Note: This is part two in a series of debates on the Christology of the Synoptic Gospels (part 1 here). Rodrigo Morales is starting off, I’m responding, and he is then given the opportunity of a rejoinder.
RJM:
I’m shamelessly stealing my second example from our esteemed Doktorvater Richard Hays. Hays notices a peculiar detail in Mark’s account of Jesus’ walking on the water (Mark 6:45-52). As Jesus comes towards the boat,
Mark writes, “And he meant to pass them by” (6:48b). What an odd description – why would Jesus pass them by? Hays suggests that Mark uses this language to show subtly and allusively an important aspect of Jesus’ identity.
Three different passages in the Old Testament describe God in the act of “passing by” someone. In Exodus 33, when Moses asks to see God’s glory, God hides him in the cleft of a rock while “[God’s] glory passes by” (Exod 33:22). Similarly, in 1 Kings 19 when Elijah meets the LORD on Mount Horeb, the writer notes, “The LORD passed by” (1 Kings 19:11). Both of these stories recount theophanies, revelations of God to the prophets. In a similar way, the walking on the water in Mark functions as a theophany, especially when one takes into account the language from Job that overlaps with the story.
In Job 9, Job gives a lengthy description of God that includes some interesting phrases: “who [God] alone stretched out the heavens, and trampled the waves of the sea” (Job 9:8). The LXX of Job is even closer to Mark’s language of walking on the water. Shortly thereafter, Job continues, “Lo, he passes by me, and I see him not; he moves on, but I do not perceive him.” This language of walking on the water, passing by, and lack of understanding dovetails perfectly with Mark’s account. Mark is presenting Jesus as the manifestation of God, and his disciples in the role of uncomprehending Job.
JRDK:
There are a couple of contextual clues for interpreting that enigmatic statement about Jesus intending to pass by the disciples. First, in 6:52, the reason the disciples don’t get it, and presumably thus the reason why Jesus was not able to pass by them, is that “they didn’t understand about the loaves, but their heart was hardened” (6:52). This means that our interpretation of the feeding narrative must inform our reading of the water-walking.
Second, there is a near repeat of this episode in ch. 8. After feeding the 4,000 the disciples forget to take bread as they head off in a boat. When Jesus tells them to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Herod, they start wondering if it’s because they’d forgotten bread. Jesus asks if their heart has been hardened, if they, having eyes, are blind, if they, having ears, are deaf. Then he asks them to remember about how many baskets of leftover bread they had at each feeding.
I would argue that this series of failures by the disciples is tied to their lack of understanding of Jesus’ identity /vocation as Messiah. But rather than showing us by hints and allusions that Jesus is God, I see Mark showing us that Jesus is (1) the unique representative of God on earth, with power to rule the entire created order on God’s behalf, and (2) the Messiah who comes into his kingdom by suffering.
The ch. 8 rebuke is tied to the story of the healing of the blind man in two stages; this, in turn, is connected to Peter’s simultaneously correct and tragically misguided notion of Jesus as Messiah. Jesus, as Messiah, is going to have to die. As I argued last time, this is about Messianic vocation, something quite different from Jesus’ divinity (or lack thereof). The “leaven of the Pharisees and Herod” might refer to any number of wrong ways to conceptualize the kingdom of God, but “God as king of the kingdom” doesn’t seem to be one of them.
Back to Mark 6 itself, Mark invites us to read the feeding and water-walking as a description of Jesus as the shepherd of Israel (6:34–they were like sheep without a shepherd, so he began to teach them many things). If there is an extended OT allusion, I’d argue that it is to Psalm 23, where the shepherd ensures that the people do not want, makes them to lie down in green pastures (6:39) and, in the LXX, leads upon (epi) still waters. Jesus, I would argue, was going to pass them by not to reveal God but to lead them as faithful shepherd. They should have known he was such a shepherd from the loaves.
On the one hand, if the OT is determinative for the content of the NT allusion, one can say that “The Lord is my shepherd” = YHWH = Jesus. Or, as we see often in other parts of the NT, the narrative of the OT might be given new substance with the person and presence of Jesus. Not only is the LORD the shepherd of the flock, but the good king is a faithful shepherd, caring for the flock of God as God Himself would.
