper he commands, ‘Watch!’ “Therefore, Watch! For you do not know when the lord of the house is coming, whether at evening, or at mid-

218

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

night, or at the rooster crow, or at dawn, lest coming suddenly he may find you sleeping. “Therefore that which to you I say to all I say, ‘Watch!’”1

The “apocalyptic discourse” of Mark 13 forms a part of the final discourse nexus of the second Gospel. Like the parable discourse of Mark 4, the so-called apocalyptic discourse has been the object of immense study. As Gaston comments, “there is perhaps no single chapter of the synoptic Gospels which has been so much commented upon in modern times as Mark 13.”2 It is the apocalyptic character of Mark 13 that has generated much of the interest scholars have had with its discourse. Since as early as the 1860s, with the work of Timothée Colani,3 it has been argued that the discourse is actually an adaptation of an earlier Jewish or Christian apocalyptic fly sheet (Flugblatt) produced in the first century CE and adapted by Mark or a preMarkan Christian redactor. Though those who have argued for this pre-Markan “Flugblatt” have not agreed on the provenance of the document or how it should be reconstructed, most have agreed that the redactor responsible for the discourse as it appears in Mark has not effectively integrated their own traditions into the apocalypse, resulting in a poorly constructed discourse.4 Wilfred Knox’s objections to the coherency of the discourse are typical of those who posit an apocalyptic Flugblatt behind Mark 13.5 He assumes that various strata were brought together and amended 1. Translation ours. Since this translation attempts to represent more strictly the rhetorical forms of the original, it is often awkward by standards of English grammar and syntax. 2. Lloyd Gaston, No Stone on Another (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1970), 8. See also the statement by G. R. Beasley-Murray, Jesus and the Future (London: Macmillan, 1954), ix–x: “The literature on the subject is immense. Every writer who has dealt with the life and teaching of Jesus has had his say on the eschatological discourse. It has been a happy hunting ground for scholars with a flair for ingenuity; every Gospel critic has made his own contribution; every commentator on the Synoptic Gospels has struggled with its mysteries.” For a bibliography, see Pesch, Naherwartungen, 19–47, and David Wenham, “Recent Study of Mark 13,” TSFBul 71 (1975): 6–15; 72 (1975): 1–9. 3. Timothée Colani, Jésus Christ et les croyances messianiques de son Temps (Strasbourg: Treuttel et Wurtz, 1864). 4. D. Taylor (Mark’s Gospel as Literature, 291) puts it bluntly: “It is obvious that this section is a collection of scattered fragments on a unified theme.” 5. Wilfred L. Knox, The Sources of the Synoptic Gospels, vol. 1, St. Mark, ed. H. Chadwick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953), 105ff. See also Marxsen, [Mark the Evangelist], 151–206; Nineham, Mark, 346–62; F. Flückiger, “Die Redaktion der Zukunftsrede in Mark.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

219

to a Christian apocalypse originating during the Caligula crisis of the early 40s CE.6 This apocalypse was originally designed to warn its readers that the end was near, but later editors added material in such a way as to postpone the end until after a series of cosmic events. The fusion of the two viewpoints creates general confusion in the chapter. According to Knox, the basic fly sheet is preserved in 13:14–20. Verses 5b–7 probably constituted an independent saying, and Mark inserted it here. Verse 8 is a doublet of v. 7, while the saying of vv. 5b–6 is repeated at vv. 21–23. But vv. 21–23 do not belong to the original apocalypse; they were added after the apocalypse and prior to Mark’s use of the material. Thematically, vv. 9–11 are out of place and interrupt the logical flow from v. 8 to v. 12. Miscellaneous material is sprinkled throughout the chapter, such as the parable of the fig tree, about which Knox observes: As it stands it is grotesque; it is somewhat late to realize that the end of all things is at hand, when you see “all these things” coming to pass, since “all these things” are presumably the final coming of the Son of Man on the clouds of heaven.7

Verses 33–37 form a homiletic conclusion, apparently a fragmentary survival of a fuller parable. After various redactional stages, then, Mark compiled the whole into the discourse as it now stands. Knox explains: “We have thus what might appear to be a mosaic of 13,” TZ 26, no. 6 (1970): 395–409; Egon Brandenburger, Markus 13 und die Apokalyptik (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1984). 6. Brandenburger (Markus 13) agrees that the Flugblatt was Christian in origin, arguing that the original Flugblatt was composed after the outbreak of the Roman war (66 CE) but before the destruction of Jerusalem. It was composed, he argues, by a Christian Jew who wanted to convince the Christian community to remain in Jerusalem. A later editor made alterations after the destruction of Jerusalem to bring it into harmony with the actuality of the war. See also James G. Crossley, The Date of Mark’s Gospel (London: T&T Clark International, 2004); N. H. Taylor, “Palestinian Christianity and the Caligula Crisis, Part I. Social and Historical Reconstruction,” JSNT 61 (1996): 101–24; and N. H. Taylor, “Palestinian Christianity and the Caligula Crisis, Part II. The Markan Eschatological the Discourse,” JSNT 62 (1996): 13–41, who argue that the discourse material behind Mark 13 goes back to the early Palestinian church. Loisy, Les Évangiles synoptiques, 98–99; Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition, 125–28; Marxsen, Mark the Evangelist, 161–66; and others argue that the Flugblatt was Jewish but non-Christian originally and only later had Christian traditions added. Pesch (Naherwartungen) originally suggested that the Flugblatt was a Jewish apocalyptic published during the Caligula crisis of the early 40s, but later he altered his views and argued that it was Jewish Christian and published at the outbreak of the war, in 67 CE (Pesch, Markusevangelium, 2:266–317). 7. Knox, St. Mark, 107.

220

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

fragments.”8 But Mark and his predecessors did a poor job, according to Knox, in composing this mosaic. “As an apocalypse, the whole section is inconsistent.”9 It only becomes somewhat intelligent, Knox claims, when we realize that it is the work of “a not very intelligent editor.”10 Additionally, since the thirteenth chapter of Mark has been considered something of an intrusion into the Gospel by historical critics, its place in the context of the narrative has not generally been appreciated. Pesch’s influential Naherwartungen argued for a strict stichometric and symmetrical structure to the Gospel of Mark that did not include chapter 13, leaving him to conclude that this chapter was an intrusion into the narrative made some time after the rest of the Gospel was composed.11 Others have treated the chapter as an independent unit within the Gospel that is generally unconnected to its narrative context.12 Against these criticisms, however, several objections have been made. As early as the work of Friedrich Busch,13 a number of scholars have been able to understand the discourse as a unified presentation in light of the overall kerygma of the Gospel. Especially persuasive has been the work of Jan Lambrecht, who has shown in graphic detail structural features that unite every section of the discourse to the whole, and who also argues persuasively for the integration of the discourse in the context of the overall Gospel. As far as its place in the Gospel, Lambrecht surveys the topography and chronology of the last five chapters and demonstrates that the discourse functions to link the ministry in Jerusalem to the passion by means of the farewell 8. Ibid. 9. Ibid., 114. 10. Ibid. See also the blunt observation of K. Schmidt, Der Rahmen der Geschichte Jesu, 290–91: “Dass die Parusierede Mk 13, 5ff. / (=Mt 24f., Lk 23) nicht aus einem Guß ist, sondern eine Kompilation darstellt—mit Recht spricht man von einer synoptischen Apokalypse—und in eine andere Traditionschicht wie 13, 1–2 gehört, ist längst erkannt.” 11. Pesch later softened his views considerably in his commentary, but he still regarded chapter 13 as an intrusion into the narrative. 12. See, e.g., Paul J. Achtemeier, Mark, 2nd ed., Proclamation Commentaries (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986), 115; Joachim Jeremias, Eucharistic Words of Jesus, trans. Norman Perrin (London: SCM, 1990), 90–93; and Kenneth Grayston, “The Study of Mark 13,” BJRL 56 (1974): 371–87. 13. Friedrich Busch, Zum Verständnis der synoptischen Eschatologie, Markus 13 neu untersucht (Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1938), 8.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

221

discourse it offers. His analysis of the speech itself is comprehensive, offering multiple examples of chiasms, lexical and stylistic inclusios, concentric patterns, and parallels.14 Other studies have also emphasized the unity of the discourse or attempted to treat it as an integral part of its narrative context.15 Especially important for our study is the work of Mary Ann Tolbert, who recognizes the special connection between the parable of 12:1–12 and the discourse of chapter 13. Against the dispersions of many historical critics, and in agreement with those who perceive the well-integrated plan of the last discourse of the Gospel, this study will point out the rhetorical integrity of the section. Using Greco-Roman rhetoric as a template, it will be seen that the discourse would have been heard as both coherent and appropriate to its narrative context by the first-century audience. THE RHETORICAL UNIT On the one hand, in the most general sense, the rhetorical unit for the last major discourse in Mark’s Gospel might appear to be the entire Jerusalem ministry of Jesus, beginning with 11:1 and ending at 13:37, in which a series of events covering three days is described. On the first day, Jesus enters the city triumphantly, but after “looking around” the city, he departs for Bethany because it was already evening (11:11). On the second day, Jesus returns to Jerusalem, and along the way he curses a fig tree for being fruitless. Once in the city, he enters the temple area where he throws out the money changers, stirring up the anger of the chief priests and the scribes. At evening, he again goes out of the city (11:19). The next morning, while on his way back into Jerusalem, the disciples notice aloud that the fig tree has withered, leading Jesus to discuss briefly the power of prayer. In 11:27, they arrive in Jerusalem where a series of discussions between 14. Lambrecht, Die Redaktion der Markus-Apokalypse. See also Morna D. Hooker, “Trial and Tribulation in Mark XIII,” BJRL 65, no. 1 (1982): 78–99, who argues that the discourse of chapter 13 skillfully links the Jerusalem ministry to the passion narrative and that the discourse itself presents a coherent message insisting upon constant vigilance. 15. See, e.g., J. A. Ruiz de Gopegui, “A vigilancia escatologica em constante conflito comas especulacoes apocalipticas. Ensaio de leitura teologica de Mc 13,” Perspectiva Teológica 20 (1988): 339–58; François Rousseau, “La structure de Marc 13,” Bib 56, no. 2 (1975): 157–72; Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus; and Vorster, “Literary Reflections on Mark 13:5–37.”

222

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Jesus and the religious leaders and between Jesus and the disciples ensue. At 14:1–3, Jesus discontinues his Jerusalem ministry, and the narrative focuses on the passion of Jesus. On the other hand, in a strict sense, the rhetorical unit for the last major discourse in Mark’s Gospel seems only to begin at 13:1 and to end at 13:37. Several of Mlakuzhyil’s criteria are met within these verses that might lead one to conclude that chapter 13 alone constitutes the rhetorical unit for the apocalyptic discourse. A minor scene change occurs in 13:1, with Jesus and his disciples moving outside the temple, where they were in chapter 12, to a position opposite the temple. With this change, Jesus is away from the crowd, which was still present in 12:37b, and is now in a private setting with the disciples in 13:1, and alone with Peter, James, John, and Andrew in 13:3. There are clear literary/rhetorical devices in the thirteenth chapter that hold it together, including chiasms, concentric structure, and inclusios, as the studies of Lambrecht and others have shown.16 Finally, the double question raised by the disciples in 13:1–2 seems, at least at first glance, to form a thematic introduction, possibly signaling a new rhetorical unit. In spite of the appearance that a new unit begins at 13:1, however, we want to suggest that the rhetorical unit actually begins at 11:27 and ends at 13:37. The end of this unit is easier to determine, so we begin with an analysis of the end of the unit. It is clear that, wherever it begins, the last major rhetorical unit ends at 13:37 and that a new (non-rhetorical) unit begins at 14:1. 14:1–2 functions as a narrative transition, carrying the reader away from Jesus’s discourse opposite the temple to a gathering of chief priests and scribes who are seeking to kill Jesus. In 14:3, Jesus is eating dinner in Bethany with a new group of personae. A new day has evidently begun, and the time is now identified as “two days before the Passover.” Further, the story from this point forward is primarily narrative in nature, with little discursive material employed. Thematically, 14:1 turns the focus of the narrative onto the pending passion of Jesus. 16. In addition to the chiasms he locates in chapter 13, Lambrecht (Die Redaktion der MarkusApokalypse, 272–93) identifies several series of chiasms that help provide structural unify to the discourse, such as lexical and stylistic inclusios. For chiasms in the discourse, see also the work of Leon Vaganay, Le problème synoptique: Une hypothèse de travail (Paris: Desclée, 1954), 76–78.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

223

But does the rhetorical unit containing the final discourse actually begin at 13:1, or could it begin earlier in the narrative? By the time the readers have reached the Jerusalem section of the narrative, they have already come to expect a discursive pattern that has Jesus relating a public comparison, followed by a private explanation to the disciples. All three previous discourses followed this pattern, and in 4:33–34 the narrator explicitly declares this to be Jesus’s method of teaching. No comparisons are narrated between the discourse in chapter 7 and the first part of chapter 12.17 In 11:27–12:12, though, Jesus responds to an explicit challenge to his authority with the so-called “parable of the evil tenants,”18 but the expected private interpretation of the comparison does not immediately follow. Rather, the religious leaders, who heard the “parable” and rightly perceived that it was spoken against them, sent to Jesus a series of disputants to catch him in his teaching (ἵνα αὐτὸν ἀγρεύσωσιν λόγῳ—12:13). Thus, the next thirty-one verses contain a series of discussions: two hostile debates between Jesus and the religious leaders, a question about the law from one of the scribes, a challenge to the leaders by Jesus (one that they refuse to accept), further teaching of Jesus about the coming judgment against the religious leaders, and the episode of the widow’s lepta.19 After this material (12:13–44), however, Jesus does retire to privacy with his disciples and begins to give exclusive instruction to them. The reader who has paid attention to the discursive patterns of Mark’s Gospel would likely suspect that chapter 13 actually contains an 17. Though some have identified the cursing of the fig tree as a “parabolic” action, the narrator does not identify it as a “comparison,” per se, instead reserving use of the term παραβολή to its strict rhetorical meaning. 18. Of course, the narrator does not provide this title for the “parable.” Unfortunately, its persistent use by parable scholarship has likely obscured the fact that the narrator sees more than one “parable” in Jesus’s response (ἐν παραβολαῖς—12:1). 19. The entire section from 11:27–12:44 has been the subject of several major studies beginning with the form critical work of Martin Albertz (Die synoptischen Streitgespräche [Berlin: Trowitzsch, 1921]), to the more recent studies by Kuhn (Ältere Sammlungen im Markusevangelium) and Jean-Gaspard Mudiso Mbâ Mundla (Jesus und die Führer Israels: Studien zu den sog. Jerusalemer Streitgesprächen [Münster: Aschendorff, 1984]). Albertz had argued that for 11:27–12:44, Mark drew upon a previously compiled controversy source. Kuhn and Mundla argue against Albertz’s conclusions. See also Michael J. Cook, Mark’s Treatment of the Jewish Leaders, NovTSup 51 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1978).

224

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

explanation or amplification of the comparisons given in 12:1–12. A closer analysis of the two units, along with the intervening material, reveals that the narrator has in fact made use of the structural devices of chiasm and inclusio to join the παραβολαί of 11:27–12:12 with the discourse of chapter 13, leading one to conclude that they actually constitute different parts of the same rhetorical unit.20 The two units are joined by a series of inclusios that clearly link the two sections. These inclusios are carefully woven into the παραβολαί of 12:1–12 and the discourse material of chapter 13: A

11:28, 29, 33

ἐξουσία

a′

13:34

B

12:1, 12

παραβολή

b′ 13:28

C 12:01

οἰκοδομέω

c′

D 12:02

καιρός

d′ 13:27

13:15, 34, 35

E

12:2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 13 ἀποστέλλω e′

13:27

F

12:2,4

13:34

δοῦλος

f′

G 12:6 (2x)

υἱός

g′ 13:26, 32

H 12:3, 5

δέρω

h′ 13:09

Additionally, the references to the γραμματεῖς in 11:27 and in 14:1 and the use of the verb ἀποκτείνω in 12:5, 7, 8, and in 14:1 help provide a frame for the overall unit that would include both the παραβολαί of 11:27–12:12 and chapter 13 in its picture. Further strength for taking 11:27–12:12 and 13:1–37 together is found in the chiasm formed between the closing section of the comparison and the opening section of the discourse of chapter 13. This chiasm, discussed thoroughly in Tolbert’s Sowing the Gospel,21 provides a remarkable link between the two units, the effect of which is unmistakable. The comparison of the tenants—told in the temple complex—ends with the Jesus’s citation of Psalm 118:22: “the stone 20. Additionally, as Stephen H. Smith (“The Literary Structure of Mark 11:1–12:40,” NovT 31, no. 2 [1989]: 104–24) has shown, Mark has arranged the material in 12:13–40 in a chiastic way, joining the parable of the tenants and the apocalyptic discourse at each end. Smith’s redactional concerns lead him to conclude that the unit is a call to the Markan community to flee Jerusalem. 21. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 259–60.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

225

the builders rejected has been made the corner” (12:10). After leaving the temple (13:1–2), the disciples remark to Jesus about the “wonderful stones and wonderful buildings” of the temple. To this Jesus responds, “Do you see these great buildings? In no way will here a stone upon another stone be left that will not be destroyed.” The chiasm is striking: λίθον ὃν ἀπεδοκίμασαν οἱ οἰκοδομοῦντες… διδάσκαλε, ἴδε ποταποὶ λίθοι καὶ ποταπαὶ οἰκοδομαί βλέπεις ταύτας τὰς μεγάλας οἰκοδομάς οὐ μὴ ἀφεθῇ ὧδε λίθος ἐπὶ λίθον ὃς οὐ μὴ καταλυθῇ.

The chiasm thus links the end of 12:1–12 to the beginning of chapter 13 and leads one to conclude that they actually constitute two parts of the same primary discourse, deliberately separated by other secondary material in the narrative. One can thus suggest at this point that the rhetorical unit will be 11:27–13:37. The actual speech is 12:1–12 and 13:5–37, the two sections being divided by secondary narrative/ rhetorical material. That the section from 11:27 to 13:37 should be considered one unit is also indicated by the concentric structure of the material in the section. This concentric structure, built around the repetition of key phrases or themes, serves to unify the entire section and focuses the reader’s attention on the authority of the Christ, “son of David,” in 12:35–37, and the refusal of the religious leaders to accept Jesus’s authority. A

Religious leaders question Jesus about his “authority” (ἐξουσία); they do not “know” (οὐκ οἴδαμεν) about the baptism of John (11:27–33).

_B

παραβολαί taken from farming culminating in an act of destruction (12:1–12).

__C

Religious leaders question Jesus about paying taxes to Caesar; “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s” (12:13–17).

___D

The “deceived” Sadducees (πολὺ πλανᾶσθε) question Jesus about a childless widow at the resurrection (ἀνάστασις; τῶν νεκρῶν ὅτι ἐγείρονται; (12:18–27).

____E

A scribe, “seeing” (ἰδὼν) a good answer asks about the “first” (πρώτη) command; Jesus commands love for God with “the whole” (ὅλης) heart,

226

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

soul, mind, and strength first; “second” (δευτέρα) is to love one’s neighbor (12:28–34). _____F The Christ is the Lord of David; the Scribes are wrong (12:35–37). ____E′

“Watch out” (βλέπετε) for the scribes, who love the “first” seats and positions (πρωτοκαθεδρίας … πρωτοκλισίας); praise for the widow who with “two” (δύο) lepta gave her “whole” life (ὅλον τὸν βίον) (12:38–44).

___D′

False christs will attempt to “deceive” you (πλανήσῃ); nation will rise up (ἐγερθήσεται) against nation; these are the beginnings of birth pangs (13:1–8).

__C′

The disciples will stand before governors and kings; “It will be given to you in that hour what to say” (13:9–13).

_B′

Description of horrific destruction followed by a παραβολή taken from farming (13:14–29).

A′

No one “knows” (οὐδεὶς οἶδεν) when the son of Man will return; the lord of the house gives his servants “authority” (ἐξουσία) in his absence (13:30–37).

Again, the formal structure of the material is striking, well-integrated, and well-organized. The rhetorical unit should be understood as beginning at 11:27 and ending at 13:37. In addition to these structural devices, the dramatic techniques employed in the narrative are better understood if all the material from 11:27 to 13:37 is included in one unit, identified in the narrative as the last day of Jesus’s Jerusalem ministry. Thus, though there is some movement of characters in the section, on close examination it becomes clear that the unit actually contains only one set of characters, who move from the rear of the stage to the front and again to the back. (1) The chief priests, scribes, and elders approach Jesus and his disciples in front of the crowds (v. 32) in the temple with a question about his authority, to which Jesus responds with his own question and with the comparisons of the tenant and the rejected stone. Incensed by the implications of the comparisons, these authorities “departing, left and sent to him”22 (2) certain Pharisees and Herodians 22. καὶ ἀφέντες αὐτὸν ἀπῆλθον. We do not read a major narrative break between the departure of the chief priests, scribes, and elders and their sending of the Pharisees and the Herodians, although we will argue below that the primary speech breaks at 12:12 and resumes at 13:5. Interestingly, the Western tradition (D, it, sams) omits the phrase καὶ ἀφέντες αὐτὸν ἀπῆλθον, linking more closely the response of the scribes to the comparisons and their sending of the Pharisees and Herodians.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

227

to trap him in his words. (3) After Jesus’s response to the Pharisees and Herodians, the Sadducees come with another question, and the Pharisees and Herodians fade into the background. After Jesus answers the Sadducees, they, too, appear to fade into the background as (4) one of the scribes comes to Jesus having heard the discussions. Immediately after answering the question of this scribe, Jesus continues his teaching in the temple, and the narrator points out that the (5) crowds, who are still with Jesus, are listening with joy. In this fifth sequence, Jesus remains with the crowds, now in front of the offering boxes where he blesses the poor widow. Leaving the temple area, then, Jesus walks alone with his (6) disciples, who remark on the grandeur of the temple. Finally, (7) Jesus is explicitly described as being alone with four of his disciples, Peter, James, John, and Andrew, where he completes the speech began in 12:1–12. The sequence of this movement of characters, although somewhat expanded, is similar to what was seen in at least two of the other discourse sections in Mark. In 3:20–35, the crowds are mentioned first (v. 20), the religious leaders come in v. 22, the crowds reemerge in v. 32, and Jesus identifies his disciples in vv. 34–35. The pattern is also in 6:53–7:21: the “whole of the region” gathers in 6:55, the religious leaders emerge in 7:1, Jesus addresses the crowd in v. 14, and speaks alone to the disciples in vv. 17–23. In these rhetorical units, characters are moved around in order to facilitate the rhetorical pattern of public παραβολή followed by private explanation. There is no reason to doubt that Mark has employed the same pattern here. In addition to the introduction of dramatis personae, the geographical and temporal settings remain the same throughout 11:27–13:37. Prior to 11:27, Jesus is on the road approaching Jerusalem, and it is not until v. 27 that he finally arrives there, being found in the temple. Though he goes out of the temple in 13:1–3, the focus remains on the temple as Jesus sits opposite it in order to close out the unit with a discussion of, among other things, its destruction. The change of scenery at 13:1–3 indicates not a new rhetorical unit but the narrative movement to the final part of the discourse. It is not until 14:1–3 that Jesus moves completely out of the temple region, and there a new location signals a major narrative break.

228

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Finally, all the action from 11:27 through 13:37 occurs on the same day (Jesus’s last day in the Jerusalem ministry). This day, the third day in Jerusalem, actually begins in 11:20; but there, Jesus is not yet in Jerusalem and the narrative seems to focus on the events of the preceding day, not on what follows on this same day. Further, the introduction of the chief priests, scribes, and elders in 11:27 seems to indicate a narrative shift from the preceding material, and the theme of the narrative seems to change at 11:27. The fact that 11:20–26 concludes the episode of the cursing of the fig tree in 11:12–14 would link it structurally to the preceding section, leaving us to begin this rhetorical unit at 11:27.23 Thus, the rhetorical unit for the final discourse of Jesus in the Gospel likely begins at 11:27 and ends at 13:37. Throughout this section, the narrator provides the immediate exigencies necessary for interpreting the speech itself, which is actually composed of the material in 12:1–12 and 13:5–37. Examination of the rhetorical situation must thus consider all the material from 11:27 to 13:37 as the explicit medium of the narrator’s level of rhetoric. When considering Jesus’s speech itself, our exegesis covers the material in 12:1–12 and 13:5–37 as the primary level of rhetoric. THE RHETORICAL SITUATION In order to determine the rhetorical situation for the last major discourse in the Gospel of Mark, then, the entire context from 11:27 through 13:37 should be considered. The overall structure of this section has already been indicated in the concentric pattern described above. The narrative themes in the unit are already suggested in the motifs developed in this concentric pattern, especially the theme of authority, which also appears as an inclusio in the first and last units of the section (11:27–33 and 13:30–37). 23. It may be objected that 11:27–33. is linked to the preceding material by the question the chief priests, scribes, and elders ask Jesus, “By what authority do you do these things?” By placing the question a full day removed from the cleansing of the temple and two days from the triumphal entry, and by separating the question from these episodes with other narrative material, the narrator leaves the phrase “these things” vague and general. It is not necessary to conclude that “these things” refers specifically to anything other than the general acts and teachings Jesus has done over the last few days.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

229

The final discourse, unlike the previous three, is embedded in a much larger immediate narrative context, providing much more material to consider in determining the rhetorical situation. Below it will be shown that the discourse proper of the rhetorical unit includes the material from 12:1–12 and 13:5–37. A close look at these two sections reveals that specific questions are posed to Jesus that generate the discourse. As with the discourses of 3:20–35 and 7:1–23, these questions are invaluable for determining with precision the overriding issue to be resolved in the discourse. Nevertheless, since the narrator has intercalated so much narrative material, we shall first examine the general rhetorical context created by the entire unit, and then focus on the specific questions generating the discourse. GENERAL RHETORICAL SITUATION The rhetorical unit containing the final discourse in the Gospel of Mark begins during Jesus’s third day in Jerusalem. On the first day of Jesus’s visit, he enters the city triumphantly, with the people crying “Hosanna, blessed is the one coming in the name of the Lord; blessed is the coming Kingdom of our father, David; Hosanna in the highest!” (11:9–10). Immediately upon his arrival, he enters the temple, “looks around at all things” (περιβλεψάμενος πάντα), and leaves. On the second day, Jesus returns to Jerusalem, and on the way, he curses an unfruitful fig tree. After he arrives at the temple, Jesus runs the money changers out of the temple precincts, teaching them that “My house is to be called a house of prayer for all nations; but you have made it a den of thieves” (11:17). The narrator comments that though they want to kill Jesus, the chief priests and scribes hesitate because the crowd is amazed at Jesus’s “teaching.” On the third day, Jesus again passes the fig tree, which now has withered, and he explains to his disciples that with faith their prayers will have miraculous effect. In the first two and a half days of the Jerusalem ministry, then, the narrator shows Jesus to be the One coming in the name of the Lord, who brings the kingdom of David. The narrator shows Jesus to have authority over the temple itself, a fact that the rhetorical unit under consideration will amplify. Finally, the interweaving of the cursing of

230

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

the fig tree with the cleansing of the temple likely helps associate the barrenness of the tree with the corruption of the temple, “introducing a series of explicit and implicit attacks on the temple that form an anti-temple polemic throughout the final chapters of the Gospel.” 24 The rhetorical unit opens with a double question posed to Jesus by the religious leaders:25 “By what authority are you doing these things?26 Who gave you the authority to do what you are doing?” One cannot miss the emphasis on “authority” at the outset of the rhetorical unit; but in case one does miss it in the double question, the narrator supplies the word ἐξουσίᾳ two more times in the subsection from 11:27–33. Indeed, the term nicely frames these verses with an inclusio highlighting this very issue of authority (vv. 28–29 and v. 33) as the central issue in the unit. In answer to the double question posed by the religious leaders, Jesus asks his own question intended to show the lack of authority of the religious leaders: “The baptism of John, was it from heaven or of human origin?” The question sets a rhetorical trap that the religious leaders refuse to spring. If they answer that the baptism of John was from heaven, their rejection of John’s testimony regarding Jesus forms a self-indictment that voids their authority. If they answer that the baptism of John was not divine, they lose their perceived authority among the crowd, since the crowd highly respected John.27 Either 24. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 193. See also William R. Telford, The Barren Temple and the Withered Tree, JSNTSup 1 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1980); and Achtemeier, Mark, 23–25. For an argument that the cleansing of the temple was in some way a preparation for the coming kingdom, see R. H. Hiers, “Purification of the Temple: Preparation for the Kingdom of God,” JBL 90, no. 1 (1971): 82–90. See also E. L. Schnellbächer, “The Temple as Focus of Mark’s Theology,” HBT 5, no. 2 (1983): 95–112, who argues that the whole of Mark reflects the belief that the temple had been given up by God. 25. Specifically, the narrator states that the question was posed by “the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders” (11:27). Interestingly, the first time one hears of “chief priests”—and the only other time prior to 11:27 that these three are listed together in the narrative—is in 8:31 where Jesus predicts that in his coming passion he will be rejected by “the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes” (see also 14:43 [but the mss. evidence is uncertain] and 14:53). Their arrival at 11:27 is a subtle reminder of the passion prediction of Jesus and a signal that his rejection is on the verge of occurring. 26. The question of to what “these things” refers has been debated from several methodological viewpoints. Literarily, it likely includes the entirety of the Jerusalem ministry, including the entry and the cleansing, as well as the more general acts of ministry throughout the Gospel. Cf. V. N. Makrides, “Considerations on Mark 11:27–33 par.,” DeltBibMel 14 (1985): 43–55. 27. Again, the crowds, explicitly mentioned in v. 32, serve as the “judges” of the dispute in the narrative world, and it is their opinion that the religious leaders are trying to sway.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

231

way, Jesus’s initial response to the question about his authority constitutes a challenge to the authority of the religious leaders of Israel. 28 This dispute between Jesus and the religious leaders over whose authority is divine will become the generating issue for the discourse of 12:1–12/13:5–37. The religious leaders’ question provokes two comparisons from Jesus in 12:1–12.29 In the next section of this chapter, these comparisons will be analyzed rhetorically; at this point, suffice it to say that the comparisons have to do with the lack of authority of the religious leaders, who are “usurpers” in God’s vineyard and the murderers of God’s Son, and with the divine authority of the Son, who has been made the “head of the corner” by the Lord. The next two subsections consist of challenges offered by the religious leaders vis-à-vis the Pharisees, the Herodians, and the Sadducees. In the first of these challenges, the narrator explicitly states that the Pharisees and Herodians were sent by the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders seeking to entrap Jesus in his words.30 The craftiness of these opponents is demonstrated in their use of sarcasm—as they begin their challenge with a feigned confession of Jesus’s truthfulness, sincerity, and the divine nature of his teachings

28. Of course, there is also a suggestion of Jesus’s own authority in the question he poses to the religious leaders, since Jesus’s ministry began with his baptism from John, and since it was at that baptism that the Spirit descended upon Jesus and the divine voice declared him the “Beloved Son” in whom God is pleased. Further, John preached that Jesus is greater than John, and that Jesus’s baptism would be with the Holy Spirit (1:1–11). For the religious leaders to confess the authority of John’s baptism would have been to have confessed Jesus’s own divine authority. But to have denied John’s baptism would have been to have denied the voice of God, which proclaimed Jesus God’s Son. Either way, the religious leaders would undermine their own credibility. Cf. Seyoon Kim, “Jesus—the Son of God, the Stone, the Son of Man, and the Servant,” in Tradition and Interpretation in the New Testament, ed. Gerald F. Hawthorne and Otto Betz (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 134–48. 29. Notice that the narrator does not separate 11:27–33 and 12:1–12 as English Bibles, with their chapter divisions, and as form critics, with their different Sitzen, have tended to do. Rather, in Mark’s narrative, the verses form a continuous subsection. See Marius Young-Heon Lee, Jesus und die jüdische Autorität (Würzburg: Echter, 1986), 65–74. 30. Καὶ ἀποστέλλουσιν πρὸς αὐτόν τινας τῶν Φαρισαίων καὶ τῶν Ἡρῳδιανῶν ἵνα αὐτὸν ἀγρεύσωσιν λόγῳ. καὶ ἐλθόντες λέγουσιν αὐτῷ. Notice the use of the historic present, providing both vividness and, in this case, a sense of continuation in this segment from the last segment.

232

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

(v. 14)31—and their skillful posing of the question.32 Their question about the rightness of paying taxes to Caesar is perceived as a “test” by Jesus, who sees their “hypocrisy.” If he teaches that Jews should pay taxes to Caesar, he seems to be giving allegiance to the pagan emperor. If he teaches that Jews should not pay taxes to Caesar, he would surely be branded a revolutionary. Having a denarius brought to him, and leading the religious leaders to state that it is Caesar’s image on the coin, Jesus gives his answer, which actually constitutes a double enthymeme and forms a brilliant escape from the trap. “The things belonging to Caesar, give to Caesar and the things belonging to God, to God.” Tolbert reconstructs its dual logic:33 Major premise: Whatever bears the image and inscription of someone belongs to that one. Overt minor premise:

Implied minor premise:

A denarius carries Caesar’s image and words (Mark 12:16).

Human beings are in the image of God (see Gen 1:26–28).

Conclusion:

Conclusion:

Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s (Mark 12:17).

and to God the things that are God’s (Mark 12:17).

31. The flattery is arranged in the form of a chiasm: _a_“Teacher” __b_“True” ___c_“You don’t worry over anything” ___c′_“You don’t look on a person’s face” __b′_“In truth” _a′_“You teach” See John Dominic Crossan, Four Other Gospels (Minneapolis: Winston, 1985), 81. 32. ἔξεστιν δοῦναι κῆνσον Καίσαρι ἢ οὔ; δῶμεν ἢ μὴδῶμεν. See the asyndeton between the two questions, which adds to them a degree of force. 33. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 251–52. Compare with Robert H. Gundry’s interpretation of what are the “things of God.” Turning to 8:31–33, he takes the “things of God” as a reference to Jesus’s prediction of his own death, followed by his command for his disciples to follow him. Gundry (Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993], 694) suggests that the “things of God” “consist in the divine obligation to follow Jesus thus.” Charles Homer Giblin (“‘The Things of God’ in the Question Concerning Tribute to Caesar,” CBQ 33, no. 4 [1971]: 516–26) argues along with Tolbert that God’s things have to do with the image of God stamped on humans.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

233

By having his opponents themselves confess that it is Caesar’s image and his name stamped on the denarius, Jesus is able to conclude that one should give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.34 The narrator subtly concludes this controversy over taxes by pointing out that, upon Jesus’s answer, the Pharisees and Herodians are amazed at him (v. 17). Thus, though the controversy itself revolves around the rightness of paying taxes to Caesar, the narrator’s likely rhetorical objective is to show Jesus’s authority by demonstrating his ability to rhetorically outmaneuver the Pharisees and Herodians. Jesus’s effectiveness is appreciated even by his enemies. After the Pharisees and Herodians question Jesus, the narrator tells us that the Sadducees, “who say there is no resurrection,” approached Jesus with a question.35 Though the narrator does not inform us that their question was intended as a trap, the fact that the narrator has told the readers that the Sadducees do not believe in the resurrection, while at the same time presuming the resurrection in their question, indicates the insincerity of their question. Their question about the marital status of a childless woman at the resurrection who had been taken in levirate marriage by six brothers of her original husband is, as the previous question had been, skillfully answered by Jesus.36 First, Jesus responds that the Sadducees are deceived (πλανᾶσθε) because they do not know the Scriptures or the power of God.37 Second, Jesus

34. As Tolbert (Sowing the Gospel, 251) points out, the double conclusion given by Jesus forms a symmetrical period “and contrasts sufficiently with the dominant disjointed sentence style of the Gospel to sound like a proverb or maxim from the lips of Jesus.” 35. Καὶ ἔρχονται Σαδδουκαῖοι πρὸς αὐτόν, οἵτινες λέγουσιν ἀνάστασιν μὴ εἶναι, καὶ ἐπηρώτων αὐτὸν λέγοντες. Notice again the persistent use of the historic present. 36. The question is an obvious trap for Jesus, presumably arguing by reductio ad absurdum: intolerable social and theological confusion would be caused if the resurrection were true. J. G. Janzen (“Resurrection and Hermeneutics: On Exodus 3.6 in Mark 12.26,” JSNT 23 [1985]: 43–58), however, argues that the Sadducees are instead urging that the only resurrection God provides is through Levirate marriage. If after seven attempts at providing a “resurrection” through the Torah’s prescribed means of levirate marriage, a man’s seed is not raised (ἐξαναστήσῃ σπέρμα), the Sadducees are suggesting, why would anyone expect God to provide for a type of resurrection not even mentioned in the Torah? 37. The Nestle-Aland text, following other texts and translations, puts Jesus’s first response in the form of a question, heightening Jesus’s accusation by forcing his listeners to argue (at least mentally) about why they are “deceived”: “Isn’t this why you are deceived? Because you do not know the scriptures or the power of God?”

234

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

asserts that those raised from the dead will neither be married nor be given in marriage, but will be as the angels of heaven. This pronouncement by Jesus immediately answers the Sadducees’ question, but because Jesus knows that the question actually constitutes a denial of the resurrection, he goes on to offer an enthymeme that establishes the actuality of the resurrection. Again, Tolbert provides a reconstruction of the logic.38 The enthymeme takes a statement from Exodus 6:3, “I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” and uses it as the minor premise in the enthymeme. The major premise is given last in Jesus’s response, “God is not the God of the dead but of the living” (12:27). A second minor premise, “Moses lived after the deaths of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” and the conclusion of the enthymeme, “The dead are alive and thus there is a resurrection,” are not stated but implied. The enthymeme thus suggests that since God claimed to Moses to be the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and since God is the God only of the living, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob must be alive. There must, then, be a resurrection. The logic, though somewhat strange to twentieth-century ears, was comfortable enough in the first century for Jesus to follow it with the ridicule, “You are greatly deceived.”39 As with the previous challenge to Jesus, for the narrator the question of whether or not the dead are raised may not be the primary concern. Rather, the chief interest of the episode on the level of the narrative rhetoric seems to be reflected in the inclusio contained in Jesus’s response: “Isn’t this why you are deceived? [v. 24] . . . You are greatly deceived [v. 27].” In other words, in spite of Jesus’s concern to establish the reality of the resurrection on the primary level of rhetoric,40 on the secondary level the interest of the dispute between Jesus and the Sadducees seems to lie in the narrator’s desire 38. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 252–53. 39. See Gundry, Mark, 703–4; F. Gerald Downing, “The Resurrection of the Dead: Jesus and Philo,” JSNT 5, no. 15 (1982): 42–50; and Janzen, “Resurrection and Hermeneutics,” 43–58, who point to a similar exegesis of this same text by Philo of Alexandria, De Abrahamo 10–11. That the entire episode is carefully structured to highlight Jesus’s effective rhetoric, see O. Schwankl, “Die Sadduzäerfrage (Mk 12,18–27) und die Auferstehungs-erwartung Jesu,” WissWeis 50, no. 2–3 (1987): 81–92. 40. On the level of the primary rhetoric, the Sadducees’ question can be seen as a serious challenge to Jesus’s own pending resurrection, already predicted to the disciples three times. It is essential that Jesus establish the possibility of his resurrection.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

235

to demonstrate that the religious leaders are “deceived.” The importance of the episode for the rhetorical situation likely lies in its vindication of Jesus’s authority, which is accomplished by showing the error of his enemies, who know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God. Three separate exchanges have now occurred: the question raised by the scribes, elders, and chief priests; the question raised by the Pharisees and Herodians; and the question raised by the Sadducees. The first question constituted an overt challenge to the authority of Jesus, and Jesus responded with his own entrapping question and with the comparisons about the evil tenants and the corner stone. The second and third questions came to Jesus as more subtle challenges, but Jesus still recognizes them as disingenuous. The fourth exchange, 12:28–34, appears to be a fairly innocent question posed by a scribe. Though the Pharisees and Herodians had paid Jesus a complement, and the Sadducees had feigned respect for Jesus, the narrator makes it clear that both groups were hostile to Jesus. The narrator indicates that the single scribe who approaches Jesus in the fourth exchange, however, asks his question because Jesus had answered the other disputants well. The question concerns what the greatest command is, and Jesus answers by citing the Hebrew Shema, Hear, Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord. And you must love the Lord your God from your whole heart, from your whole soul, from your whole mind, and from your whole strength.41

Without further question, Jesus then proceeds to give the second command: “You must love your neighbor as yourself.”42 The sincerity of the scribe is indicated by his agreement with Jesus, and his answer paraphrases Jesus’s own with one significant addition: the scribe adds that these two commands are more important than burnt offerings and sacrifices. The importance of this addition in the context of the Jerusalem ministry should not be missed. Jesus has already found the temple in a state of corruption, he has cursed the fig tree in a symbolic act, 41. Deut 6:4–5 LXX. 42. Lev 19:18 LXX.

