THE BEGINNING OF the gospel about Jesus Christ, the Son of God. 2It is written in Isaiah the prophet:
“I will send my messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare your way”—
3“a voice of one calling in the desert,
‘Prepare the way for the Lord,
make straight paths for him.’”
4And so John came, baptizing in the desert region and preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. 6John wore clothing made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. 7And this was his message: “After me will come one more powerful than I, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. 8I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
9At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10As Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. 11And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”
12At once the Spirit sent him out into the desert, 13and he was in the desert forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.
Original Meaning
THE FIRST VERSE of Mark’s Gospel, as already argued in the introduction, functions as the title to the entire work. The next twelve verses function as a prologue to this work and divide into three parts: (1) the citation of Scripture and the introduction of John the Baptizer (1:2–8); (2) the baptism of Jesus of Nazareth (1:9–11); and (3) the temptation of Jesus in the desert (1:12–13).
The Structure of Prologue
SOME SCHOLARS EXTEND the prologue to include the preaching of Jesus in Galilee in 1:14–15. The following arguments, however, favor treating 1:14–15 as the beginning of a new unit. (1) Each incident in 1:2–13 takes place in the same locality, the desert and the Jordan River, while what is reported in 1:14–15 takes place in Galilee, and the Sea of Galilee is mentioned in 1:16. (2) Each incident in 1:2–13 contains a reference to the Spirit (1:8, 10, 12), which is mentioned only three other times in the Gospel (3:29; 12:36; 13:11). (3) Most important, each of the three scenes in 1:2–13 presents the reader with privileged information unavailable to the characters in the story other than Jesus.1 The first scene (1:1–8) emphasizes that John the Baptizer’s ministry in the desert was the fulfillment of divine prophecy. A transcendent voice from offstage recites the Scripture and sets what follows in the perspective of salvation history. The reader now knows who John is from the divine perspective. He is the one who comes to bear witness to the more powerful one who comes after him, and Jesus must be that more powerful one promised in Scripture. A transcendent voice from the heavens identifies Jesus as the beloved Son and the conveyor of the Spirit in the second scene (1:9–11). The third scene (1:12–13) gives the reader a transcendent ringside seat of Jesus’ confrontation and defeat of Satan, his living at peace with the wild beasts, and his being served by angels. By contrast, the announcement that Jesus preaches the gospel of God in Galilee (1:14–15) brings the readers back down to earth. His public proclamation is not something shrouded in mystery but goes out for all to hear.
The prologue briefly lets the readers in on what are otherwise secrets that will remain hidden in various degrees to all of the characters in the drama that follows. It contains what Mark knows and believes about Jesus2 as he allows his readers a fleeting glimpse into Jesus’ identity and mission from a “heavenly vantage point.”3 Even those devoted to God are in the dark about who Jesus is. We also learn that God is the one who is directing things behind the scenes. Since the verb “he saw” (v. 10) is singular and can refer only to Jesus, not even John the Baptizer witnesses the heavens being torn open and the Spirit’s descent on Jesus like a dove when he came up from the water. Did John even know that he was fulfilling Isaiah 40:3? The crowds are certainly unable to distinguish Jesus from any other penitent coming to be baptized. And during the temptation in the desert, no bystanders are present to observe the battle with Satan. Only the reader has this information, which is vital for evaluating Jesus’ identity. The point of these opening scenes is, therefore, to let the reader know from the start who Jesus is and to stress that he comes to fulfill divine promises and his divine commission. Because we who read know who Jesus is, our failure to follow and obey makes us more culpable than the characters in the story.
The Promise of Scripture Fulfilled and the Ministry of John the Baptizer (1:2–8)
THE PROMISE OF Scripture fulfilled (1:2–3). The story begins with a voice offstage, reading from Scripture. While John and Jesus may seem to appear out of the blue, this citation of Scripture makes it clear that they appear out of the blueprint of God’s plan. This story is the beginning of the good news, but every beginning is a consequence. By cross-referencing Scripture Mark makes it clear that the gospel is bound fast to the promise of God in the Old Testament and is a continuation of the story of God’s saving activity. Long before the promise-filled preaching of John the Baptizer, there was the promise-filled preaching of Isaiah, which shows that God had planned things out long before John appeared on the scene and was the one who initiated the action.4 The prophets’ hope was not a pipe dream; their prophecy still rings forth, and it will be fulfilled by God.