RJM:
I agree that the walking on the water and the feeding of the 5,000 go together, and I’m happy to connect it with Psalm 23. Daniel’s reading of Mark’s allusion to the psalm, however, seems like a classic case of special pleading to me. I think the interpretation “The Lord is my shepherd” = YHWH = Jesus is the most natural one, and strengthens my interpretation of the Isaiah citation at the beginning of the Gospel. (There is another OT text that would suit Daniel’s interpretation much better and fits quite well with the reference to the people as “sheep without a shepherd” [let the reader understand], but I’m not going to give it away. 
In my initial post for lack of space I left out an important element of the walking on the water story that I think seals an interpretation in terms of divine identity. When the disciples see Jesus coming to them on the water, they become terrified (a typical Markan theme) and think that he’s a ghost. Jesus reassures them with the words, “ἐγώ εἰμι.” One could translate this flatly as a simple, “It’s me.” Given the other allusions to the theophanies of the OT, however, it seems much more likely that Mark has Jesus appropriate the divine name from Exodus 3:14, “I AM.” The combination of walking on the water, intending to pass by the disciples, and appropriating the divine name all point in the direction of an identification on Mark’s part of Jesus with the God of Israel.
Again, this is not to deny the importance of Jesus’ humanity or his suffering – these are clearly important to Mark. Nevertheless, I believe this reading of the walking on the water adds a further dimension to Jesus’ already mysterious identity in this cryptic gospel.
Now to you: what’s your take, o dutiful reader of the Gospels?
I have serious difficulties with some of these sorts of interpretations. The argument seems to be that, on the one hand, the Gospel author could not simply come right out and identify Jesus with the God of Israel, while on the other hand, the author could depict Jesus in terms which echo language applied to God in the Jewish Scriptures and make the point in a way that would allegedly have made the same point. But these two claims – that the author could not simply come right out and proclaim Jesus’ divinity, and yet could use subtle methods to make the point and be understood – seem to be in tension with one another.
Also too frequently neglected is that, at least initially, few would have actually read Mark’s account, given that literacy was not widespread. They would more likely have heard it read in some collective gathering. And I’m not sure to what extent such subtle points, made via not unambiguous allusions to Scriptural language, would have communicated the Christological content that is sometimes suggested.
This may be the argument of some people, but it’s not my argument, and I didn’t mean to imply it. There are any number of reasons Mark (or the other evangelists) might not come right out and identify Jesus with the God of Israel. In Mark’s case, his gospel is secretive and mysterious, marked by subtlety. For other evangelists, how are they supposed to do this? Insert a line in the gospel, “By the way, in case you didn’t get it, Jesus is God”? I think the best way to express such a claim smoothly in a narrative text is to do so by allusion and implication. If someone had asked Mark in the first century whether Jesus was to be identified somehow with the God of Israel, would he have said yes? I think so, but maybe I need to read your new book to be set straight.
I’m not swayed by the literacy/aurality arguments for a couple of reasons. First, I don’t think reading ability is the only mark of literacy or of the ability to catch allusions and subtlety. Second, we have no idea how much of Israel’s Scriptures Mark’s readers/listeners would have been familiar with, but his text (as well as those of the other NT writers) seems to presuppose pretty substantial knowledge of the OT story. Third, and perhaps most importantly, ultimately I think the question is less about whether Mark’s readers/listeners would have gotten it and more about whether Mark intended it. I think Mark gives us many grounds to believe that he did.
Well, by all means read my book!
But in fact, it says relatively little about the Synoptics, since the Synoptics have little (and perhaps nothing) explicit in terms of a divine Christology.
The Gospel of John manages to attribute to Jesus an awareness of pre-existence in a narrative, and the Gospel of Luke manages to depict Jesus as a human being who grew in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and people, and who accomplished what he did through the power of God’s Spirit at work in him.
And since both of these sorts of views could be found in later Christian Gospels, perhaps the key is to ask what we think Mark was saying, without assuming that it must be either the same as Luke or John. But I would still find it surprising if Mark made important Christological claims only by telling stories in which, if you missed subtle allusions, you would have missed the point. And to be clear, in saying this I’m not suggesting that this is what YOU are saying!
Disclaimer: I am no scholar.
That being said, Jesus also responds to high priest by stating “I am” (ἐγώ εἰμι). I have been wondering if there is a subtle divinity aspect to Jesus’ answer? I do believe that Mark’s main concern is Jesus as God’s agent, more to the point, a suffering agent. The only seemingly right human response to Jesus’ identity is when he is viewed crucified on the cross by the centurion.