236

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

and he has indicated that the present tenants of God’s vineyard are doomed to destruction. The scribe’s observation that the commands to love are more important than the staple rituals of the temple, then, ironically indicts current leaders of the cultus, who have practiced anything but love. Rather, these chief priests, who administer “burnt offerings and sacrifices,” were shown in the comparison of the tenants in 12:1–12 to be full of hatred and violence. Thus, their ritual functions are irrelevant against the backdrop of their evil lives. Whether he actually realizes it or not, the scribe is close to the kingdom of God.43 After Jesus’s skillful handling of these four questions, the narrator explains, no one dared to ask him any further questions.44 In the next subsection, Jesus now takes the initiative “in his teaching” and raises a question based on Psalm 110:1, with which he claims that David calls the Christ “Lord.” Jesus uses the passage to challenge the scribes’ claim about the Christ, viz., that the Christ is the son of David. The argument of the citation is, again, actually a tightly compressed enthymeme. And, once again, Tolbert rightly unpacks the logic: Suppressed major premise:

Fathers do not address their sons with titles of respect like “sir” or “master.”

Minor premise:

David declared, “The Lord said to my master, ‘Sit at my right hand, till I put your enemies under your feet’” (Mark 12:36).

Conclusion:

The one David calls master cannot be his son.45

43. It is unclear whether the scribe intended to raise the subtle challenge to the present cultic system, or whether he unwittingly “stumbles” upon the truth that the temple system is sick. The narrative statement that the scribe answered “wisely” may indicate that the scribe was aware of the inconsistency between the great command and the temple system. It is possible, however, especially in light of Jesus’s subsequent criticism of the scribes, that the scribe was unaware of the challenge to the cultus that his own remarks constituted. In this case, the critique would only be present on the secondary level of rhetoric, intended as irony for the readers of the Gospel. 44. Gregory Murray (“The Questioning of Jesus,” The Downside Review 102, no. 349 [1984]: 271–75) thinks that Mark’s comment that no one dared ask Jesus any further questions is inappropriate after the friendly question of the scribe. Murray’s argument, however, fails to recognize the overall structure of the exchanges between Jesus and the religious leaders in 11:27–13:37, which moves from decreasing hostility against Jesus by the leaders to increasing hostility against the leaders by Jesus. The narrative comment of 12:34 marks the point of transition from the leaders on the offensive to Jesus on the offensive. 45. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 255.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

237

Exactly why Jesus feels compelled to argue about the specific issue of whether or not the Christ should be considered the son of David is unclear, due to a lack of sufficient narrative rationale.46 What is clear, however, are two things. First, whatever point the scribes had sought to make regarding the sonship of the Christ, Jesus shows that they were wrong according to their own scriptures. Thus, on the secondary level of rhetoric, the narrator’s level, Jesus’s point is clear: the scribes are wrong again. Second, it is clear that because David calls the Christ “Lord,” the Christ is superior to David and derives his authority not from David but from God.47 The reader already knows that Jesus is the Christ (1:1); soon, the religious leaders will hear him confess the same. Thus again on the narrative level, the point is the establishment of the authority of Jesus. No one answers Jesus’s question, but the narrator does explain in v. 37b that a great crowd listened with delight (καὶ [ὁ] πολὺς ὄχλος ἤκουεν αὐτοῦ ἡδέως). Continuing “in his teaching,” Jesus went on to warn those listening about the scribes. The opening word of his warning begins with the carefully selected term βλέπετε. This term harks back to the important discourse of Mark 4, where Jesus repeatedly spoke of the need to “hear,” where he warned of hard-hearted people who “see but do not perceive,” and where he admonished his disciples to “watch what you hear” (βλέπετε τί ἀκούετε, v. 24). The 46. Jesus has already been called “David’s son” in 10:47–48, and his coming was related to the kingdom of David in 11:10. Nevertheless, Mark does not present any argument from the scribes about the issue, and it is difficult to determine precisely what controversy the narrator expects to be resolved for the reader. One is tempted to reach outside the text for an explanation. Perhaps in its conflicts with early Judaism, the early church had difficulty linking Jesus to David. This explanation is hinted at in a note by Tolbert (Sowing the Gospel, 255–56n41), who generally avoids extratextual retorts. Her literary rationale is brief: “Jesus’ enthymeme seems to challenge any literal attempt to trace Davidic lineage as a test of messiahship, for the Christ is not David’s traditional son but his master and lord. The Christ is God’s heir, not David’s.” Perhaps the narrator cares less that the reader precisely identify a particular controversy behind Jesus’s question than that the reader understand that the scribes are again wrong and that Jesus is David’s Lord. 47. The chiastic structure of the episode, as Gundry (Mark, 719) shows, reinforces its interest in showing Jesus as Lord: _a_“And answering, Jesus was saying [while teaching in the temple]” __b_“How come the scribes say that the Christ is ‘Son of David’ ___c_“David himself said in the Holy Spirit, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, . . .’” ___c′_“David himself says him [to be] ‘Lord’” __b′_“So from where [do the scribes get it that the Christ] is his ‘son’?” _a′_“And the large crowd was listening to him gladly.”

238

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

investigation of that discourse in chapter 4 above showed it to be a deliberative speech that sought to encourage the disciples to listen to the teachings of Jesus. Here, the warning to “Watch!” serves to alert the listeners’ to the hypocrisy of the scribes, who will receive great judgment for their desire to have places of preeminence while at the same time abusing widows.48 The word also reminds the readers of the narrative statement of 11:11 that when Jesus first entered the (corrupt) temple he “looked around.” The term “watch” will become the fundamental thematic and structuring device in the discourse material of chapter 13. By having Jesus condemn the scribes as a group so closely after the response of the one “thoughtful” scribe of vv. 28–34, perhaps the narrator betrays the narrator’s lack of interest in the individual scribe. Rather than trying to show that even a scribe can be an exception to the norm,49 it may simply be that the narrator chose to show a scribe subverted by Jesus’s authority in order to highlight Jesus’s authority. “One scribe” was chosen in order to preserve the rest of the scribes—the scribes as a group—as narrative enemies of Jesus. Closely connected to his condemnation of the scribes, who devour widows, is Jesus’s blessing of the widow who gave two lepta to the temple treasury.50 The subsection functions to contrast the woman who gave “her whole life” both with the affluent participants of the cult and with the scribes who abuse such victimized people.51 Thus, even though the primary rhetoric of Jesus seems to contrast the widow with the affluent, the secondary rhetoric, especially in its repeated use of χήρα, contrasts the widow with the scribes. The secondary rhetoric continues the theme of abused authority on the part of the religious leaders, whose abuse affects even the offering boxes at the temple. The final subsection before the discourse material of chapter 13 consists of the specific questions the disciples ask Jesus away from the 48. See Harry Fleddermann, “A Warning about the Scribes (Mark 12:37b–40),” CBQ 44, no. 1 (1982): 52–67, who discusses the nature of Jesus’s accusations against the scribes, concluding that they have to do with hypocrisy. 49. So Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 254–56. 50. Cf. Thomas E. Schmidt, Hostility to Wealth in the Synoptic Gospels, JSNTSup 15 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1987), 116. 51. Addison G. Wright’s (“The Widow’s Mites: Praise or Lament?—A Matter of Context,” CBQ 44, no. 2 [1982]: 256–65) argument that Jesus actually laments the widow’s offering because she lost her whole livelihood at the religious leaders’ insistence seems to miss the point.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

239

crowd as well as Jesus’s lengthy response. Reserving treatment of this for later, an overview of the situation created by the general rhetorical unit can now be made. The general rhetorical situation is composed of four groups of questions asked to Jesus by the religious leaders, a question asked by Jesus that remains unanswered, a condemnation of the scribes by Jesus, a blessing by Jesus of a widow who gives her life savings, and a set of questions asked by the disciples to Jesus regarding the temple followed by his detailed response. The first four questions progressively soften in their challenge to Jesus. The first was overt and was asked with a sense of indignation. The second and third questions, though insincere and intended to trick Jesus, at least contain some moderation in the form of indirect spokespersons, compliments, and a veneer of respect. The fourth question appears to have been asked with no desire to entrap Jesus, and the scribe who asked the question is declared by Jesus to be near the kingdom. In the fifth subsection, Jesus himself initiates a question, and a narrative transition occurs in which Jesus goes on the offensive and the religious leaders are the accused. After Jesus’s unanswered question, he overtly attacks the scribes for abusing widows, and blesses the widow who gives her whole life savings. The final section contains predictions of destruction to be wreaked upon the temple. The narrator has constructed a thematic-based concentric structure that shows the rhetorical situation gradually moving from the assertion of authority by the religious leaders to the assertion of authority by Jesus:52 A

Religious leaders boldly challenge Jesus’s authority (11:27–12:12).

_B

_Religious leaders, flattering Jesus, try to trap him with two _questions (12:13–27).

__C

__One of the religious leaders asks an innocent question and __agrees with Jesus’s answer (12:28–34). __(No one dares ask Jesus any more questions [12:34b].)

__C′ __Jesus asks a question about the lordship (authority) of the Son __of David; the religious leaders attempt no answer (12:35–37). 52. Cf. David Daube, “Responsibilities of Master and Disciples in the Gospels,” NTS 19, no. 1 (1972): 1–15, who finds a different sequence of questions in the unit based upon typical rabbinic discussions of the Law.

240

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

__(A great crowd listens with delight [12:37b].) _B′

_Jesus threatens that the religious leaders will receive greater _judgment; rejects the temple offering of the affluent (12:38–44).

A′

Jesus promises cataclysmic destruction of the temple (13:1–37).

The effect of this concentric structure is to highlight the authority of Jesus and to intensify his promise of destruction upon the religious authorities and their cultic system. This effect is achieved in at least two ways. First, by centering the confession of Jesus’s rightness by one of the scribes and Jesus’s question about the lordship of the Son, the narrator has placed the authority of Jesus at the apex of the structure. The reader is invited to interpret the entire section in terms of the central issues, that the rightness of Jesus’s teaching is acknowledged by one of the religious leaders and that the Son of David is really David’s Lord. The concession on the part of the scribe indicates that Jesus’s rhetoric has effectively “shut up” the rhetoric of the religious leaders. The assertion that the Son of David is really David’s Lord highlights the supreme authority of Jesus himself. The center of the structure, then, serves to thwart the authority of the religious leaders and to vindicate Jesus’s authority.53 Second, a sort of narrative climax is achieved through the complete reversal of authority within the unit. At the outset (level A), the religious leaders are using the rhetoric of authority. After Jesus’s successful responses, however, the religious leaders mediate the authority of their rhetoric through representatives, flattery, and “trick” questions (level B). Finally, one of the religious authorities seems truly impressed with Jesus’s teaching (his rhetoric) and confesses the rightness of Jesus’s teachings (level C). Immediately after it is noted that no one dared to ask Jesus any further questions, Jesus raises his question about the authority of the Son of David, which remains unanswered by the religious leaders (level C′). From here, Jesus begins to take the initiative, and his authority increases in each unit through chapter 13, where he rejects the entire cultus of the religious 53. Notice that this is accomplished on the secondary level of rhetoric, not on the primary level. By focusing only on the primary level of rhetoric, one could easily miss that larger issues are at stake in the conversations than merely paying taxes to Caesar or how to interpret the Psalms.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

241

authorities describing the temple destruction as one unlike any ever before or ever after (level A′). Several things now become clear about the general rhetorical situation of the final discourse of Mark. First and most important, it is quite clear that the general situation is concerned with the full authority of Jesus as Divine Son and the usurped and illicit authority of the religious leaders. Jesus is the true heir of God’s vineyard, the cornerstone of God’s building, and the Lord of David. But, as he himself recognizes, he is the stone rejected by “the builders,”—indeed, rejected in these very verses. The religious leaders, on the other hand, are incapable of understanding divine authority, fearful of admitting the truth, murderers, liars, hypocrites, and deceived. The close association of these leaders with the temple should prepare the reader for the prophecy concerning the destruction of the latter given in chapter 13: the evil influence of the religious leaders has polluted the house of God; consequently, the house will be destroyed in a moment of tremendous maelstrom. A second feature of the rhetorical unit that seems important for establishing the rhetorical situation is the thoroughly rhetorical nature of the unit. From 11:27 to 13:37, the entire narrative is saturated with rhetoric. The scribes challenge Jesus to a series of debates, often cast in rhetorically clever ways. Jesus responds with παραβολαί, enthymemes, rhetorical questions, sarcasm, and other devices drawn from his own rhetorical repertoire. Throughout the unit, the narrator emphasizes Jesus as a teacher: the Pharisees and Herodians address Jesus as “Teacher” and deceitfully compliment the truthfulness of his “teaching”; the Sadducees also refer to Jesus as “Teacher”; after his answer to the single scribe, that scribe responds “Good, Teacher, you have answered the truth”; the narrator describes Jesus as “teaching” in the temple in 12:35 and continues that Jesus was “teaching” in 12:38; and in the disciples’ first observations in 13:1, they address Jesus as “Teacher.” Thus, by the time one reaches the discourse material in chapter 13, Jesus has masterfully “out taught” the religious leaders in succession. The narrative effect of having Jesus rhetorically conquer the parade of elders, scribes, chief priests, Pharisees, Herodians, and Sadducees is

242

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

powerful: he is shown to be the true and powerful teacher. By the time one gets to Mark 13, there can be little doubt as to the authority of the one who prophesies the coming tribulations. The interweaving of narrative with discursive material, then, serves to strengthen Jesus’s authority and to make credible his final discourse through demonstration of his powerful teaching. This narrative desire to strengthen Jesus’s authority explains why the primary speech of Jesus in Mark 11:27–13:37 (i.e., 12:1–12 and 13:5–37) is divided by narrative material. This point will be discussed again below. SPECIFIC RHETORICAL SITUATION On the basis of the rhetorical pattern of public comparison/private explanation, the detailed set of inclusios linking 12:1–12 and 13:5–37, and the chiasm formed by the end of 12:1–12 and the beginning of 13:5–37, we have suggested above that the primary discourse of 11:27–13:37 consists of the speech material in 12:1–12 and 13:5–37. These sections of the discourse are separated by the material in 12:13–44, all of which helps form a general rhetorical situation, giving context for interpreting the speech proper. The specific rhetorical situation for the discourse is given in 11:27–33 and 13:1–4. The first part of the discourse proper, 12:1–12, comes in the narrative as a response to the question of the religious leaders, “By what authority are you doing these things? Who gave you the authority to do what you are doing?” Jesus’s initial response is to issue a counter-question, and since the religious leaders refuse to answer his counter-question, Jesus refuses to tell them by what authority he acts. In spite of Jesus’s initial response, however, the narrator clearly intends the reader to understand that Jesus only refuses to answer specifically the religious leaders’ question, for in the next verse he does respond to their question in thinly veiled comparisons. This is made clear by 12:12, where the same religious leaders seek to arrest Jesus “because they knew that he had spoken the parable against (πρός) them.” Thus, 12:1–12 should be seen as at least the initial response to the question raised by the religious leaders over Jesus’s authority. And just as Jesus had typically spoken to the religious leaders

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

243

through comparisons—only explaining the comparisons privately to his disciples later—so here Jesus speaks to the religious leaders initially through comparisons. The previous three discourses all followed similar patterns of comparison(s) followed by private explanation. Two of these discourses, the one in chapter 4 and the one in chapter 7, moved from public comparison(s) to private discourse by means of a question raised by the disciples regarding the comparisons. Even the discourse of chapter 3, which does not have a direct question regarding the comparisons of 3:20–30, moves from public to private comment by means of a remark from the crowds (“Look, your mother and brothers are outside requesting you”). One should look for a remark from the disciples or the crowds as a signal for the beginning of Jesus’s private explanation of the comparisons in 12:1–12. One finds such a remark in 13:1–4, where the disciples call to Jesus to “Look at what wonderful stones and wonderful buildings!” When Jesus responds that these remarkable structures would be utterly destroyed, the inner circle of disciples—Peter, James, John, and Andrew—ask the question, “When will these things be and what will be the sign that all things are about to be consummated?” As pointed out above, this unit is linked in a chiastic way to the final part of the comparison section in 12:1–12, leading to the conclusion that the remarks and questions of the disciples here provide the transition from comparisons to explanation in the discourse. Tolbert effectively argues that the discourse material of chapter 13 intends to answer the question of how the rejected stone became the head of the corner.54 Our analysis of the discourse seeks to show that this is indeed what the reader would have been expected to understand. The comments and questions of the disciples, then, provide the motivation for the continuation in 13:5–37 of the primary speech that had begun in 12:1–12. This continuation should be seen as connected to the issue of authority, since the comparisons of chapter 12 had been offered in response to a challenge to Jesus’s authority and since the general rhetorical situation is concerned with authority. Nevertheless, the issue raised by 13:1–4 focuses more specifically on the destruc54. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 259–70.

244

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

tion of the temple. Within the overall narrative context, the link is obvious: the religious leaders have usurped their authority and abused their position; hence, their establishment, including the temple itself, will be destroyed by the cornerstone, whose authority is that of the Son. With the disciples’ question about when this destruction will occur and what signs will precede it, Jesus moves to the explanation section of the discourse. As shall be seen, both sets of questions are answered effectively by Jesus in the discourse. TYPE OF SPEECH According to Kennedy’s method, the establishment of the rhetorical situation should help in determining the type of speech present within the unit: judicial, deliberative, or epideictic. The discourses in chapter 3 and chapter 7 were both, as has been shown, judicial speeches that sought to answer specific charges against Jesus or his disciples. The discourse in chapter 4 was shown to be deliberative, instructing the disciples in the various ways people receive the kingdom and encouraging them to be careful how they receive it. Analysis of the background material in 11:27–13:37 alone has not yet provided sufficient indication of which type of discourse to expect in 12:1–12, 13:5–37. Thus, on the one hand, the question raised by the religious leaders in 11:27–33 might lead one to expect a judicial speech from Jesus, in which he defends his authority against that of his accusers, or even an epideictic speech in praise of his own “authority.” Even before Jesus begins the discourse, however, he explains that he will not answer the question directly. Instead he responds with comparisons, which typically indicate the presence of deliberative rhetoric in the GrecoRoman milieu, although they have also been used in Mark’s Gospel for judicial rhetoric. The questions raised by the disciples in 13:1–4 do not indicate any specific rhetorical type of discourse, although their orientation toward the future might again imply deliberative rhetoric.55 Thus, it is best to reserve any decision about the type of

55. Aristotle (Rhetoric 1.3.4) explains that future time is appropriate to deliberative rhetoric.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

245

rhetoric employed by Jesus in this discourse until the analysis of the discourse itself. DETAILED ANALYSIS It is common among interpreters to identify the “introduction” of the discourse in Mark 13 as vv. 1–4 of that chapter. The above discussion of the rhetorical unit and rhetorical situation, however, has already suggested that the true rhetorical introduction should be located at 12:1–12, the so-called “parable of the tenants.” The reader of the Gospel has already seen comparisons used for the exordium of a discourse in Mark (4:3–9). The confusion in 12:1–13:37 has resulted from the separation of the section in 12:1–12 from that in 13:5–37 by so much narrative material. As the previous sections demonstrated, however, the insertion of this narrative material serves to provide an interpretive context for the discourse, namely the struggle between Jesus and the religious leaders to establish authority. 12:1–12: EXORDIUM/PROPOSITIO The discourse material in 12:1–12, contrary to what most parable scholars have seen, actually contains two comparisons, the comparison of the evil tenants and the comparison of the corner stone.56 Historical critics have frequently been bothered by Mark’s juxtaposition of these two comparisons, taking the second to be a distracting citation from scripture awkwardly added to the allegory about the tenants.57 Nevertheless, a rhetorical analysis will demonstrate that the two 56. Note once again Mark’s use of the plural ἐν παραβολαῖς to describe the following discursive material. Thus, even though the religious leaders are described as desiring to arrest Jesus because they knew he spoke “the comparison” (τὴν παραβολὴν —singular) against them, Jesus actually tells two comparisons. The first is spoken against the religious leaders. Compare the alternating use of the singular and plural of παραβολὴν in 4:1–34. The explanation by William L. Lane (The Gospel according to Mark, NICNT [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974], 415n1) that ἐν παραβολαῖς means “parabolically” presumes a non-rhetorical understanding of παραβολὴν. Lane’s view is repeated by Eugene LaVerdiere, The Beginning of the Gospel: Introducing the Gospel according to Mark, 2 vols. (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1999), 2:169. 57. See, e.g., Pesch, Markusevangelium, 2:213–23; John R. Donahue, Are You the Christ? SBL Dissertation Series 10 (Missoula, MT: SBL, 1973), 124; and Charles E. Carlston, The Parables of the Triple Tradition (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975), 180–81.

246

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

comparisons function well together to provide a fitting exordium to the speech of 12:1–12/13:5–37. The narrator starts the discourse with a formula similar to that used in 4:1–34: “And he began to speak to them in comparisons. . . .” ἤρξατο is often a pleonastic device in Koine Greek drawing attention to what follows; there is no need to appeal to an underlying Aramaic source.58 The lack of a narrative break and the emphatic position of “to them” (αὐτοῖς ἐν παραβολαῖς λαλεῖν) connect the following comparisons with the question regarding Jesus’s authority and Jesus’s refusal to answer that question directly. The first comparison in the exordium describes a man who planted a vineyard and loaned it out to farmers when he went away. In emphatic position is the word “vineyard” (ἀμπελῶνα), which occurs throughout the comparison (v. 1, 2, 8, 9 [2x]). It is possible that the use of a comparison involving a fruit-yielding crop so closely after the cursing of the fig tree is intended to remind the readers of that incident, which is likely intended to represent the failure of Israel to be productive in the work of God. If this is the case, it would add an ominous element to the exordium from the beginning, since the last agricultural reference in the narrative ended in a withering curse. In any case, the wording of the first part of the comparison is obviously borrowed from Isaiah 5:1–2.59 There the vineyard clearly represents the people of Israel who are rejected and dug up by God for unfruitfulness. By closely following the wording of that text in Jesus’s comparison, it can be presumed that the narrator expects the readers to understand to some degree the symbolism here even without private explanation: the Jews (or at least their leaders in Mark’s narrative) have been unfruitful as tenants; therefore God will destroy them. Immediately, then, the tone is set for the discourse: the tenants of the Lord’s “vineyard” have failed; destruction must result. 58. See John Charles Doudna, The Greek of the Gospel of Mark, JBLMS 12 (Philadelphia: SBL, 1961), 111–17. Mark uses the device often, especially with verbs of speaking or teaching: 1:45; 4:1; 5:17, 20; 6:2, 34; 8:11, 31, 32; 10:28, 32, 47; 13:5; 14:69, 71; 15:18. Cf. BDF, par. 414 (2). 59. See Gundry, Mark, 659–60, 683–89. The imagery of Israel as a vineyard was a stock image in the Bible; see Johannes Behm, “ἄμπελος,” TDNT 1:342. See also Odil H. Steck, Israel und das gewaltsame Geschick der Propheten (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1967), 270–71. There is much discussion over exactly how and why Jesus alters the Isaian citation. See Carlston, Parables of the Triple Tradition, 179; and Pancratius C. Beentjes, “Inverted Quotations in the Bible: A Neglected Stylistic Pattern,” Bib 63, no. 4 (1982): 519–20.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

247

As mentioned, the wording of the first verse derives primarily from Isaiah 5. It is possible that, as in widespread Jewish exegesis of the Isaian passage, the elements in the lengthened description of the construction of the vineyard symbolize various components of the temple: the tower would represent the temple, and the vat the altar.60 This understanding, however, may stretch what the narrator expected the readers to imagine when hearing the comparison. In any case, the rhetorical effect of the elaborated description is to highlight the hard work and care that the owner put into the vineyard: A vineyard a man planted, and he surrounded it with a fence, and he dug a vat, and he built a tower, and he gave it to tenants, and he left.

The structure is based on a series of actions grammatically balanced with each other (a rhetorical figure called isocolon) employing the rhetorical device of homoeoptoton.61 The isocolon, or balancing of phrases, would be heard as the long list of things the owner did to build the vineyard. The use of homoeoptoton, integrating the -εν and -ον sounds, unites the various elements of the description to give a sense of roundedness to the unit: ἀμπελῶνα ἄνθρωπος ἐφύτευσεν, καὶ περιέθηκεν φραγμὸν καὶ ὤρυξεν ὑπολήνιον καὶ ᾠκοδόμησενπύργον καὶ ἐξέδετο αὐτὸν γεωργοῖς καὶ ἀπεδήμησεν.

60. See Tg. Isa. 5:2; t. Mecil. 1:16; t. Sukkah 3:15; cf. 1 Enoch 89:56, 66b–67, 73; Barn. 16:1–2, 4–5; Gundry, Mark, 684. A. Cornette (“Notes sur la parabole des vignerons Marc 12/ 5–12,” FoiVie 84 [1985]: 42–48) argues that the fence represents the law. 61. Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.20.28: “The figure of homoeoptoton occurs when in the same period two or more words appear in the same case, and with like terminations.” See also Alexander, Schemata, III p. 36, 7 [Spengel]. Quintilian, Institutes 9.3.78–79 suggests that homoeoptoton is most effective when clauses are of equal length—that is, when it is joined with the figure of isocolon, as it is here in Mark 12:1.

248

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The absence of the direct object in the final colon provides a rest to the series. If the narrator expected the readers to understand the vineyard as Israel and the owner of the vineyard as God, even at this point in the comparison it can be deduced that the “tenants” will be the religious leaders.62 Nevertheless, the remainder of the discourse as well as the narrative interruption from 12:13 to 13:4 clarifies that the religious leaders are the usurping “tenants” who actually block the work of God (see especially 12:38–40). The discourse unit in 13:5–37 also clarifies this identification. In time, the owner of the vineyard sent a slave to the tenants to collect the harvest. Verse 2 contains two periods arranged in a chiasm, with the second period inverted to accentuate “tenants.” The correspondence between the periods is based on similar sounds: a

b

c

καὶ ἀπέστειλεν πρὸς τοὺς γεωργοὺς τῷ b′ ἵνα παρὰ τῶν γεωργῶν

καιρῷ

δοῦλον

c′ λάβῃἀπὸ

a′

τῶν καρπῶν τοῦ ᾶμπελῶνος.

Instead of the owner “receiving” fruits, however, the tenants “received” the slave, beat him, and sent him away empty. The connection between v. 2 and v. 3 is not limited to the repetition of “receiving/received” (λάβῃ, λαβόντες), however. The devices of homoioteleuton and homoeoptoton link the latter clause in v. 2 with v. 3, playing on the -ῶν and -αν sounds: καὶ ἀπέστειλεν πρὸς τοὺς γεωργοὺς τῷ καιρῷ δοῦλον ἵνα παρὰ τῶν γεωργῶν λάβῃἀπὸ τῶν καρπῶν τοῦ ἀμπελῶνος: καὶ λαβόντες αὐτὸν ἔδειραν καὶ ἀπέστειλαν κενόν.

There is a bit of a shock to the tenants’ reception of the slave: the owner wanted to “receive” his fruit, but the tenants “received” his slave, beat him, and sent him away empty. The asyndeton between λαβόντες αὐτὸν and ἔδειραν helps amplify this shock. Prior to the 62. Cf. Cornette, “Notes sur la parabole des vignerons Marc 12/5–12.”

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

249

asyndeton, the description had been quite rhythmic, with the homoioteleuton/homoeoptoton providing a pleasing sound. The startling introduction of ἔδειραν into this scheme creates a delicate irony between the beauty of the rhetoric and the ugliness of the tenants. Of course, it is this wicked action of the tenants that is highlighted by the irony. Following the degenerate treatment of this slave by the tenants, Jesus explains that the owner sent another slave, whom the tenants wounded in the head (ἐκεφαλίωσαν)63 and dishonored; he sent another whom they killed; and he sent many others whom they beat and killed. These verses are arranged in an ascending order (as in climax): the first slave was beaten and sent away empty handed; the second was beaten in the head and dishonored; the third was killed; afterwards many others were beaten and killed.64 The climax is heightened by the threefold repetition of the verb “he sent,” suggesting a patience on the part of the owner that contrasts vividly with the insolent violence on the part of the tenants. Further, as in the description of the sending of the first slave in vv. 2–3 above, homoioteleuton/homoeoptoton continues to be employed in vv. 4–5, linking together rhetorically all the violence of the tenants: καὶ ἀπέστειλεν πρὸς τοὺς γεωργοὺς τῷ καιρῷ δοῦλον ἵνα παρὰ τῶν γεωργῶν λάβῃἀπὸ τῶν καρπῶν τοῦ ἀμπελῶνος: καὶ λαβόντες αὐτὸν ἔδειραν καὶ ἀπέστειλαν κενόν. καὶ πάλιν ἀπέστειλεν πρὸς αὐτοὺς ἄλλον δοῦλον: κἀκεῖνον ἐκεφαλίωσαν καὶ ἠτίμασαν. καὶ ἄλλον ἀπέστειλεν, κἀκεῖνον ἀπέκτειναν, καὶ πολλοὺς ἄλλους, οὓς μὲν δέροντες, οὓς δὲἀποκτέννοντες.

63. The verb occurs only here in Mark. The reading of some manuscripts (A, C, Θ, f13, Maj/ Byz, syp.h), which include λιθοβολήσαντες, is interesting in light of the reference to the corner stone in vv. 10–11. 64. Vincent Taylor’s (Mark, 473) historical rather than rhetorical sensitivity is revealed when he suggests that vv. 4 and 9b are not authentic: “Nothing is lost by the removal.”

250

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The last three cola of the series are also joined by isocolon and the repetition of the -ου sound, making the description of the tenants’ actions stand out in the series.65 The comparison shows the tenants as usurpers who act in mutiny against the owner of the vineyard. The owner’s patience has been rhetorically suggested; the tenants’ audacity has been emphasized. At v. 6, however, the climactic end of the owner’s sendings begins. There, Jesus explains that the owner had one “beloved” son, whom he sent last of all, assuming that the son would be respected by the tenants. Nonetheless, the tenants calculated that since the son is the heir to the vineyard, if they kill him, the vineyard would become theirs. Jesus explains that the tenants “received” him, killed him, and cast him out of the vineyard. The son is identified with strained grammar that places “one” at the head of the clause and “beloved” at the end of the clause: ἔτι ἕνα εἶχεν, υἱὸν ἀγαπητόν. On the level of secondary rhetoric, the clause recalls the baptism of Jesus, where the divine voice declared him to be “my son, the beloved one” (ὁ υἱός μου ὁ ἀγαπητός, 1:11). On the primary level, it describes a near ridiculous act of patience on the part of the owner, who would endure the previous insults thus far and climactically end this endurance by sending his own son to the rebellious murderers. For the fourth time, Jesus states that the owner “sent” to the tenants, but this time would be the last sending (ἔσχατον). The tenants reason with maliciousness: “This is the heir; come and let’s kill him, and ours will be the inheritance.” The contrast between Jesus66 as the true heir and the tenants as murderous usurpers is set up grammatically: οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ κληρονόμος: δεῦτε ἀποκτείνωμεν αὐτόν, καὶ ἡμῶν ἔσται ἡ κληρονομία. 65. Contra Gundry, Mark, 685, who argues that the final “sending” is anticlimactic and therefore a “post-Jesuanic addition” to the tradition. 66. Roger David Aus (The Wicked Tenants and Gethsemane [Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996]) argues that Jesus originally meant “my beloved son” to refer to Isaiah, not to himself, but that since Mark did not understand his source (whose original was either Hebrew or Aramaic, Aus insists), Mark left the implication that Jesus originally spoke of himself. Aus considers Mark’s lack of editing fortuitous for modern critics: “We must be grateful to him [Mark] for making almost no changes in the account transmitted to him by his Passion Narrative source.”

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

251

For the second time, the tenants are described as “receiving” (λαβόντες) the one sent, whereupon they murdered him and threw him out of the vineyard.67 As Tolbert demonstrates, the entire unit from v. 1 to v. 8 is internally structured by four acts of sending out, met by an escalation of violence on the part of the tenants: (12:1) A vineyard (ἀμπελῶνα) a person planted and placed a hedge around it and dug a pit for a winepress and built a tower and gave it out to tenants and went abroad. 1.

SENDING (12:2): And he sent out outa(ἀπέστειλεν) to the tenants at the proper season a servant to take (λάβῃ) from the tenants of the fruit of the vineyard, RESPONSE (12:3): and takingb (λαβόντες) him they beat him and sent him out outa (ἀπέστειλαν) empty.

2.

SENDING (12:4a): And again he sent out (ἀπέστειλεν) to them another servant, RESPONSE (12:4b): and they wounded him in the head and dishonored him.

3.

SENDING (12:5a): And another he sent out (ἀπέστειλεν), RESPONSE (12:5a): and they killed him; [SENDING] (12:5b): and many others, [RESPONSE] (12:5b): some on the one hand they beat, some on the other hand they killed.

4. SENDING (12:6): Still he had one, a beloved son; he sent out (ἀπέστειλεν) him last, saying, ‘They will revere my son.’ RESPONSE (12:7–8): But those tenants said to each other, ‘This one is the heir; come, let us kill him and ours will be the inheritance.’ And taking him, they killed him and threw him out of the vineyard (ἀμπελῶνα).68

The last sending is highlighted, Tolbert notes, by the presence of direct discourse, as the owner reasons about the respect his son deserves, and the tenants discuss their motives for killing him. Mark 12:1–8, then, coming at the beginning of the primary discourse, should rightly be identified as its exordium. In the previous chapters of this work, the functions of exordia in Greco-Roman 67. Note that in the actual narrative of the Gospel, as soon as the authorities recognize Jesus as the Son in 14:63–64, they kill him; see Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 267. 68. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 235; underlines have been changed to bold.

252

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

speeches were discussed. Exordia sought to dispose the audience favorably towards the speaker; they sought to introduce, even if in vague terms, the themes to be discussed; and exordia sought to grab attention. This exordium accomplishes each of these three functions. First, though the comparison obviously does not win any favor with the religious leaders, who instead sought to arrest Jesus because of it, on the primary level of rhetoric it evidently pleased the crowds, who are described later as listening to Jesus with delight. On the secondary level, it is doubtful that by this point the narrator would need for Jesus to win the favor of the readers; nevertheless, by setting forth in concrete terms the wickedness of the tenants, the narrator continues to solidify the respect of the readers for Jesus. Second, as the exordium of the discourse, the comparison of the evil tenants also introduces certain themes that will be developed in the subsequent discourse. These have already been seen in the many inclusios listed above. The themes to which Jesus returns in the discourse include “the building” of the vineyard, which resurfaces in 13:1–4 as the “buildings” of the temple; the “time” for harvest, which comes back in the body of the discourse as a discussion of the “time” of the coming of the Son of Man (13:33); the beating of God’s messengers, which is elaborated in 13:9–13; of “sending,” which also occurs at the Son’s coming (13:27); and the fact that the son comes “last” (ἔσχατον), which is consonant with the last act in the main part of the discourse—the coming of the Son (13:26–27). Third, as exordium, the comparison functions to hold the attention of the listeners, with Jesus employing striking speech to contrast the patience of God with the insolence of the tenants. On a primary level, the attention-getting effect of the discourse is indicated by the angry reaction of the religious leaders in v. 12. On the narrative level, the discourse features some of the more striking language in the Gospel and could be compared to Rhetorica ad Herennium’s “frankness

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

253

of speech,”69 which Rhetorica ad Herennium warns is a risky way to speak.70 Turning from his comparison in v. 9, Jesus asks a direct question to those listening: “What, then, will the Lord of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy those tenants and give the vineyard to others.” The consequence of the tenants’ rebellion against the owner of the vineyard is their certain destruction. This fate is emphasized by means of the rhetorical question that introduces it.71 Of course, the effect of the rhetorical question is to force the religious leaders themselves to consider the fate of the tenants on the primary level and the readers on the secondary. The question of the fate of the tenants forms a subtle shift away from the comparison.72 Having seen the pattern three times before, by now one should expect Jesus to follow a comparison/exordium with the rhetorical propositio. This is what vv. 9–11 form in the discourse—a briefly stated propositio. Taking it at face value, the propositio explains that the tenants will be destroyed, that the vineyard will be given to others, and that the rejected Son is made the head by the Lord. If our view is correct and 13:5–37 forms a continuation of the primary speech begun in 12:1–12, it is correct to interpret chapter 13 as an elaboration of the propositio of 12:9–11. Thus, though historical critics have not missed the theme of destruction in 13:5–37, they have characteristically failed to see the connection between the two parts of the discourse, 12:1–11 and 13:5–37. Analysis of the discourse demonstrates how the discourse, further refined by the brief exchange with the disciples in 13:1–4, elaborates upon the propositio of vv. 9–11. 69. “It is Frankness of Speech (oratio libera, = παρρησία) when, talking before those to whom we owe reverence or fear, we yet exercise our right to speak out, because we seem justified in reprehending them, or persons dear to them, for some fault” Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.36.48. Quintilian, Institutes 9.2.27 and 9.3.99 denies that this is a figure. 70. See Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.37.49. 71. Cf. Cicero, De Oratore 3.53.203; Quintilian, Institutes 9.3.98, 9.2.7; and Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.15.22. Rhetorica ad Herennium’s description of the most effective use of “interrogation” is similar to the question in v. 9, except that instead of an argument in vv. 1–8, an example has been used: “that Interrogation is [impressive or elegant], which, when the points against the adversaries’ cause have been summed up, reinforces the argument that has just been delivered.” 72. See Crossan, Four Other Gospels, 61, although Crossan carries the point too far.

254

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

One might expect the propositio of vv. 9–11 to provide insight into the meaning of the comparison found in the exordium. The propositio, however, is too succinct to give specific referents for the comparison itself. Without moving ahead to the probatio of the discourse, is there sufficient evidence at this point to determine with precision what situation is being described by the comparison? Traditionally, exegetes have taken the “parable of the tenants” to be an allegory describing the rejection of the prophets, John the Baptist, and Jesus himself by the Jewish people, warranting the destruction of them as tenants of the kingdom of God. Taken this way, the tenants have been seen as the Jewish people themselves or as their religious leaders or the temple cult. The owner of the vineyard is, of course, God. The slaves who are sent to gather the fruit have been interpreted as the prophets of the Hebrew Bible and John the Baptist. The son of the owner is interpreted to be Jesus, who is put to death by the religious authorities. Their action brings on the destruction of Jerusalem, including the temple, some decades later. Tolbert takes the parable one step further, finding in it a second plot summary for the Gospel, much in the same way that the parable discourse of chapter 4 had formed the first plot summary.73 She focuses on the function of the parable in the narrative itself—its secondary level of rhetoric. Taking the “parable” this way, Tolbert is able to look back on the ministry of John the Baptist in the Gospel and reinterpret his call to repentance and baptism as a demand for the fruit of the vineyard. Like the second slave, John the Baptist is struck on the head and dishonored by Herod. Moreover, she is able to interpret the ministry of Jesus, “the heir of the vineyard,” as similar to that of the other prophets, demanding fruit that should belong to God from the Jewish people. For her, the entire Gospel context provides the necessary referent for understanding the parable: “Thus, unlike the parable of the Sower, no point-by-point interpretation is given or is necessary, for the Markan narrative itself provides

73. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 231–70. See also E. Van Eck and A. G. Van Aarde, “A Narratological Analysis of Mark 12:1–12: The Plot of the Gospel of Mark in a Nutshell,” HvTSt 45, no. 4 (1989): 778–800, who argue that the entire plot of Mark’s Gospel is summarized in the parable.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

255

the illuminating context.”74 Further, since the parable stresses that Jesus is the last (ἔσχατον) in the stream of messengers sent to gather fruit, his murder precipitates the destruction of the tenants. Looking ahead to the discourse of chapter 13 and the subsequent crucifixion of Jesus, Tolbert points out narrative connections that fulfill the implicit promise of the parable that the tenants will be destroyed. Tolbert seems correct in her assessment that the narrative itself has provided sufficient context to understand the comparison of vv. 1–8. And the comparison seems sufficiently transparent to warrant some version of the traditional identification of its characters: the owner as God, the tenants as the Jewish leaders/people, the slaves as prophets, perhaps including John the Baptist, and the son as Jesus. By situating the comparison within the context of this particular discourse, however, further refinement of these referents becomes possible, and the comparison takes on richer significance. The propositio begins with a prophecy regarding the destruction of the evil tenants. In vv. 10–11, Jesus continues the propositio with a scriptural rationale for the coming destruction of the tenants: the rejected stone is the Lord’s favored. The rationale actually constitutes a second comparison, and like the first comparison, this one also is drawn from scripture (Ps 118:22–23). It constitutes an argument drawn from the contrary: the tenants are to be destroyed because the scripture promises to make the rejected stone the head of the corner.75 That Mark understands this rationale to constitute a second comparison is indicated both by the plural παραβολαί in 12:1 and by the simple, comparative nature of the citation—it actually is a comparison drawn from everyday life (stonemasonry). His use of οὐδὲ may also signal that vv. 10–11 contain a further comparison; in this case, Jesus would be acknowledging the scriptural basis for the first comparison (Isa 5:1–2) and saying “Neither this scripture [Ps 118:22–23] you have read?”76 linking the two comparisons by the word οὐδὲ. 74. Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 234. 75. C. A. Evans (“On the Vineyard Parables of Isaiah 5 and Mark 12,” BZ 28, no. 1 [1984]: 82–86) argues that in the targumic period, Isa 5:1–7 was understood as a prediction of the temple’s destruction, and Mark’s use of the psalm citation regarding the “rejected stone” is consistent with Jewish exegesis of the day. 76. Contra BDAG, 591, 3.

256

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

This second comparison somewhat obliquely refers to the authority of the Son in contrast to the usurped authority of the tenants. They are destroyed for rejecting the Son of the Lord, but in the second comparison the stone that is rejected is made the head of the corner by the Lord. The juxtaposition of these two comparisons, with only v. 9 between them, helps the listener understand that they are two comparisons proving from different directions the same point: that the religious authorities will be destroyed as usurpers, but Jesus will be made “head” of the corner by God himself. By deriving this comparison from scripture, Jesus reinforces its persuasiveness, since scripture functions as divine proof in the rhetoric of the Gospel. As was pointed out in the discussion above on the rhetorical unit, this second comparison actually constitutes the first part of a chiasm, which is not concluded until 13:1–4. There, Jesus will pick up on the themes of the λίθον and the οἰκοδομοῦντες. The link there clearly invites the reader to hear 13:5–37 as the development of the propositio in 12:9–11. For now, however, the narrator interrupts with the immediate response of the religious leaders, who wish to arrest Jesus because they perceive that “the comparison” was spoken against them, although their fear of the crowd prevents them from doing so. The use of the singular “comparison” in 12:12 may be a reference to the exordium of the unit, which was clearly spoken against the religious leaders (as opposed to the propositio, which was spoken in support of Jesus, but not directly against the religious leaders). This interpretation, however, seems to strain the close proximity of the singular παραβολήν (v. 12) to the second comparison (vv. 10–11). It could be that this singular use of the term παραβολήν is simply a generalization for vv. 1–11, in much the same way that Mark 4 uses the singular παραβολήν to generalize about παραβολαί (plural): Jesus telling “comparisons” to the crowds in 4:1–9, with the disciples asking about “the comparisons” in 4:10–12, and Jesus giving his pronouncement about why he speaks “in comparisons” in 4:11–12, only to have him interpret “the comparison” in 4:13–20 Nevertheless, one cannot rule out that the “comparison” the religious leaders perceived to be against them was the second comparison of the unit, that of the rationale in vv. 10–11. This understanding would be reminiscent of the last

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

257

time someone sought to “arrest” (κρατῆσαι) Jesus: his own family in 3:20–35. There, the family was bothered not because Jesus had directly condemned them but because he had been performing great miracles. Presumably, it was their jealousy of him that caused them to be upset. In 12:10–11, Jesus claims to be the stone that the builders rejected, whose authority is divine. A little later, when Jesus makes an explicit claim to be the “son of the Blessed One,” the religious leaders find it sufficient to put him to death (14:61–64). If one takes the phrase ἔγνωσαν γὰρ ὅτι πρὸς αὐτοὺς τὴν παραβολὴν εἶπεν to mean that the religious leaders knew Jesus was calling himself “the Lord’s stone” while referring to them as the rejecters of that stone,77 then it may be that it was the comparison of the stone that offended the religious leaders and not the comparison of the tenants. At any rate, the religious leaders depart and the narrative commentary continues. The narrative material that separates 12:11 from 13:5, as was seen above, serves to sharpen the contrast between Jesus’s authority and that of the religious leaders. By inserting the material between the exordium and propositio of the discourse and its probatio, the narrator has helped establish the theme of the discourse as Jesus’s authority over that of the religious leaders, the latter of whom are closely linked to the corrupt temple. The next section of the discourse proper, then, picks up with this theme of the temple by means of the chiasm already pointed out between 12:10 and 13:1–2. 13:5–37: PROBATIO, EPILOGUE As is his usual pattern in the Gospel of Mark, after Jesus’s public comparison, he retires to a private setting with the disciples where he continues his discourse with an explanation. 13:1–4 provides the narrative transition from the material in 12:13–44 to the primary speech itself, which paused at 12:11. As already indicated above, this transition is signaled by a chiasm linking 12:10 to 13:1–2:

77. Note that the narrator explains that the religious leaders understood Jesus to be speaking the comparison πρὸς αὐτοὺς. This phrase is somewhat weaker than our “against them,” and may imply something like “about them.”

258

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

12:10:

λίθονa ὃν ἀπεδοκίμασαν οἱ οἰκοδομοῦντεςb…

13:1–2: Διδάσκαλε, ἴδε ποταποὶ λίθοιa καὶ ποταπαὶ οἰκοδομαίb Βλέπεις ταύτας τὰς μεγάλας οἰκοδομάςb′; οὐ μὴ ἀφεθῇ ὧδε λίθοςa′ ἐπὶ λίθονa′ ὃς οὐ μὴ; καταλυθῇ.

Gundry expands Tolbert’s chiasm to include references to the temple, which highlight its thematic role in the discourse: a

temple

b

stones

c

buildings

c′ buildings b′ stone on a stone a′

temple.78

The disciple’s remark about the “wonderful stones” and “wonderful buildings” functions to reintroduce the terms with which the propositio ended and to bring up the subject of the temple. A certain disciple exclaims: “Teacher, look! (ἴδε) What wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!” Jesus responds by predicting the total destruction of these stones and buildings that constitute the temple, already associated with the corrupt religious leaders, who oppose the divine authority of Jesus. In v. 3, the narrator specifies that Jesus sat on the Mount of Olives alone with Peter, James, John, and Andrew, who ask Jesus the twofold question: “When will these things be, and what will be the sign when all these things are about to be consummated?” This question becomes the primary focus for the remainder of the discourse.79 78. Gundry, Mark, 736. 79. Vincent Taylor (Mark, 502) and others object that the question would better follow chapter 13 than precede it. But what these critics have failed to see is the connection between chapter 13 and the overall discursive context, especially 12:1–12. There, the destruction of the tenants and the exaltation of the rejected stone were predicted. The exordium and propositio, as well as the prediction of 13:2, provide sufficient warrant for the disciples’ question of 13:4.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

259

It is significant that the unnamed disciple of v. 1 begins his observation with the exclamation for the teacher to “Look!” This term of perception has already been shown to play an important role in Jesus’s teaching (see Mark 4 above) and in the pursuit of discipleship. Now it becomes a structuring device for the rest of Jesus’s temple discourse, each major heading being demarcated with the call to “Look!” Indeed, the entire thirteenth chapter of Mark is structured by calls to “look!” “be alert!” or “watch!”—from the disciple’s remark, to Jesus’s initial response in v. 2, to the speech material in vv. 5–37 itself: This . . . is a marvel in our eyes!

12:10

Jesus:

13:1

A certain Teacher, look! What wonderful stones and what wonderful disciple: buildings!

13:2

Jesus’s response:

Are you looking at these great buildings? Not one . . .

13:3–4

Disciples

When? What signs?

13:5–8

Jesus’s Look! lest you be deceived! discourse

13:9–13

Look! to yourselves; they will deliver you

13:14–23

When you see the desolating sacrilege . . .

13:24–27

(v. 23) Look! I have told you all things before. And then . . . and then they will look at the son of man (v. 26)

13:28–29

Whenever you look at these things happening . . .

13:30–31

Verily I say to you . . .

13:32–37

No one knows when . . . Look, be alert . . . you do not know when (vv. 32–33) As a man who leaves and commands to watch (v. 34) Therefore watch! for you do not know when . . . (v.35) Therefore I say to you all, watch!

Using the technique of anaphora,80 the narrator has created a clearly discernible structure to the discourse that would have been easily perceived by the first-century readers and that would have guided them 80. See Alexander, Schemata III p. 20, 30 [Spengel]: “Anaphora is when with the same word two or more cola begin.” See also Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.13.19; Quintilian, Institutes 9.3.30.

260

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

through the discourse. Furthermore, the structure links 12:1–12 to the speech material of Mark 13: Jesus’s final words in the rationale of 12:11 were “this is a marvel to our eyes.” In response to the disciple’s remark that the stones of the temple “look” wonderful, Jesus explains that these stones and buildings at which they are “looking” are to be destroyed; he then proceeds to command the disciples to “Look!” throughout his subsequent discourse section. The swirl of thematic streams—Jesus the divine corner stone, the destruction of the religious leaders and their temple, the timing of that destruction—is carefully structured by the anaphoric use of “look,” creating an orderly, wellintegrated discourse. Specifically, the disciples ask Jesus, “When will these things be and what will be the sign when all these things are about to be consummated?” This double question is based upon Jesus’s prediction of the destruction of the temple; both issues raised by the question should be seen as continuing the themes established in the exordium and propositio—namely, that the son is rejected by the religious authorities who are consequently destroyed by God and that the rejected stone is to become the head. The probatio of the discourse begins as a response to the disciples’ question, but the answer includes more than just an answer to “when” and “what signs.” Rather, it addresses the entire issue of the destruction of the tenants and their system and the headship of the Son, giving less information about “when” these events are to occur and focusing more on exhortations to be ready for them. 81 The theme of “Look!” helps to fix with precision the genre of the speech in Mark 12:1–12/13:5–37. The beginning of the discourse seems born in controversy, and as with 3:20–35 and 7:1–23, one is tempted to identify the discourse as judicial. Indeed, in the exordium there seems to be a judicial tinge, as Jesus condemns the evil tenants and declares the rejected stone the head of the corner. Nevertheless, in the discourse itself, Jesus does not proceed to prove that the scribes are “the evil tenants” or that it is they who will be destroyed. Neither does he attempt to show himself to be “the rejected stone” who is now to be made the corner. Rather, in the probatio of the discourse, Jesus assumes the destruction of the tenants and their temple system 81. See Vorster, “Literary Reflections on Mark 13:5–37,” Neot, 218–20.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

261

and his own sonship and focuses rather on signs preceding the destruction, on the “coming of the son,” and on the need for the disciples to be prepared. Indeed, the repeated admonitions to “Look!” and the explanations to the disciples about their coming tribulations make it clear that the discourse is primarily deliberative in nature, challenging the disciples (and perhaps the hearers of the Gospel) to be prepared for the destruction of the temple and the coming of the Son of man.82 As was pointed out above, the thirteenth chapter seems to be structured around repetitions of the theme of “looking.” Before returning to the analysis of the discourse at 13:5, it will be helpful to posit in advance how the discourse is arranged, using the anaphoric commands to “Look!” as structuring devices. Here is provided a somewhat interpretive structural outline of the discourse: [11:27–33 Question over authority] 12:1–8

Exordium Evil tenants reject the authority of the Son by killing him

12:9–11

Pr Propositio opositio The tenants must be destroyed; the stone rejected by the builders is made head of the corner; This is a marvel in our eyes [12:12–44 Response of the scribes; debates and teachings over the authority of Jesus vs. the authority of the scribes] [13:1

Disciple’s comment: Look at the wonderful stones and buildings]

[13:2

Jesus’s remark: Are you looking at these great buildings? Not one stone will be left on another]

[13:3–4

Disciples question:

82. This is the case on the primary level of the discourse. On the secondary level of rhetoric, that of the narrator, the discursive unit likely does have a judicial function, since the entire unit is concerned with showing the bankrupt authority of the religious leaders and the absolute authority of Jesus. Thus, on the secondary level, the series of enthymemes serve a judicial purpose, and even the threatening discourse of Mark 13 can be seen as a claim to authority—the authority of the Son of Man to crush the temple.

262

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

When? What signs?] 13:5–8

First Heading: The beg beginnings innings of tr trav avail ail Look! lest you be deceived!

13:9–13

Sec Second ond Heading: The persecutions bef befor oree the end Look! to yourselves; they will deliver you.

13:14–23 Third Heading: The destruction When you see the desolating sacrilege . . . 13:24–27 Fourth Heading: The C Coming oming of the Son (v. 23) Look! I have told you all things before. . . . And then they will look at the son of man. 13:28–29 Comparison of the fig Whenever you look at these things happening . . . 13:30–31 Oath of cconfirmation onfirmation Verily I say to you . . . 13:32–37 Exordium: W Watch! atch! No one knows when . . . Look, be alert . . . you do not know when (vv. 32–33) As a man who leaves and commands to watch (v. 34) Therefore watch! for you do not know when . . . (v. 35) Therefore I say to you all, watch!

After the exordium and propositio in 12:1–12, then, Jesus resumes his speech in 13:5 with a direct response to the disciples’ question about when shall come and what signs shall precede the destruction of the temple. The first heading of the probatio begins with the call to “Look!”: Look, lest any of you be deceived; many will come in my name saying, “I am he,” and many will be deceived. But whenever you hear of wars and reports of wars, do not be shaken. It necessarily happens, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes everywhere; there will be famines. These make the beginning of the birth pangs.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

263

In language clearly reminiscent of various apocalyptic treatises of the era,83 The first exhortation consists of a periodic sentence balanced by the warning about “deceivers”: Βλέπετε μή τις ὑμᾶς πλανήσῃ πολλοὶ ἐλεύσονται ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόματί μου λέγοντες ὅτι Ἐγώ εἰμι καὶ πολλοὺς πλανήσουσιν.

The repetition of the term “deceive” indicates the reason for the first warning to “Look!” The disciples must be alert lest they be deceived by imitators of Jesus who come during the beginning of the birth pangs, rather than “in the days after the destruction” (v. 24), when the Son of Man comes. In both lines, “many” is in emphatic position: “many” will come, “many” will be deceived. Who these imitators were outside the narrative world is not stated, but the seriousness of their deception is rhetorically highlighted.85 83. The apocalyptic nature of the discourse has been explored in detail. The most thorough analysis is that of Lars Hartman, Prophecy Interpreted: The Formation of Some Jewish Apocalyptic Texts and of the Eschatological Discourse Mark 13 par, trans. Neil Tomkinson, Coniectanea Biblica NT Series 1 (Lund: Gleerup, 1966), who analyzes various apocalyptic elements in the discourse against their Jewish backgrounds and considers Mark 13 to be something of a “midrash” on certain Danielic passages. See also Brandenburger, Markus 13, although his redactional interests force him to remove from the discourse sections that he does not consider “apocalyptic”—most notably the warnings to watch. As Gundry (Mark, 751–52) argues, however, the discourse lacks a number of stock apocalyptic features. This has led several critics to compare the discourse to Greco-Roman and biblical patterns of peripatetic discourse or dialogue, e.g., David E. Aune, Prophecy in Early Christianity and the Ancient Mediterranean World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 186–87; and Robbins, Jesus the Teacher, 178–79. Rhetorically, one could consider the graphic descriptions of the discourse as examples of Rhetorica ad Herennium’s “oracular demonstration” (demonstratio) employing apocalyptic imagery. Rhetorica ad Herennium refers to discourse material as “oracular demonstration” when “an event is so described in words that the business seems to be enacted and the subject to pass vividly before our eyes.” See also Quintilian, Institutes 8.3.61, 9.2.40. Jesus begins his “proof” with a description of the “beginning of the birth pangs.” The heading is composed of the introductory exhortation to “Look!” followed by a warning of the coming of deceivers as well as an admonition to the disciples not to be easily shaken by the wars, earthquakes, and famines that necessarily come with the beginning of these birth pangs. 84 84. The events occur in other apocalyptic contexts; cf. Sibylline Oracles 3:635; 4 Ezra 13:31; 1 Enoch 94:4; 2 Baruch 27:7, 70:3, 70:8; Rev 6:8, 11:13, 16:18, etc. 85. The meaning of ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόματί μου λέγοντες ὅτι Ἐγώ εἰμι is disputed. The phrase ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόματί μου might imply that the deceivers would claim to be Jesus himself: “It is I” (cf. Mark 6:50; 14:62). Jeffrey Gibson (“Jesus’ Refusal to Produce a ‘Sign’ [Mk 8.11–13],” JSNT 38 [1990]: 48–49) takes the phrase to mean “I am the Christ.” Given the fact that Jesus has not claimed to be the Christ in Mark’s Gospel up to this point, and has even rebuked Peter for making the claim (8:27–33.), it seems that the former interpretation is more likely. For further study, see J. Manson, “The Ego Eimi of the Messianic Presence in the NT,” JTS 48 (1947): 137–45; C. E. B. Cranfield, “St. Mark 13,” SJT 6, no. 2 (1953): 288; Daube, New Testament, 325–29.

264

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

With the warning to “Look!” comes the admonition “Do not be shaken.” This second imperative follows its reason, giving a chiastic structure to the first two admonitions: A

A′

Look! B

Warning about deceivers

B′

Warning about wars and reports of wars Do not be shaken!

Without Jesus’s advance warning, the disciples might be shaken by the coming wars and the reports of wars (there is a word play in the clause: ἀκούσητε). But he warns them here that such wars and reports of wars along with earthquakes and famines are only the beginnings of the birth pangs. Because the destruction is still to come, and because the Son of Man will only come after the destruction, the disciples must not be shaken but must remain, in the words of the next heading, “steadfast to the end.” The admonition not to be shaken is followed by a list of calamities that will signal the beginning of the birth pangs. Stock apocalyptic signs, these calamities ought to be taken as direct answers to the second part of the disciples’ question, “what will be the sign when all these things are about to be consummated?” The signs are not actually part of the destruction of the temple, nor are they events that actually accompany the coming of the Son. Rather, they are only the beginning of the ordeal, and as such they constitute signs. Later, it is seen that Jesus addresses directly the first part of the disciples’ question, “When will these things be” (13:32–37). Jesus’s answer to the twofold question is arranged in a somewhat chiastic way: QUESTION: A B

When will these things be? What will be the sign when all these things are about to be consummated?

The issue of narrative time and story time is discussed in Petersen, Literary Criticism, 49–80. Vorster (“Literary Reflections on Mark 13:5–37,” 209–13) and Burton L. Mack (A Myth of Innocence: Mark and Christian Origins [Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988], 328–31) consider the issue in relation to the discourse of Mark 13.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

ANSWER:

265

B′ Signs indicating the beginnings of birth pangs. A′ No one knows when these things will be.

The similarity between this pattern of response and that of 3:20–35 and 7:1–23 should not be missed. The list of apocalyptic signs in vv. 7–8 includes wars, earthquakes, and famines. The first of these, however, is stressed through both the repetition of the term (“wars and reports of wars”) and the elaborated description of the wars in v. 8 vis-à-vis two balanced clauses: ἐγερθήσεται γὰρ ἔθνος ἐπ’ ἔθνος καὶ βασιλεία ἐπὶ βασιλείαν

The description of each sign shortens to a point: 1. ἐγερθήσεται γὰρ ἔθνος ἐπ’ ἔθνος καὶ βασιλεία ἐπὶ βασιλείαν 2. ἔσονται σεισμοὶ κατὰ τόπους, 3. ἔσονται λιμοί: Though this descending structure is not necessarily climactic thematically (famines are not necessarily worse than wars or earthquakes), it is rhetorically. Further, since the narrator evidently expected the readers to know something about apocalyptic literature, the use of the apocalyptic tone, of apocalyptic imagery, and later, of citations from apocalyptic sources is no doubt intended to add end-of-the-world solemnity to the words of Jesus. This apocalyptic accent is enhanced by the frequent use of asyndeton in the first heading: πλανήσῃ πολλοὶ; μή θροεῖσθε; δεῖ γενέσθαι; βασιλείαν, ἔσονται σεισμοὶ; κατὰ τόπους, ἔσονται λιμοί: ἀρχὴ; ὠδίνων ταῦτα. As with the deceivers in v. 6, the specific referents in the world outside the narrative are not given within the narrative. The discourse points forward to a time outside the narrative world in which the narrator expects a horrific violence to seize Jerusalem. From the viewpoint of the actual speech, though, it is unnecessary to identify actual historical similarities for the signs indicating the beginning of the birth pangs.

266

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The second heading of the speech deals with various persecutions that precede “the end.” Like the first heading, the second heading also begins with a call to “Look!” (v. 9). Since the persecution of the disciples, unlike the more general signs of the first heading, is personal in nature, the opening call of the second heading to “Look!” is reflexive: “But you, Look to yourselves!” The subsequent material explains why the disciples are to “Look to themselves”: three predictions of explicit persecutions are given, followed by the promise of the Spirit as a guide, three more predicted persecutions, and the promise of salvation to those who endure. The alternating structure balances each persecution section with an assurance of divine support: A

Three promises of persecution (vv. 9–10) B

A′

The assurance of the Holy Spirit (v. 11) Three promises of persecution (vv. 12–13)

B′

The assurance of salvation (v. 13b)

The first three predicted persecutions describe three kinds of official trials the disciples will have to face before political and religious authorities. They will deliver you into the sanhedrins; in the councils you will be beaten;86 and before rulers and kings you will stand on account of me as witnesses to them. And to all nations first the Gospel must be preached.

The language of these persecutions is reminiscent of Jesus’s predictions of his own death where he had stated that he, too, “must” (δεῖ, 8:31) suffer and “be delivered” (9:31, 10:33) before the religious leaders and the “nations” (10:33), where he will be “beaten” (10:34) and “killed” (8:31). As Jesus had predicted that discipleship would require self-denial, a cross, and even the loss of life (8:34–35), now he reveals 86. A few interpreters have taken no break between παραδώσουσιν ὑμᾶς εἰς συνέδρια καὶ εἰς συναγωγὰς δαρήσεσθε, trying to make two parallel predictions rather than three; see Pesch, Markusevangelium, 2:284; C. H. Turner, “Marcan Usage: Notes, Critical and Exegetical, on the Second Gospel,” JTS, o.s., 26 (1924/25): 152–53. This understanding, however, leaves the opening verb παραδώσουσιν dangling.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

267

that just prior to the destruction, such costs would be extracted from the disciples.87 The three sufferings also recall the exordium in 12:1–12 where the slaves of the lord of the vineyard were mistreated in various ways by the usurping tenants: some were “beaten,” others “struck in the head” and “dishonored,” and others “killed.” Though most take these slaves to be the various prophets of Hebrew history and John the Baptist, the probatio of the discourse reveals that these slaves would also likely include the disciples who are sent to gather God’s harvest. The comparison in 12:1–8 has the son coming after the slaves, but the chronology of the comparison seems to be rhetorical rather than temporal, for in the comparison even John the Baptist is followed by “many other” slaves before the Son appears. In other words, it is likely that the son appears in the comparison after the slaves in order to place him climactically in the comparison itself, and not necessarily because he is actually sent last in the narrative of Mark. The slaves the father sends in the parable of the tenants include the disciples, who are described in 13:9–11 as “witnesses,” recalling the messenger role of the slaves in 12:1–8. The overall effect for both the disciples in the narrative world and for the readers of the Gospel is chilling. Just as Jesus offers himself to the usurping authorities to be killed, so the disciples will also have to face these usurpers, and their fate will be similar to that of Jesus. The entire scenario is made more forceful by the use of asyndeton at the start of the predictions (βλέπετε δὲ; ὑμεῖς ἑαυτούς: παραδώσουσιν ὑμᾶς .....). 87. The predictions of Mark 13 actually begin to come true immediately after this speech with the passion of Jesus. As Tolbert (Sowing the Gospel, 261–62) states: “Jesus himself is about to be delivered to councils (εἰς συνέδρια, 13:9 // ὅλον τὸ συνέδριον, 14:55) for trial, to stand before governors (15:1–5), to be beaten (14:65), and to be hated and mocked by all (14:64–65; 15:11–14, 19–20, 29–32). While those who will bear testimony (ἡ μαρτυρία, 14:59) against him cannot agree, his ‘testimony before them’ (εἰς μαρτύριον αὐτοῖς, 13:9), inspired by the Holy Spirit (13:11), is the ringing affirmation of his true identity, ‘I am,’ to the high priest’s question, ‘Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?’ (14:61–62). Furthermore, just as later followers will be delivered up (παραδώσει, 13:12) to death by fathers, children, and brothers, perhaps like the two sets of brothers listening to this Discourse, just so will Jesus be delivered up (παραδίδοται, 14:41) by Judas, his disciple and supposed brother in the family of God (see 3:34–35). Thus the period of ‘the beginning of the birth-pangs’ includes both Jesus’ time and that of his later followers, so that the descriptions of how he ‘endures to the end’ (13:13) and how the disciples fail to do so can function as positive and negative examples to all who are willing to take up their crosses and follow.”

268

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The predictions of persecution are structured so as to place the appearance of the disciples before the rulers and kings in final, climactic position. Further, the purpose of this last trial is given: the disciples will stand before rulers and kings in order to be a “witness to them.” The mention of witnessing before the rulers and kings leads Jesus to state that “first it is necessary for the Gospel to be preached to all nations.”88 This climactic position of the two clauses is heightened by their inclusion within a chiasm that links the second heading with the first of vv. 5–8:89 a ἐγερθήσεται γὰρ

ἔθνος ἐπ′ ἔθνος

b καὶ βασιλεία ἐπὶ βασιλείαν

b′ καὶ ἐπὶ ἡγεμόνων καὶ βασιλέων

σταθήσεσθε

ἕνεκεν ἐμοῦ …

ἔθνη πρῶτον δεῖ κηρυχθῆναι

τὸ εὐαγγέλιον

a′ καὶ εἰς πάντα τὰ

The persecutions against the disciples begin somewhat confined, before the councils and synagogues, but they end on a worldwide scale, with the disciples witnessing before rulers and kings. Their persecution will not cease until the Gospel has been proclaimed to all nations. Following these first three persecution predictions, Jesus offers the first assurance for divine help: that the Holy Spirit will be speaking for the disciples when they have to stand in these various trials. The assurance is closely linked to the predicted persecutions, the last of which dealt with “witnessing” during the trials. Further, it is placed 88. G. Kilpatrick (“Mk 13,9–10,” JTS, n.s., 9 [1958], 81–86) takes καὶ εἰς πάντα τὰ ἔθνη with the previous clause ἕνεκεν ἐμοῦ εἰς μαρτύριον αὐτοῖς, reading as “you will stand on account of me for the purpose of a witness to them and among all the nations.” Cf. W, Θ, 565, it, syp, which read πρῶτον δὲ δεῖ. 89. Cf. also the chiasm identified by Lambrecht, Redaktion der Markus-Apokalypse, 126: a on account of me b for a witness c to them c′ and to all the nations b′ first must be preached a′ the good news.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

269

in the present tense: “And whenever they lead you while delivering you, do not worry what you will say.” The circumstantial participle (παραδιδόντες) slightly lengthens the scene description, indicating that as the disciples are actually walking into the trial room, they should not worry about how they will defend themselves. The use of the term “deliver” links the assurance of the Spirit to the persecutions of v. 9, where the term was first used. The promise that it will be given (δοθῇ) the disciples what to say is vaguely reminiscent of Jesus’s promise in chapter 4 that “to whoever has, it shall be given him/her” (4:25). Even further back, the first major discourse of 3:20–35 dealt with the religious leaders who “speak against” the Holy Spirit; this discourse promises the disciples that the Holy Spirit will “speak” to the authorities during their trials. After the first assurance of divine help, that of the Holy Spirit in v. 11, Jesus returns to describe three more persecutions to be faced by the disciples: and brother will deliver brother to death and father child and children will rise up against parents and they will kill them. and you will be hated by all on account of my name. and whoever endures to the end, this one will be saved.

For the third time in the second heading, a form of παραδίδωμι is used, this time to describe the intimacy of the sufferings of the disciples: they will be betrayed by their own families. Once again, the reader is likely reminded of Jesus’s own family, who had betrayed him in the first discourse, prompting him to declare that no house divided against itself is able to stand. Now Jesus predicts that brothers will deliver brothers to death and fathers children, presumably serving as witnesses against them in the trials of v. 9. By juxtaposing the familial terms, the structure of the clause serves to emphasize the intimacy of the betrayal: καὶ παραδώσει ἀδελφὸς ἀδελφὸν εἰς θάνατον καὶ πατὴρ τέκνον

The second betrayal is equally intimate, only crueler, since here children will kill their own parents. Again, the structure heightens the

270

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

intimacy by drawing τέκνα close to γονεῖς and placing the two rebellious verbs on either side: a

b

b′

a′

καὶ ἐπαναστήσονται τέκνα ἐπὶ γονεῖς καὶ θανατώσουσιν αὐτούς

The third persecution is stated in second-person form to be sure the disciples understand that it is they who are the targets of such hatred: “and you will be hated by all on account of my name.” As Gundry observes, there is a durative force to the periphrastic future (καὶ ἔσεσθε μισούμενοι ὑπὸ πάντων), which could literally be translated “you will be being hated by all.”90 The second promise of divine help is for those who endure to the end.91 These shall receive salvation, presumably from their persecution, although such is not explicitly stated. Again, then, by alternating warnings about persecution with assurances of divine aid, the heading combines the theme of threat with that of victory, both of which were implicit in the exordium with the rebellion of the tenants against God’s slaves (threat) and the punishment of the tenants and the headship of the cornerstone (victory). In this way, the repeated call to “Look!” carries both a warning and a promise. The third heading opens with another use of the term “see” (ὅταν δὲ ἴδητε). This heading continues the discussion of signs of the nearness of the end with the mention of the apocalyptic sign of the “desolating sacrilege.” This sign indicates the imminence of “the destruction,” and with this sign comes a barrage of warnings. The third heading progresses temporally from the sign of the sacrilege to the arrival of false christs and prophets, and the movement of time structures the unit in a chiasm:

90. Gundry, Mark, 740; see also Robertson, Grammar, 889. 91. ὁ δὲ ὑπομείνας εἰς τέλος οὗτος σωθήσεται. Vincent Taylor (Mark, 510) thinks that “the end” here refers to the end of the individual disciple’s life (i.e., “whoever completely endures”), but in the context of the coming Son of Man, it seems more appropriate to understand “the end” as referring to the coming rather than to the disciples’ deaths.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

A

But when you see the desolating sacrilege . . .

__B

__then those in Judea should flee . . .

271

____C ___woe to those . . . in those days . . . ___for those days will be a destruction unlike any ___since the beginning of the creation ___until now ___nor ever again __B′

__then they will say “look, here is the Christ . . .

A′

But you, Look! I have told you all things before.

The chiasm is arranged with warnings to “see” at the extremes (A and A′). Admonitions to “Look!” have given structure to the entire discourse, and they function here to highlight the time of destruction, which takes the central place in the chiasm (C) and is extended by time references that include the past, the present, and the future. Surrounding the promise of the time of destruction are two groups of specific warnings marked by the temporal indication τότε (B and B′). The focus of the heading is thus on the destruction (C) that will be unlike any other destruction (v. 19). The sign of the imminence of the destruction is the “desolating sacrilege standing where it ought not” (τὸ βδέλυγμα τῆςἐρημώσεως ἑστηκότα ὅπου οὐ δεῖ). As with some of the other signs in this discourse, the narrative itself does not seem to give an explicit identification of what is intended by this phrase. The term is undoubtedly drawn from Daniel’s apocalyptic descriptions of the desecration of the temple,92 where it evidently refers to the sacrilegious acts committed at the temple by Antiochus IV. Rather than explicitly identifying what sacrilegious act is intended in this speech, in an incredible “wink” the narrator seems to indicate that the reader will understand the reference without explanation (ὁ ἀναγινώσκων νοείτω).93 Most have thus assumed 92. Dan 12:11 LXX, but see also Dan 9:27 and 11:31. Mark’s use of the masculine ἑστηκότα to describe the neuter τὸ βδέλυγμα is explained in various ways. Gundry points out that the masculine is in agreement with the masculine participles in Daniel’s Hebrew text, but concludes that in Mark the alteration implies that “the abomination is personal, say, the image of a god or of a deified ruler”; see Gundry, Mark, 741 and Robert H. Gundry, The Use of the Old Testament in St. Matthew’s Gospel, NovTSup 18 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1967), 47–49. See also Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 263. 93. David Daube (New Testament, 425–37) thinks that the comment especially relates to the use of the masculine participle with the neuter noun, but it seems more likely that the com-

272

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

that Mark has Jesus either describing a recent event in Jerusalem, such as the crisis under Caligula, or anticipating another desecrating act similar to that of Daniel’s period.94 In Mark’s Gospel, however, sacrilegious acts have already begun in the temple and in God’s vineyard, and these are not instigated by Greek or Roman soldiers, but by the usurping tenants of the vineyard—by the Jewish religious leaders. This has been the made clear throughout the entire Jerusalem ministry of Jesus: the cursed fig tree, the comparison of the tenants, Jesus’s cursing of the scribes, and so on all indicate that the religious leaders are considered sacrilegious by Jesus. The original readers of the Gospel, then, would likely expect that the “desolating sacrilege” would be an act committed by the Jewish leaders. Furthermore, though these religious leaders are already desecrating the temple in Mark’s Gospel, the “desolating sacrilege” seems to be a reference to a specific, future culminating point in which the religious leaders commit the final act of abuse of God’s vineyard. The narrator’s “wink” indicates that the original hearers of the Gospel would likely have understood the reference, but from our vantage point, there is insufficient interpretive data for identifying precisely the desolating sacrilege, although the crucifixion in Mark is presented as at least a “type” for this sacrilege.95 ment simply refers to the general identity of the sign’s referent. Cf. the views of Harold A. Guy (“Mark XIII, 14,” ExpTim 65 [1953/54], 30) and E. Best (“The Gospel of Mark: Who Was the Reader?” Irish Biblical Studies 11 [1989]: 124–32), who think that the clause was originally in the margin, perhaps to indicate to the reader the intentional use of the masculine participle. 94. Desmond Ford, The Abomination of Desolation in Biblical Eschatology (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1979), 144–92, gives a survey of views about the abomination. 95. From the viewpoint of the narrative, one is tempted to take the desolating sacrilege as the very crucifixion of Jesus. In the exordium of the speech, 12:1–12, the crucifixion is rhetorically established as the final treacherous act that brings God’s destruction of the vineyard. Since the speech material in chapter 13 is an elaboration of the themes already brought up in 12:1–12, one would expect the desolating sacrilege to be the sacrilegious act performed by the religious leaders when they crucified Jesus, and that it is this act that brings the desolation of the temple. Read this way, the grammatical ambiguity created by the masculine participle with the neuter noun might be the result of Jesus’s efforts to indicate that the sacrilegious act involves his own (masculine) person. It is interesting that at the beginning of the passion (14:50), all Jesus’s disciples’ “fled” from him (ironically fulfilling Jesus’s command for those who see the beginning of the sacrilege to “flee”). Even more intriguing is the fact that the unidentified young man “flees,” leaving his garment behind—reminding the reader of Jesus’s warning not to return to get a garment when the sacrilege begins. Indeed, the Gospel itself ends with the women fleeing the tomb (cf. the references to women in 13:17). Also interesting in light of the abomination that “stands where it ought not” are the refer-

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

273

The desolating sacrilege is a sign that indicates the coming destruction; it should prompt people to flee: Whenever you see the desolating sacrilege standing where it ought not (let the reader understand), then those in Judea should flee to the mountains, and the one on the roof should not come down and enter to take anything out of the house, and the one in the field should not return to get a garment. And woe to pregnant women and to those nursing in those days! And pray that it not happen in winter. For those days will be destruction such as there has not been since the beginning of creation that God created, until now, and there shall not ever be such. And unless the Lord cut the days short, no flesh would be saved; but because of the elect whom he elected he will cut the days short.

Though the narrator does not explicitly identify the referent for the sacrilegious sign, the narrator does provide a list of warnings to those who are able to read the sign. These warnings do not identify the cause of the destruction, but they are all clear in the suddenness of the destruction and the need for those who see the sign to flee immediately, in spite of difficulties. This need for immediate flight is stressed by the use of the present tense for the verbs of flight in this section. The first warning indicates that the destruction will center on Judea, necessitating refuge in the mountains. The second and third ences to “standing” after the speech: the false witnesses “stand” when they testify against Jesus at the high priest’s house, and in their testimony they lie about Jesus’s teaching concerning the temple (14:57). Even the high priest is said to “stand” when condemning Jesus (14:60), and Jesus specifically refers back to the speech of chapter 13 when he declares to the “standing” high priest, “You will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven.” Those who accused Peter of being with Jesus are said to be “standing” (14:70), and those who “stood” near the cross mocked Jesus (15:35). During the crucifixion of Jesus, the sky was darkened (cf. 13:24); and immediately after the death of Jesus, the curtain of the temple is torn. Both events seem to be the beginnings of the destruction predicted in Mark 13. Taken this way, Jesus’s promise to meet the disciples ahead in Galilee after the crucifixion, repeated by the young man at the tomb, might signal his expectation of pending disaster to occur in Judea because of the sacrilege of his crucifixion. Cf. R. H. Lightfoot, Locality and Doctrine in the Gospels (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1938); and Ernst Lohmeyer, Galiläa und Jerusalem, FRLANT (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1936). Jesus’s enigmatic reference to “fulfilled scripture” in 14:49 might thus refer to Dan 12:11. As intriguing as this reading is, however, certain difficulties imply that Jesus’s crucifixion is actually only a type of a greater “desolating sacrilege” that the readers of the Gospel were beginning to witness. These difficulties include Jesus’s prediction that the Gospel must be preached in the whole world before the destruction. They also include Jesus’s admonitions to the disciples to pray that the events surrounding the sacrilege not take place during difficult times (when Jesus already knows that his own crucifixion will happen that week).

274

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

warnings indicate the need for haste and the folly of wasting time by trying to pack for the flight. The fourth and fifth warnings show how difficult “those days” will be: pregnant women and nursing mothers can expect to have special difficulty, and if “those days” occur in the winter, everyone will have more difficulty. The use of the figure of apostrophe in the fourth warning, addressing pregnant women and nursing mothers as though they were present, adds solemnity to the warning.96 The term “those days,” introduced in v. 17, is now repeated in various forms three more times to describe the destruction (vv. 19, 20 [2x]). Coupled with the repeated uses of the term “then” and the time references used to describe the unequaled extent of destruction, it is clear that in this section, Jesus is explicitly dealing with the disciples’ question regarding “when shall come” and “what signs shall precede” the destruction of the temple. The awkwardly elongated sentence that mentions the actual destruction and its unprecedented character serves to make the destruction theme itself more vivid. Where one might expect “in those days there will be destruction,” instead Jesus uses αἱ ἡμέραι ἐκεῖναι as the subject of ἔσονται, and θλῖψις serves as a predicate nominative, making “those days” sound even more dreadful: “those days will be destruction.” Further, the lengthy statement that the destruction will be incomparable to any other before, presently, or afterward uses the figure of hyperbole to stress this destruction’s terrible nature. Finally, by bringing God’s name into the description (“that God created”) Jesus adds more solemnity to the pronouncement. The temple, which is associated with the religious authorities who have usurped the vineyard, is doomed for complete destruction unlike anything anyone has ever seen before or will ever see again. The extent of the devastation of “those days” is indicated by the fact that the Lord must cut them short in order for anyone to survive (v. 20). The use of the term κύριος is reminiscent of the exordium of the discourse, where the Lord of the vineyard sends slaves and his Son to gather the fruit, and eventually destroys the tenants. Here as well, the 96. Quintilian, Institutes 9.2.38: “Apostrophe also, which consists in the diversion of our address from the judge, is wonderfully stirring.” See also Alexander, Schemata III, p. 23, 29 [Spengel]; Fortunatis, Artis Rhetoricae 2.19. Cf. the figure of personification: Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.53.66; Cicero, De Oratore 3.53.205; Quintilian, Institutes 9.2.29–37.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

275

Lord is shown to be in control of the destruction, and he chooses to cut those days short in order for his elect to survive. The term “saved” (ἐσώθη) reminds the listener of the promised salvation for those disciples who endure to the end (σωθήσεται) in v. 13. After the promise to cut short “those days,” Jesus moves ahead in time with the signal word τότε: And then if anyone says to you, “Look! here is the Christ; Look there!” do not believe it. For many false christs will arise and false prophets, and they will give signs and wonders to deceive, if possible, the elect. But you, Look! I have told you all things beforehand.