I’m trying to get my head around Daniel’s illustration of the Shepherd. At first it seems a bit of stretch (I can now challenge Daniel because he is no longer my professor:) ). And Mr. McGrath makes a great point on the author’s intention, but I think the answer to this tension lies in the whole narrative of Mark.
Mr. RJM sounds like my Dad and we’ve been having this discussion a lot recently. I play the role of Daniel.
I do agree with Mark reading like a book of secrets and mystery. Supported by the constant questioning of ‘understanding.’ So, the idea of this scene being a moment where the ‘veil’ is lifted, is possible in the Markan narrative.
Correction: Mark 15:2 isn’t ‘I am’ that would be in Matthew.
Point: Morales. The allusions to Job 9:8, 11 LXX seem to me decisive, especially considering the theme of mistaken identity when the disciples mistake Jesus for a phantasm.
A favorite quote from Vincent Taylor: “The sheer humanity of the Markan portraiture catches the eye of the most careless reader; and yet it is but half seen if it is not perceived that this Man of Sorrows is also a Being of supernatural origin and dignity, since He is the Son of God…Mark’s Christology is a high Christology, as high as any in the New Testament, not excluding that of John” (Gospel according to St. Mark, 121).
Might I somewhat tongue in cheek suggest that it sounds like Vincent Taylor may have made the same mistake as the disciples, namely mistaking the human, divinely-empowered Messiah for a supernatural entity.
But on a more serious level, I wonder whether anyone has ever perceived the supposed allusion to Job without either (1) reading Job and just happening to notice it, or (2) using a concordance. It doesn’t strike me as the sort of thing the typical reader, much less the typical hearer, would pick up on.
You may indeed suggest that, but until someone comes up with a better alternative for “He intended to pass them by…”, I’ll remain unconvinced. The verbal and thematic correspondence with not just Job but a wide swath of OT texts and themes pertaining to theophany. Further, Jesus can be both God and God-powered; indeed, classical Christology insists on the fact that Jesus did his miracles by the power of the Spirit, not his own raw power. Thinking otherwise skirts docetism, if I recall correctly.
The typical reader or hearer misses a lot of things, as we all know. That’s why Kirk can write the book he did, seeing what no one saw in nineteen hundred and fifty years. Same holds for my own work on Matthew. The question is whether the locus of allusion is in the text, author, or hearer(s)/reader(s). I’d opt for a text-and-Model Reader approach.
Perhaps a good test would be whether, if this language was found used in reference to any other individual, you would agree that there is an allusion. If not, then does that not suggest that the reader has to bring the assumption of Jesus’ divinity, and/or the desire to find it in Mark, in order to make the connection? And from one perspective, the question of what Mark’s earliest readers would have assumed is the question.
One of my recurring tests for whether we’re supposed to read a God reference is whether a human does the same thing–along the lines of what James suggests here.
So here’s a follow-up: If Jesus’ water-walking is part of an intended theophany, what’s Peter’s?
Daniel, we’re interpreting Mark’s Gospel here, not Matthew’s.
Fair enough.
How does the whole dual narrative of feeding and water-walking support the theophany thesis?
In principle, yes, but I think we’re dealing with a single case, and so we need to do what CS Peirce and Umberto Eco call abuction: reason about the single case. (Unless I’m overlooking something else). And I hardly think reading the Church’s Scripture in accord with the Church’s conviction is wrongheaded. Again, until I see a better explanation of “He intended…” As far as what Mark’s readers/hearers would have made of it…which one? Presumably the audience(s) comprised diverse individuals. I wouldn’t want TS Eliot’s poetry evaluated in light of what our sophomores here do with it, bright as they are. Another reason I like talking about texts and model readers: We actually have some sort of access to the text.
Just to clarify: I don’t think we can read Jesus’ divinity into each pericope because of the Nicene Creed. But I do think in this instance in Mark it’s in the text.
Daniel, I’d have to look into it more: I think there’s hints of Jesus divinity in the feeding, iirc. It’s in my notes at school.
I keep coming back, in my own thinking on this text, to the larger context of Mark’s Gospel, which points in a different direction from divinity.