The last section of the third heading returns to the “signs” preceding the end of “all things.” The use of τότε to introduce the section seems to indicate that the false christs and prophets will come after the destruction of the temple and just prior to the coming of the true Son of Man.97 The repetition of the term ἴδε . . . ἴδε followed by the double use of the ψευδο- prefix indicates the need to be careful in one’s watching, since there will be many who try to draw the attention of the disciples away from the signs Jesus gives and the coming Son of Man. The warning about false christs and prophets mentioned in the first heading (13:5–6) is reminiscent of those who would come in the name of Jesus. Those pretenders were also intent upon deceiving. The present false christs and prophets of vv. 21–23, then, form something of an inclusio with the deceivers of vv. 5–6, indicating that the entire discourse section between the inclusios is about “signs” that are to precede the coming Son of Man. This inclusio provides a second structuring guide, beyond the use of βλέπετε, to delineate headings. Verses 24–37. will give an answer to the disciples’ first question about “when” these things will be, but the inclusio of vv. 5–6/ 97. It is possible, however, that the description of the destruction in vv. 19–20 separates the warnings to flee from the warnings about false christs for thematic purposes rather than for chronological reasons. In other words, the destruction may not come before the false christs chronologically in the course of things, but may only be mentioned prior in order to place it in the center of the unit for emphasis. This reading may be supported by the indication in v. 24 that the coming of the Son of Man occurs “in those days after the destruction.” Lohmeyer’s (Evangelium des Markus, 277) belief that these verses are not original to the discourse because of the implausibility of having false christs appear after the antichrist of v. 14 is typical of historical critics.

276

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

21–23 indicates that the material from v. 5 to v. 23 constitutes Jesus’s answer to the disciples’ second question regarding the signs. By framing the answer to the question about what signs are to precede the consummation with warnings about the possibility to be deceived, Jesus has indicated that, though the signs are plain, they are accompanied by great deceivers and hardships. For this reason, Jesus repeatedly encourages the disciples to “Look!” The false christs and prophets appear “here! there!” The use of asyndeton seems to make these impersonators appear frequently and unpredictably. Their signs and wonders give them persuasive powers to deceive.98 It is not coincidental that in a discourse partly answering the question of what signs shall precede the consummation of all things, Jesus explains that these religious impersonators will offer deceptive signs and wonders (σημεῖα καὶ τέρατα). Their goal is to deceive “the elect.” The opposition is thus set up between God’s actions toward the elect and those of the deceivers. God has already been described as cutting short the days of destruction to save the elect, but the impostors work to deceive them. As a caution against the impostors’ deceitful works, Jesus closes the third heading with the repeated call to “Look!” This call actually functions as a sort of transition from the third to the fourth heading, where the true son of Man comes “in those days after the destruction.” The call to “Look!” is explained by the clause, “I have told you all things beforehand” (προείρηκα ὑμῖν πάντα).99 The explanatory clause serves as assurance to the disciples that nothing unexpected should come, since “all things” now have been told to them. The term πάντα refers back to 13:4, where the disciples had asked what sign would indicate the consummation of πάντα. With his explanatory clause at the end of the third heading, then, Jesus intimates that the first three headings of the discourse were in answer to the question about signs of the destruction of the stones and buildings of the temple. Having thus given them now the sign for “all things,” he turns to answer the question of “when.” 98. Jesus warns the disciples “not to believe” the impostors, using the imperative πιστεύετε, which is a rhetorical term used by the Greeks to mean “proofs” specifically and persuasion in general. See Kinneavy, Greek Rhetorical Origins. 99. Interestingly, a, A, C, D, Θ, 0104, f1.13, and others begin the clause with ἰδοὺ.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

277

Though the fourth heading (vv. 24–27) does not explicitly begin with a call to “Look!” the transitional statement of v. 23 functions to signal this heading’s beginning. Further, the heading does include a reference to “seeing,” now in the future tense describing the coming Son of Man (v. 26). The heading thus deals with the coming Son, who will appear “in those days after that destruction” (ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις μετὰ τὴν θλῖψιν ἐκείνην). The strong adversative ἀλλά in v. 24 marks this verse as the proper beginning of the heading and marks the transition from the “signs” preceding the consummation to the actual “when” of the consummation (“after that destruction”). Further, it distinguishes between the deceptive way the false prophets and christs “arise” and the way the Son of Man “comes in the clouds with power and much glory.” The final consummation is marked by cosmic collapse of apocalyptic proportions: The sun will be darkened and the moon will not give light, and the stars will be falling out of the heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

These celestial disasters, which are stock apocalyptic signs,100 do not indicate that the Son of Man is about to come; rather they serve as the backdrop of his actual coming. In this sense, the τότε of vv. 26 and 27, the verses that describe his coming, indicates something like “then, at that time. . . .” The cosmic signs are arranged in cascading fashion from the sun to the “powers” of the heaven, the latter of which likely refers to the stars in a personal way.101 These great celestial luminaries fail to give light; this contrasts with the celestial coming of the Son, whom the world will clearly see coming in the clouds: And then they will see the son of man coming in the clouds with much power and glory. And then he will send the angels and gather the elect

100. The images may be derived from Isa 13:10 and 34:4. For celestial disasters in apocalyptic literature, see 1 Enoch 80:4–8, 102:2; 4 Ezra 5:4; Assumption of Moses 10:55; Sibylline Oracles 3:796–806. 101. See BDAG, 208, 6.

278

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

out of the four winds from the corner of the earth to the corner of heaven.

The final act of the consummation is the coming of the Son of Man in the fullness of his power and glory.102 Since the issue of authority has been central to the entire rhetorical unit from 11:27 to 13:37, and indeed, has been a fundamental issue of the whole Gospel, Jesus’s prediction here constitutes a firm promise of the ultimate vindication of his power.103 He will come after the terrible destruction of the usurping authorities, a destruction so severe that the Lord will have to cut it short to spare the elect. Through his angels, he will gather the elect from the four winds and from the corner of the earth to the corner of heaven. The passage thus explicitly speaks of the power of the Son, harking back to the second comparison of the exordium regarding the rejected cornerstone, which now is made the “head” of the corner. The coming of the Son of Man here in 13:24–27 thus corresponds to the second comparison of the exordium, showing that the Son has true authority in God’s vineyard. The Son of Man’s coming will be “in the clouds,” a phrase that reveals that, at the same time the heavens are being destroyed (vv. 24–25), the Son will be revealed in the heavens. His purpose for coming will not be to judge the tenants; their judgment was already accomplished by “the Lord” in the “destruction” (cf. v. 20). Rather, the Son comes to gather the elect through his angels. The sending of the angels is slightly reminiscent of the sending of the Lord’s slaves in 12:1–8. There, however, the slaves were disgraced and rejected by the usurpers. Now, the angels “sent” by the Son enter a world where the authorities have been utterly destroyed, and they gather only the elect. These “elect,” whose lives had been spared by the gracious shortening of destruction in v. 20 and whom the impostors had tried to deceive in vv. 21–22, are gathered from “the four winds from the corner of the earth to the corner of heaven.” The hyperbolic description serves to indicate that not one of the elect will be missed 102. The prediction is based upon Dan 7:13 LXX: καὶ ἰδοὺ ἐπὶ τῶν νεφελῶν τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ὡς υἱὸς ἀνθρώπου ἤρχετο. 103. For Mark, it is clear that Jesus is to be identified as the Son of Man; see 8:38, 10:45, 14:62. The reference to the coming of the Son of Man is likely derived from Dan 7:13.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

279

by the angels.104 The promise thus serves as encouragement to the disciples, who have already been promised salvation if they endure their persecutions (v. 13). Thus far in the discourse, little “logical” support has been offered for the predictions made by Jesus. Rather, he speaks from his own “ethos” as the Son;105 the speech is not “proven” by appeals to enthymemes but is merely asserted as a threat to the temple and a warning to the disciples to “Look!” In vv. 28–29, however, Jesus does offer a comparison (παραβολή) to support his command to be watchful. The comparison is drawn from agriculture: From the fig tree learn this comparison: whenever already its branch becomes productive and it puts out leaves, you know that the summer is near. Thus even you, whenever you see these things beginning, know that it is near at the door.

The comparison follows abruptly on the fourth heading, but it likely refers back to the entire discourse as “proof by analogy” that the signs described in the discourse are indications of the nearness of the consummation of all things. Again, the narrator uses a seeing verb to demarcate a section of the discourse, “whenever you see [ἴδητε] these things happening” (although the “seeing” word is placed in the interpretation that follows the parable). The production of branches and leaves by the fig tree signal the coming of summer.106 In the same way, the signs of the consummation—the deceivers, wars, earthquakes, and famines in the first heading; the persecutions and betrayals in the second; the desolating sacrilege and the false christs with their deceiving signs in the third heading—all signal the impending destruction and the coming of the Son of Man. Further, as with 104. As Gundry (Mark, 786) points out, one would have expected “from one corner of the earth to the other,” as in Deut 13:7. Jesus expands the typical expression to include the entire universe. No one will be missed. It is hard not to think that there is some play on the concept of “earth” in Mark 13:27 as well, since in Mark 4 Jesus sowed the word on the four types of “earth,” and only one good earth produced. The gathering of the elect from the earth here is reminiscent of the harvesting of fruit from the “self-producing seed” in the epilogue of that discourse (Mark 4:26–29). 105. The success rate of Jesus’s predictions prior to chapter 13 assures the readers of the certainty of the coming events of chapter 13. See Gundry, Mark, 734–35. 106. “The fig tree is mentioned because in Palestine, where most trees are evergreens, the rising of the sap in its branches and the appearance of leaves is a sure sign that winter is past.” V. Taylor, Mark, 520.

280

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

the fruit’s relationship to the branch and leaves of the fig tree, the consummation is actually brought on by the signs of its coming. The entire description of the consummation appears as a great and completely unstoppable mass of destruction quickly rolling toward the temple authorities and the whole earth, set off by the rebellious actions of the religious authorities against the Lord’s Son. The use of a comparison to help explain the earlier comparisons of the exordium is not new in Jesus’s rhetoric. The discourse of chapter 4 has already shown that the Markan Jesus uses comparisons to reflect upon other comparisons, especially when dealing with concepts that are beyond the power of ordinary language to describe. In chapter 4, the comparisons speak of the kingdom of God. Here, they speak of the consummation of all things. That the subject is difficult to describe in ordinary terms is already indicated by the use of apocalyptic symbolism; the comparison of the fig tree here is used to show the close relationship between the signs and the consummation. The admonition to “know” that the end is near helps to interpret the various “Look!” commands throughout the discourse.107 “Seeing” in this discourse, as had been the case in the discourse of chapter 4, has the deep meaning of “perceiving,” “understanding,” or “knowing.” The comparison is brief and partially balanced by an immediate interpretation. The repetition of the term “near” (ἐγγὺς) in both the comparison and the interpretation helps reveal the connection: the coming of the Son and the completion of the consummation will be soon after the beginning of the signs. The assonance between θέρος and θύραις again links the comparison to the interpretation. The use of isocolon in the comparison and its interpretation gives the entire unit something of a balanced, periodic form: A

ὅταν ἤδη ὁ κλάδος αὐτῆς ἁπαλὸς γένηται καὶ ἐκφύῃ τὰ φύλλα, B

γινώσκετε ὅτι ἐγγὺς τὸ θέρος ἐστίν: C

A′ B′

οὕτως καὶ ὑμεῖς, ὅταν ἴδητε ταῦτα γινόμενα, γινώσκετε ὅτι ἐγγύς ἐστιν ἐπὶ θύραις.

107. Taking γινώσκετε in v. 29 as an imperative and in v. 28 as an indicative.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

281

The consummation is as certain as is the coming of summer. The discourse’s persuasive force is for the most part based upon the authority of the speaker, Jesus. Nevertheless, the comparison of vv. 28–29 adds some “logical” proof to the connection between the signs and the consummation. Just as the summer actually produces the fig tree’s leaves and is thus organically connected to its sign, so the signs described in the present discourse, especially the persecutions of the disciples and the desolating sacrilege, are organically related to the destruction of the temple and the coming of the Son, who actually comes in response to the signs. In vv. 30–31, Jesus adds a new persuasive dimension to the discourse, an oath-like confirmation of the veracity of the discourse. Oaths constitute one of Aristotle’s “non-artistic” proofs,108 and here the oath, introduced by the solemn phrase ἀμὴν λέγω, adds the air of certainty to Jesus’s discourse regarding the consummation of all things. The oath does not call upon the name of God, as Aristotle would have recommended, but compares the certainty of the predictions in the discourse to the uncertainty of “heaven and earth,” and it promises that “all these things” will happen before this generation passes: “In truth I tell you that in no way will this generation pass until all these things happen. Heaven and earth will pass, but these my words will in no way pass” (vv. 30–31). The oath indicates that “this generation” shall not pass until all the things described in the discourse occur. As Tolbert points out, Mark consistently uses the term ἡ γενεὰ to speak of the evil authorities who oppose Jesus.109 If such is the case here, Jesus is promising that the tenants will not pass away before their destruction occurs. The strengthened negative οὐ μὴ adds gravity to the promise. The reference to “heaven and earth” as passing helps interpret the previous heading. The coming of the Son of Man accompanied by cosmic disasters and the gathering from the winds, the earth, and heaven of God’s elect will constitute the end of “heaven and earth.” The passing of heaven and earth will thus actually establish the truthfulness of Jesus’s predictions in the discourse. His word is surer than even heaven and earth. 108. Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.25.27–33. 109. See Mark 8:12, 38; 9:19; Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 68. Others take ἡ γενεὰ as a reference to the disciples; see, e.g., V. Taylor, Mark, 521.

282

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The oath-like confirmation is structured around a three-fold use of the term “pass away” (παρέλθῃ . . . παρελεύσονται . . . παρελεύσονται). Through the device of traductio,110 the oath thus cleverly stresses the destruction of heaven and earth, the presence of the evil generation at that destruction, and the permanence of Jesus’s own word. The passing of heaven and earth and the endurance of Jesus’s word are contrasted through balanced clauses (isocolon) and the use of antistrophe (epiphora):111 ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι οὐ μὴ παρέλθῃ ἡ γενεὰ αὕτη μέχρις οὗ ταῦτα πάντα γένηται. ὁ οὐρανὸς καὶ ἡ γῆ παρελεύσονται, οἱ δὲ λόγοι μου οὐ μὴ παρελεύσονται.

The contrasts are appropriate and forceful, supported in the middle clause by the use of syndeton (γένηται, ὁ οὐρανὸς). The oath is now followed by a direct answer to the disciples’ first question, v. 32: “But of that day or the hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven nor the Son; only the Father.” The disciples’ first question had been “When will these things be?” Jesus has now explained that the destruction follows the beginning of the birth pangs and that the Son of Man comes after the destruction. As far as the precise time when the consummation will occur, however, Jesus cannot state, because only the Father knows this information. The passage thus returns to the beginning of the chapter, signaling that the epilogue to the discourse is beginning. The statement employs the device of conjunction to give it a sense of balance centering on the terms οὐδεὶς, οἶδεν, and οὐδέ.112 In the first part of the statement, a subtle shift of terminology has occurred. Previous sections had spoken of “those days” of destruction. Here, Jesus brings the focus to a single point: “that day/that hour.” This term moves the focus to the single act of the coming of the Son of Man, which is evidently single enough to be spoken of as happening at one time. The point is that, even though the disciples can discern 110. See Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.14.20. 111. See Alexander, Schemata III, p. 29, 27 [Spengel], and Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.13.19. 112. “Conjunction occurs when both the previous and succeeding phrases are held together by placing the verb between them.” Rhetorica ad Herennium 4.27.38.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

283

certain signs that will precede the destruction and the coming Son of Man, the precise time of the latter is unknown to all. The material following the verb comes somewhat as a surprise: neither the angels know, nor the Son, but only the Father. The characters appear in climactic form, from angels to the Father, but contrast is employed for the sake of emphasis. The disciples’ question cannot be answered with precision by Jesus, the Son, because no one knows the day nor the hour except the Father. The Father, then, as Lord of the vineyard, is elevated, and listeners are reminded that the angels and the Son are the Father’s representatives. The explanation that no one knows except the Father likely functions as a final transition in the discourse from the probatio to the epilogue. The epilogue proper, then, begins at v. 33 with a repetition of the call to “Look!” In the epilogue, moreover, the call to look is both intensified and repeated. Since the epilogue is partly intended to help the listener understand the entire discourse in retrospect, this emphasis on the need to be watchful makes obvious the discourse’s deliberative nature. The discourse is both instructive concerning the ultimate destruction of the evil tenants and the authority of the Son and deliberative concerning the disciples’ need to be prepared for the deceptions and tribulations associated with it. The epilogue is somewhat “spiral” in its structure, with three explicit commands to watch separated by a divided comparison explaining that the lord is leaving and then returning. A1 __B

Look! Be alert! For you do not know when that time will be. 1

A2 __B

A3

__It is like a person on a journey leaving the house and giving to __his slaves authority to each to do his/her work, and to the door __keeper he commands, Watch! Therefore, Watch! For you do not know when

2

__the lord of the house is coming, whether at evening or at midnight, __or at the rooster crow, or at dawn, lest coming suddenly he may __find you sleeping Therefore that which to you I say to all I say, Watch!

284

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

The effect of the brief epilogue is impressive. The calls to watch come through three different terms, βλέπετε, ἀγρυπνεῖτε, and γρηγορεῖτε. The last term is itself used three times to reinforce the need to “Watch!”: ἐνετείλατο ἵνα γρηγορῇ . . . γρηγορεῖτε οὖν . . . ὃ δὲ ὑμῖν λέγω, πᾶσιν λέγω, γρηγορεῖτε. The opening call comes with the use of asyndeton, giving it a tight sound: βλέπετε, ἀγρυπνεῖτε. The disciples need to watch because they do not know the time. In a second direct answer to the disciples’ first question, “When will these things be?” Jesus explains that “you do not know when that time will be.” Furthermore, after beginning the comparison of the house owner on a journey, Jesus interrupts to explain once again that the disciples do not know when that time will be. Taken with the transitional statement in v. 32, it becomes clear that Jesus has returned, at the end of the probatio and in the epilogue, to the narrative transition of 13:1–4: Disciples: πότε ταῦτα ἔσται (13:4) Jesus:

περὶ δὲ τῆς ἡμέρας ἐκείνης ἢ τῆς ὥρας οὐδεὶς οἶδεν, οὐδὲ οἱ ἄγγελοι ἐν οὐρανῷ οὐδὲ ὁ υἱός, εἰ μὴ ὁ πατήρ (13:32) οὐκ οἴδατε γὰρ πότε ὁ καιρός ἐστιν (13:33) οὐκ οἴδατε γὰρ πότε ὁ κύριος τῆς οἰκίας ἔρχεται (13:35)113

The comparison in the epilogue is of a person (ὡς ἄνθρωπος) who leaves the house (τὴν ο ἰκίαν αὐτοῦ) for a journey after giving each slave authority over their own work, and the specific command to the doorkeeper to watch (v. 34). The comparison stops abruptly at this point with a direct command to the disciples to watch (v. 35a). The call to watch is then followed with the interpretation of the comparison: “for you do not know when the Lord (ὁ κύριος) of the house is coming . . . lest you be found asleep.” The interpretation thus explains that the owner of the house is “the Lord of the house” and the slaves are the disciples themselves. The subtle change from the “owner of the house” to the “Lord of the house” is reminiscent of the exordium of the discourse where the “owner of the vineyard” (ἄνθρωπος, 12:1) is later described as the “Lord of the vineyard” (κύριος, 12:9). 113. The threefold answer of Jesus is similar to the figure of paronomasia. See Aristotle, Rhetoric to Alexander 28.

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

285

Throughout the discourse, Jesus has referred to the Father as “the Lord” (12:9, 11; 13:20), but in the Gospel the narrator also has Jesus called “Lord” (2:28; 5:19–20; 7:28; 9:24; 10:51; 11:3) and between the exordium and the probatio Jesus himself makes the argument that he is, in some way, David’s Lord (12:35–37). Thus, it is not inconsistent either with the comparison or with Mark’s general willingness to call Jesus “Lord” to take the Lord of the house in 13:35 as a reference to the return of Jesus himself, presumably as the returning Son of Man of 13:26. Calling Jesus “Lord of the house” is reminiscent of the first major discourse of Mark, which dealt with the issue of Jesus’s divided house. There, Jesus’s household had come out to seize him, as was argued above, thinking that he was mad. In response, Jesus redefines his family so as to include only those who do God’s will. In this discourse, Jesus now presents himself as Lord of the house, who will soon return in full authority. “Watching” in this discourse, then, is the equivalent of “doing God’s will” in the first discourse. The comparison makes considerable use of sound repetitions. It begins with a repetition of the “alpha” sound at the beginning of, and the “-os, -eis” sounds at the end of ἄνθρωπος, ἀπόδημος, and ἀφεὶς. Further, there are three occurrences of αὐτοῦ framing three other words that contain “ou” sounds: αὐτοῦ καὶ δοὺς τοῖς δούλοις αὐτοῦ τὴν ἐξουσίαν, ἑκάστῳ τὸ ἔργον αὐτοῦ, καὶ τῷ θυρωρῷ ἐνετείλατο. The command to watch, ἵνα γρηγορῇ, following immediately upon the sound play stands out in contrast.114 The interpretation of the comparison—beginning with the call to “Watch!”—warns against being asleep when the Lord returns. The reference to sleep returns the listeners to v. 33, where they were told to remain alert. Now they are warned that, since the Lord may return “at evening, at midnight, at the rooster crow, or at dawn,” they must remain awake. The lengthened description of the night likely indicates that Jesus’s absence will be for some time.115 Further, the options given for his return in the interpretation only include times of darkness. Since the probatio of the discourse has already indicated that the 114. See Gundry, Mark, 749. 115. See also Lightfoot, Gospel Message, 53, who shows similarities between the watches of the night in the interpretation and the passion night of Jesus.

286

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Son of Man would come only after terrible destruction, it is appropriate that here the Lord be depicted as coming only at night. The last sentence of the discourse appropriately calls for the disciples to “Watch!” The grammar of the sentence is taut and somewhat unexpected: ὃ δὲ ὑμῖν λέγω, πᾶσιν λέγω, γρηγορεῖτε. The referent for the relative “that which” (ὃ) is the “Watch!” (γρηγορεῖτε) of the end of this same clause. That he would say “watch” “to all” (πᾶσιν) is somewhat strange, since the discourse is not given “to all,” but is intentionally withheld from some, as is Jesus’s custom. Perhaps the proper understanding of πᾶσιν lies in Jesus’s use of the singular ὃ, referring to the command to watch. In other words, Jesus does not intend the entire discourse for everyone, but only the command to watch. If this is the case, there is some irony in the command, for it might imply that Jesus was chiding his enemies with something like “watch and see,” while implying for his disciples something more like “watch and be ready.” Admittedly, however, this interpretation is strained. At any rate, by ending the discourse with a call to “Watch!”, Jesus leaves its deliberative force at the front of the listeners’ minds. RHETORICAL OVERVIEW The final discourse of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel, then, shows itself to be a powerful and chilling warning of the coming destruction of the evil authorities of “the vineyard” (along with their cultic system) and the vindication of the Son of man who comes to gather God’s elect in the final day and hour of the consummation. The discourse follows the already established pattern of public comparison followed by private explanation, although the two parts of the discourse are separated by a considerable amount of narrative material. This material, however, should not be considered “out of place” because of its location between the exordium and the probatio of Jesus’s discourse. Rather, the narrative material in 12:13–44 functions on the secondary level of rhetoric to provide a necessary context for interpreting the discourse on the primary level. The complete rhetorical situation is concerned with the struggle between Jesus and the religious authorities. The situation begins with the authorities’ open attack against

THE MARVEL OF THE COMING SON OF MAN (MARK 11:27–13:37)

287

Jesus. In 12:13–44, however, the authorities began to back away as Jesus rhetorically outwits them. After the single scribe raises his question, no one dared ask Jesus any further questions. At this point, then, Jesus goes on the offensive himself and attacks the religious authorities. This attack culminates in the predictions of chapter 13. The insertion of this material between the exordium/propositio of the discourse in 12:1–12 and the probatio in 13:5–37 thus provides the necessary rhetorical justification for the harshness of Jesus’s prediction of the coming destruction in 13:5–37. For several reasons, first-century readers would have heard the final discourse as appropriately placed in its context in the Gospel. It forms a fitting narrative conclusion to the preaching activity of Jesus as a whole by showing the culmination of the opposition to Jesus on the part of the religious leaders. Further, it provides the beginning of the final “recognition sequence” to the Gospel, in which it becomes clear that Jesus is the Lord of David, the Son of God, and the coming Son of Man.116 For our purposes, however, the discourse and its context are especially important because they reflect a final rhetorical battle between the character Jesus and the religious leaders of the narrative. Throughout the Gospel, the authorities had challenged Jesus’s teaching, and Jesus has had to defend his actions and those of his disciples. In the unit of 11:27–13:37, Jesus is vindicated as the teacher par excellence, as he defeats in argument all his enemies one after the other and then predicts their utter destruction with the authority of God’s Son. The discourse thus concludes the bulk of Jesus’s rhetorical activity in the Gospel with his complete rhetorical victory over the professional teachers of the day. Given the high status paid to rhetoric in the first century CE, the narrator thus achieves an authoritative ethos for the character of Jesus. The discourse is coherent and effective when heard in terms of the principles of Greco-Roman rhetoric. Further, it is consistent with Mark’s usual depiction of Jesus’s rhetoric, and a clear pattern for Jesus’s rhetoric finally emerges with the four major discourses. This pattern is discussed in the conclusion of this work.

116. See Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel, 270–73.

Conclusion

The Gospel of Mark (or, for that matter, any text) may be read from different locations. Our attempt has been to enter imaginatively into the world in which the Gospel was composed and to hear its discourses as a first-century audience might have heard them. Twentieth-century historical critics brought questions to Mark that required that the discourses be fragmented to uncover their preMarkan sources or traditions. Having fragmented the discourses, historical critics were then unable to read them as coherent speech acts. Our reading has sought to hear the discourses themselves, their distinct patterns and strategies, in terms of the rhetorical conventions of the milieu. Reading thus we have been able to see in the discourses the hand of a skilled and consistent narrator who composed coherent and persuasive speeches. Both the author and the first-century readers of the discourses would have drawn upon the shared repertoire of Greco-Roman rhetorical conventions in order to understand them. Rhetoric permeated the culture, and even the illiterate masses would have shared in their culture’s rich rhetorical heritage, enabling them to judge Jesus’s discourses in Mark in terms of the standards of Greco-Roman rhetoric. A rhetorical reading of the discourses is thus methodologically defensible. Because the discourses of Jesus in Mark are actually speeches embedded in narrative material, two levels of rhetoric are always present in the discourse at once. On the primary level is the rhetoric of the character Jesus, present when he “speaks” to other characters

290

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

within the story. On the secondary level is the rhetoric of the narrator, who is the real composer of the discourses and who supplies the discursive units and the specific rhetorical situations, as well as the actual configurations of the discourses themselves. A constant interplay occurs between these two levels, but the primary level is always subject to the aims of the secondary level. When read from the standpoint of Greco-Roman rhetoric, the secondary level of rhetoric shows that the narrator was skillful in the use of rhetorical (as well as literary) techniques, accomplishing the narrator’s objectives by having Jesus “speak” with thorough competence. The discourses are composed to respond to specific issues raised by the narrative itself, which they actually do with impressive effectiveness. The narrator often interrupts the discourses to guide the readers in interpretation, insuring that the discourses are heard as the narrator wants them to be heard. Even here, the interruptions are not clumsy but show considerable care that reveals that the narrator was a proficient storyteller.1 There is a strong sense of consistency in style and method from discourse to discourse, revealing that the narrator has carefully planned what the narrator wants the readers to think of the character Jesus. Indeed, the narrator shows Jesus’s own rhetoric to be considerably more sophisticated than that of the actual narrator. Since the narrator is responsible for the discourses as they stand in Mark, one might conclude that the usual, paratactic style of Mark’s Gospel is an intentional act of simplicity in order to highlight through vivid contrast the rhetoric of Jesus, who speaks in fairly elaborate, hypotactic style. The primary level of rhetoric portrays the character Jesus as an effective speaker who employs a variety of rhetorical conventions to accomplish his aims: logical argument, emotional appeals, everyday comparisons, and various structuring devices such as inclusios, chiasms, and concentric patterns, as well as a wide range of striking figures of diction and of thought. As far as “proof” is concerned, Jesus shows a willingness to depend upon both artificial and non-artificial evidences, although he clearly favors the former. His favorite 1. See, for example, the subtle use of tense changes from punctiliar to linear in the first and second discourses, which functions to bring to the front of each unit the issues most important to the narrator.

CONCLUSION

291

non-artificial proof is citation from the Scriptures, which he explicitly does in three of his four discourses. His use of artificial proof is more abundant. In his judicial speeches, Jesus depends heavily upon enthymemes, consistent with the teachings of the rhetoricians. In his deliberative speeches, Jesus speaks from his authority as God’s Son, making strong appeals based upon his own “ethos.” GrecoRoman rhetoric considered such ethos-centered appeals to be essential in deliberative rhetoric, but rhetorical theory also considered deliberative speeches to be essentially comparative, rather than enthymematic. Thus, in both deliberative speeches, Jesus depends heavily upon comparisons (παραβολαί). Both Jesus and the narrator consciously develop this rhetoric: they themselves describe the speeches in the rhetorical terminology of everyday comparisons. In other words, by the narrator’s repeated statements that Jesus spoke in everyday comparisons, and by Jesus’s own descriptions of sections of his speeches in terms of everyday comparisons, it is revealed that a conscious choice has been made regarding what kind of rhetoric Jesus will use. In addition to the proof Jesus uses, it is also clear that his speeches are arranged in a manner consistent with Greco-Roman rhetorical conventions. Each discourse has a brief introduction, followed by a “propositio” or statement of facts, the proof of the propositio (probatio), and an effective epilogue. The argument of each is well-integrated: each begins with a central issue to be resolved (the “stasis”) and progresses by methodically addressing the issue. In each case, the discourse as a whole effectively addresses its originating issue. Finally, the style of Jesus’s rhetoric is consistent and studied. He tends to favor structuring devices that link small units together: homoioteleuton, inclusio, climax, and the like. These devices help the hearers of the discourses plot their unfolding arguments. Key word repetitions are also favored by Jesus for marking off sections to his discourses. These stylistic techniques give a sense of rhythm to the discourses, which Jesus sometimes chooses to break off suddenly in order to create a harsh effect at certain points. Jesus makes use of periodic sentences when he depends most heavily upon his ethos, giving his “pronouncements” oracular-like quality. Unlike the narrator of

292

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

the Gospel, Jesus relies heavily upon the device of asyndeton, sometimes giving a terse, compact sense to the discourses. Thus, though each discourse would seem, because it seeks to teach through everyday comparisons, to be rooted in the “simple” style, each consistently moves close to the “grand” or even the “forceful” styles. In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus never speaks for long in the quiet reflection of everyday tones. Instead, he is always speaking with passion, either to persuade people to “hear” him or to defend himself against the rhetorical assaults of his enemies. The argument, arrangement, and style of the discourses are all consistent and effective. Against the fragmenting methods of historical critics, then, the discourses of Jesus in Mark appear thoroughly coherent and proficient when heard from the standpoint of their first-century audience. How would a first-century audience have evaluated Jesus’s discourses? When compared to the great orations of antiquity, Jesus’s discourses appear especially succinct and condensed. Though in each discourse Jesus dwells upon the central issue at hand, at no point in the discourses are there the lengthy elaborations found in the fullfledged speeches of Isocrates, Demosthenes, or Cicero. Instead, the discourses appear more like the chreia or the prosopopoeia of the schools than like the speeches of the great orators of the milieu. They are comparable with narrative speeches found in the historical, biographical, or romantic writings of the period in that they never take the readers of the work far from the narrator’s own story. Thus, even the longest discourse in the Gospel is brief and to the point. It is likely this feature of the discourses, coupled with their heavy dependence upon comparative reasoning, that has created their strange quality for modern readers. The discourses are compact, and as such require considerable “unpacking” in order to follow their argument. Jesus moves quickly throughout all his discourses, often leaving out explicit connectives and transitional explanations. Rather, he tersely gives each part of his speech, and immediately moves forward to the next part. In this sense, all of Jesus’s discourses are something like the enthymemes Jesus so often uses: they briefly state Jesus’s point, but often leave as much implicit as they state explicitly. The

CONCLUSION

293

hearers of the discourse must reconstruct what is implicit in order to follow the full logic of the discourse. But there is another feature to the discourses, especially the second major discourse (chapter 4), which gives them something of a strange quality. They make heavy use of παραβολαί, everyday comparisons. In Greco-Roman rhetoric, παραβολαί were meant to clarify a point by comparing it with something from the common experiences of the listeners. Jesus generally uses παραβολαί with this purpose, especially in his first, third, and fourth discourses. In his second major discourse, however, Jesus tends to pile comparison upon comparison, using παραβολαί to explain παραβολαί. At least in this discourse, then, his use of παραβολαί somewhat obscures the immediacy of his point. Though this elusive quality to the παραβολαί is somewhat beside the rhetorical intent of παραβολαί, Jesus provides his own rationale for speaking thus: the explanations of the παραβολαί are reserved only for “insiders” in order that the explanations might prompt them to “understand”; “outsiders” are only given the comparisons, so that they may hear the word but fail to understand it. But even for insiders, the explanations tend to come in the form of comparisons. Jesus’s rhetoric thus acknowledges what the narrator shows in the characters of the Gospel: one can be on the inside and still fail to understand. In this way, Jesus uses comparisons and their explanations to reveal who is good earth and who is not. The narrator’s comment in 4:33–34 that Jesus routinely spoke in παραβολαί to the crowds, only explaining them to “insiders,” is confirmed in every discourse. At this point, several broader issues can be raised on the basis of this study. These include (1) the narrative and sociological implications of having Jesus speak as a proficient orator; (2) why Jesus uses the kinds of rhetoric he uses; and (3) the implications of Jesus’s discursive pattern of public comparison/private explanation. What are the narrative and sociological implications of the Markan narrator’s presentation of Jesus as an effective orator? The fact that the authority of Jesus is confirmed throughout the Gospel by means of Jesus’s rhetorical power indicates that rhetoric played an important cultural role in the mind of the narrator—not to mention in the

294

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

early Christian community and in the general cultural milieu at large. Especially in the first and third discourses and in the debates embedded within the last discourse unit, it is the power of Jesus’s rhetoric that overwhelms his enemies. For Mark, rhetoric means power; Jesus is most powerful not when he is multiplying loaves and fishes or even when he is walking on water or exorcising demons. Jesus is most powerful when he is out-arguing his enemies, and it is worth noting that in the Gospel Jesus never directly uses his miraculous abilities to rout his enemies. Instead, whenever he is forced into a direct confrontation with them, Jesus depends upon his rhetorical prowess to prove himself the master. Thus, though Jesus does not hesitate to subdue the forces of nature or demons with his divine power—although even here Jesus always uses speech to activate his power—when dealing with people, Jesus exclusively uses rhetoric. This implies, among other things, that for Jesus the kingdom of God is not something into which one is forced. Rather, the kingdom comes to people in the power of words—the power of persuasion. There is thus a gentleness about the kingdom. Satan may possess people against their will in the Gospel, the religious leaders and even Jesus’s own family may seek to arrest Jesus forcibly in the Gospel, but Jesus seeks the hearts of individuals. By using persuasion, Jesus thus wins only those who want to enter the kingdom, and those won will continue to produce fruit, “still coming up and growing” (4:8). Further, since virtually every legendary figure in Greco-Roman literature and history was traditionally considered a master at rhetoric, including mythical heroes, poets, philosophers, generals, and politicians, Mark’s use of rhetoric to confirm Jesus’s authority should be considered effectual and persuasive in the context of the GrecoRoman milieu. To be able to demonstrate rhetorical skill was to place oneself in the highest cultural circles and wield significant cultural power. By showing that Jesus was an effective orator, by having him astound his audiences with his rhetorical authority,2 by having him divulge otherwise mysterious secrets of the kingdom through everyday rhetorical analogies, and by having him utterly defeat his 2. See the inclusio regarding Jesus’s rhetorical power—his “teaching with authority”—in Mark 1:21–28.

CONCLUSION

295

enemies in open debate,3 the narrator of Mark adds significant cultural enhancement to the claim that Jesus was “the Son of God.” 4 Of course, this implies that rhetoric was considered important for Christians as well, since Mark’s narrative was produced within the framework of Christianity, and perhaps even written for early Christians communities.5 Indeed, as the other documents of early Christianity reveal, especially Acts and Paul’s Epistles, the very existence of early Christianity was staked upon the persuasive abilities of its preachers, teachers, and debaters. Paul’s feigned rhetorical ineptitude (1 Cor 2:1–5) is likely better evidence of his persuasive competence than any genuine naiveté.6 It was Paul himself who, in a context exhibiting careful rhetorical eloquence and even using classical rhetorical terminology, declared that, “Because we know the fear of the Lord, we persuade people [ἀνθρώπους πείθομεν]” (2 Cor 5:11). The experience of the early Christian communities is thus likely reflected in the Gospel of Mark: just as the early Christians depended upon their persuasive powers to legitimize and empower their movement, so Jesus depends upon his rhetorical abilities, using them to gather and to train disciples, to exorcise demons, to calm storms, to heal the sick, to forgive sins, and to show the errors of his enemies. In connection with this, it has been seen that though he also makes logical and emotional appeals, at the deepest level Jesus (and hence, the narrator) grounds Jesus’s rhetoric in his own authority. Even in his judicial discourses, where Jesus depends heavily upon logical arguments to rhetorically outmaneuver his opponents, he makes pronouncements that are thoroughly rooted in his own character, his “ethos,” as God’s messenger (e.g., his declaring blasphemy against the 3. See Mark 12:34: “No one dared to ask him any more questions.” 4. See the “Son of God” inclusio of Mark 1:1, 15:39. 5. Many interpreters of Mark believe the Gospel was composed of Christian traditions to be used in the Christian community. Pesch (Markusevangelium, 1:14) and Tolbert (Sowing, 36) take exception, arguing that the Gospel was likely published for non-Christian circulation. 6. His claim to have no special eloquence is likely comparable to the modern anecdote of the cunning attorney who manipulates the jury by claiming to be a “simple, country lawyer” only concerned with justice. The appeal is similar to that made by Socrates (Apology 17b4–5) at his trial, that he has no special cleverness to offer the judges. That Paul effectively made use of Greco-Roman rhetoric has been demonstrated by a number of recent studies; see Mack, Rhetoric and the New Testament, 56–73 (as well as many of the works cited in his bibliography, 104–10), and Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation, 141–60.

296

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Spirit an unforgivable sin, or his declaring foods clean). In his deliberative discourses, Jesus’s authority as rabbi and Son of God comes closest to the surface. He can summon disciples because he is the sower of God’s word. He can predict the destruction of the temple because he is David’s Lord. He can warn the disciples to watch because he is the “Lord of the house” who will return unannounced. Jesus’s rhetoric of authority implies that there is much in his teachings that is not open for debate. Instead, certain aspects of Jesus’s teaching must be accepted simply because it is Jesus who says them, and not because they can be proven with airtight logic. The implications of this rhetoric for early Christian preaching might have been consoling. The sower’s task is to sow the word. Whether or not each earth type that hears the word produces fruit will be based upon the orientation of the heart, rather than upon the exact logic of the sower’s message. It is likely that the precise species of rhetoric that Mark has Jesus using tells us something about the early Christian communities as well. Jesus’s use of judicial rhetoric to defend his practices against the religious leaders likely reflects the struggles of the early church against traditional Judaism in the mid to late first century CE. This, of course, is not a new observation among Markan scholars. But what about Jesus’s use of deliberative rhetoric to call people to a decision about fruitful discipleship? What does deliberative rhetoric imply? It has already been pointed out that deliberative rhetoric was basically the rhetoric of democracies—political rhetoric—designed to persuade people of the rightness or the wisdom of a certain choice versus the wrongness or foolishness of other choices. It is no coincidence that deliberative rhetoric had suffered a long decline in use by the time of the New Testament era, for democracy had long since disappeared. Indeed, by as early as the fourth century BCE, the focus of deliberative rhetoric had necessarily broadened to include such moral and philosophical issues as how to be a happy person. By using deliberative rhetoric designed to elicit choice through persuasion, as has been seen, the narrator reveals a fundamental conviction that individuals ultimately have the choice of how they will respond to the good news of Jesus Christ. But the extensive use of

CONCLUSION

297

deliberative rhetoric may reveal something more about the Gospel itself. In his two longest discourses, Jesus uses deliberative rhetoric to encourage the disciples to “pay attention” and to “watch.” There are not-so-subtle warnings in both discourses about the possibility of hearing the word, but failing to produce fruit or falling away during times of persecution. If Mark were written for Christian communities, its purpose might have thus included the goal of encouraging those communities to remain fruitful during the “tribulations” until the coming Son of Man.7 If Mark were written for non-Christian readers, the deliberative rhetoric might function as a call to discipleship, coupled with the warning that discipleship will be costly, possibly requiring a full self-sacrifice. In either case, the deliberative quality of these two discourses, especially with the efforts the narrator makes to shape them for the readers of the Gospel, indicates a persuasive aim for the overall Gospel. Noticeably absent from the primary level of the discourses of Jesus is the third species of rhetoric, epideictic, the species of praise and blame. Thus, though the narrator seems to be employing a large amount of epideictic rhetoric to accomplish the narrator’s own aims (praising Jesus as God’s Son, rabbi, miracle worker, etc.), the character Jesus rarely uses direct epideictic rhetoric, either with reference to himself or to others. When compared to the discourses of Jesus in, for example, John’s Gospel, where Jesus repeatedly offers epideictic rhetoric in praise of himself, the Jesus of Mark’s Gospel seems modest, clearly focused upon the kingdom rather than upon himself. It seems natural to seek for this modest presentation of Jesus a rationale in Mark’s simpler Christology. Finally, the rhetorical pattern common to all four of Jesus’s Markan discourses—public comparisons followed by private interpretations—likely tells us something about both the early Christian communities and the narrator’s rhetorical strategies. Regarding the former, the patterns expose a desire on the part of the evangelist to develop a sense of inclusion for Jesus’s disciples in the mysteries of the kingdom of God. The other side of this notion, however, is an 7. Cf. Ernest Best, who argues that Mark has a pastoral purpose: Following Jesus: Discipleship in the Gospel of Mark (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1981) and Disciples and Discipleship: Studies in the Gospel according to Mark (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1986).

298

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

exclusion of all who do not respond to the teachings of Jesus regarding the kingdom of God. Thus, a sense of sectarianism is present here that likely typifies the later first-century church during its struggles with Judaism. Regarding the narrative strategy of the pattern of public comparisons/private interpretations, two explanations for their presence can be offered. The first is simple: public discourse followed by private explanation provides the narrator with the perfect opportunity for rhetorical amplification (ἐργασία). It is a rhetorical technique that permits the narrator to repeat and expound upon certain material important for the narrator’s purpose. Second, for the readers this pattern is also important, for it makes them the ultimate insiders to everything Jesus says. The central point of the second discourse in Mark 4 is that though Jesus offers the good news in comparisons to the general masses, he reserves his interpretation of the mystery of the kingdom for insiders, who are expected to pay close attention lest they lose what they hear. Since in every discourse the readers of the Gospel are permitted to listen to the private interpretations, they are encouraged to consider themselves “insiders” as well. A bond is thus forged between the narrator and the readers based upon their shared secret knowledge. Even while giving the mystery of the kingdom to the hearers of the Gospel, however, the discourse in Mark 4 remains deliberative. Merely hearing the interpretations of the mystery of the kingdom does not assure the readers that they will actually prove to be “good earth.” Instead, they must “pay attention” to what they hear, accept the word, and produce appropriate fruit. Three of the four sowings end up fruitless. But if readers of the Gospel use their ears to hear, though the kingdom in their hearts may start as small as a mustard seed, it will eventually produce great quantities. As Jesus himself promises to those who pay attention to his discourses: “With the measure you use, it will be measured to you, and it will be added to you.”

Appendix: A Brief History of Greco-Roman Rhetoric

Whether or not the roots of Greek rhetoric should be traced back to Empedocles, Corax, and Tisias—early rhetoricians from Sicily—it is clear that Greek rhetoric had already begun to flourish early in the fifth century BCE.1 By that time, many of rhetoricians in Athens were already making a living by writing political speeches and teaching young men to be proficient orators. One of the more famous of these was Gorgias of Leontini (late fifth century), the Sicilian rhetorician and sophist who was most noted for his flowery figures.2 1. The Greeks themselves traced their art back to as early as Homer (see Syrianus’s note in Hermogenes, p. 17 of Rhetores Graeci 4:43.3 [Walz] and also Hermogenes in Rhetores Graeci 2:405.25, [Spengel]; see also Quintilian, Institutes 10.1.49). Aristotle considers that the “discovery of rhetoric” goes back to Empedocles (see Aristotle Soph. Elench. 183B.31; cf. Quintilian, Institutes 3.1.). For Corax and Tisias, see Aristotle Soph. Elench. 183B.31; Cicero, De Inventione 2.6, De Oratore 1.20.91, Brutus 12.46; and Plato, Phaedrus 273C. Cicero, Brutus and Quintilian, Institutes 3 both give a history of rhetoric prior to their time. Thomas Cole, The Origins of Rhetoric in Ancient Greece (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991); D. A. G. Hinks, “Tisias and Corax and the Invention of Rhetoric,” ClQ 34, no. 1–2 (1940): 59–69; George Kennedy, “The Earliest Rhetorical Handbooks,” AJP 80, no. 2 (1959): 169–78; and Stanley Wilcox, “The Scope of Early Rhetorical Instruction,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 53 (1942): 121–55. 2. The word “sophist” was applied with different connotations in different contexts. The term was originally applied to the “self-appointed professors of how to succeed in civic life of the Greek states,” (Kennedy, Classical, 25) and it is in this sense that Protagoras uses the term (see Plato, Protagoras 317b, where Protagoras describes his work as the education of humans: παιδεύειν ἀνθρώπους); see Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric, 25. These Sophists taught a general civic curriculum with an emphasis on successful persuasion. Even as early as Isocrates, however,

300

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Unfortunately, only fragments of his speeches remain, and the treatment of him in Plato’s Gorgias can hardly be considered fair.3 The outstanding advocate of rhetoric as part of an overall cultural education was Gorgias’s most prominent student, Isocrates.4 Isocrates earned his living by training disciples to become ideal citizens, at the heart of which was effective public speaking. In this, Isocrates went beyond Gorgias, for whom rhetoric was primarily concerned with stylistics. Instead, Isocrates insisted that rhetoric should be studied along with a sort of encyclopedic humanistic training that included all things good and noble. He condemned the baser sophists (αγαλαίοι σοφισταί) who attempted to sell happiness or virtue, and the “eristics,” those who taught argument for the sake of winning in the law courts.5 Though Isocrates does not go into great detail in describing his own program for education, it is clear that he would include most of the elements of contemporary Athenian education—stressing the need for virtuous and literate citizens, whose abilities are especially sharpened through oratorical practice. Kennedy sums up Isocrates’s immense cultural contribution: “Isocrates made rhetoric the permanent basis of the education system of the Greek and the Roman world and thus of many later centuries as well, and he made oratory a literary form.”6 the term “sophist” could refer to the teachers of rhetoric whose only concerns seemed to be persuasion and oratorical display without regard for principle. These sophists, especially during the second sophistic movement (second century CE), were less concerned with general education and tended to focus instead on the declamation, with its stylistic perfection and bombastic decorum. This latter group of sophists regularly drew criticism from the philosophers and cultural critics of the empire. See G. B. Kerferd, The Sophistic Movement (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981). 3. There are translations of these fragments by George Kennedy in Rosamond Kent Sprague, ed., The Older Sophists (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1972), 30–67. It is unclear whether or not Gorgias left behind a handbook of rhetoric, although later authors thought he did. See Plato, Phaedrus 261B, 267A; Diogenes Laertius 8.58, Prolegomena to Hermogenes [in Walz, Rhetores Graeci 4.12.17]; Quintilian, Institutes 3.1.8; and Dionysius, On Literary Composition 12. 4. See Georges Mathieu, Les idées politiques d’Isocrate (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1925); Eino Mikkola, Isocrates: seine Anschauungen im Lichte seiner Schriften (Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1954); and Paul Cloché, Isocrate et son temps (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1963). Texts and translations of Isocrates’s works are available in three volumes of the Loeb Library, edited by George Norlin and La Rue Van Hook (LCL 209, 229, 373). 5. See especially his early work Against the Sophists and his later work Antidosis. 6. Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric, 31. For Isocrates’s abiding contribution to the fields of Greek and Roman education and rhetoric, see Harry Mortimer Hubbell, The Influence of Isocrates on Cicero, Dionysius, and Aristides (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1913).

APPENDIX

301

The eristics and professional rhetoricians against whom Isocrates complained had been working out a fairly consistent system for speech-making throughout the fifth and fourth centuries BCE. This system is best represented in the number of rhetorical handbooks that were apparently produced in some quantity prior to the encyclopedic work of Aristotle in the late fourth century. These handbooks generally described the proper arrangement of material in speeches, how to devise arguments, and various techniques for stylistic adornment.7 Unfortunately, none of the early handbooks survive, with the sole exception of the work Rhetoric to Alexander, to which was attached Aristotle’s name, but which may have been the work of Anaximenes of Lampsacus (ca. 380–320 BCE).8 The Rhetoric to Alexander, parts of which show some later influences from Aristotle’s Rhetoric, is probably typical for the late classical and early Hellenistic handbooks. Its main concern is with how to persuade audiences. Rhetoric to Alexander divides speeches into three kinds (γένη): deliberative or parliamentary (δημηγορικόν), epideictic (ἐπιδεικτικόν), and judicial (δικανικόν), each of which has its own persuasive objectives and methods. These genera are further divided and treated in detail under seven species (εἶδη): exhortation (προτρεπτικόν) and dissuasion (άπροτρεπτικόν), encomium (ἐγκώμιαστικόν) and vituperation (ψεκτικόν), prosecution (κατηγορικόν) and defense (ἀπολογητικόν), and examination (ἐξεταστικὸν).9 7. Quintilian (Institutes 3.1.8) states that Corax composed the first tevcnh. There is no way to confirm this, but by the late fourth century BCE, Aristotle (Rhetoric 3.1) is already responding to a number of such tevcnai. Plato surveys the contents of these early handbooks in the Phaedrus 266–267D. See Kennedy, “Earliest Rhetorical Handbooks,” 169–78. 8. See Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric, 22. There are a variety of problems with this work, including the identity of the author, spurious sections of the work, its actual date, and its general relationship to Aristotle. This latter problem is especially tricky, since portions of the treatise are pre-Aristotelian in concept, whereas other portions seem to borrow from Aristotle. The work was first attributed to Anaximenes by Victorius, who likely derived his information from Quintilian, Institutes 3.4.9; Kennedy agrees that Anaximenes is the likely author of most of the work. Cf. the introduction to the Loeb edition, by H. Rackham (LCL 317, p. 258–62) and Karl Barwick, “Die ‘Rhetorik ad Alexandrum’ und Anaximenes, Alkidamas, Isokrates, Aristoteles und die Theodekteia,” Philologus 110 (1966): 212–45; 111 (1967): 47–55. 9. For the ways in which different classical authors adapted these categories, see Cristina Pepe, The Genres of Rhetorical Speeches in Greek and Roman Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 104–10.

302

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

From here, the Rhetoric to Alexander turns to a discussion of common topics and methods of amplification, including a lengthy discussion of generic proofs (πίστεις): probabilities, examples, “infallible signs” (τεκμήρια), enthymemes, maxims, refutations, and others. Devices for efficient persuasion are recommended, such as anticipating criticism before it arises, recapitulation, and irony. A fairly long section (chapters 29–37) treats rhetoric in terms of arrangement of the parts of the various kinds of discourse, describing how each part should function in its discourse. Though the Rhetoric to Alexander advocates a slightly different arrangement for each kind of speech, by the time of its composition some common elements of arrangement had already become standard: the introduction, the narrative, the argument, the confirmation, and the conclusion. It seems likely that the emphasis of Rhetoric to Alexander on arrangement was typical for the handbooks of the fifth and fourth centuries BCE, which were dominated by concerns about proper use of the parts of a speech.10 The work closes with a short, spurious addition treating miscellaneous subjects.11 Opposed to the abuses of rhetoric by the rhetoricians and the sophists, and in opposition to Isocrates on philosophical grounds, was the philosopher Plato, who considered rhetoric to be less an art and more a knack, like cooking or cosmetics. Plato’s negative views on rhetoric, mostly put forth in the Gorgias, were primarily based upon his sense that rhetoric is concerned not with absolute truth but with mere persuasion.12 In Gorgias, Plato has Socrates compelling Gorgias to admit that rhetoric is a means of persuasion based upon what we believe, rather than upon what we know. Since orators only deal in beliefs—in conventions and in persuasion—and since it is not 10. This emphasis became the focus of criticism by both Plato (Phaedrus 262–69) and Aristotle (Rhetoric 3.13.1). 11. See Rackham’s comments in the introduction of the Loeb edition (LCL 317), 258–69. 12. See Plato, Gorgias; see also Everett Lee Hunt, “Plato and Aristotle on Rhetoric and the Rhetoricians,” in Studies in Rhetoric and Public Speaking in Honor of James Albert Winans (New York: Century, 1925); Atkins, Literary Criticism in Antiquity, 1:123–24; Edwin Black, “Plato’s View of Rhetoric,” QJSp 44 (1958): 361–74; and Vickers, In Defence of Rhetoric, 83–147. Plato considered dialectic rather than rhetoric the true philosopher’s dialogue, since the former seeks truth through propositional discussion, whereas the latter merely assumes a position and argues it. See Oscar L. Brownstein, “Plato’s Phaedrus: Dialectic as the Genuine Art of Speaking,” QJSp 51, no. 4 (1965): 392–98.

APPENDIX

303

necessary that rhetoricians know or be convinced of their subjects but only that they know techniques for effective speaking, they possess the ability to bring great harm to the polis through misguided persuasion. Plato thus scorns the handbooks for dealing in “flattery.” In the Phaedrus, however, Plato gives a more favorable treatment of rhetoric. There, he has Socrates treat the production of speeches, and he gives some standards for good speeches that involve not mere technique but truth. Plato’s overwhelming concern that rhetoric be based upon truth rather than upon persuasion forces him to describe in the Phaedrus an orator who could only be the philosopher who has come to understand all truth through pure dialectic. The ideal is set so high that Plato himself is skeptical that such a wise person could ever be persuasive.13 Plato’s Phaedrus lays the groundwork for Aristotle’s Rhetoric, which became one of the most influential works on rhetoric in the Hellenistic and Roman periods.14 Aristotle picked up where Plato left off in Phaedrus, but for Aristotle rhetoric could be considered an art: not the art of persuasion as such, but the art of discovering the means of persuasion.15 For Aristotle, this distinction was not merely semantic; it signaled a shift in emphasis from merely learning how to arrange and adorn discourse material in persuasive fashion to an emphasis on how to discover and effectively present truth. Thus, for Aristotle, rhetoric became the oral counterpart to dialectic.16 Consequently, Aristotle is 13. Cf. Plato, Gorgias 513B; Plato, Republic 495–96; see also W. Scott Nobles, “The Paradox of Plato’s Attitude toward Rhetoric,” WestSp 21 (Fall 1957): 206–10; and Peter Schnakel, “Plato’s Phaedrus and Rhetoric,” SouthSpJ 32 (1966): 124–32. 14. See Thompson’s edition of the Phaedrus, in which he compares the Phaedrus and Aristotle’s Rhetoric. 15. Aristotle, Rhetoric 1.1.14. See also ibid., 1.2.1.: “Rhetoric then may be defined as the faculty of discovering the possible means of persuasion in reference to any subject whatever.” Aristotle published several works on rhetoric, including the lost work Gryllus (see Anton-Hermann Chroust, “Aristotle’s First Literary Effort: The Gryllus, a Lost Dialogue on the Nature of Rhetoric,” Revue des études grecques 78 [1965]: 576–91), Topica, and Sophistici elenchi, and, of course, Rhetoric. Also helpful is Aristotle’s work Poetics. See Keith V. Erickson, ed., Aristotle: The Classical Heritage of Rhetoric (Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow, 1974) and Keith V. Erickson, ed., Aristotle’s Rhetoric: Five Centuries of Philological Research (Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow, 1975). The old study by E. M. Cope, An Introduction to Aristotle’s Rhetoric (London: Macmillan, 1867) has been reprinted by G. Olms, 1970. 16. Aristotle’s Topica and Sophistici elenchi were logical works providing helps for philosophers and rhetoricians. See Helen Fleshler, “Plato and Aristotle on Rhetoric and Dialectic,” PennSpAn 20 (1963): 163–72.

304

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

more concerned with rhetorical “proofs” (πίστεις)17 than with the parts of speech, though he treats a broad range of rhetorical issues. Indeed, Aristotle reinvents the rhetorical handbook, using a new set of topics for his treatment (proofs, arrangement, and style), instead of classifying all material under the simpler headings provided by the “parts of speech” (partes orationis or μόρια λόγου). This latter system had been used by the Rhetoric to Alexander and others.18 Aristotle’s Rhetoric serves as a comprehensive guide to rhetoric as the art of establishing and effectively promoting the right, the virtuous, or the beneficial on various issues. Aristotle divides his proofs into two basic categories: inartificial (such as witnesses, tortures, and contracts) and artificial (those composed by the orator). The latter category he subdivides into three groups: arguments based upon the authority of the speaker, those based upon reason, and those appealing to the emotions of the audience. Most important to Aristotle are those arguments based upon the use of reason, which he treats under two headings: logical syllogisms (ενθυμήματα) and examples (παράδειγμα). The former of these is a primary focus of Aristotle’s work, and Aristotle considers the rhetorical syllogism to be fundamental to the establishment of sound and persuasive argument. In connection with proof, Aristotle presents an elaborate system of topics for deriving arguments.19 Besides proofs, Aristotle treats other rhetorical concerns. He divides discourses into three kinds, the judicial, the deliberative, and the epideictic.20 Though he does not bind tight rules of arrangement 17. See William M. A. Grimaldi, “A Note on the PISTEIS in Aristotle’s Rhetoric, 1354–1356,” AJP 78, no. 2 (1957): 188–92; William M. A. Grimaldi, Studies in the Philosophy of Aristotle’s Rhetoric, Hermes Einzelschriften 25 (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1972); George H. Wikramanayake, “A Note on the PISTEIS in Aristotle’s Rhetoric,” AJP 82, no. 2 (1961): 193–96; Joseph T. Lienhard, “A Note on the Meaning of PISTEIS in Aristotle’s Rhetoric,” AJP 87, no. 4 (1966): 446–54; and Jürgen Sprute, Die Enthymemtheorie der aristotelischen Rhetorik (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982). 18. Aristotle (Rhetoric 3.13.1) says a speech only has two necessary parts: stating the subject and then proving it. Plato (Phaedrus 266–67d) had also criticized the “parts of the speech” system of studying rhetoric. Cf. Octave Navarre, Essai sur la rhétorique grecque avant Aristote (Paris: Hachette, 1900), 211–327; and G. L. Hendrickson, “The Origin and Meaning of the Ancient Characters of Style,” AJP 26, no. 3 (1905): 250–90. 19. See also his Topica. 20. Quintilian, Institutes 3.4.1, says that it was Aristotle who first made this distinction, but it first appeared in print in Rhetoric to Alexander 1.1.

APPENDIX

305

upon the speech, he agrees in general terms with the previous handbooks about the major parts of the speech. Complaining that stylistics had not yet been systematized, Aristotle presents one of the first detailed discussions of appropriate and effective style, setting forth what later becomes the common ἀρετῆς λέξεως (virtues of style): correct use of the language, clarity, appropriateness, and ornateness. Aristotle’s Rhetoric represents something of a watershed in Greek rhetoric, both because it systematizes in typical Aristotelian fashion a great deal of contemporary rhetorical theory and because it expands rhetoric into a system for developing convincing arguments, very similar to dialectics. There is no evidence that Aristotle’s Rhetoric became an instant success, but gradually, especially through the work of Aristotle’s successor Theophrastus, many of the principles set forth in the Rhetoric became common elements of Greco-Roman rhetoric. It is indisputable that a number of theorists publishing after Aristotle were indebted to him for their work.21 After the fourth century BCE, rhetorical theory and practice quickly spread throughout Hellenistic culture, moving out of the public assemblies and down from the schools of philosophy to permeate virtually every level of Hellenistic life. As early as the third century BCE, Rome had developed a conscious sense of oratory. When Rome conquered the Hellenistic world and adopted Greek ways, Hellenistic rhetorical theory and practice also became a ubiquitous part of Roman culture. By the time the New Testament was composed, the entire Greco-Roman world was thoroughly immersed in rhetoric. The tradition of technical rhetoric was carried on directly from Aristotle by Theophrastus, his successor. Though only fragments of his work survive,22 Theophrastus was clearly one of the more important rhetorical theorists, expanding Aristotle’s threefold system of proofs, arrangement, and style to a fivefold division: invention, arrangement, style, memorization, and delivery. This fivefold division became the standard way of treating technical rhetoric for the next seven centuries. Theophrastus also likely established what 21. For the lasting effects of Aristotle’s work, see Friedrich Solmsen, “The Aristotelian Tradition in Ancient Rhetoric,” AJP 62, no. 1–2 (1941): 35–50, 196–226. 22. Of his lost works, the following titles are mentioned by other writers: On Enthymemes, On Epicheiremes, On Amplification, On Humor, On Style, and On Delivery.

306

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

became the standard delineation of style in Greco-Roman rhetoric: the three levels of style—the plain, the elegant, and the elevated. Subsequent theorists and rhetoricians used these three levels of style in conjunction with three fundamental purposes of rhetoric: to teach, to entertain, and to move. Elaborating on Aristotle’s notions of the qualities of good style, Theophrastus also canonized the four “virtues” of style: correctness, clarity, ornamentation, and propriety. After Aristotle and Theophrastus, rhetorical theory continued to develop into the Hellenistic and Roman imperial times. To some extent, one can trace how rhetoric continued to develop through an examination of the handbooks that continued to be produced in both Greek and Latin. These works tended to expand upon and repeat what had been said before. Some focused on a single part of technical rhetorical theory, such as Demetrius’s On Style or Cicero’s De Inventione. Others elaborated on the whole of rhetorical theory, such as the anonymous Rhetorica ad Herennium and Quintilian’s Institutes of Oratory. These handbooks are most helpful for New Testament critics because they provide both specific descriptions of how individuals were taught to compose speeches throughout the Greco-Roman era and extensive catalogues of the devices commonly used in rhetoric. The Greek study On Style, inaccurately attributed to Demetrius of Phalerum,23 is likely the only surviving Greek technical handbook from the late Hellenistic period. On Style basically draws from the third book of Aristotle’s Rhetoric and from Theophrastus’s Peri Lexeos, showing a strong Peripatetic influence.24 Distinguishing clearly between forms of argument, such as the enthymeme, and forms of composition, such as the period, and describing each in detail, On Style shows how the style of the discourse should correspond to the kind of argument being made. With Theophrastus, On Style also identifies the elevated, the elegant, and the plain styles, but goes one further, describing what it calls the “forcible style.” On Style 23. The authorship and exact date of the Greek work On Style are uncertain. See the discussion in the introduction by W. Rhys Roberts in the Loeb edition of the work (LCL 199); see also G. M. A. Grube, A Greek Critic: Demetrius on Style (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1961), and Dirk Marie Schenkeveld, Studies in Demetrius “On Style” (Amsterdam: A. M. Hakkert, 1964). 24. See A. Mayer, Theophrasti Peri lexeōs libri fragment (Leipzig: Teubner, 1910).

APPENDIX

307

provides an encyclopedia of stylistic devices and describes their discursive functions and effects. Cicero’s earliest rhetorical work, De Inventione, constitutes another early handbook, devoted entirely to the study of how to identify and build arguments for speeches. For his De Inventione Cicero borrowed heavily from the second-century theorist Hermagoras of Temnos, who published an elaborate study of the theory of stasis, or, how to determine and treat the basic issue of any given speech situation.25 De Inventione opens with a philosophical discussion of the nature and purpose of rhetoric, which Cicero, as do other Latin rhetoricians, calls eloquence (eloquentia). Though rhetoric is subject to abuse, Cicero argues rhetoric when used with wisdom can bring great advantage to the individual and to the community. Here, Cicero shows affinity to the Isocratean tradition, and it can be argued that in the opening section of De Inventione, he is Latinizing Isocrates’s general rhetorical educational theory.26 Cicero also discusses the usual parts of the speech, identifying seven: the exordium, the narrative, the partition, the confirmation, the refutation, the digression, and the peroration. The bulk of De Inventione, however, is devoted to a lengthy discussion of the stasis theory of Hermagoras (for “stasis,” Cicero uses the term “constitutio”). Cicero identifies four kinds of constitutio: conjecturalis, when the fact is under question; definitiva, when the definition of the action is questioned; generalis, when it is a question of the nature of an action; and translatio, when the jurisdiction of the court is challenged. The second book applies each of these categories to the three species of rhetoric—judicial, deliberative, and epideictic—and discusses various other forensic strategies and the topics from which to construct arguments. Cicero’s treatment of rhetoric in De Inventione represents what was taught to older aristocratic students

25. Hermagoras’s work does not survive, but it is possible to reconstruct much of it from De Inventione and the anonymous Rhetorica ad Herennium. Hermagoras divided questions into theses (general issues) and hypotheses (specific cases), and he describes in detail how to determine the precise stasis of a given situation. See Dieter Matthew, “Hermagoras von Temnos, 1904–1955,” Lustrum 3 (1958): 58–214, 262–78. 26. See Hubbell, Influence of Isocrates.

308

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

preparing for civic lives in the closing decades before the New Testament era, but it also reflects the general status of rhetoric in its day. 27 Cicero’s De Inventione turned out to be his most influential rhetorical treatise in the Middle Ages, and since De Inventione was dependent upon Aristotle and Isocrates, the work perpetuated Hellenistic rhetoric for centuries. De Inventione was not Cicero’s masterpiece, though, according to Cicero himself. Instead, the mature Cicero’s rhetorical notions are probably best represented in his De Oratore, in which he presents, in the form of an artificial conversation among Roman statesmen, his own philosophy of rhetoric. Broadening the scope of his treatment of rhetoric in De Oratore, Cicero codifies the three styles of oratory into offices (the officia oratoris), which include that of teaching, of charming, and of moving. In general, Cicero represents something of a blend of Isocratean and Aristotelian rhetoric, being concerned with rhetoric as a tool for the truth and advocating a general, encyclopedic education for the ideal orator. Cicero’s orator is much more than a good public speaker; his orator is the ideal statesman, concerned with his own character and having a broad understanding of the humanities. In a comparatively brief section of De Oratore, Cicero sums up his notion of the ideal orator: To begin with, a knowledge of very many matters must be grasped, without which oratory is but an empty and ridiculous swirl of verbiage: and the distinctive style has to be formed, not only by the choice of words, but also by the arrangement of the same; and all the mental emotions, with which nature has endowed the human race, are to be intimately understood, because it is in calming or kindling the feelings of the audience that the full power and science of oratory are to be brought into play. To this there should be added a certain humour, flashes of 27. Cicero published a number of works on rhetoric, including Partitiones Oratoriae, Brutus, Orator, Topica, and On the Best Kind of Orator. Fifty-eight of his speeches survive. See also Olof Gigon, “Cicero und Aristoteles,” Hermes 87, no. 2 (1959): 143–62; Harold Guite, “Cicero’s Attitude to the Greeks,” Greece and Rome 9, no. 2 (1962): 142–59; Alan Edward Douglas, “The Intellectual Background to Cicero’s Rhetorica: A Study in Method,” ANRW 1, no. 3 (1973): 95–138; Woldemar Görler, “From Athens to Tusculum: Gleaning the Background of Cicero’s De Oratore,” Rhetorica 6, no. 3 (1988): 215–35; William W. Fortenbaugh, “Cicero’s Knowledge of the Rhetorical Treatises of Aristotle and Theophrastus,” in Cicero’s Knowledge of the Peripatos, ed. William W. Fortenbaugh and Peter Steinmetz (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1989), 39–60. Cf. Sigrid Schweinfurth-Walla, Studien zu den rhetorischen Überzeugungsmitteln bei Cicero und Aristoteles, Mannheimer Beiträge zur Sprach- und Literaturwissenschaft 9 (Tübingen: Narr, 1986).

APPENDIX

309

wit, the culture befitting a gentleman, and readiness and terseness alike in repelling and delivering the attack, the whole being combined with a delicate charm and urbanity. Further, the complete history of the past and a store of precedents must be retained in the memory, nor may a knowledge of statute law and our national law in general be omitted. And why should I go on to describe the speaker’s delivery? That needs to be controlled by bodily carriage, gesture, play of features and changing intonation of voice; and how important that is wholly by itself, the actor’s trivial art and the stage proclaim. . . . What need to speak of that universal treasure‑house the memory? Unless this faculty be placed in charge of the ideas and phrases which have been thought out and well weighed, even though as conceived by the orator they were of the highest excellence, we know that they will all be wasted.28

Probably not long after the publication of Cicero’s De Inventione, the anonymous Rhetorica ad Herennium was written.29 This work represents one of the most complete technical handbooks from the GrecoRoman milieu, treating all five aspects of rhetoric in detail. The work is practical and systematic, a sort of inventory of rhetorical knowledge for school use, including such details as how to learn rhetoric and the nature of various compositional exercises (the progymnasmata). Rhetorica ad Herennium brings together both Greek and newly developing Latin theory, moving from the task of rhetoric, to the three kinds of speeches, to proper arrangement, to various issues of invention (including especially proof and refutation), to style, to memory, to delivery. Like Cicero’s De Inventione, Rhetorica ad Herennium is primarily concerned with invention, that is, the various issues or stases and the appropriate topics for their development. Nonetheless, the fourth book does treat style in detail, providing the first encyclopedic Latin treatment of the subject in surviving literature. Rhetorica ad Herennium also gives the best description of memory in the surviving technical handbooks.

28. Cicero, De Oratore 1.5.17–18. 29. The Rhetorica ad Herennium was perhaps composed by an otherwise unknown Cornificius. It opens with a dedication to an unidentified Herennius. The date of the work is not certain, but it is clearly early. Kennedy (Classical Rhetoric, 96–97) dates it around 84 BCE, shortly after Cicero’s De Inventione. See also Gualtiero Calboli, ed., Cornifici Rhetorica ad C. Herennium: Introduzione, testo critico, commento (Bologna: Ricardo Patron, 1969) and the text and English translation by Harry Caplan in the Loeb series (LCL 386).

310

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Shortly before the birth of Christ, the rhetor and historian Dionysius of Halicarnassus published his work On Composition, which is the only surviving work on word arrangement and euphony.30 Dionysius suggests that two oratorical skills produce excellence: subject matter and expression. He divides expression into choice of words and composition of sentences. Dionysius’s work treats the latter of these, and its fundamental concern is clear, pleasing word order in sentence construction. The aims of good composition, according to Dionysius, are charm and beauty, and there are four sources of these: melody, rhythm, variety, and appropriateness. Under charm, he treats freshness, grace, euphony, sweetness, and persuasiveness; under beauty, he discusses grandeur, impressiveness, solemnity, dignity, and mellowness. Dionysius’s handbook is explicitly written for the orator, drawing upon the literary classics of Greece for its illustrations. The technical tradition continued into the Common Era, and is best represented in the first century work of Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria.31 Quintilian’s work, the longest Latin rhetorical work to survive from antiquity, summarizes in detail the whole range of rhetorical issues, from the education of children to the ideal orator as the virtuous citizen. Quintilian’s work breaks little new ground in the area of the five aspects of rhetoric, from invention to delivery, but he does give clear, comprehensive discussions of each element and often includes historical surveys going back to Hellenistic times. Perhaps most helpful for this study is Quintilian’s treatment of rhetoric as a part of the total educational system. By Quintilian’s day, there had developed a long and somewhat uniform tradition of education in Greco-Roman society. In Greece, the educational system descended from education of the “noble warrior” to a system emphasizing ideal citizenship and, by the third century BCE, to a system teaching humanities and letters, focused especially on rhetoric. In Rome, the educational system began as a private affair of the family, but even as early as the mid-fifth century 30. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, On Literary Composition, vol. 1, Ancient Greek Literature, ed. W. Rhys Roberts (New York: Garland, 1987). 31. The classic study of Quintilian is George Kennedy’s Quintilian, Twayne World Authors 59 (New York: Twayne, 1969).

APPENDIX

311

BCE there were public schools in Rome.32 By the first century BCE, the Roman model of education had adapted itself to the Hellenistic model, leading to a considerably uniform Greco-Roman educational system by imperial times.33 Education remained generally limited, however, to the aristocracy or the “new” wealthy and sometimes their servants or slaves. Only a small proportion of society would have enjoyed the education Quintilian describes. Proper education of the citizen, Quintilian tells us, begins at home with the child—selecting the proper nurse and the proper pedagogue. As soon as young students are able, they should be taught Greek and Latin. From the beginning, Quintilian wants to make the ideal orator out of individuals, and the instructions he gives even for the smallest child have to do with such rhetorical issues as proper pronunciation. Marrou’s comment about Hellenistic education would apply to its Latin counterpart as reflected in Quintilian was well: “Rhetoric is the specific object of Greek education and the highest Greek culture.”34 Regarding the education of children, Quintilian reveals his true objective by repeatedly expressing the sentiment that “it is no easy task to create an orator.”35 Somewhere around his or her seventh birthday, a child would begin formal training under a public teacher referred to as the litterator or primus magister in Latin, or in Greek, the grammatistes. The student may have studied the rudiments of arithmetic under the primary teacher, in addition to gymnastics and general moral instruction. The main study under the grammatistes, however, as the name indicates, was proper reading, writing, and speaking, starting first with the actual letters of the alphabet, and proceeding to syllables, words, phrases, and finally, entire sentences. Dionysius of Halicarnassus describes how students began to learn to read and write:

32. Livy, 3.44.6; Dionysius, Roman History 11.28.3. Livy (6.25.9) later describes the city of Tusculum as “humming with the voices of pupils.” 33. See Marrou, History of Education, 265: “The general principles, the syllabus and the methods used in Roman schools were simply copied from their Hellenistic prototypes: the changeover to a Latin-speaking society caused no important modifications in teaching.” See also ibid., 242–54. 34. Ibid., 194. 35. Quintilian, Institutes 1.1.10.

312

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

When we learn to read, we first learn the names of letters, then their shapes and values, then the syllables and their properties, after this the words and their inflections—their longer and shorter forms and their declensions. . . . Then we begin to read and write, slowly at first, and syllable by syllable. When, in due process of time, the forms of words are fixed in our mind, we read easily and get through any book handed to us without stumbling, with incredible ease and speed.36

Proper and clear pronunciation, the ability to scan verse, an understanding of the parts of speech, and an ability to conjugate and decline words were all part of the earliest curriculum under the primary teacher. The primary textbooks for study even at this early age were the literary classics of Greece and Rome. Quintilian was especially fond of Homer and Virgil for use by young children. The methods of instruction included memorization, imitation, and practice. From the beginning of the students’ education they learned to memorize large portions of the poets and to imitate the classics. The significance of this for our study has already been discussed above in chapter 2. Throughout the student’s education, the classics would form the basic texts for instruction.37 In the primary schools, students practiced writing characters and words to learn proper orthography, following models supplied by the teachers. Recitation was used to teach pronunciation, proper accent, clarity, and the rudiments of good style (through imitation). Various “sing-songs” were used to aid in memorization. Quintilian adamantly promoted such learning devices in order to help students enjoy their studies,38 but several centuries later Augustine recalls these devices with disdain.39 By a child’s eleventh or twelfth birthday, he or she was sent on to secondary school to study under the grammaticus (Latin), or the secondary teacher. The grammaticus held considerably more prestige than the primary teacher. His job was to begin to move students on

36. Cited in Bowen, History of Western Education, 1:81. 37. See Marrou, History of Education, 161–65. 38. Quintilian, Institutes 1.1.20. 39. Augustine, Confessions 1.13.22.

APPENDIX

313

to the secondary curriculum, which included more advanced grammar and serious literary study. Grammatical study focused on analysis of letters, syllables, words, and parts of speech. Sometime before Quintilian in the first century BCE, the grammarian Dionysius Thrax published the first analytical study of Greek grammar, breaking down the Greek language into its simplest elements.40 This text provided the categories of analysis for the grammatici thereafter, but the main texts for grammatical analysis, even in secondary education, remained the classics. Memorization, imitation, and practice remained the fundamental methods of teaching. In addition to grammatical studies, the secondary curriculum featured literary study. Quintilian identifies two headings to be treated under the study of literature: the art of speaking correctly and that of interpretation of the poets.41 He develops each of these in detail, progressing from the rudiments of reading and pronunciation described above, to issues of figures, etymology, proper word selection, and so forth. The primary task of the grammaticus was to apply the students’ budding literary skills to composition, exegesis, and criticism—always with an eye toward making better orators of them. At some point during the first century CE there emerged a standard four-stage process for treating a text: criticism (διόρθωσις), reading (ἀνάγνωσις), exposition (ἐξηγσις), and judgment (κρίσις).42 These had already been described in simpler terms by Dionysius and Varro in the first century BCE,43 and the examples in Dionysius’s handbook show how the grammaticus would drill the students in literary work through questions and answers requiring various degrees of explanation. Sometime during secondary education, presumably in the middle teens, but frequently somewhat earlier, the student began a series of compositional exercises known in antiquity as the progymnasmata. Already discussed above in chapter 2, the progymnasmata were a series 40. See Dionysius Thrax, Dionysii Thracis Ars grammatica, ed. Gustav Uhlig (Lipsiae: Teubner, 1883). 41. Quintilian, Institutes 1.4.2. 42. Marrou, History of Education, 165. 43. See Bonner, Education in Ancient Rome, 226.

314

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

of compositional exercises designed to train the student in polished rhetorical strategy. The highest forms of the progymnasmata involved the actual composition of speeches themselves. By the time they reached the most advanced of the progymnasmata, only a small portion of students were still in school, now studying during their final teenage years under the rhetor. The task of the rhetor was to teach pure rhetoric, building upon the years of literary education behind the student and drawing from the technical handbooks of the era. Besides the progymnasmata, the major exercise used by the rhetor for rhetorical training was the declamation, or practice speech. The declamation was similar to the prosopopoeia, only more complete: speakers would assume imaginary or historical scenarios and take a position and argue that position in a full speech. By imperial times, however, the declamation was being used outside the schools as well, serving as a sort of intellectual game for adults. Traveling orators frequently competed with each other entertaining crowds with flowery speeches of a deliberative, epideictic, or judicial nature on various historical, political, or cultural subjects. Often these speeches were extemporaneous, and their goal was not to persuade but rather to impress the crowd with the speaker’s rhetorical prowess.44 In spite of the shallowness of the declaimers, however, they served an important cultural role, helping to perpetuate established cultural values and disseminating the precepts of Greco-Roman rhetoric to all levels of society. The increased popularity of the declamation in the middle and later imperialistic period led to the so-called second sophistic movement, in which the emphasis of rhetoric was shifted away from Ciceronian and Aristotelian ideals to return more to its pre-Isocratean roots of verbal artistry.45 A major concern of Quintilian’s work is to reestablish the link between oratory and the 44. Philostratus’s Lives of the Sophists provides a lively description of the sophists and their declamations. See also Seneca the Elder, Oratorum Rhetorum Sententiae Divisiones Colores; Stanley F. Bonner, Roman Declamation in the Late Republic and Early Empire (Liverpool: University Press of Liverpool, 1949); Donald L. Clark, “Some Values of Roman Declamatio, the Controversia as a School Exercise in Rhetoric,” QJSp 35, no. 3 (1949): 280–83; and Michael Winterbottom, Roman Declamation (Bristol: Bristol Classical Press, 1980). 45. See John Wight Duff, A Literary History of Rome in the Silver Age, ed. A. M. Duff (London: Benn, 1960); Glen W. Bowersock, Greek Sophists in the Roman Empire (Oxford: Clarendon, 1969); and Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric, 25–40, 108–19.