Who is the Jesus that Mark intends for his disciples to follow? That, I think, is the question that brings us face to face with the disciples’ failure in the boat. Yes, they are to follow on the way of the Lord, as we discussed last week. But that “way” is the way of Jesus as God’s representative king, appointed to suffer and die as a ransom for many.
Throughout the Gospel, the geography of discipleship is literalized. Jesus calls the disciples to follow him, and the people’s physical placement often tells us when something’s wrong. After the confession, when Jesus tells the disciples that he has to suffer and die, Peter leads Jesus aside. The geography is backward. Jesus looks behind them to those who are in their rightful place and rebukes Peter. His command to Peter is to return to the proper place of Jesus’ follower, not his leader: “Get behind me, Satan.”
When the disciples are on the boat, even though they are sent ahead by Jesus, his water-walking provides an opportunity for them to “fall in behind,” following according to his original call. They fail–not because they see him as too “human”, but too “spiritual”. And thus they miss their opportunity to follow with Jesus leading the boat.
Yes, the first half of Mark’s Gospel does have to do with the power and authority of Jesus. But Mark has created different categories for understanding who the Jesus is who wields that authority and power.
Sorry I haven’t replied — Holy Week and all, plus regular duties.
On level, Daniel, I agree; position matters, especially inside and outside, but also “behind” and the like. On the other hand, when you write, “Who is the Jesus that Mark intends for his disciples to follow? That, I think, is the question that brings us face to face with the disciples’ failure in the boat”, it seems to me that you’re begging the question — unless I’m missing something, nothing you’ve said here rules out an incarnational/theophanical (?) understanding of Jesus in Mark. I don’t think discipleship need to point in a different direction than divinity. In fact, I think it would make a little more sense to have the followers in Mark following God incarnate than God’s representative, especially in light of the opening of the Gospel — “Prepare ye the way of the LORD…” Just a thought.
I think it’s become apparent, at any rate, that I read Mark like an orthodox Lutheran, a habit I picked up from Don Juel, and so I’m comfortable on some level with books which bear titles like The Crucified God (Moltmann). Along those Lutheran lines, I’ve often wondered if Mark is less concerned for discipleship than we’ve often assumed. Instead of seeing the disciples as examples or foils, as if we could succeed where St. Peter (!) and the others failed, perhaps the point of the Markan narrative is to break us, to show us that no one, save Christ alone — indeed, save God the Father alone, if the cry of dereliction is Jesus’ failure — is ultimately faithful. “The law says, ‘Do this!’, and it is never done. The Gospel says, ‘Believe in this man!’, and all is done.”
“…and themes pertaining to theophany” should have “are decisive for me” or some such. My little son wanted to play in the midst of my editing…
A bit of a diversion, but I’ve wondered for a long time why it’s such a big deal that the disciples had “forgotten to take bread” (Mk 8:14). Surely they’ll reach shore again within an hour or two. They won’t starve in the meantime. And why when Jesus warns them of the “leaven of the Pharisees” do they link this to a trivial oversight.
I wonder if the bread the disciples had forgotten was specifically the 7 baskets left over from the feeding of the 4000. We’re not told what happened to them, but presumably they took the baskets when they left the 4000, and the bread should have been their lunch for the next few days.
But they had a stopover at Dalmanutha, where the Pharisees wanted a sign from Jesus. He refused, and they left suddenly in the boat again – but in their haste they left the baskets behind with the Pharisees. So when Jesus talks about the “leaven of the Pharisees”, they are thinking of their bread that they have just left with the Pharisees!
Speaking of signs, Jesus is also asked for a sign in John 6:30-31, with the suggestion that bread from heaven would be a pretty good one.
Now imagine the conversation among the Pharisees:
Well they left pretty quickly.
Hey, they’ve left their baskets behind – call them back!
Oh, they’ve gone… What’s in their baskets anyway?
They’re full of bread
Why would they be carrying that?
Could this be a sign?
Nah
And of course before long some of the 4000 will no doubt be coming back home through this area, still talking about the amazing meal they were given…
Somewhat speculative of course, but maybe the Pharisees got their sign after all.
Russell, I like that a lot. I’ve also noticed — but not really dug into — that here the Pharisees and Herod are mentioned; they’re also mentioned together in 3.6 in the context of a murderous conspiracy: “But the Pharisees went out and conspired with the Herodians how they might destroy Jesus.” Perhaps there is some significance. Do the disciples risk having hard hearts like the Pharisees and the Herodians?