APPENDIX

315

virtuous life, and the abuses of the sophistic declamation were derided by a number of Latin writers.46 General rhetorical theory continued to develop after the time of Quintilian, increasingly specializing more in literary and stylistic features of rhetoric with the rise of the second sophistic movement. This period, beginning in the late second century CE, saw the publication of more technical handbooks, philosophical essays, and speeches, but to a large extent these works merely expanded upon the theory and practice of rhetoric already established from Hellenistic and early imperial times, focusing less on proofs and more on technique. Because they likely represent theories established long before they were published, however, these works are also helpful for New Testament criticism. Probably written on the eve of the second century CE was the Greek work On the Sublime, wrongly associated with Cassius Longinus of the third century CE.47 This treatise, evidently lost early in the Middle Ages but immediately acclaimed upon its sixteenthcentury rediscovery, remained influential even into the nineteenth century. On the Sublime shows true creativity, describing in bold fashion the elements of literary greatness while being careful to acknowledge that no set of rules can insure this greatness. The author identifies five sources of greatness: the power to conceive great thoughts, vehement emotion, the use of elevated figures of thought and speech, noble diction, and dignified composition.48 Besides its remarkable insight into sublimity, the work On the Sublime is important because it clearly shows that rhetorical theory was fundamental for composing and evaluating written works as well as oral pieces. Perhaps the most important Greek rhetorician of the imperial period was the second-century sophist Hermogenes, to whom several rhetorical textbooks are attributed dealing with the progymnasmata, stasis theory, ideas, and style.49 The first of these, the progymnasmata, 46. See, e.g., Petronius, “Among the Rhetoricians,” in the Satyricon; Tacitus, “Messalla’s Speech,” in A Dialogue on Orators; and Sextus Empiricus, Against the Rhetoricians. 47. See the introduction by W. Hamilton Fyfe in the Loeb edition (LCL 199) of On the Sublime, xxi–xxiv. 48. [Longinus], On the Sublime 8–9. 49. See Hermogenes, Opera, ed. Hugo Rabe (Lipsiae: Teubner, 1913).

316

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

was translated into Latin by the grammarian Priscian and had a lasting influence throughout the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. It defines the various progymnasmata, giving rules and examples for their proper use. Hermogenes’s work on stasis theory was ultimately based upon Hermagoras’s system, but Hermogenes takes stasis theory further, prescribing a more precise way for determining which of the four constitutiones (fact, definition, quality, and transference) applies in any given declamation.50 Perhaps the most important work of Hermogenes was his work on style, which continues the stylistic traditions of Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Theophrastus.51 Hermogenes describes seven virtues of style (which he eventually breaks into twenty “ideas” [ιδέαι]): clarity (σαφήνεια), grandeur (μέγεθος), beauty (κάλλος), vigor (γοργότης), ethos (ἔθος), verity (ἀλήθεια), and gravity (δεινότης).52 Hermogenes’s works are intended primarily for the sophists and were clearly designed to aid in the preparation and delivery of the declamation. The third and fourth centuries CE continued to see rhetorical developments, but these added little to the theory that had already been in place for centuries. Orators continued to publish declamations on any number of cultural, social, and political themes of the era.53 In the field of grammar and compositional exercises, important works were published by Aelius Theon of Alexandria (second century), Apthonius of Antioch (fourth century), and Nicolaus of Myra (fifth century). Several translations and commentaries were produced during the period on the already classic texts of Demosthenes, Cicero, and Aristotle. A history of the orators and rhetoricians was published in the early third century by Philostratus.54 Two full treatments of epideictic, attributed to Menander of Laodicea, were published in the 50. By the time of Hermogenes, stasis had become a fundamental element in the development of speeches for the declaimers. See Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric, 104. 51. See Johannes Stroux, De Theophrasti virtutibus dicendi (Leipzig: Teubner, 1912). 52. George Kennedy (Classical Rhetoric, 104) distinguishes two traditions of style in the rhetorical theory of the era. The Latin tradition considered style in terms of “levels”: grand, middle, plain. The Greek tradition considered style in terms of an “ideal form” made up of various qualities or virtues combined in different ways. 53. One of the most notable producers of speeches of late antiquity was Libanius of Antioch (d. 393 CE). See Paul Petit, Libanius et la vie municipale à Antioche au IVe siècle après J.-C. (Paris: P. Geuthner, 1955). 54. See the translation by Wilmer Cave Wright in the Loeb Classical Library (LCL 134).

APPENDIX

317

late third century.55 Both of these epideictic works are descriptive, cataloging and providing examples of the kinds of epideictic speeches popular during the second sophistic movement. After the close of the third century, Christianity began to develop an increasingly sophisticated rhetoric, largely modeled upon the classical patterns. A number of rhetoricians were converted to Christianity, and, of course, they brought their training with them. The culmination of this in the West was Augustine, whose On Christian Doctrine virtually amounts to a Christian rhetorical handbook.56 Thus, the Greco-Roman rhetorical tradition had a long and wellpreserved history. A number of the actual textbooks used in teaching rhetoric have survived from antiquity, permitting us to reconstruct with a high degree of certainty what the generally accepted conventions of rhetoric were. These conventions were quite sophisticated, and, as was argued in chapter 2, had permeated virtually every level of society by the time of the New Testament milieu.

55. For an introduction, text, and translation of these, see Meander, Menander Rhetor, ed. D. A. Russell and N. G. Wilson (Oxford: Clarendon, 1981). 56. For the relationship between De Doctrina Christiana and classical rhetoric, see Jose Oroz, “El ‘De Doctrina Christiana’ o la retorica cristiana,” EstClas 3 (1956): 452–59; Louis D. McNew, “The Relation of Cicero’s Rhetoric to Augustine.” RSSCW 25 (March 1957): 5–13; Henri Irénée Marrou, Saint Augustin et la fin de la culture antique, 4th ed. (Paris: Éditions de Boccard, 1958); Maurice Testard, Saint Augustin et Cicéron (Paris: Etudes Augustiniennes, 1958); and Harald Hagendahl, Augustine and the Latin Classics, 2 vols. Studia Graeca et Latina Gothoburgensia, 20 (Goteborg: Elanders Boktryckeri Aktiebolag, 1967).

Glossary of Select Rhetorical Terms

While the glossary gives a basic explanation of the rhetorical terms used in this study, we suggest consulting reference works such as David E. Aune, The Westminster Dictionary of New Testament and Early Christian Literature and Rhetoric (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003); James Jasinski, Sourcebook on Rhetoric: Key Concepts in Contemporary Rhetorical Studies (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2001); and Heinrich Lausberg, Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik: eine Grundlegung der Literaturwissenschaft, 2 vols. (Munich: Max Hueber, 1960). alliteration – The practice of repeating the initial sound of a word. Alliteration was common among ancient Greek authors (Gorgias, Plutarch), as well as by New Testament writers. For example, Hebrews 1:1 has five initial π- sounds in only twelve words: “Πολυμερῶς καὶ πολυτρόπως πάλαι ὁ θεὸς λαλήσας τοῖς πατράσιν ἐν τοῖς προφήταις.” anaphora – See epanaphora. antithesis – The use of opposite words to show contrasting ideas. Aristotle (Art of Rhetoric 3.10.1) provides the example, “judging that the peace common to all the rest was a war upon their own private interests.”

320

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

aphorism – From the Greek ἀφορισμός, aphorisms are short sayings that provide insight into human existence. The Greeks generally labeled unattributed aphorisms γνώμαι (gnomai) and those with known authors as χρείαι (chreia). assonance – Related to alliteration, assonance describes the recurrence of a sound or sounds in nearby words, though not necessarily the initial sound. For example, Mark 7:37 says that Jesus made the speechless to speak (ἀλάλους λαλεῖν), repeating the λαλ- sound. asyndeton – From ἀσύνδετον (unconnected), asyndetons are instances where (typically) an orator omits conjunctions and/or connecting words for effect. Demetrius (On Style 4.192–94) wrote extensively about their use, and they are frequent in the NT. One example is Mark 13:33a, “Βλέπετε, ἀγρυπνεῖτε” (Watch, take heed!). chiasm, or chiasmus – Derived from the Greek letter Χ, a chiasm describes an inverted repetition of the pattern A→B, B′→A′. Quintilian (Institutes 10.13.10) gives the famous example: Write quickly and you will never write well; write well and you will soon write quickly.

chr chreia eia – A brief anecdote, or aphorism, in “mini-speech” form. Chreia were standard exercises in the progymnasmata, where students were often asked to take a famous saying and elaborate upon it. climax – From the Greek κλίμαχ (ladder), the practice of arranging words and/or subject matter in order of increasing importance. colon (pl. cola) – A figure of speech that is grammatically complete but logically incomplete. Multiple cola are often arranged together, such as in Mark 12:1 (the parable of the tenants):

GLOSSARY OF SELECT RHETORICAL TERMS

321

A man planted a vineyard, and he surrounded it with a fence, and he dug a vat, and he built a tower, and he gave it to tenants, and he left.

commor ommoratio atio – See expolitio. concentric structure – Akin to the chiasm, a concentric structure follows a familiar pattern (A→B, B→C, B′→A′) but places emphasis on the center of a pericope (poem, strophe, etc.). conclusio – See epilogue. confirmatio – See probatio. conjectural issue – In a trial setting, a conjectural issue is created when there is an accusation of a crime on the part of the prosecutor and a denial on the part of the defense. contention – See antithesis. deliberative speech – One of the three genera of speeches (judicial, deliberative, and epideictic), it is a rhetorical device, often political in nature, that appeals to potential outcomes for support. doublets – In discourses, doublets are distinct stories that pertain to the same subject matter but may appear to derive from different sources. enthymeme – A rhetorical syllogism in which part of the argument has been shortened in order to make the logic easier to hear. For example, the enthymeme, “Socrates is mortal since he is a man,” offers a briefer argument than the standard three-part syllogism (see below). Aristotle considered enthymemes to be one of two kinds of proof, with the other being paradeigma.

322

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

epanaphora – The repetition of the same word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses, such as the “Blessed are the . . .” pattern in the Sermon on the Mount/Plain. epideictic – Literally means “fit for display.” In oratory, it refers to the practice of praise or blame of a subject. epideictic speech – One of the three genera of speeches (judicial, deliberative, and epideictic), an epideictic speech was a common in the progymnasmata, where students had to offer an encomium (praise speech) or an invective (blame speech). epilogue – An essential element in a long speech (along with the prooemium/exordium, the statement of facts/prothesis, and the proof/pistis; Aristotle, Art of Rhetoric), the epilogue (ἐπίλογος, peroratio or conclusio) generally consisted of three parts: the summing up, the amplification, and the arousal of emotions. exordium – The first of the six1 parts of classical oration (exordium, narratio, partitio, confirmatio/probatio, refutatio, and peroratio), it serves 1. The exact number of necessary parts in a discourse/oration varies between authors, and at times with the same author. One regularly finds mention of the four, five, six, or seven divisions of ancient rhetoric! We arrive at six parts mentioned here because of the frequency of terms that appear in this work. For Aristotle, it was four (see the entry for epilogue above). For Cicero, in De oratore, it was five (exordium, narratio, confirmatio, reprehensio, conclusio), but in De inventione it was six (exordium, propositio, partitio, confirmatio, reprehensio, conclusio). Quintilian described seven (exordium, narratio, digressio/egressio, propositio, partitio, refutatio, peroratio) in his Institutio oratoria. As the study and practice of rhetoric spanned centuries, languages, and cultures, there is little wonder that terminology was fluid. However, a general consensus of the acceptable elements of Greco-Roman rhetoric is represented in the following table, offered in Bice Mortara Garavelli, Manuale di retorica (Milan: Bompiani, 1988), 63, and reproduced in Timothy A. Lenchak, “Choose Life!” A Rhetorical-Critical Investigation of Deuteronomy 28,69–30,20 (Rome: Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 1993), 64: Greek / Latin 1. prooimion / 1. exordium/premium/principium 2. diegesis / 2. narratio 2a. parekbasis / 2a. digressio/egressus 2b. prothesis / 2b. propositio/expositio 2c. partitio/enumeratio 3. pistis / 3. argumentatio 3a. kataskeue / 3a. confirmatio/probatio 3b. anaskeue / 3b. refutatio/confutatio/reprehensio 4. epilogos / 4. epilogus/peroratio/conclusio

GLOSSARY OF SELECT RHETORICAL TERMS

323

as the introduction to the speech. The exordium was used to establish the speaker’s credibility, or ethos. expolitio or commor ommoratio atio – “Refining” (expolitio) or “dwelling” (commoratio) on a point by means of repeating words and phrases but with slight changes. fable – A short, fictional story in which nonhuman subjects are anthropomorphized to teach a moral lesson. In the progymnasmata, students were expected to expand upon or condense fables, often Aesop’s. forensic – A branch of rhetoric that deals with the past but is usually applied to legal discourse. Judicial speech is sometimes referred to as forensic rhetoric. homoeoptoton – Literally meaning “same case endings,” a homoeoptoton occurs when proximate words end with the same letter or syllable due to their containing the same case endings and/or inflections. For example, Mark 4:12 contains a homoeoptoton playing on the -ωσιν ending: βλέποντες βλέπωσιν καὶ μὴ ἴδωσιν, καὶ ἀκούοντες ἀκούωσιν καὶ μὴ συνιῶσιν

homoioteleuton – Often called a near rhyme, a homoioteleuton involves the repetition of word endings (not necessarily of the same case, as in a homoeoptoton). inclusio – Using the same word, phrase, or theme to begin and end a passage, story, or poem in order to bracket the selection. insinuatio – See subtle approach. introduction – See exordium. judicial speech – One of the three genera of speeches (judicial, deliberative, and epideictic), judicial speech considers whether a charge or

324

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

accusation is just or unjust. An example is found in Mark 3:20–35, where Jesus has to answer three charges (that he is mad, that he is possessed by Satan, and that he operates by the power of Satan) and show that they are unjust. parable – A common Greco-Roman rhetorical strategy that uses brief comparative proverbs or general analogies drawn from everyday life to support the propositio (see the extended excursus in chapter 3). In Aristotle, parables are a subcategory of paradeigma. par paradeigm adeigm – An example that sets the pattern or rule for others. par paraenesis aenesis – A moral exhortation for which no argument need be made because the advice is practically irrefutable. partitio – See propositio. period, or periodic sentence – A sentence that leaves the main clause until the end to provide an element of suspense. Demetrius (On Style 1.10) says a period has “a certain rounding and concentration at the end.” A periodic sentence appears in Mark 7:8: ἀφέντες τὴν ἐντολὴν τοῦ θεοῦ κρατεῖτε τὴν παράδοσιντῶν ἀνθρώπων You leave the commandments of God You hold fast to the commandments of humans.

periphrasis – A manner of speaking that uses surplus words to evoke a certain meaning. For example, in Mark 4:3–4, Jesus overuses forms of the verb σπείρειν: “the sower went out to sow, and it happened in his sowing. . . .” per peror oratio atio – See epilogue. primary rhetoric – The art of persuasion by means of oral performance (e.g., speeches). In this study, the term specifically refers to the rhetoric of Jesus himself, as distinct from the rhetoric of the narrator or author.

GLOSSARY OF SELECT RHETORICAL TERMS

325

pr probatio obatio – The fourth of the six parts of classical oration (exordium, narratio, partitio, confirmatio/probatio, refutatio, and peroratio), the probatio is the main body of the speech and was designed to offer proof by logical argumentation. pr progymnasmata ogymnasmata – (προγυμνάσματα, or “fore-exercises”; Latin praeexercitamina), handbooks that contained series of compositional exercises designed to train Greco-Roman students of rhetoric (normally in their early teens) in polished rhetorical strategy. The highest forms of the progymnasmata involved the actual composition of speeches themselves. pr propositio opositio – In rhetorical discourse, it offers the basic theme, or proposition, which is followed by a series of arguments in support of the theme. In some ancient authors, the propositio and partitio were considered equivalent, while in others the propositio involved the statement of the theme while the partitio delineated the structure of the forthcoming argument. pr proooemium – See exordium. prosopopoeia – Standard exercises in the progymnasmata, the prosopopoeia required the student to take on the persona of another person or nonliving (often abstract) thing and speak/write from that perspective. rhetoric – The art of persuasion. Rhetoric was part of the GrecoRoman trivium (grammar, logic, and rhetoric) and was considered essential learning for all free men. We argue here that the author of Mark was likely familiar with at least the simpler progymnasmata. Thus, it is not necessary to argue that he received an advanced rhetorical education to be able to assert that he had learned the basic conventional strategies for composing speeches. Rhetoric continued to be a required subject in Western education until the nineteenth century, when scientific approaches to the interpretation of texts began to dominate.

326

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

rhetorical problem (“issue”; στάσις, constitutio, or status) – The main issue that the oration/composition addresses and the line of argument used to sustain it. In the progymnasmata, students were given precise information on how to determine the rhetorical problem behind a speech and how that issue should then guide the development of the speech. rhetorical question – A question asked for a purpose other than to obtain the information the question asks, in order to bolster an argument. In Mark 3:23, Jesus offers the rhetorical question, “How can Satan cast out Satan?” secondary rhetoric – The rhetoric of the narrator, or in this study, that of the author of Mark, as distinct from the rhetoric of the characters in the narrative. subtle approach, or insinuatio – In rhetoric, an indirect approach by the speaker. As opposed to a direct opening, where the speaker introduces the discourse by clearly stating a position, the subtle approach is used when the hearers may be assumed to be unsympathetic to the speaker’s position. Jesus explained that he often used parables as a subtle approach to keep outsiders on the outside (“that seeing they may see, and not perceive; and hearing they may hear, and not understand”; Mark 4:12). syllogism – A kind of logical argument, using deductive reasoning, in which a conclusion is made based on two (or more) premises. The most famous syllogism is: All men are mortal. Socrates is a man. Therefore, Socrates is mortal.

In Mark 3:23, Jesus uses an enthymeme, or shortened syllogism, in the form of a rhetorical question: “Can Satan cast out Satan?” The logic of the argument implies the longer syllogism:

GLOSSARY OF SELECT RHETORICAL TERMS

Satan cannot cast out Satan; Jesus casts out Satan (by the scribes’ own admission); Therefore, Jesus is not under the influence of Satan.

327

Bibliography

Achtemeier, Paul J. Mark. 2nd ed. Proclamation Commentaries. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986. _____. “The Origin and Function of the Pre-Marcan Miracle Catenae.” JBL 91, no. 2 (1972): 198–221. _____. “Toward the Isolation of Pre-Marcan Miracle Catenae.” JBL 89, no. 3 (1970): 265–91. Aguilar Chiu, José Enrique. 1 Cor 12–14: Literary Structure and Theology. Rome: Editrice Pontificio Instituto, 2007. Aichele, George. Jesus Framed. Biblical Limits. London: Routledge, 1996. Albertz, Martin. Die synoptischen Streitgespräche. Berlin: Trowitzsch, 1921. Alexander. Schemata. In vol. 3 of Rhetores Graeci, edited by Leonhard Spengel, 41–56. Lipsiae: B. G. Teubneri, 1856. Allen, W. C., ed. The Gospel according to Saint Mark: With Introduction and Notes. Oxford Church Biblical Commentary. New York: Macmillan, 1915. Alter, Robert. The Art of Biblical Narrative. New York: Basic Books, 1981. _____. The Art of Biblical Poetry. New York: Basic Books, 1985. _____. The World of Biblical Literature. New York: Basic Books, 1992. Amador, J. D. H. “The Word Made Flesh: Epistemology, Ontology, and Postmodern Rhetorics.” In The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture: Essays from the 1995 London Conference, edited by Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, 53–65. JSNTSup 146. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997. Ambrozic, Aloysius M. The Hidden Kingdom: A Redaction Critical Study of the

330

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

References to the Kingdom in Mark’s Gospel. CBQMS. Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1972. _____. “Mark’s Concept of the Parable.” CBQ 29, no. 2 (1967): 220–27. Anderson, Bernhard W. “The New Frontier of Rhetorical Criticism.” In Rhetorical Criticism: Essays in Honor of James Muilenburg, edited by Jared J. Jackson and Martin Kessler, ix–xvii. Pittsburgh: Pickwick, 1974. Anderson, Janice Capel, and Stephen D. Moore. Mark and Method: New Approaches in Biblical Studies. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992. Aphthonius. Aphthonii progymnasmata. Edited by Rodolpho Agricola and Joan Maria Catanæo. London: 1655. Aristotle. Art of Rhetoric. Translated by J. H. Freese. LCL 193. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1926. _____. Categories. Translated by H. P. Cooke. In Categories. On Interpretation. Prior Analytics, 12–111. LCL 325. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1938. _____. On Sophistical Refutations. Translated by E. S. Forster. In On Sophistical Refutations. On Coming-to-Be and Passing Away. On the Cosmos, 10–158. LCL 400. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1955. _____. Poetics. Translated by W. Hamilton Fyfe. In Aristotle: Poetics. Longinus: On the Sublime. Demetrius: On Style, 27–142. LCL 199. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995. _____. Rhetoric to Alexander. In Problems: Books 20–38. Rhetoric to Alexander. Translated by H. Rackham. LCL 317. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1965. _____. Topica. Translated by E. S. Forster. In Posterior Analytics. Topica, 272–740. LCL 391. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1960. Atkins, J. W. H. Literary Criticism in Antiquity. 2 vols. New York: Peter Smith, 1952. Auerbach, Erich. Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature. Translated by Willard R. Trask. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953. Augustine. Confessions. Translated by J. G. Pilkington. NPNF1 1. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1956. _____. On Christian Doctrine. Translated by J. F. Shaw. NPNF1 2. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1956.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

331

Aune, David E. “The Gospels as Hellenistic Biography.” Mosaic 20, no. 4 (1987): 1–10. _____. The New Testament in Its Literary Environment. LEC 8. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1987. _____. Prophecy in Early Christianity and the Ancient Mediterranean World. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983. Aus, Roger David. The Wicked Tenants and Gethsemane. University of South Florida International Studies in Formative Christianity and Judaism 4. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996. Bacon, Benjamin Wisner. The Beginnings of Gospel Story: A Historico-Critical Inquiry into the Sources and Structure of the Gospel according to Mark, with Expository Notes upon the Text, for English Readers. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1909. _____. The Gospel of Mark: Its Composition and Date. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1925. _____. Is Mark a Roman Gospel? Harvard Theological Studies 7. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1919. Baldwin, Charles Sears. Ancient Rhetoric and Poetic. New York: Macmillan, 1924. Banks, Robert. Jesus and the Law in the Synoptic Tradition. SNTSMS 28. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975. Barwick, Karl. “Die ‘Rhetorik ad Alexandrum’ und Anaximenes, Alkidamas, Isokrates, Aristoteles und die Theodekteia.” Philologus 110 (1966): 212–45; 111 (1967): 47–55. Bauer, J. B. “Et adicietur vobis credentibus Mk. 4:24f.” ZNW 71, no. 3–4 (1980): 248–51. Bauer, Karl Ludwig. Rhetorica Paullina. 2 vols. Halae: Impensis Orphanotrophei, 1782. Bauer, Walter, William F. Arndt, F. Wilbur Gingrich, and Frederick W. Danker. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 2nd ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979. Baumgarten, A. I. “Korban and the Pharisaic Paradosis.” JANES 16–17 (1984/ 85): 5–17. Beardslee, William A. Literary Criticism of the New Testament. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1969.

332

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Beasley-Murray, G. R. Jesus and the Future: An Examination of the Criticism of the Eschatological Discourse, Mark 13, with Special Reference to the Little Apocalypse Theory. London: Macmillan, 1954. Beavis, Mary Ann. Mark. Paideia Commentaries on the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011. _____. Mark’s Audience: The Literary and Social Setting of Mark 4.11–12. JSNTSup 33. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989. Beck, Frederick A. G. Greek Education, 450–350 B.C. New York: Barnes & Noble, 1964. Beck, Robert. Nonviolent Story: Narrative Conflict Resolution in the Gospel of Mark. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1996. Beentjes, Pancratius C. “Inverted Quotations in the Bible: A Neglected Stylistic Pattern.” Bib 63, no. 4 (1982): 506–23. Beernaert, P. Mourlon. “Jesus, a Free Man. Texts: Jesus and His Family (Mk 3 and 6).” LumVie 39, no. 2 (1984): 155–66. Behm, Johannes. “ἄμπελος.” In vol. 1 of Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, 342–43. Edited by Gerhard Kittel. Translated and edited by Geoffrey W. Bromiley. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964. _____. “ἔξω.” In vol. 2 of Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, 575–76. Edited by Gerhard Kittel. Translated and edited by Geoffrey W. Bromiley. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1968. Bengel, Johann Albrecht. Gnomon of the New Testament. Edited by J. C. F. Steudel. Translated by Andrew R. Fausset. 5 vols. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1858–59. Berger, Klaus. Die Amen-Worte Jesu: Eine Untersuchung zum Problem der Legitimation in apokalyptischer Rede. BZNW 39. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1970. _____. Formgeschichte des Neuen Testaments. Heidelberg: Quelle & Meyer, 1984. Berlin, Adele. Poetics and Interpretation of Biblical Narrative. Sheffield: Almond, 1983. Best, Ernest. Disciples and Discipleship: Studies in the Gospel according to Mark. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1986. _____. Following Jesus: Discipleship in the Gospel of Mark. JSNTSup 4. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1981.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

333

_____. “The Gospel of Mark: Who Was the Reader?” Irish Biblical Studies 11 (1989): 124–32. _____. Mark: The Gospel as Story. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1983. _____. “The Role of the Disciples in Mark.” NTS 23, no. 4 (1977): 377–401. Bilezikian, Gilbert. The Liberated Gospel: A Comparison of the Gospel of Mark and Greek Tragedy. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1977. Bishop, E. F. F. “ἀκούειν ἀκουέτω: Mark 4:9,23.” BT 7 (1956): 38–40. Bitzer, Lloyd F. “The Rhetorical Situation.” Philosophy and Rhetoric 1, no. 1 (1968): 1–14. Bizzell, Patricia, and Bruce Herzberg, eds. The Rhetorical Tradition: Readings from Classical Times to the Present. Boston: Bedford, 1990. Black, C. Clifton. Mark: Images of an Apostolic Interpreter. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001. Black, Edwin. “Plato’s View of Rhetoric.” QJSp 44 (1958): 361–74. Black, Matthew. An Aramaic Approach to the Gospels and Acts. 3rd ed. Oxford: Clarendon, 1967. Blass, Friedrich Wilhelm, and Albert Debrunner. A Greek Grammar of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. Translated and revised by Robert W. Funk. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961. Blevins, James L. The Messianic Secret in Markan Research, 1901–1976. Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1981. Bloomquist, L. Gregory. “A Possible Direction for Providing Programmatic Correlation of Textures in Socio-Rhetorical Analysis.” In Rhetorical Criticism and the Bible, edited by Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, 61–96. JSNTSup 195. London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002. Blunck, Jürgen. “ἀναγινώσκω.” In vol. 1 of New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, edited by Colin Brown, 245–46. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1975. Boismard, M.-É. L’Évangile de Marc sa Préhistoire. Paris: J. Gabalda, 1994. Bolt, Peter G. Jesus’ Defeat of Death: Persuading Mark’s Early Readers. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Bonneau, Guy. Stratégies rédactionnelles et fonctions communautaires de l’évangile de Marc. Etudes Bibliques nouveau Séries 44. Paris: Gabalda, 2001.

334

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Bonner, Stanley F. Education in Ancient Rome: From the Elder Cato to the Younger Pliny. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977. _____. Roman Declamation in the Late Republic and Early Empire. Liverpool: University Press of Liverpool, 1949. Boobyer, G. H. “The Redaction of Mark iv. 1–34.” NTS 8, no. 1 (1961): 59–70. Booth, Roger P. Jesus and the Laws of Purity: Tradition History and Legal History in Mark 7. JSNTSup 13. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1986. Booth, Wayne C. The Rhetoric of Fiction. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961. Boring, Eugene. Mark: A Commentary. The New Testament Library. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006. Boucher, Madelaine. The Mysterious Parable: A Literary Study. CBQMS 6. Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1977. Bowen, James. A History of Western Education. Vol. 1, The Ancient World: Orient and Mediterranean. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1972. Bowersock, Glen W. Greek Sophists in the Roman Empire. Oxford: Clarendon, 1969. Bowker, J. W. “Mystery and Parable: Mark iv. 1–20.” JTS 25, no. 2 (1974): 300–317. Brandenburger, Egon. Markus 13 und die Apokalyptik. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1984. Breck, John. The Shape of Biblical Language: Chiasmus in the Scriptures and Beyond. Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1994. Broadhead, Edwin Keith. Mark. Readings: A New Biblical Commentary. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001. _____. Teaching with Authority: Miracles and Christology in the Gospel of Mark. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992. Brooks, J. A. “An Annotated Bibliography on Mark.” SwJT 21, no. 1 (1978): 75–82. Brown, Raymond. The Semitic Background of the Term “Mystery” in the New Testament. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1968. Brown, Schuyler. “The Secret of the Kingdom of God.” JBL 92, no. 1 (1973): 60–74.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

335

Brownstein, Oscar L. “Plato’s Phaedrus: Dialectic as the Genuine Art of Speaking.” QJSp 51, no. 4 (1965): 392–98. Bryan, Christopher. A Preface to Mark: Notes on the Gospel in Its Literary and Cultural Settings. New York: Oxford University Press, 1993. Bryant, Donald C., ed. Ancient Greek and Roman Rhetoricians: A Biographical Dictionary. Columbia, MO: Artcraft, 1968. Buby, Bertrand. “A Christology of Relationship in Mark.” BTB 10, no. 4 (1980): 149–54. Bullinger, E. W. Figures of Speech Used in the Bible, Explained and Illustrated. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1898. Bultmann, Rudolf. Der Stil der paulinischen Predigt und die kynisch-stoische Diatribe. Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments 13. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1910. _____. History of the Synoptic Tradition. Rev. ed. Translated by John Marsh. New York: Harper & Row, 1963. _____. “The New Approach to the Synoptic Problem.” JR 6, no. 4 (1926): 337–62. Burridge, Richard A. Four Gospels, One Jesus: A Symbolic Reading. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014. _____. What Are the Gospels? A Comparison with Graeco-Roman Biography. SNTSMS 70. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Busch, Friedrich. Zum Verständnis der synoptischen Eschatologie, Markus 13 neu untersucht. Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1938. Cadoux, Arthur Temple. The Sources of the Second Gospel. New York: Macmillan, 1935. Calboli, Gualtiero, ed. Cornifici Rhetorica ad C. Herennium: Introduzione, testo critico, commento. Bologna: Ricardo Patron, 1969. Carlston, Charles. E. The Parables of the Triple Tradition. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975. _____. “The Things That Defile (Mark vii.14) and the Law in Matthew and Mark.” NTS 15 (1968/69): 75–96. Carpenter, James Walter. The Jewish Educational System in Palestine. PhD diss., American University, 1958. Carrington, Philip. According to Mark: A Running Commentary on the Oldest Gospel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1960.

336

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Casey, Maurice. Aramaic Sources of Mark’s Gospel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Chilton, Bruce. “A Generative Exegesis of Mark 7:1–23.” In Jesus in Context: Temple Purity, and Restoration, edited by Bruce Chilton and Craig A. Evans, 297–317. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1997. Chroust, Anton-Hermann. “Aristotle’s First Literary Effort: The Gryllus, a Lost Dialogue on the Nature of Rhetoric.” Revue des études grecques 78 (1965): 576–91. Cicero. Brutus. Translated by G. L. Hendrickson. In Brutus. Orator, 18–296. LCL 342. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1939. _____. De Amicitia. In De Senectute. De Amicitia. De Divinatione, 108–213. Translated by William Armistead Falconer. LCL 154. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1923. _____. De Inventione. In On Invention. The Best Kind of Orator. Topics, 1–348. Translated by H. M. Hubbell. LCL 386. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1976. _____. De Legibus. In De republica. De legibus, 296–520. Translated by Clinton Walker Keyes. LCL 213. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1928. _____. De Optimo Genere Oratorum. In On Invention. The Best Kind of Orator. Topica, 354–76. Translated by H. M. Hubbell. LCL 386. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1949. _____. De Partitione Oratoria. In On the Orator: Book 3. On Fate. Stoic Paradoxes. Divisions of Oratory, 310–422. Translated by H. Rackham. LCL 349. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1942. _____. On the Orator: Books 1–2. Translated by E. W. Sutton and H. Rackham. LCL 348. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1942. _____. Orator. Translated by G. L. Hendrickson. In Brutus. Orator, 306–509. LCL 342. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1939. _____. Pro Cluentio. In Pro Lege Manilia. Pro Caecina. Pro Cluentio. Pro Rabirio Perduellionis Reo, 222–443. Translated by H. Grose Hodge. LCL 198. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1927. _____. Pro Murena. In In Catilinam 1–4. Pro Murena. Pro Sulla. Pro Flacco, 186–301. Translated by C. Macdonald. LCL 324. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1976. _____. Topica. In On Invention. The Best Kind of Orator. Topics, 382–460.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

337

Translated by H. M. Hubbell. LCL 386. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1949. _____. Tusculan Disputations. Translated by J. E. King. LCL 141. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1960. Clark, Donald J. “Criteria for Identifying Chiasm.” LB 35 (1975): 63-72. Clark, Donald L. Rhetoric in Greco-Roman Education. New York: Columbia University Press, 1957. _____. “The Rise and Fall of Progymnasmata in Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Grammar Schools.” SM 19, no. 4 (1952): 259–63. _____. “Some Values of Roman Declamatio, the Controversia as a School Exercise in Rhetoric.” QJSp 35, no. 3 (1949): 280–83. Clarke, M. L. Rhetoric at Rome: A Historical Survey. London: Cohen & West, 1953. Clines, David J. A., David M. Gunn, and Alan J. Hauser, eds. Art and Meaning: Rhetoric in Biblical Literature. JSOTSup 19. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1982. Cloché, Paul. Isocrate et son temps. Paris: Belles Lettres, 1963. Colani, Timothée. Jésus Christ et les croyances messianiques de son Temps. Strasbourg: Treuttel et Wurtz, 1864. Cole, Luella. A History of Education: Socrates to Montessori. New York: Rinehart, 1950. Cole, Thomas. The Origins of Rhetoric in Ancient Greece. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991. Collins, Adela Yarbro. The Beginning of the Gospel: Probings of Mark in Context. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992. _____. Is Mark’s Gospel a Life of Jesus? The Question of Genre. Père Marquette Lecture in Theology 21. Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press, 1990. Cook, John G. The Structure and Persuasive Power of Mark: A Linguistic Approach. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995. Cook, Michael J. Mark’s Treatment of the Jewish Leaders. NovTSup 51. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1978. Cope, E. M. An Introduction to Aristotle’s Rhetoric: With Analysis, Notes and Appendices. London: Macmillan, 1867.

338

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Cornette, A. “Notes sur la parabole des vignerons Marc 12/5–12.” FoiVie 84 (1985): 42–48. Cranfield, C. E. B. “St. Mark 13.” SJT 6, no. 2 (1953): 189–96, 287–301; 7, no. 3 (1954): 284–303. Crossan, John Dominic. Four Other Gospels: Shadows on the Contours of Canon. Minneapolis: Winston, 1985. _____. In Parables: The Challenge of the Historical Jesus. New York: Harper & Row, 1973. _____. “Mark and the Relatives of Jesus.” NovT 15, no. 2 (1973): 81–113. _____. “Parable as Religious and Poetic Experience.” JR 53, no. 3 (1973): 330–58. _____. “The Seed Parables of Jesus.” JBL 92, no. 2 (1973): 244–66. Crossley, James G. The Date of Mark’s Gospel. JSNTSup 266. London: T&T Clark International, 2004. Culler, Jonathan. Structuralist Poetics: Structuralism, Linguistics, and the Study of Literature. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1975. Cuvillier, Elian. Le concept de ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ dans le second évangile: Son arrière plan littéraire, sa signification dans le cadre de la rédaction marcienne, son utilisation dans la tradition de Jésus. Études bibliques, nouvelle série 19. Paris: Gabalda, 1993. Dalman, Gustaf. Jesus-Jeshua: Studies in the Gospels. Translated by Paul P. Levertoff. New York: Macmillan, 1929. _____. “Viererlei Acker.” Palästina Jahrbuch 22 (1926): 120–32. _____. The Words of Jesus: Considered in the Light of Post-Biblical Jewish Writings and the Aramaic Language. Translated by D. M. Kay. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1902. D’Alton, J. F. Roman Literary Theory and Criticism: A Study in Tendencies. London: Longmans, Green, 1931. Damm, Alexander Lorne. Ancient Rhetoric and the Synoptic Problem: Clarifying Markan Priority. BETL 252. Leuven: Peeters, 2013. Danieli, G. “Maria e i fratelli di Gesù nel Vangelo di Marco.” Marianum 40, no. 1–2 (1978): 91–109. Danove, Paul L. The Rhetoric of Characterization of God, Jesus, and Jesus’ Disciples in the Gospel of Mark. JSNTSup 290. New York: T&T Clark, 2005.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

339

Daube, David. The New Testament and Rabbinic Judaism. Salem, NH: Ayer, 1984. _____. “Responsibilities of Master and Disciples in the Gospels.” NTS 19, no. 1 (1972): 1–15. Davidsen, Ole. The Narrative Jesus: A Semiotic Reading of Mark’s Gospel. Aarhus, DNK: Aarhus University Press, 1993. Demetrius. On Style. Translated by W. Rhys Roberts. In Aristotle: Poetics. Longinus: On the Sublime. Demetrius: On Style, 341–522. LCL 199. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995. Deppe, Dean B. The Theological Intentions of Mark’s Literary Devices: Markan Intercalations, Frames, Allusionary Repetitions, Narrative Surprises, and Three Types of Mirroring. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2015. Derrett, D. J. M. “Κορβᾶν, ὅ ἐστιν, Δῶρον.” NTS 16 (1969/70): 364–68. Detweiler, Robert, ed. Reader Response Approaches to Biblical and Secular Texts. Decatur, GA: Scholars Press, 1985. Dewey, Joanna. “The Gospel of Mark as Oral-Aural Event: Implications for Interpretation.” In The New Literary Criticism and the New Testament, edited by Edgar V. McKnight and Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, 145–63. Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1994. _____. Markan Public Debate: Literary Technique, Concentric Structure, and Theology in Mark 2:1–3:6. SBL Dissertation Series 48. Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1980. _____. “Recent Studies on Mark.” RelSRev 17, no. 1 (1991): 12–16. Dibelius, Martin. Die Formgeschichte des Evangeliums. Tübingen: Mohr, 1919. Dieter, O. A. L. “Stasis.” SM 17, no. 4 (1950): 345–69. Dionysius of Halicarnassus. Antiquitates Romanae. 5 vols. Edited by C. Jacoby. Bibliotheca Scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana. Stuttgart: B. G. Teubner, 1905. _____. On Literary Composition. Vol. 1, Ancient Greek Literature. Edited by W. Rhys Roberts. New York: Garland, 1987. Dionysius Thrax. Dionysii Thracis Ars grammatica. Edited by Gustav Uhlig. Lipsiae: Teubner, 1883. Dodd, Charles Harold. The Parables of the Kingdom. London: Nisbet, 1935. Donahue, John R. Are You the Christ? SBL Dissertation Series 10. Missoula, MT: SBL, 1973.

340

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

_____. The Gospel in Parable: Metaphor, Narrative, and Theology in the Synoptic Gospels. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988. Donahue, John R., and Daniel J. Harrington. The Gospel of Mark. Sacred Pagina Series 2. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2002. Doudna, John Charles. The Greek of the Gospel of Mark. JBLMS 12. Philadelphia: SBL, 1961. Douglas, Alan Edward. “The Intellectual Background to Cicero’s Rhetorica: A Study in Method.” ANRW 1, no. 3 (1973): 95–138. Downing, F. Gerald. “The Resurrection of the Dead: Jesus and Philo.” JSNT 5, no. 15 (1982): 42–50. Dozzi, D. E. “Chi sono ‘Quelli attorno a Lui,’ di Mc 4,10?” Marianum 36, no. 2–4 (1974): 153–83. Duff, John Wight. A Literary History of Rome in the Silver Age. Edited by A. M. Duff. London: Benn, 1960. Dupont, Jacques. “La parabole de la semence qui pousse toute seule.” RSR 55, no. 3 (1967): 367–92. _____. “La transmission de Jésus sur la lampe et la mesure dans Marc 4,21–25 et dans la tradition Q.” In Logia: les paroles de Jésus, edited by J. Delobel, 201–36. BETL 59. Leuven: Peeters, 1982. Durry, Marcel. Éloge funèbre d’une matrone Romaine. Paris: Belles Lettres, 1950. Ebner, Eliezer. Elementary Education in Ancient Israel. New York: Bloch, 1956. Edwards, James R. The Gospel According to Mark. Pillar New Testament Commentary. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002. Ellspermann, Gerard L. The Attitude of the Early Christian Latin Writers toward Pagan Literature and Learning. Patristic Studies 82. Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1949. Erickson, Keith V., ed. Aristotle: The Classical Heritage of Rhetoric. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow, 1974. _____, ed. Aristotle’s Rhetoric: Five Centuries of Philological Research. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow, 1975. Ernst, Josef. Das Evangelium nach Markus. Regensburger Neues Testament. Regensburg: Pustet, 1981.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

341

Evans, C. A. “The Function of Isaiah 6:9–10 in Mark and John.” NovT 24, no. 2 (April 1982): 124–38. _____. “A Note on the Function of Isaiah, VI, 9–10 in Mark, IV.” RB 88, no. 2 (1981): 234–35. _____. “On the Vineyard Parables of Isaiah 5 and Mark 12.” BZ 28, no. 1 (1984): 82–86. Falk, Z. W. “On Talmudic Vows.” HTR 59, no. 3 (1966): 309–12. Faye, Gregory. “Introduction to Incomprehension: The Literary Structure of Mark 4:1–34.” CBQ 51, no. 1 (1989): 65–81. Fiorenza, Elizabeth Schüssler. “Challenging the Rhetorical Half-Turn: Feminist and Rhetorical Biblical Criticism.” In Rhetoric, Scripture, and Theology: Essays from the 1994 Pretoria Conference, edited by Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, 28–53. JSNTSup 131. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996. Fischel, Henry. Rabbinic Literature and Greco-Roman Philosophy: A Study of Epicurea and Rhetorica in Early Midrashic Writings. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1973. Fish, Stanley. Is There a Text in This Class? The Authority of Interpretive Communities. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1980. Fitzmyer, Joseph. “The Aramaic Qorban Inscription from Jebel Hallet Et-turi and Mk 7:11/Mt 15:5.” JBL 78 (1959): 60–65. _____. “Did Jesus Speak Greek?” BAR 18, no. 5 (September/October 1992): 58–63. Fitzpatrick, M. “From Ritual Observance to Ethics: The Argument of Mark 7.1–23.” ABR 35 (1987): 22–27. Fleddermann, Harry. “A Warning about the Scribes (Mark 12:37b–40).” CBQ 44, no. 1 (1989): 52–67. Fleshler, Helen. “Plato and Aristotle on Rhetoric and Dialectic.” PennSpAn 20 (1963): 163–72. Florescu, Vasile. Le retorica nel suo sviluppo storico. Bologna: Il Mulino, 1971. Flückiger, F. “Die Redaktion der Zukunftsrede in Mark. 13.” TZ 26, no. 6 (1970): 395–409. Focant, Camille. L’évangile selon Marc. Commentaire biblique, Nouveau Testament 2. Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2004.

342

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Ford, Desmond. The Abomination of Desolation in Biblical Eschatology. Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1979. Fortenbaugh, William W. “Cicero’s Knowledge of the Rhetorical Treatises of Aristotle and Theophrastus.” In Cicero’s Knowledge of the Peripatos, edited by William W. Fortenbaugh and Peter Steinmetz, 23–60. Rutgers University Studies in Classical Humanities 4. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1989. Fortunatis. Artis Rhetoricae. In Rhetores Latini minores, by Karl Halm, 115–16. Lipsiae: B. G. Teubneri, 1863. Fowler, Robert M. Let the Reader Understand: Reader-Response Criticism and the Gospel of Mark. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1991. _____. Loaves and Fishes. SBL Dissertation Series 54. Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981. _____. “Who Is ‘The Reader’ of Mark’s Gospel.” In Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers 1983, edited by Kent Richards, 31–53. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1983. Frankemölle, H. “Hat Jesus sich selbst verkündigt? Christologische Implikationen in den vormarkinischen Parabelen.” BibLeb 13 (1972): 184–207. Freeman, Kenneth J. Schools of Hellas. London: Macmillan, 1922. Frei, Hans W. The Eclipse of the Biblical Narrative: A Study in Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Hermeneutics. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974. Funk, Robert. “The Looking-Glass Tree Is for the Birds.” Int 27 (1973): 3–9. _____. The Poetics of Biblical Narrative. Sonoma, CA: Polebridge, 1988. Fusco, Vittorio. Parola e regno: La sezione delle parabole (Mc. 4,1–34) nella prospettiva marciana. Aloisiana 13. Brescia: Morcelliana, 1980. Gannon, P. J. “The Interpretation of St. Mark III 20–21.” IrEccRec 64 (1944): 298–312. Gaston, Lloyd. No Stone on Another: Studies in the Significance of the Fall of Jerusalem in the Synoptic Gospels. NovTSup 23. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1970. Geischer, H.-J. “Verschwenderische Güte. Versuch über Markus 4,3–9.” EvT 38, no. 5 (1978): 418–27. Geyer, Douglas W. Fear, Anomaly, and Uncertainty in the Gospel of Mark. ATLA Monograph Series 47. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow, 2002.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

343

Giblin, Charles Homer. “‘The Things of God’ in the Question Concerning Tribute to Caesar.” CBQ 33, no. 4 (1971): 510–27. Gibson, Jeffrey. “Jesus’ Refusal to Produce a ‘Sign’ (Mk 8.11–13).” JSNT 38 (1990): 37–66. Gigon, Olof. “Cicero und Aristoteles.” Hermes 87, no. 2 (1959): 143–62. Glassius, Solomon. Philologia Sacra. Jena, 1625. Gnilka, Joachim. Das Evangelium nach Markus. 2 vols. Evangelisch-Katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 2. Zürich: Benziger, 1978. _____. Die Verstockung Israels: Isaias 6,9–10 in der Theologie der Synoptiker. Munich: Kösel, 1961. Gopegui, J. A. Ruiz. “A vigilancia escatologica em constante conflito comas especulacoes apocalipticas. Ensaio de leitura teologica de Mc 13.” Perspectiva Teológica 20 (1988): 339–58. Görler, Woldemar. “From Athens to Tusculum: Gleaning the Background of Cicero’s De Oratore.” Rhetorica 6, no. 3 (1988): 215–35. Grayston, Kenneth. “The Study of Mark 13.” BJRL 56 (1974): 371–87. Grimaldi, William M. A. “A Note on the πίστεις in Aristotle’s Rhetoric, 1354–1356.” AJP 78, no. 2 (1957): 188–92. _____. Studies in the Philosophy of Aristotle’s Rhetoric. Hermes Einzelschriften 25. Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1972. Grube, G. M. A. Demetrius of Phalerum A Greek Critic: Demetrius on Style. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1961. _____. The Greek and Roman Critics. London: Methuen, 1965. Grundmann, Walter. Das Evangelium nach Markus. 2nd rev. ed. Theologischer Handkommentar zum Neuen Testament 2. Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1959. Guelich, Robert. Mark 1–8:26. Word Biblical Commentary 34a. Dallas: Word, 1989. Guerin, Wilfred L. Handbook of Critical Approaches to Literature. New York: Harper & Row, 1979. Guillemin, Anne Marie. Le public et la vie littéraire à Rome. Paris: Belles Lettres, 1937. Guite, Harold. “Cicero’s Attitude to the Greeks.” Greece and Rome 9, no. 2 (1962): 142–59.

344

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Gundry, Robert H. Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993. _____. The Use of the Old Testament in St. Matthew’s Gospel. NovTSup 18. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1967. Guttenberger, Gudrun. Die Gottesborstellung im Markusevangelium. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche 123. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2004. Guy, Harold A. “Mark XIII, 14.” ExpTim 65 (1953/54): 30. _____. The Origin of the Gospel of Mark. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1954. Gwynn, Aubrey O. Roman Education from Cicero to Quintilian. Oxford: Clarendon, 1926. Hagen, Hans-Martin. ΗΘΟΠΟΙΙΑ: Zue Geschichte eines rhetorischen Begriffs. Diss., Friedrich-Alexander-Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg, 1966. Hagendahl, Harald. Augustine and the Latin Classics. 2 vols. Studia Graeca et Latina Gothoburgensia 20. Goteborg: Elanders Boktryckeri Aktiebolag, 1967. _____. Latin Fathers and the Classics. Goteborg: University of Goteborg, 1958. Hahn, Ferdinand. “Das Gleichnis von der ausgestreuten Saat und seine Deutung (Mk iv. 3–8, 14–20).” In Text and Interpretation, edited by Ernest Best and Robert McLean Wilson, 133–42. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979. Hall, Robert G. “Ancient Historical Method and the Training of an Orator.” In The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture: Essays from the 1995 London Conference, edited by Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, 103–18. JSNTSup 146. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997. _____. “Historical Inference and Rhetorical Effect: Another Look at Galatians 1 and 2.” In Persuasive Artistry: Studies in New Testament Rhetoric in Honor of George A. Kennedy, edited by Duane F. Watson, 313–20. JSNTSup 50. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991. Harrington, Daniel J. “A Map of Books on Mark (1975–1984).” BTB 15, no. 1 (1985): 12–16. _____. What Are They Saying About Mark? New York: Paulist, 2004. Harrington, Hannah K. “Did Pharisees Eat Ordinary Food in a State of Ritual Purity?” JSJ 26, no. 1 (1995): 42–54. Hartman, Lars. Prophecy Interpreted: The Formation of Some Jewish Apocalyptic

BIBLIOGRAPHY

345

Texts and of the Eschatological Discourse Mark 13 par. Translated by Neil Tomkinson. Coniectanea Biblica NT Series 1. Lund: Gleerup, 1966. Hasler, Victor. Amen: Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Einführungsformel der Herrenworte “Wahrlich, ich sage euch.” Zürich: Gotthelf, 1969. Haufe, G. “Erwägungen zum Ursprung der sogennanten Parabeltheorie des Markus 4,11–12.” EvT 32 (1972): 413–21. Hawkin, D. J. “The Incomprehension of the Disciples in the Marcan Redaction.” JBL 91, no. 4 (1972): 491–500. Hedrick, C. W. “What Is a Gospel? Geography, Time, and Narrative Structure.” PRSt 10, no. 3 (1983): 255–68. Heil, John Paul. The Gospel of Mark as Model for Action: A Reader Response Commentary. New York: Paulist, 1992. Heinrici, C. F. Georg. Das zweite Sendschreiben des Apostels Paulus an die Korinther. Berlin: Hertz, 1887. Henaut, Barry W. Oral Tradition and the Gospels: The Problem of Mark 4. JSNTSup 82. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993. Henderson, Ian H. Jesus, Rhetoric, and Law. Leiden: Brill, 1996. Henderson, Suzanne Watts. Christology and Discipleship in the Gospel of Mark. SNTSMS 135. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Hendrickson, G. L. “The Origin and Meaning of the Ancient Characters of Style.” AJP 26, no. 3 (1905): 249–90, 376. Hengel, Martin. Hellenization of Judaea in the First Century after Christ. London: SCM, 1990. _____. Jews, Greeks, and Barbarians: Aspects of Hellenization of Judaism in the Pre-Christian Period. Translated by John Bowden. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1980. _____. Judaism and Hellenism: Studies in Their Encounter in Palestine during the Early Hellenistic Period. 2 vols. Translated by John Bowden. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974. Hermogenes. Progymnasmata. In Hermogenes Opera, edited by Hugo Rabe, 1–27. Lipsiae: Teubner, 1913. Hiers, Richard H. “Purification of the Temple: Preparation for the Kingdom of God.” JBL 90, no. 1 (1971): 82–90. Hinks, D. A. G. “Tisias and Corax and the Invention of Rhetoric.” ClQ 34, no. 1–2 (1940): 59–69.

346

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Hock, Ronald F., and Edward N. O’Neil. The Progymnasmata. Vol. 1 of The Chreia in Ancient Rhetoric. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986. Hollenbach, Bruce. “Lest They Should Turn and Be Forgiven: Irony.” BT 34, no. 3 (1983): 312–21. Hooker, Morna D. The Gospel According to Mark. Black’s New Testament Commentaries. London: A. C. Black, 1991. _____. “Trial and Tribulation in Mark XIII.” BJRL 65, no. 1 (1982): 78–99. Horsley, G. H. R. “The Fiction of ‘Jewish Greek.’” In New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity. Vol. 5, Linguistic Essays, 5–40. North Ryde, AUS: Macquarie University, 1989. Horsley, Richard. Hearing the Whole Story: The Politics of Plot in Mark’s Gospel. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001. Horst, Pieter W. van der. “Jewish Funerary Inscriptions: Most Are in Greek.” BAR 18, no. 5 (September/October 1992): 46–52. Hubbell, Harry Mortimer. The Influence of Isocrates on Cicero, Dionysius, and Aristides. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1913. Hübner, Hans. Das Gesetz in der synoptischen Tradition. Witten: Luther, 1973. _____. “Mark vii.1–23 und das ‘jüdisch-hellenistische’ Gesetzes Verständnis.” NTS 22 (1976): 319–45. Huby, R. P. J. L’Évangile selon Saint Marc. Paris: Beauchesne, 1924. Humphrey, Edith M. And I Turned to See the Voice: The Rhetoric of Vision in the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007. Humphrey, Hugh. A Bibliography for the Gospel of Mark: 1954–1980. New York: Edwin Mellen, 1982. _____. “He Is Risen!”: A New Reading of Mark’s Gospel. New York: Paulist, 1992. Humphrey, Robert L. Narrative Structure and Message in Mark: A Rhetorical Analysis. Studies in the Bible and Early Christianity 60. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, 2003. Humphries, Michael. Christian Origins and the Language of the Kingdom of God. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1999. Hunt, Everett Lee. “Plato and Aristotle on Rhetoric and the Rhetoricians.” In Studies in Rhetoric and Public Speaking in Honor of James Albert Winans, by pupils and colleagues, 3–60. New York: Century, 1925. Hunzinger, Claus-Hunno. “σίναπι.” In vol. 7 of Theological Dictionary of the

BIBLIOGRAPHY

347

New Testament, 287–91. Edited by Gerhard Friedrich. Translated and edited by Geoffrey W. Bromiley. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1971. Hurtado, L. W. “The Gospel of Mark in Recent Study.” Themelios 14, no. 2 (1989): 47–52. Iersel, Bas M. F. van. “De betekenis van Marcus vanuit zijn topografische structuur.” TvT 22, no. 2 (1982): 117–38. _____. Mark: A Reader-Response Commentary. Translated by W. H. Bisscheroux. JSNTSup 164. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998. Incigneri, Brian J. The Gospel to the Romans: The Setting and Rhetoric of Mark’s Gospel. Biblical Interpretation Series 65. Leiden: Brill, 2003. Iser, Wolfgang. The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978. Isocrates. Against the Sophists. In Volume 2, 159–78. Translated by George Norlin. LCL 229. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1929. _____. Antidosis. In Volume 2, 179–366. Translated by George Norlin. LCL 229. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1929. _____. Evagoras. In Volume 3, 2–53. Translated by La Rue Van Hook. LCL 373. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1945. _____. Panegyricus. In Volume 1, 115–242. Translated by George Norlin. LCL 209. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1928. _____. To Demonicus. In Volume 1, 1–36. Translated by George Norlin. LCL 209. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1928. Iverson, Kelly R., and Christopher W. Skinner, eds. Mark as Story: Retrospect and Prospect. Atlanta: SBL, 2011. Iwe, John Chijioke. Jesus in the Synagogue of Capernaum: The Pericope and Its Programmatic Character for the Gospel of Mark; An Exegetico-Theological Study of Mk 1:21–28. Rome: Editrice Pontifica Universita Gregoriana, 1999. Jaeger, Werner. Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture. 3 vols. Translated by Gilbert Highet. New York: Oxford University Press, 1939. Jakobson, Roman. “Linguistics and Poetics.” In Style and Language, edited by Thomas A. Sebeok, 350–77. Cambridge, MA: Technology Press, 1960. Janzen, J. G. “Resurrection and Hermeneutics: On Exodus 3.6 in Mark 12.26.” JSNT 23 (1985): 43–58.

348

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Jasper, David. The New Testament and the Literary Imagination. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press, 1987. Jebb, R. C. The Attic Orators from Antiphon to Isaeos. 2 vols. London: Macmillan, 1893. Jeremias, Joachim. Abba: Studien zur neutestamentlichen Theologie und Zeitgeschichte. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1966. _____. Eucharistic Words of Jesus. Translated by Norman Perrin. London: SCM, 1990. _____. New Testament Theology. New York: Scribner, 1971. _____. “Palästinakundliches zum Gleichnis vom Sämann.” NTS 13 (1966/67): 48–53. _____. The Parables of Jesus. 2nd rev. ed. Translated by S. H. Hooke. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1972. Josephus. Jewish Antiquities. Vol. 1. Translated by Henry St. J. Thackeray. LCL 242. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1930. Juel, Donald H. The Gospel of Mark. Interpreting Biblical Texts. Nashville: Abingdon, 1999. _____. A Master of Surprise: Mark Interpreted. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994. Jülicher, Adolf. Die Gleichnisreden Jesu. 2 vols. Freiburg: J. C. B. Mohr, 1886. Juvenal. Satires. In Juvenal and Persius, 128–512. Translated by G. G. Ramsay. LCL 91. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1918. Kealy, Sean P. History of the Interpretation of the Gospel of Mark. 2 vols. New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 2008. _____. Mark’s Gospel: A History of Its Interpretation. New York: Paulist, 1982. Keck, Leander. “The Introduction to Mark’s Gospel.” NTS 12 (1966): 352–70. Kee, Howard Clark. Community of the New Age: Studies in Mark’s Gospel. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1977. _____. “Mark’s Gospel in Recent Research.” In Interpreting the Gospels, edited by James Luther Mays, 131–47. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1981. Kelber, Werner H. The Kingdom in Mark: A New Place and a New Time. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974. Kempshall, Matthew. Rhetoric and the Writing of History, 400–1500. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2011.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

349

Kennedy, George. The Art of Persuasion in Greece. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963. _____. The Art of Rhetoric in the Roman World. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972. _____. Classical Rhetoric and Its Christian and Secular Tradition from Ancient to Modern Times. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1980. _____. “The Earliest Rhetorical Handbooks.” AJP 80, no. 2 (1959): 169–78. _____. Greek Rhetoric Under Christian Emperors. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983. _____. New Testament Interpretation through Rhetorical Criticism. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1984. _____. Quintilian. Twayne World Authors 59. New York: Twayne, 1969. Kerferd, G. B. The Sophistic Movement. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981. Kertelge, Karl. Die Wunder Jesu im Markusevangelium. München: Kösel, 1970. Kilpatrick, G. “Mk 13,9–10.” JTS, n.s., 9 (1958): 81–86. Kim, Seyoon. “Jesus—the Son of God, the Stone, the Son of Man, and the Servant.” In Tradition and Interpretation in the New Testament, edited by Gerald F. Hawthorne and Otto Betz, 134–48. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987. Kingsbury, Jack D. “The Gospel of Mark in Current Research.” RelSRev 5 (1979): 101–7. Kinneavy, James L. Greek Rhetorical Origins of Christian Faith. New York: Oxford University Press, 1987. Klauck, Hans-Josef. Allegorie und Allegorese in synoptischen Gleichnistexten. Münster: Aschendorff, 1978. Kline, Meredith. “The Old Testament Origins of the Gospel Genre.” WTJ 38 (1975): 1–27. Klostermann, August. Das Markusevangelium: nach seinem Quellenwerthe für die evangelische Geschichte. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1867. Knox, Wilfred L. St. Mark. Vol. 1 of The Sources of the Synoptic Gospels. Edited by H. Chadwick. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953. Koester, Helmut. “A Test Case of Synoptic Source Theory (Mark 4:1–34 and Parallels).” Paper presented at SBL Seminar 31, Atlanta, October 1971.

350

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Krentz, Edgar. The Historical-Critical Method. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975 Kuhn, Heinz-Wolfgang. Ältere Sammlungen im Markusevangelium. Studien zur Umwelt des Neuen Testaments 8. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1971. Kümmel, Werner Georg. Introduction to the New Testament. 2nd ed. Nashville: Abingdon, 1986. Lagrange, Marie-Joseph. L’Évangile selon saint Marc. 4th ed. Paris: Gabalda, 1947. Lausberg, Heinrich. Elemente der literarischen Rhetorik. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1982. Laistner, Max W. “The Christian Attitude to Pagan Literature.” History, n.s., 20, no. 77 (June 1935): 49–54. _____. Christianity and Pagan Culture in the Later Roman Empire. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1951. Lambrecht, Jan. “De vijf parabels van Mc. 4. Structuur en theologie van de parabelrede.” Bijdragen 29 (1968): 45–48. _____. Die Redaktion der Markus-Apokalypse: Literarische Analyse und Strukturuntersuchung. Rome: Päpstliches Bibelinstitut, 1967. _____. “Jesus and the Law: An Investigation of Mk 7,1–23.” ETL 53 (1977): 24–82. _____. Marcus Interpretator. Stijl en boodschap in Mc. 3,20–4,34. BruggeUtrecht: Desclée de Brouwer, 1969. _____. “Redaction and Theology in MK., IV.” In L’Évangile selon Marc: Tradition et rédaction, edited by M. Sabbe, 209–12. BETL 34. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1974. _____. “The Relatives of Jesus in Mark.” NovT 16, no. 4 (1974): 241–58. Lampe, P. “Die markinische Deutung des Gleichnisses vom Sämann Markus 4:10–12.” ZNW 65 (1974): 140–50. Lancellotti, A. “La casa di Pietro a Cafarnao nei Vangeli sinottici. Redazione e tradizione.” Anton 58, no. 1 (1983): 48–69. Lane, William L. The Gospel according to Mark. NICNT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974. Lang, F. G. “Kompositionsanalyse des Markusevangeliums.” ZTK 74, no. 1 (1977): 1–24.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

351

Lanser, Susan Sniader. The Narrative Act: Point of View in Prose Fiction. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Lausberg, Heinrich. Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik: eine Grundlegung der Literaturwissenschaft. 2 vols. Munich: Max Hueber, 1960. LaVerdiere, Eugene. The Beginning of the Gospel: Introducing the Gospel according to Mark. 2 vols. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1999. _____. “Jesus and the Call of the First Disciples: Conflict with Scribes and Pharisees.” Emmanuel 94, no. 5 (1988): 264–69, 272–73, 292. Law, David R. Historical-Critical Method: A Guide for the Perplexed. London: T&T Clark, 2012. Lechner, Matthias. Erziehung und Bildung in der Griechische-römischen Antike. Munich: Max Hueber, 1933. Lee, J. A. L. “Some Features of the Speech of Jesus in Mark’s Gospel.” NovT 27, no. 1 (1985): 1–26. Lee, Marius Young-Heon. Jesus und die jüdische Autorität. Würzburg: Echter, 1986. Leeman, A. D. Orationis ratio: The Stylistic Theories and Practice of the Roman Orators, Historians and Philosophers. 2 vols. Amsterdam: A. M. Hakkert, 1963. Leo, Friedrich. Die griechisch-romische Biographie nach ihrer litterarischen Form. Leipzig: Teubner, 1901. Leon, Henry J. “The Jews of Rome in the First Centuries of Christianity.” In The Teacher’s Yoke, edited by E. Jerry Vardaman and James Leo Garrett, 154–63. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 1964. Léon-Dufour, Xavier. “La Parabole du semeur.” In Études d’Evangile, 270–84. Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1965. Libanius. Libanii opera. 12 vols. Edited by Richard Foerster. Hildesheim: G. Olms, 1963. Lieberman, Saul. Greek in Jewish Palestine. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1966. _____. Hellenism in Jewish Palestine. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1950. Lienhard, Joseph T. “A Note on the Meaning of πίστεις in Aristotle’s Rhetoric.” AJP 87, no. 4 (1966): 446–54. Lightfoot, R. H. The Gospel Message of St. Mark. Oxford: Clarendon, 1950.

352

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

_____. Locality and Doctrine in the Gospels. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1938. Livy. Works. 14 vols. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1922–51. Lohfink, Gerhard. “Das Gleichnis von Sämann (Mk 4,3–9).” BZ 30, no. 1 (1986): 36–69. Lohmeyer, Ernst. Das Evangelium des Markus, Übersetzt und erklärt. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1937. _____. Galiläa und Jerusalem. FRLANT. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1936. Loisy, Alfred Firmin. Les Évangiles synoptiques. 2 vols. Ceffonds: Près Montier-en-der, 1907–8. _____. L’Évangile selon Marc. Paris: Emile Nourry, 1912. Longenecker, Bruce W. Rhetoric at the Boundaries: The Art and Theology of New Testament Chain-Link Transitions. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2005. [Longinus]. On the Sublime. Translated by W. Hamilton Fyfe. In Aristotle: Poetics. Longinus: On the Sublime. Demetrius: On Style, 159–306. LCL 199. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995. Longman, Tremper. Literary Approaches to Biblical Interpretation. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1987. Lövestam, Evald. “Logiet om hädelse mot den helige Ande (Mark. 3:28. par. Matt. 12:31f.; Luk. 12:10).” SEÅ 33 (1968): 101–17. _____. Spiritus Blasphemia. Lund: Gleerup, 1968. Lührmann, Dieter. Das Markusevangelium. Handbuch zum Neuen Testament 3. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987. Lund, Nils Wilhelm. Chiasmus in the New Testament: A Study in Formgeschichte. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1942. MacDonald, Dennis R. The Homeric Epics and the Gospel of Mark. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000. MacGill, Stevenson. Lectures on Rhetoric and Criticism. Edinburgh: W. Oliphant & Son, 1838. Mack, Burton L. Anecdotes and Arguments: The Chreia in Antiquity and Early Christianity. Occasional Papers 10. Claremont, CA: Institute for Antiquity and Christianity, 1987.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

353

_____. A Myth of Innocence: Mark and Christian Origins. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988. _____. Rhetoric and the New Testament. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990. Mack, Burton L., and Vernon K. Robbins. Patterns of Persuasion in the Gospels. Sonoma, CA: Polebridge, 1989. Mailloux, Stephen. Interpretive Conventions: The Reader in the Study of American Fiction. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1982. Makrides, V. N. “Considerations on Mark 11:27–33 par.” DeltBibMel 14 (1985): 43–55. Malbon, Elizabeth Struthers. “Disciples/Crowds/Whoever: Markan Characters and Readers.” NovT 28, no. 2 (1986): 104–30. _____. Hearing Mark: A Listener’s Guide. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2002. _____. In the Company of Jesus: Characters in Mark’s Gospel. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2000. _____. “Te oikia autou: Mark 2:15 in Context.” NTS 31, no. 2 (1985): 282–92. Maloney, Francis J. Mark: Storyteller, Interpreter, Evangelist. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2004. Manson, J. “The Ego Eimi of the Messianic Presence in the NT.” JTS 48 (1947): 137–45. Manson, T. W. The Teaching of Jesus: Studies in the Form and Content. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1943. Marcus, Joel. “Mark 4:10–12 and Marcan Epistemology.” JBL 103, no. 4 (1984): 557–74. _____. The Mystery of the Kingdom of God. SBL Dissertation Series 90. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986. Marrou, Henri Irénée. “Education and Rhetoric.” In The Legacy of Greece: A New Appraisal, edited by Moses I. Finley, 185–201. Oxford: Clarendon, 1981. _____. A History of Education in Antiquity. Translated by George Lamb. London: Sheed & Ward, 1956. _____. Saint Augustin et la fin de la culture antique. 4th ed. Paris: Éditions de Boccard, 1958.

354

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Martin, Josef. Antike Rhetorik: Technik und Methode. Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft 2, part 3. Munich: Beck, 1974. Martin, Ralph P. Mark: Evangelist and Theologian. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1973. Marxsen, Willi. Mark the Evangelist: Studies on the Redaction History of the Gospel. Translated by James Boyce, Donald Juel, William Poehlmann, and Roy A. Harrisville. Nashville: Abingdon, 1969. Originally published as Der Evangelist Markus. FRLANT. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1956. Mathieu, Georges. Les idées politiques d’Isocrate. Paris: Belles Lettres, 1925. Matthew, Dieter. “Hermagoras von Temnos, 1904–1955.” Lustrum 3 (1958): 58–214, 262–78. May, David M. “Mark 3:20–35 from the Perspective of Shame/Honor.” BTB 17, no. 3 (1987): 83–87. Mayer, A. Theophrasti Peri lexeōs libri fragmenta. Leipzig: Teubner, 1910. McCall, Marsh H. Ancient Rhetorical Theories of Simile and Comparison. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969. McEleney, Neil J. “Authenticating Criteria and Mark 7:1–23.” CBQ 34, no. 4 (1972): 431–60. McKnight, Edgar V. The Bible and the Reader: An Introduction to Literary Criticism. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985. _____. Post-Modern Use of the Bible: The Emergence of Reader-Oriented Criticism. Nashville: Abingdon, 1988. McNew, Louis D. “The Relation of Cicero’s Rhetoric to Augustine.” RSSCW 25 (March 1957): 5–13. Meagher, John C. Clumsy Construction in Mark’s Gospel: A Critique of Formand Redaktionsgeschichte. New York: Edwin Mellen, 1979. Menander. Menander Rhetor. Edited by D. A. Russell and N. G. Wilson. Oxford: Clarendon, 1981. Metzger, Bruce M. “Considerations of Methodology in the Study of the Mystery Religions and Early Christianity.” HTR 48, no. 1 (1955): 1–20. Meye, Robert. “Mark 4:10.” In vol. 2 of Studia Evangelica, edited by Kurt Aland, 211–18. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1964. Meynet, Roland. “Qui donc est ‘le plus fort’? Analyse rhétorique de Mc 3,22–30; Mt 12,22–37; Luc 11,14–26.” RB 90, no. 3 (1983): 334–50.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

355

_____. Rhetorical Analysis: An Introduction to Biblical Rhetoric. JSOTSup 256. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998. Mikkola, Eino. Isocrates: seine Anschauungen im Lichte seiner Schriften. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1954. Minette de Tillesse, Gaëtan. Le secret messianique dans l’Evangile de Marc. Paris: Cerf, 1968. Mlakuzhyil, George. Christocentric Literary Structure of the Fourth Gospel. Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto, 1987. Moeser, Marion C. The Anecdote in Mark, the Classical World and the Rabbis. JSNTSup 227. London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002. Momigliano, Arnaldo. The Development of Greek Biography. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971. Moore, Stephen D. Literary Criticism and the Gospels: The Theoretical Challenge. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989. Moore, W. Ernest. “‘Outside’ and ‘Inside’: A Markan Motif.” ExpTim 98, no. 2 (1986): 39–43. Moser, T. “Mark’s Gospel: A Drama?” TBT 80 (1975): 528–33. Moule, C. F. D. “Mark 4,1–20 Yet Once More.” In Neotestamentica et Semitica: Studies in Honor of Matthew Black, edited by E. Earle Ellis and Max Wilcox, 95–113. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1969. Moulton, James Hope, Wilbert Francis Howard, and Nigel Turner. A Grammar of New Testament Greek. 3rd ed. 4 vols. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1906–76. Muilenburg, James. “Form Criticism and Beyond.” JBL 88, no. 1 (1969): 1–18. Mundla, Jean-Gaspard Mudiso Mbâ. Jesus und die Führer Israels: Studien zu den sog. Jerusalemer Streitgesprächen. Münster: Aschendorff, 1984. Murphy, James J. Rhetoric in the Middle Ages: A History of Rhetorical Theory from Saint Augustine to the Renaissance. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974. _____. “Saint Augustine and the Debate about Christian Rhetoric.” QJSp 46, no. 4 (1960): 400–410. _____, ed. A Synoptic History of Classical Rhetoric. New York: Random House, 1972.

356

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Murray, Gregory. “The Questioning of Jesus.” The Downside Review 102, no. 349 (1984): 271–75. Myers, Ched. Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1988. Navarre, Octave. Essai sur la rhétorique grecque avant Aristote. Paris: Hachette, 1900. Neirynck, Frans. Duality in Mark: Contributions to the Study of the Markan Redaction. Rev. ed. BETL 31. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1988. Nestle, Erwin, Barbara Aland, Kurt Aland, Johannes Karavidopoulos, Carlo M. Martini, and Bruce Metzger, eds. Novum Testamentum Graece. 27th ed. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1993. Neusner, Jacob. “First Cleanse the Inside.” NTS 22, no. 4 (1975/76): 486–95. _____. “The Idea of Purity in Ancient Judaism.” JAAR 43, no. 1 (1975): 15–26. Neville, David. Mark’s Gospel—Prior or Posterior? A Reappraisal of the Phenomenon of Order. JSNTSup 222. London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002. Nilsson, Martin P. Die hellenistische Schule. Munich: C. H. Beck, 1955. Nineham, D. E. The Gospel of St Mark. Pelican Gospel Commentaries. Middlesex: Penguin, 1963. Nobles, W. Scott. “The Paradox of Plato’s Attitude toward Rhetoric.” WestSp 21 (Fall 1957): 206–10. Olbricht, Thomas H. “The Flowering of Rhetorical Criticism in America.” In The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture: Essays from the 1995 London Conference, edited by Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, 91–102. JSNTSup 146. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997. O’Mahony, G. “Mark’s Gospel and the Parable of the Sower.” TBT 98 (1978): 1764–68. Oroz, Jose. “El ‘De Doctrina Christiana’ o la retorica cristiana.” EstClas 3 (1956): 452–59. Osburn, Carroll D. “The Historical Present in Mark as a Text-Critical Criterion.” Bib 64, no. 4 (1983): 486–500. Otto, Rudolf. Kingdom of God and the Son of Man: A Study in the History of Religion. 2nd ed. Translated by Floyd V. Filson and Bertram Lee Woolf. London: Lutterworth, 1951.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

357

Paschen, Wilfried. Rein und Unrein: Untersuchung zur biblischen Wortgeschichte. München: Kösel, 1970. Payne, P. B. “The Authenticity of the Parable of the Sower and Its Interpretation.” In vol. 1 of Gospel Perspectives, edited by R. T. France and David Wenham, 163–207. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1980. _____. “The Order of Sowing and Ploughing in the Parable of the Sower.” NTS 25 (1978): 123–29. _____. “The Seeming Inconsistency of the Interpretation of the Parable of the Sower.” NTS 26, no. 4 (1980): 564–68. Pedersen, S. “Er Mark 4 et ‘lignelseskapitel’?” DTT 33, no. 1 (1970): 20–30. Peisker, C. H. “Konsekutives hina in Markus 4:12.” ZNW 59, no. 1–2 (1968): 126–27. Pennington, Jonathan T. Reading the Gospels Wisely: A Narrative and Theological Introduction. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012. Pepe, Cristina. The Genres of Rhetorical Speeches in Greek and Roman Antiquity. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Perelman, Chaïm, and L. Olbrechts-Tyteca. The New Rhetoric: A Treatise on Argumentation. Translated by John Wilkinson and Purcell Weaver. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1969. Originally published as Traité de l’argumentation: La nouvelle rhétorique. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1958. Perrin, Norman. “The Literary Gattung ‘Gospel’—Some Observations.” ExpTim 82, no. 1 (1970): 4–7. _____. The New Testament, An Introduction: Proclamation and Parenesis, Myth and History. 2nd ed. New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1982. Pesch, Rudolf. Das Markusevangelium. 2 vols. Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 2. Freiburg: Herder, 1977. _____. Naherwartungen: Tradition und Redaktion in Mk 13. Dusseldorf: Patmos, 1968. Petersen, Norman R. Literary Criticism for New Testament Critics. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978. _____. “The Reader in the Gospel.” Neot 18 (1984): 38–51. Petit, Paul. Libanius et la vie municipale à Antioche au IVe siècle après J.-C. Paris: P. Geuthner, 1955. Petronius. Satyricon. Translated by Michael Heseltine; revised by E. H.

358

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Warmington. LCL 15. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1987. Pfeiffer, E. “Der alttestamentliche Hintergrund der liturgischen Formel ‘Amen.’” Kerygma und Dogma 4 (1958): 129–41. Philo. On Abraham. In On Abraham. On Joseph. On Moses, 4–137. Translated by F. H. Colson. LCL 289. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1935. Philostratus. Lives of Sophists. Translated by Wilmer C. Wright. LCL 134. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1922. Pimentel, Peter. “The ‘Unclean Spirits’ of St. Mark’s Gospel.” ExpTim 99, no. 6 (1988): 173–75. Plato. Apology. In Euthyphro. Apology. Crito. Phaedo. Phaedrus, 106–95. Translated by H. N. Fowler. LCL 36. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1917. _____. Gorgias. In Lysis. Symposium. Gorgias, 247–533. Translated by W. R. M. Lamb. LCL 166. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1925. _____. Phaedrus. In Euthyphro. Apology. Crito. Phaedo. Phaedrus, 412–580. Translated by H. N. Fowler. LCL 36. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1917. _____. Protagoras. In Laches. Protagoras. Meno. Euthydemus, 85–258. Translated by W. R. M. Lamb. LCL 165. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1924. _____. Republic: Books 1–5. Translated by Paul Shorey. LCL 237. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1953–56. Pliny. Letters. 2 vols. Translated by Betty Radice. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969. Plutarch. On the Education of Children. In Moralia: Volume 1, 1–70. Translated by Frank Cole Babbitt. LCL 197. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1986. Poirier, J. C. “Why Did the Pharisees Wash Their Hands?” JJS 47, no. 2 (1996): 217–33. Polybius. The Histories. 6 vols. Translated by W. R. Paton. LCL. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1922–27. Porter, Stanley F. Introduction to The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture: Essays from the 1995 London Conference, edited by Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, 1–23. JSNTSup 146. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997. Powell, Mark Allan. “The Bible and Modern Literary Criticism.” In Summary

BIBLIOGRAPHY

359

of Proceedings: Forty-Third Annual Conference of the American Theological Libraries Association, edited by Betty A. O’Brien, 78–94. St. Meinrad, IN: American Theological Library Association, 1991. _____. What Is Narrative Criticism? Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990. Pritchard, John Paul. A Literary Approach to the New Testament. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1972. Pryke, E. J. “Ide and Idou.” NTS 14, no. 3 (1968): 418–24. Pryor, J. W. “Markan Parable Theology: An Inquiry into Mark’s Principles of Redaction.” ExpTim 83, no. 8 (1972): 242–45. Quintilian. Institutio Oratorio. Translated by H. E. Butler. 4 vols. LCL. London: William Heinemann, 1920–22. Radermakers, Jean. La bonne nouvelle de Jésus selon saint Marc. 2 vols. Brussels: Institut d’études théologiques, 1974. Räisänen, Heikki. Das “messiasgeheimnis” im Markusevangelium. Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, 1976. _____. Die Parabeltheorie im Markusevangelium. Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, 1973. _____. “Jesus and the Food Laws: Reflections on Mark 7.15.” JSNT 16 (1982): 79–100. Ramaroson, L. “‘Parole-semence’ ou ‘Peuple-semence’ dans la parabole du Semeur?” ScEs 40, no. 1 (1988): 91–101. Ravarotto, E. “La ‘casa’ del Vangelo di Marco è la casa di Simone-Pietro?” Anton 42, no. 3–4 (1967): 399–419. Rayment, Charles S. “A Current Survey of Ancient Rhetoric.” CW 52, no. 3 (1958): 75–76, 78–80, 82–84, 86–91. Regev, Eyal. “Pure Individualism: The Idea of Non-Priestly Purity in Ancient Judaism.” JSJ 31 (2000): 176–202. Reid, B. E. “Recent Work on the Gospel of Mark.” NTheoRev 3, no. 3 (1990): 98–103. Reiser, Marius. Syntax und Stil des Markusevangeliums im Licht der hellenistischen Volksliteratur. Tübingen: Mohr, 1984. Rengstorff, K. H. “κορβᾶν.” In vol. 3 of Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, 860–66. Edited by Gerhard Kittel. Translated and edited by Geoffrey W. Bromiley. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1968.

360

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Resseguie, James L. “Reader-Response Criticism and the Synoptic Gospels.” JAAR 52, no. 2 (1984): 307–24. Reynolds, S. M. “A Note on Dr. Hengel’s Interpretation of Πυγῇ in Mark 7,3.” ZNW 62 (1971): 295–96. _____. “Πυγῇ (Mark 7,3) as ‘Cupped Hand.’” JBL 85 (1966): 87–88. Rhetorica ad Herennium. Translated by Harry Caplan. LCL 403. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1954. Rhoads, David, Joanna Dewey, and Donald Michie. Mark as Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel. 2nd ed. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999. Riches, John K. Conflicting Mythologies: Identity Formation in the Gospels of Mark and Matthew. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000. Ricoeur, Paul. “The Narrative Fiction.” In Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences: Essays on Language, Action, and Interpretation, 274–96. Edited and translated by John. B. Thompson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981. Riesner, Rainer. Jesus als Lehrer. Eine Untersuchung zum Ursprung der Evangelien Überlieferung. WUNT 2/7. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1981. Robbins, Vernon K. Exploring the Texture of Texts: A Guide to Socio-Rhetorical Interpretation. Valley Forge, PA: Trinity International Press, 1996. _____. Jesus the Teacher: A Socio-Rhetorical Interpretation of Mark. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984. _____. New Boundaries in Old Territory: Form and Social Rhetoric in Mark. Emory Studies in Early Christianity 3. New York: Peter Lang, 1994. _____. “Picking Up the Fragments: From Crossan’s Analysis to Rhetorical Analysis.” Foundations and Facets Forum 1, no. 2 (1985): 31–64. _____. “The Present and Future of Rhetorical Analysis.” In The Rhetorical Analysis of Scripture: Essays from the 1995 London Conference, edited by Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, 24–52. JSNTSup 146. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997. _____. “The Rhetorical Full-Turn in Biblical Interpretation: Reconfiguring Rhetorical-Political Analysis.” In Rhetorical Criticism and the Bible, edited by Stanley F. Porter and Thomas H. Olbricht, 48–60. JSNTSup 195. London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

361

_____. The Tapestry of Early Christian Discourse: Rhetoric, Society, and Ideology. London: Routledge, 1996. _____. “Text and Context in Recent Study of the Gospel of Mark.” RelSRev 17, no. 1 (1991): 16–23. Robertson, Archibald Thomas. A Grammar of the Greek New Testament in the Light of Historical Research. Nashville: Broadman, 1934. Roloff, Jürgen. “Das Markusevangelium als Geschichtsdarstellung.” EvT 29, no. 2 (1969): 73–93. Rousseau, François. “La structure de Marc 13.” Bib 56, no. 2 (1975): 157–72. Russell, Donald Andrew. Criticism in Antiquity. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981. Russell, Donald Andrew, and Michael Winterbottom, eds. Ancient Literary Criticism: The Principal Texts in New Translations. Oxford: Clarendon, 1972. Schenkeveld, Dirk Marie. Studies in Demetrius “On Style.” Amsterdam: A. M. Hakkert, 1964. Schlier, Heinrich. “ἀμήν.” In vol. 1 of Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, 335–38. Edited by Gerhard Kittel. Translated and edited by Geoffrey W. Bromiley. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964. Schmidt, Karl Ludwig. Der Rahmen der Geschichte Jesu: Literarkritische Untersuchungen zur ältesten Jesusüberlieferung. Berlin: Trowitzsch, 1919. _____. “Die Stellung der Evangelien in der allgemeinen Literaturgeschichte.” In Eucharisterion: Studien zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments; Hermann Gunkel zum 60. Geburtstag, edited by Hans Schmidt, 50–134. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1923. Schmidt, Thomas E. Hostility to Wealth in the Synoptic Gospels. JSNTSup 15. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1987. Schmithals, Walther. Das Evangelium nach Markus. Gütersloh: Mohn, 1979. Schnakel, Peter. “Plato’s Phaedrus and Rhetoric.” SouthSpJ 32 (1966): 124–32. Schnellbächer, E. L. “The Temple as Focus of Mark’s Theology.” HBT 5, no. 2 (1983): 95–112. Scholes, Robert, and Robert Kellogg. The Nature of Narrative. London: Oxford University Press, 1966. Schwankl, O. “Die Sadduzäerfrage (Mk 12,18–27) und die Auferstehungserwartung Jesu.” WissWeis 50, no. 2–3 (1987): 81–92.

362

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Schweinfurth-Walla, Sigrid. Studien zu den rhetorischen Überzeugungsmitteln bei Cicero und Aristoteles. Mannheimer Beiträge zur Sprach- und Literaturwissenschaft 9. Tübingen: Narr, 1986. Schweizer, Eduard. The Good News according to Mark. Translated by Donald H. Madvig. Richmond, VA: John Knox, 1970. Scott, M. Philip. “Chiastic Structure: A Key to the Interpretation of Mark’s Gospel.” BTB 15, no. 1 (1985): 17–26. Seamon, R. “Narrative Practice and the Theoretical Distinction between History and Fiction.” Genre 16 (1983): 197–218 Seneca the Elder. Annaei Senecae: Oratorum et Rhetorum Sententiae Divisiones Colores. Edited by H. J. Müller. Vienna: Tempsky, 1887. Sextus Empiricus. Against the Rhetoricians. In Against Professors. Translated by R. G. Bury. LCL 382. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1949. Shiner, Whitney Taylor. Follow Me! Disciples in Markan Rhetoric. SBL Dissertation Series 145. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995. _____. Proclaiming the Gospel: First-Century Performance of Mark. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2003. Slusser, Michael. “Reading Silently in Antiquity.” JBL 111, no. 3 (1992): 499. Smith, Justin Marc. Why Bíos? On the Relationship between Gospel Genre and Implied Audience. LNTS 518. London: Bloomsbury, 2015. Smith, Stephen H. A Lion with Wings: A Narrative-Critical Approach to Mark’s Gospel. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996. _____. “The Literary Structure of Mark 11:1–12:40.” NovT 31, no. 2 (1989): 104–24. Smyth, Herbert Weir. Greek Grammar. Revised by Gordon M. Messing. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1920. Snoy, Thierry. “La rédaction marcienne de la marche sur les eaux (Mc 6,45–52).” ETL 44 (1968): 205–41, 433–81. Solmsen, Friedrich. “The Aristotelian Tradition in Ancient Rhetoric.” AJP 62, no. 1–2 (1941): 35–50, 196–90. Spengel, Leonhard von, ed. Rhetores Graeci. 3 vols. Lipsiae: B. G. Teubneri, 1853–56. Sprague, Rosamond Kent, ed. The Older Sophists. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1972.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

363

Sprute, Jürgen. Die Enthymemtheorie der aristotelischen Rhetorik. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982. Stagg, Frank. “The Abused Aorist.” JBL 91, no. 2 (1972): 222–31. Standaert, Benoît H. M. G. M. L’Evangile selon Marc. composition et genre littéraire. Brugge: Herdruk, 1978. Steck, Odil H. Israel und das gewaltsame Geschick der Propheten. NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener, 1967. Steinmueller, John E. “Exegetical Notes.” CBQ 4, no. 4 (1942): 355–59. Sternberg, Meir. The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985. Stock, Augustin. “All Sins Will Be Forgiven . . . But . . .” Emmanuel 92, no. 1 (1986): 18–21. _____. “Chiastic Awareness and Education in Antiquity.” BTB 14, no. 1 (1984): 23–27. _____. “Hinge Transitions in Mark’s Gospel.” BTB 15, no. 1 (1985): 27–31. _____. “Literary Criticism and Mark’s Mystery Play.” TBT 100 (1979): 1909–15. _____. “The Structure of Mark.” TBT 23, no. 5 (1985): 291–96. Stoldt, Hans-Herbert. History and Criticism of the Marcan Hypothesis. Translated by Donald L. Niewyk. Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1980. Stone, Jerry H. “The Gospel of Mark and Oedipus the King: Two Tragic Visions.” Soundings 67, no. 1 (1984): 55–69. Strelan, J. G. “‘For Thine Are the Statistics?’ Sermon Study on Mark 4:26–29.” LuthTheoJour 22, no. 1 (1988): 32–36. Strickland, Michael. “The Integration of Oral and Written Jesus Tradition in the Early Church.” JECH 5, no. 1 (2015): 132–43. Stroux, Johannes. De Theophrasti virtutibus dicendi. Leipzig: Teubner, 1912. Stuhlmann, Rainer. “Beobachtungen und Überlegungen zu Markus IV, 26–29.” NTS 19, no. 2 (1972/73): 153–62. Suhl, Alfred. Die Funktion der alttestamentlichen Zitate und Anspielungen im Markusevangelium. Gütersloh: Mohn, 1965. Suleiman, Susan R., and Inge Crosman. The Reader in the Text: Essays on Audience and Interpretation. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980. Svartvik, Jesper. Mark and Mission: Mk 7:1–23 in Its Narrative and Historical

364

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Contexts. Coniectanea Biblica New Testament Series 32. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 2000. Swift, F. H. Education in Ancient Israel: From Earliest Times to 70 A.D. Chicago: Open Court, 1919. Synge, F. C. “A Matter of Tenses—Fingerprints of an Annotator in Mark.” ExpTim 88, no. 6 (1977): 168–71. Tacitus. Dialogues. In Dialogus. Agricola. Germania. Translated by William Peterson and Maurice Hutton. LCL 35. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1925. Talbert, Charles H. What Is a Gospel? The Genre of the Canonical Gospels. Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1985. Tate, W. Randolph. Reading Mark from the Outside: Eco and Iser Leave Their Marks. San Francisco: International Scholars Publications, 1994. Taylor, David Bruce. Mark’s Gospel as Literature and History. London: SCM Press, 1992. Taylor, N. H. “Palestinian Christianity and the Caligula Crisis, Part I. Social and Historical Reconstruction.” JSNT 61 (1996): 101–23. _____. “Palestinian Christianity and the Caligula Crisis, Part II. The Markan Eschatological the Discourse.” JSNT 62 (1996): 13–41. Taylor, Vincent. The Gospel according to St. Mark. London: Macmillan, 1957. Tcherikover, Avigdor. Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews. New York: Atheneum, 1970. Telford, William R. The Barren Temple and the Withered Tree. JSNTSup 1. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1980. _____. “The Interpretation of Mark: A History of Developments and Issues.” In The Interpretation of Mark, edited by William R. Telford, 1–62. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1995. _____. Mark. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995. _____. The Theology of the Gospel of Mark. New Testament Theology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. TeSelle, Sally McFague. Speaking in Parables: A Study in Metaphor and Theology. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975. Testard, Maurice. Saint Augustin et Cicéron. Paris: Etudes Augustiniennes, 1958.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

365

Thackeray, Henry St. John. The Septuagint and Jewish Worship. Schweich Lectures. London: British Academy, 1920. Theissen, Gerd. Urchristliche Wundergeschichten: Ein Beitrag zur formgeschichtlichen Erforschung der synoptischen Evangelien. Gütersloh: Mohn, 1974. Theon, Progymnasmata. In vol. 2of Rhetores Graeci, edited by Leonhard von Spengel, 59–130. Lipsiae: B. G. Teubneri, 1854. Thucydides. History of the Peloponnesian War. 4 vols. Translated by C. Forster Smith. LCL. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1919–23. Todorov, Tzvetan. The Poetics of Prose. Translated by Richard Howard. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1977. Tolbert, Mary Ann. Perspectives on the Parables: An Approach to Multiple Interpretations. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979. _____. Sowing the Gospel: Mark’s World in Literary-Historical Perspective. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989. Tompkins, Jane P., ed. Reader-Response Criticism: From Formalism to PostStructuralism. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1980. Trocmé, Étienne. The Formation of the Gospel according to Mark. Translated by Pamela Gaughan. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1963. _____. “Why Parables? A Study of Mark IV.” BJRL 59, no. 2 (1977): 458–71. Tuckett, Christopher, ed. The Messianic Secret. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983. Turner, C. H. “Marcan Usage: Notes, Critical and Exegetical, on the Second Gospel.” JTS, o.s., 26 (19225): 145–56. Tyson, Joseph B. “The Blindness of the Disciples in Mark.” JBL 80, no. 3 (1961): 261–68. Upton, Bridget Gilfillan. Hearing Mark’s Endings: Listening to Ancient Popular Texts through Speech Act Theory. Biblical Interpretation Series 79. Leiden: Brill, 2006. Van Eck, E., and A. G. Van Aarde. “A Narratological Analysis of Mark 12:1–12: The Plot of the Gospel of Mark in a Nutshell.” HvTSt 45, no. 4 (1989): 778–800. Vaganay, Leon. Le problème synoptique: Une hypothèse de travail. Paris: Desclée, 1954.

366

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Via, Dan Otto. The Parables: Their Literary and Existential Dimension. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1967. Vickers, Brian. In Defence of Rhetoric. Oxford: Clarendon, 1988. Vines, Michael E. The Problem of Markan Genre: The Gospel of Mark and the Jewish Novel. Academia Biblica 3. Leiden: Brill, 2002. Volkmann, Richard. Die Rhetorik der Griechen und Römer. Leipzig: Teubner, 1885. Vorster, Willem S. “Literary Reflections on Mark 13:5–37: A Narrated Speech of Jesus.” In The Interpretation of Mark, edited by William R. Telford, 269–88. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1995; originally published in Neot 21, no. 2 (1987): 203–24. Walbank, F. W. “History and Tragedy.” Historia 9, no. 2 (1960): 216–34. Walz, Christian. Rhetores Graeci. 9 vols. London: Black, Young & Young, 1832–36. Wansbrough, Henry. “Mark III.21—Was Jesus Out of His Mind?” NTS 18, no. 2 (1971/72): 233–35. Warner, Martin. Philosophical Finesse: Studies in the Art of Rational Persuasion. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989. Watson, Duane F., ed. Persuasive Artistry: Studies in New Testament Rhetoric in Honor of George A. Kennedy. JSNTSup 50. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991. Weeden, Theodore J. Mark: Traditions in Conflict. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1971. _____. “Recovering the Parabolic Intent in the Parable of the Sower.” JAAR 47, no. 1 (1979): 97–120. Weiss, Johannes. Das älteste Evangelium: Ein Beitrag zum Verständnis des Markus-Evangeliums und der ältesten evangelischen Überlieferung. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1903. Welch, John W., ed. Chiasmus in Antiquity: Structures, Analyses, Exegesis. Hildesheim: Gerstenberg, 1981. Wellek, René. “Literary Theory, Criticism, and History.” In Concepts of Criticism, 1–20. Edited by Stephen G. Nichols. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1963. Wellek, René, and Austin Warren. Theory of Literature. Rev. ed. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1956.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

367

Wellhausen, Julius. Das Evangelium Marci Übersetzt und Erklärt. Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1903. _____. Einleitung in die Drei Ersten Evangelien. Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1903. Wenham, David. “The Meaning of Mark III.21.” NTS 21, no. 2 (1975): 295–300. _____. “Recent Study of Mark 13.” TSFBul 71 (1975): 6–15; 72 (1975): 1–9. White, K. D. “The Parable of the Sower.” JTS 15, no. 2 (1964): 300–307. Wikramanayake, George H. “A Note on the PISTEIS in Aristotle’s Rhetoric.” AJP 82, no. 2 (1961): 193–96. Wilcox, Stanley. “The Scope of Early Rhetorical Instruction.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 53 (1942): 121–55. Wilder, Amos N. “The Parable of the Sower: Naivete and Method in Interpretation.” Semeia 2 (1974): 134–51. Wilke, Christian Gottlob. Die neutestamentliche Rhetorik: Ein Seitenstuck zur Grammatik des neutestamentlichen Sprachidioms. Dresden: Arnold, 1843. Wills, Lawrence M. The Quest of the Historical Gospel: Mark, John, and the Origins of the Gospel Genre. London: Routledge, 1997. Wilner, Wilhelm. “The Rhetorical Genre of Jesus’ Sermon in Luke 12:1–13:9.” In Persuasive Artistry: Studies in New Testament Rhetoric in Honor of George A. Kennedy, edited by Duane F. Watson, 93–118. JSNTSup 50. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991. Windisch, H. “Die Verstockungsidee in Mc 4,12 und das kausale hina der späteren Koine.” ZNW 26 (1927): 203–9. Winterbottom, Michael. Roman Declamation. Bristol: Bristol Classical Press, 1980. Wisse, Jakob. Ethos and Pathos from Aristotle to Cicero. Amsterdam: A. M. Hakkert, 1989. Witherington, Ben, III. The Gospel of Mark: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001. _____. New Testament Rhetoric: An Introductory Guide to the Art of Persuasion in and of the New Testament. Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2009. Wojciechowski, M. “Sur hina dans Mc 4,12.” BN 28 (1985): 36–37. _____. “Une autre division de Mc 4,5–6.” BN 28 (1985): 38. Wrede, Willem. The Messianic Secret. Translated by J. C. G. Greig. Green-

368

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

wood, SC: Attic Press, 1971. Originally published as Das Messiasgeheimnis. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1901. Wright, Addison G. “The Widow’s Mites: Praise or Lament?—A Matter of Context.” CBQ 44, no. 2 (1982): 256–65. Wuellner, Wilhelm. “Where is Rhetorical Criticism Taking Us?” CBQ 49, no. 3 (1987): 448–63. Xenophon. Agesilas. Translated by E. C. Marchant. In Scripta Minora, 59–134. LCL 183. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1925. Young, David M. “Whoever Has Ears to Hear: The Discourses of Jesus in Mark as Primary Rhetoric of the Greco-Roman Period.” PhD diss., Vanderbilt University, 1994. Zeitlin, Solomon. “Korban.” JQR 53, no. 2 (1962): 160–63. _____. “Korban: A Gift.” JQR 59, no. 2 (1968): 133–35. Zerwick, Max. Untersuchungen zum Markus-Stil: Ein Beitrag zur stilistischen Durcharbeitung des Neuen Testaments. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1937.

Index of Modern Authors

Amador, J. D. H., 59

Faye, Gregory, 125–26, 171

Bacon, Benjamin Wisner, 4n10 Beavis, Mary Ann, 51, 81n23, 145n63 Bengel, Johann Albrecht, 56–57 Booth, Roger P., 42n3 Bryan, Christopher, 12n34, 13, 51–52, 54n37 Bultmann, Rudolf, xv–xvi, 5, 6, 7, 11n32, 57, 78, 79, 187n5, 188, 205n39, 209n6 Busch, Friedrich, 220

Gaston, Lloyd, 218 Glassius, Solomon, 56 Gnilka, Joachim, 8, 103n87, 138n42, 145n62, 152n75, 188n8, 221n15 Grundmann, Walter, 8, 82n24, 103n87, 187n7 Gundry, Robert H., 232n33, 234n39, 237n47, 246n59, 247n60, 250n65, 258, 263n83, 270, 271n92, 279, 285n114 Guy, Harold A., 122n5, 272n93

Cadoux, Arthur Temple, 4–5 Colani, Timothée, 218 Crossan, John Dominic, 80n20, 92n51, 103n106, 172n107, 178, 179n125, 232n31, 253n72 Cuvillier, Elian, 93n55, 96n67, 100n79, 147n65 Dewey, Joanna, 1n1, 15, 18, 20–24, 27, 38, 48n15, 51, 125n9 Dibelius, Martin, 5 Dupont, Jacques, 145n9, 159n90, 173n108, 175

Horsley, Richard, 16 Huby, R. P. J., 4 Iersel, Bas M. F. van, 23–25 Incigneri, Brian J., 30–32 Iser, Wolfgang , 41, 42n3 Jeremias, Joachim, 108n92, 129n19, 140n47, 141n54, 151n74, 152n75, 172n107, 220n12 Juel, Donald H., 7n15, 15, 16n25, 91n50 Jülicher, Adolf , 92–93

370

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Kennedy, George, xviii, xix, 11n31, 43n5, 47, 48n15, 53n33, 54n39, 59, 62–66, 72–73, 77, 84n31, 86, 123, 195–96n19, 244, 285n6, 299, 300, 301n7, 309n29, 310n31, 314n45, 306 Knox, Wilfred L., 218–20 Koester, Helmut, 164n98 Lambrecht, Jan, 18–20, 38, 51, 77n14, 80n20, 110, 120n101, 125n9, 188n8, 220, 221n14, 222, 268n89 Loisy, Alfred Firmin, 4, 80, 144n60, 219n6 Lührmann, Dieter, 8, 121n4 Mack, Burton L., 33–36, 38–39, 45, 51–52, 53n33, 56n46, 58, 62, 92n53, 130, 138, 167n100, 264n85, 295n6 Marrou, Henri Irénée, 44n7, 48n15, 52, 54, 311, 312n37, 313n42, 317n56 Marxsen, Willi, 7, 218n5, 219n6 McCall, Marsh H., 93–95, 97, 99, 177n119 Meagher, John C., 9n23 Mlakuzhyil, George, 63–64, 73, 76, 122–23, 222 Muilenburg, James, 20, 57, 58n53 Nineham, D. E., 8, 145n62, 150n73, 207n42, 208n5

Olbrechts-Tyteca, L., 57 Olbricht, Thomas H., 58n15, 59, 60n60, 61 Perelman, Chaïm, 57 Pesch, Rudolf, 8, 11n32, 127n12, 131n21, 144n59, 151n74, 218n2, 219n6, 220, 245n57, 266n86, 295n5 Porter, Stanley F., 58n15, 59, 60n60, 61 Radermakers, Jean, 51 Robbins, Vernon K., 1n1, 12n36, 33–36, 38–39, 45, 51–52, 53n33, 56n46, 58, 62, 92n53, 130, 138, 167n100, 264n85, 295n6 Schmidt, Karl Ludwig, 11n29, 187n4, 220n10 Standaert, Benoît H. M. G. M., 22–23, 27, 48–50, 88n40, 123n8, 125n9 TeSelle, Sally McFague, 92 Tolbert, Mary Ann, xiii, 9n25, 10n27, 11n32, 12n38, 13n42, 26–29, 30, 38–39, 41n1, 50, 67n79, 69n81, 75n11, 76, 82n26, 113n106, 126n11, 127, 145n63, 150, 157–62, 163n96, 164n99, 176n115, 178n123, 183n131, 221, 224, 230, 232–34, 236, 237n46, 238n49, 243, 251, 254–55,

INDEX OF MODERN AUTHORS

258, 267n87, 271n92, 281, 287n116, 295n5 Trocmé, Étienne, 8, 11, 139n44 Upton, Bridget Gilfillan, 48n15, 52 Via, Dan Otto, 92–93 Warner, Martin, 59

371

Weis, Johannes, 4 Wellhausen, Julius, 4 Witherington, Ben, III, 35–39, 48n15, 62n66, 73n6, 88n40, 81n47, 103n87, 135n34, 195n19 Wrede, Willem, 3, 8–9, 81n24, 155

Index of Ancient Literature

GREGO-ROMAN WORKS Anonymous / Unknown

Augustine

On the Sublime (attrib. Longinus), 48n14, 74n7, 315

On Christian Doctrine, 46n9, 56n43, 147n66, 317

Rhetorica ad Herennium, 65n72, 82, 83, 85, 86, 90, 94n60, 96, 104n88, 109, 110n97, 132n26, 137n37, 141, 143, 154n81, 167n101, 170n103, 176, 186n116, 178n122, 196n22, 197n24, 198, 200n31, 247, 252–53, 259n80, 263n83, 282, 306, 307n25, 309

Confessions, 48n15, 55n41, 312n39

Cicero De Inventione, 46n9, 83n28, 39, 94n61, 109n96, 110, 112, 132n26, 195, 206n40, 208n44, 211n49, 299n1, 306–9 De Oratore, 143n56, 147n66, 196n21, 211n51, 253n71, 274n96, 299n1, 308, 322n1 The Best Kind of Orator, 133n30

Aristotle Poetics, 68n80, 73n3, 74n8, 75n9, 303n15 Rhetoric, 47n9, 65n72, 83n27, 84, 86n36, 87n39, 88, 90, 91, 93, 94, 95, 98, 109n96, 110, 111, 132n26, 133, 147, 153, 174, 193n16, 196, 197, 199n28, 201n33, 202, 206n40, 208n43, 210n47, 211n50, 244n55, 281, 301–9, 322 Rhetoric to Alexander (PseudoAristotle), 83n27, 133n30, 284n113, 301–4

Demetrius On Style, 48n14, 89n43, 94n59, 96–97, 103, 110n100, 136n36, 147–48, 173–74, 177n118, 199n28, 200n30, 203n373, 306, 320, 324 Hermogenes Opera, 315–16 Progymnasmata, 55n41, 299n1 Rhetores Graeci, 46n9

374

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

Isocrates

Xenophon

Antidosis, 133n30, 300n5

Agesilas, 49

Ad Demonicus (Pseudo-Isocrates), 131n22

Ephesiaca, 52

Evagoras, 49n16

HEBREW BIBLE / OLD TESTAMENT / LXX Genesis 1:26–28 . . . . . . 232

Panegyricus, 133n30 Juvenal Satirae , 53n36 Plato Gorgias, 46n9, 299–303 Phaedrus, 46n9, 68n80, 299n1, 300n3, 301n7, 302n10, 303–4 Pliny Epistles, 48n16 Polybius Histories, 48n16, 55n41 Quintilian Institutes, 48n16, 52n29, 55n41, 78n16, 83n28, 88, 89, 95, 97, 98, 99, 100, 109n96, 104n108, 131, 132n26, 133–34, 136, 137n37, 138, 139n45, 143, 147, 154n81, 170, 196n21, 203, 208n44, 247n61, 253, 259n80, 263n83, 274n96, 299n1, 300n3, 301n7, 304n20, 306, 310, 311–16 Thucydides History, 55n41

Exodus 6:3 . . . . . . 234 20:12 . . . . . . 201 21:16 . . . . . . 201 22:18 . . . . . . 84n32 Leviticus 19:18 LXX . . . . . . 235n42 19:26, 31 . . . . . . 84n32 Deuteronomy 6:4–5 LXX . . . . . . 235n41 13:7 . . . . . . 280n104 18:10–13 . . . . . . 84n32 2 Kings 21:5–6 . . . . . . 84n32 Psalms 110:11 . . . . . . 236 118:22 . . . . . . 224–25 118:22–23 . . . . . . 255 Isaiah 5:1–2 . . . . . . 246, 255 5:1–7 . . . . . . 255n75

INDEX OF ANCIENT LITERATURE

6:9–10 . . . . . . 135n36, 152, 157n87 13:10 . . . . . . 277n100 29:13 LXX . . . . . . 197 34:4 . . . . . . 277n100 Jeremiah 5:21 . . . . . . 157n87 Daniel 7:13 LXX . . . . . . 278n102 9:27 . . . . . . 271n92 11:31 . . . . . . 271n92 12:11 LXX . . . . . . 271n92 JEWISH APOCRYPHA / PSEUDEPIGRAPHA 2 Baruch (Syriac Apocalypse) 27:7 . . . . . . 263n84 70:3, 8 . . . . . . 263n84 Assumption of Moses 10:55 . . . . . . 277n100 Barn. 16:1–2, 4–5 . . . . . . 247n60 1 Enoch 80:4–8 . . . . . . 277n100 89:56, 66b–67, 73 . . . . . . 247n60 94:4 . . . . . . 263n84 102:2 . . . . . . 277n100 4 Ezra 5:4 . . . . . . 277n100 13:31 . . . . . . 263n84

375

Testament of Solomon . . . . . . 81n23 JEWISH LITERATURE Tg. Isa. 5:2 . . . . . . 247n60 Mishnah Yadaim . . . . . . 191n12 Tosefta t. Mecil. 1:16 . . . . . . 247n60 t. Sukkah 3:15 . . . . . . 247n60 Sibylline Oracles 3:635 . . . . . . 263n84 3:796–806 . . . . . . 277n100 NEW TESTAMENT Matthew 12:22–32, 46–50 . . . . . . 78 13:19 . . . . . . 183n131 Mark 1:1 . . . . . . 295n4 1:2–6:29 . . . . . . 25 1:8, 10, 12 . . . . . . 111 1:9 . . . . . . 74n6 1:11 . . . . . . 250 1:14 . . . . . . 74n6, 149, 179 1:15 . . . . . . 149, 179 1:16–20 . . . . . . 127 1:17 . . . . . . 149 1:21 . . . . . . 128 1:21–28 . . . . . . xix, 118n116, 133, 150 1:22 . . . . . . 82, 131

376

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

1:27 . . . . . . 82 1:29 . . . . . . 73n5 1:32–34 . . . . . . 76 1:45 . . . . . . 246n58 2:1–12 . . . . . . 79, 150 2:1–17 . . . . . . 76 2:1–3:6 . . . . . . 20 2:2–3 . . . . . . 132 2:12 . . . . . . 80 2:13–14 . . . . . . 127, 130 2:14 . . . . . . 149 2:15 . . . . . . 73n5 2:18–3:6 . . . . . . 209n46 2:23–3:6 . . . . . . 194 2:23 . . . . . . 123 2:24 . . . . . . 115n111 3:1 . . . . . . 71n6 3:6 . . . . . . 27 3:7–12 . . . . . . 76, 78, 79, 128 3:7–35 . . . . . . 27 3:11 . . . . . . 81, 111 3:13 . . . . . . 75 3:14 . . . . . . 79, 113, 115, 144 3:19b–30 . . . . . . 72n2 3:20–35 . . . . . . 6, 37, 71–118, 122–23, 126, 136, 145, 160, 189n11, 191, 193, 198n26, 227, 229, 257, 260, 265, 269, 324 3:20–22 . . . . . . 74 3:20–30 . . . . . . 243 3:20 . . . . . . 73, 75–76 3:21–22 . . . . . . 82 3:22–30 . . . . . . 6 3:22 . . . . . . 27 3:23 . . . . . . 130

3:24 . . . . . . 149 3:25–26 . . . . . . 91, 92, 98, 100, 130 3:25 . . . . . . 27 3:28–29 . . . . . . 211n48 3:28 . . . . . . 109 3:30–35 . . . . . . 149 3:31–35 . . . . . . 6, 115n109 3:31 . . . . . . 90n47 3:33–35 . . . . . . 90n47, 123 3:35 . . . . . . 74–75 4:1–2 . . . . . . 26, 123, 124, 129, 131 4:1–9 . . . . . . 256 4:1–34 . . . . . . xvii, xix, xx, 25, 68, 119–84, 245n56, 246, 4:1–36 . . . . . . 125 4:1 . . . . . . 74–76, 122–25, 128 4:2 . . . . . . 123–24, 130 4:3–8 . . . . . . 139 4:3–9 . . . . . . 123 4:3 . . . . . . 124, 137 4:3–4 . . . . . . 324 4:10–12 . . . . . . 26, 136n6, 140n44, 256 4:10 . . . . . . 144–45 4:11–12 . . . . . . 135n34, 155, 256 4:11 . . . . . . 149, 155 4:12 . . . . . . 323, 326 4:13–20 . . . . . . 256 4:13 . . . . . . 155 4:14 . . . . . . 155n90 4:15 . . . . . . 155n90 4:16 . . . . . . 155n90 4:18 . . . . . . 155n90 4:19 . . . . . . 155n90

INDEX OF ANCIENT LITERATURE

4:20 . . . . . . 155n90 4:21–23 . . . . . . 149 4:24–32 . . . . . . 183n131 4:26–29 . . . . . . 279n104 4:26 . . . . . . 123 4:31 . . . . . . 124 4:32 . . . . . . 124 4:33–34 . . . . . . 26, 123n6, 129n17, 131, 293 4:33–35 . . . . . . 123 4:33 . . . . . . 124 4:34 . . . . . . 122–25, 144 4:35–36 . . . . . . 122, 124 4:35–41 . . . . . . 175 4:36 . . . . . . 123 5:17 . . . . . . 246n58 5:19–20 . . . . . . 285 5:20 . . . . . . 123n7, 187n7, 246n58 5:22 . . . . . . 187n7 5:42 . . . . . . 80 6:1–6 . . . . . . 80 6:1 . . . . . . 73 6:2 . . . . . . 123, 246n58 6:7 . . . . . . 123 6:17 . . . . . . 79 6:30–11:9 . . . . . . 25 6:34 . . . . . . 246n58 6:44 . . . . . . 187n7 6:45 . . . . . . 187 6:50 . . . . . . 263n85 6:51 . . . . . . 187 6:52 . . . . . . 156n87, 189, 209n46 6:53–56 . . . . . . 25, 188, 194 6:53–7:23 . . . . . . xvii, xix, 185–212 6:53 . . . . . . 187–90

377

6:55 . . . . . . 227 6:56 . . . . . . 189 7:1–5 . . . . . . 205 7:1–8 . . . . . . 37 7:1–23 . . . . . . 10, 28, 37, 187–88, 194, 209n45, 229, 260, 265 7:1 . . . . . . 188–90, 227 7:2 . . . . . . 189 7:5 . . . . . . 188–89 7:8 . . . . . . 324 7:9–13 . . . . . . 38 7:14–23 . . . . . . 37 7:14 . . . . . . 190, 227 7:15 . . . . . . 189 7:16 . . . . . . 186n1 7:17–23 . . . . . . 69, 227 7:17 . . . . . . 189–90 7:18 . . . . . . 157n87, 189 7:18–23 . . . . . . 151n73 7:20–23 . . . . . . 189 7:20 . . . . . . 189 7:23 . . . . . . 186, 189–90 7:24 . . . . . . 189–90 7:27 . . . . . . 320 7:28 . . . . . . 285 8:11 . . . . . . 246n58 8:12 . . . . . . 108n93 281n109 8:17–21 . . . . . . 157n87 8:27–33 . . . . . . 157n87 8:27–9:13 . . . . . . 25 8:31–33 . . . . . . 232n33 8:31 . . . . . . 123n7, 230n25, 246n58, 266 8:32 . . . . . . 246n58 8:34–35 . . . . . . 266

378

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

8:38 . . . . . . 117n117, 278n103, 281n109 9:1 . . . . . . 109n94 9:19 . . . . . . 281n109 9:24 . . . . . . 285 9:28–29 . . . . . . 151n73 9:41 . . . . . . 108n93 10:1–12 . . . . . . 28, 151n73 10:1 . . . . . . 73 10:15 . . . . . . 108n93 10:28 . . . . . . 123n7, 246n58 10:29 . . . . . . 109n94 10:32 . . . . . . 123n7, 246n58 10:33 . . . . . . 26 10:34 . . . . . . 266 10:45 . . . . . . 278n103 10:47 . . . . . . 246n58 10:47–48 . . . . . . 237n46 10:51 . . . . . . 285 11:1–16:8 . . . . . . 28 11:3 . . . . . . 285 11:10 . . . . . . 237n46 11:11 . . . . . . 21, 238 11:15 . . . . . . 123 11:12–14 . . . . . . 228 11:20 . . . . . . 228 11:20–26 . . . . . . 228 11:27–33 . . . . . . 228n23, 231n29, 242, 244 11:27–12:12 . . . . . . 223–24 11:27–12:44 . . . . . . 223n19 11:27–13:37 . . . . . . xvii, xix, 181, 213–288 11:27 . . . . . . 222, 227–28, 230 12:1–8 . . . . . . 251, 262, 278 12:1–11 . . . . . . 253

12:1–12 . . . . . . 70, 139n44, 177n117, 221, 224–25, 227–29, 231n29, 236, 242–43, 246, 253, 258n79, 260, 262, 272n95, 287 12:1–13:37 . . . . . . 245 12:1 . . . . . . 123, 247n61, 255, 284, 320 12:5 . . . . . . 224 12:7 . . . . . . 224 12:8 . . . . . . 224 12:9–11 . . . . . . 253, 256 12:9 . . . . . . 284 12:10–11 . . . . . . 257 12:10 . . . . . . 257 12:11 . . . . . . 257, 260 12:12 . . . . . . 79, 226n22, 242, 256 12:13–17 . . . . . . 78 12:13–40 . . . . . . 224 12:13–44 . . . . . . 28, 257, 286, 287 12:13 . . . . . . 248 12:16 . . . . . . 232 12:17 . . . . . . 232 12:18–27 . . . . . . 78 12:27 . . . . . . 234 12:28–34 . . . . . . 78 12:34 . . . . . . 236n44, 295n3 12:35 . . . . . . 241 12:36 . . . . . . 236 12:37–40 . . . . . . 238n48 12:37 . . . . . . 222, 225 12:38–40 . . . . . . 248 12:38 . . . . . . 241 12:40 . . . . . . 140n48 12:43 . . . . . . 109n94 13:1–2 . . . . . . 257

INDEX OF ANCIENT LITERATURE

13:1–3 . . . . . . 227 13:1–4 . . . . . . 242–44, 253, 256–57, 284 13:1–37 . . . . . . 25, 151n73, 224 13:1 . . . . . . 21, 222–23, 241 13:2 . . . . . . 258 13:3 . . . . . . 222 13:3–37 . . . . . . 69 13:4 . . . . . . 248, 258, 276 13:5–37 . . . . . . 225, 228–29, 242–46, 248, 253, 256, 260, 287 13:5 . . . . . . 226n22, 246n58, 257, 261–62 13:9–11 . . . . . . 253, 267 13:9–13 . . . . . . 252 13:14 . . . . . . 69n81 13:14–20 . . . . . . 219 13:17 . . . . . . 272n95 13:20 . . . . . . 285 13:24–27 . . . . . . 278 13:24 . . . . . . 273n95 13:26 . . . . . . 285 13:26–29 . . . . . . 177n117 13:27 . . . . . . 252, 279n104 13:30–37 . . . . . . 228 13:33 . . . . . . 320 13:34–37 . . . . . . 175 13:35 . . . . . . 285 13:37 . . . . . . 28, 221, 222, 225–26, 228, 241 14:1–2 . . . . . . 222 14:1–3 . . . . . . 222, 227 14:1 . . . . . . 79, 222, 224 14:3 . . . . . . 222 14:9 . . . . . . 109n94

14:25 . . . . . . 109n94 14:27 . . . . . . 157n87 14:28–29 . . . . . . 109n94 14:37 . . . . . . 73, 161 14:41 . . . . . . 73 14:43 . . . . . . 230n25 14:49 . . . . . . 273n95 14:53–65 . . . . . . 192n13 14:55, 59 . . . . . . 267n87 14:62 . . . . . . 263n85, 278n103 14:63–64 . . . . . . 251n67 14:69, 71 . . . . . . 246n58 15:18 . . . . . . 246n58 15:39 . . . . . . 295n4 Q 11:14–26 . . . . . . 72 Luke 8:19–21 . . . . . . 78 11:14–23 . . . . . . 78 11:24–26 . . . . . . 103n87 12:10 . . . . . . 78 Acts 26:24 . . . . . . 80n21 Romans 14:14 . . . . . . 208n42 1 Corinthians 2:1–5 . . . . . . 295 2:1–11 . . . . . . 88n40 2 Corinthians 5:11 . . . . . . 295

379

380

DAVID M. YOUNG AND MICHAEL STRICKLAND

5:13 . . . . . . 80n21 Hebrews 1:1 . . . . . . 319

Revelation 6:8 . . . . . . 263n84 11:13 . . . . . . 263n84 16:18 . . . . . . 263n84

A NEW VIEW OF MARK

Young & Strickland

RHETORICAL CRITICISM OFFERS Young and Strickland analyze Jesus’s four largest discourses in Mark in the context of Greco-Roman rhetoric in an attempt to hear them as a first-century audience would have heard them. Their analysis uncovers how the discourses are constructed; what issues each discourse seeks to treat; how the argumentation, arrangement, and style of each discourse contributes to its overall purpose; and how the discourse fits into the overall narrative context of the Gospel. The authors demonstrate that, contrary to what some historical critics have suggested, first-century audiences of Mark would have found the discourses of Jesus unified, well-integrated, and persuasive. They also show how these speeches of the Markan Jesus contribute to Mark’s overall narrative accomplishments.

“A wonderful gift for experts and novices in ancient rhetoric. Experts will appreciate the fresh and compelling reading of the four largest discourses in Mark. Non-experts will discover an accessible introduction to rhetorical criticism of the New Testament. Both will be reminded that the writer of Mark was not a simple collector of traditions about Jesus but, rather, a skilled writer who was obviously persuasive to the first-century audience.” Mark Black | Hazelip School of Theology, Lipscomb University

“Of the rhetorical analysis of Mark’s Gospel, I know of no finer work than that of Young and Strickland. This analysis is both clear and compelling, and shows that a rhetorical analysis of Mark’s chreiai and other aspects of his Gospel is not merely useful but necessary to fully understand Mark’s portrait of Jesus. Highly recommended.” Ben Witherington III | Asbury Theological Seminary

“This is an important introduction to Gospel studies in the twentieth century with a spotlight on international Markan scholarship. Its main contribution is the analysis of four Markan discourses viewed from the perspective of ancient rhetoric. I highly recommend this book to those who wish for an especially helpful introduction to contemporary Markan studies along with a modus operandi for criticism based upon the dictates of ancient rhetoric.” Thomas H. Olbricht | professor emeritus, Pepperdine University

DAVID M. YOUNG is senior minister for the North Boulevard Church of Christ in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and the author of Extreme Discipleship: Following Jesus from the Gospel of Mark (2007). MICHAEL STRICKLAND is associate dean of the Turner School of Theology at Amridge University and the author of The Evangelicals and the Synoptic Problem (2014). RELIGION / NEW TESTAMENT

THE RHETORIC OF JESUS IN THE GOSPEL OF MARK

Praise for The Rhetoric of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark

THE RHETORIC OF JESUS IN THE GOSPEL OF MARK David M. Young & Michael Strickland