This passage is the only place in Mark where the narrator tells us that Scripture is being fulfilled (the others are spoken only by Jesus). It comprises a mixture of texts from Exodus 23:20; Malachi 3:1; and Isaiah 40:3. Exodus 23:20 contains God’s promise to send his messenger before the Israelites on their exodus through the desert to Canaan. Isaiah 40:3 speaks of a second exodus through the desert to the final deliverance prepared for God’s people. Malachi 3:1 warns that God will send a messenger to prepare the way before him prior to the coming of the day of judgment. Using a familiar technique in postbiblical Judaism, Mark blends these texts that originally had nothing to do with each other.5 With modern printing conventions, which were unavailable to Mark, we would put the references to these texts in the margins or in footnotes for the reader to look up and to reflect upon. By quoting these verses, Mark certifies that the Torah (Exodus), the Major Prophets (Isaiah), and the Minor Prophets (Malachi) confirm what he is about to tell.6 Mark probably ascribes the entire quotation to Isaiah not to identify its source but because that prophet had special importance for him. It is a hint that “his whole story of ‘the beginning of the gospel’ is to be understood against the backdrop of Isaian themes.”7
Three individuals are mentioned in Mark 1:2: the one who will send the messenger, the messenger who will construct the way, and the one whose way is prepared (“your way”). Three individuals are also in view in 1:3: the one who is crying in the wilderness, the Lord whose way is made straight, and the one, or ones, who are addressed. The narrative that follows clarifies who the referents are. “I [God] will send my messenger [John/Elijah] ahead of you [Jesus], who will prepare your way.” What is novel is that the messenger no longer is paving the way for God as in Malachi, but for another powerful one, Jesus, who is now to be acknowledged as the Lord. This means that God’s coming in salvation and judgment, promised in Scripture, “takes place in Jesus.”8 But Mark is elusive, and the citation allows for another meaning. He does not make it explicit that the messenger in the cited Scripture is John the Baptizer; one can only infer it from what follows. The citation could also be interpreted to mean, “I [God] will send my messenger [Jesus] before you [disciples/audience], who will prepare your way.” As the story unfolds, Jesus leads the disciples on the way to Jerusalem and death (10:32), and he goes before them to Galilee (14:28; 16:7). It is only on the second and third reading that we begin to realize that Jesus has come to prepare the way for us to follow him.
Marcus argues that mention of the way carries with it apocalyptic expectations. He contends that in Isaiah “the way of the Lord” refers to God’s “victory march” and is a mighty demonstration of his power. In the whole story of Mark the way refers to the triumphal way Jesus will lead his people.
The ministry of John the Baptizer (1:4–8). Mark has no interest in John except as the forerunner of Jesus. We get no information about his origin, parents, marvelous birth, or the contents of his ethical teaching—all details that the reader can find in Luke. In Mark, he is simply John the Baptizer,9 who comes preaching and whose baptizing has to do with the forgiveness of sins.10 His preaching has to do with the promise of a more powerful one, who will soon immerse them in the Holy Spirit. John can only announce his coming and try to prepare the hearts of the people so that they will be responsive when he arrives. He knows that it will take more than the splash of the muddy Jordan on their bodies to create in them a new heart and spirit. He acknowledges that his water baptism is preparatory; the Spirit baptism will be definitive.
(1) The host of baptisands. John apparently demands that all come for his baptism. No one will get a bye in the judgment. It is a remarkable demand because Jews believed that only gentile proselytes and those who were defiled needed to be immersed to cleanse themselves of their impurity (see 2 Kings 5:13, where Elisha tells Naaman the leper to cleanse himself in the Jordan: “Wash and be cleansed!”). To call all Israel to baptism implies that in some way all Israel is defiled. Mark tells us that for whatever reason they come to John in droves—“the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem”—to get this cleansing in the desert. They are, in effect, backtracking to the place where Israel had so many beginnings.
(2) John’s clothing and diet. Mark fully describes John’s wardrobe (camel’s hair and leather belt) and his diet (locusts and wild honey). Why does he fill us in on these seemingly minor details while ignoring more important background information? Is it to tell us that John is not “mainstream”—hardly a welcomed guest at the Jerusalem Hilton? These descriptions suggest two things. (a) To go out to someone like this in the desert requires a break with the institutions and culture of Jerusalem.11 The way that is prepared will not be a comfortable path; it will require forgoing pleasures long taken for granted. (b) John is an Elijah-type prophet (2 Kings 1:8; see Zech. 13:4). The clothing imagery derives from Scripture. Note how Elijah intercepted the messengers of King Ahaziah, whom the king had sent to inquire of the god of Ekron whether he would recover from a bad fall, and the prophet told them to inform the king he would die. When the messengers dutifully notified the king of the dire prediction, the king wanted to know who this provocateur was. They could only describe him as a man wearing a hairy garment and with a leather girdle about his loins. The king wailed: “Oh, it’s Elijah the Tishbite.”
The original auditors of Mark’s Gospel were schooled to recognize symbolism. In our culture, we would pick up the allusions if a character were wearing Daniel Boone’s coonskin cap or Abraham Lincoln’s stovepipe hat and beard. This description of John is reminiscent of Elijah, which may explain his huge success. The crowds presumably believed that he was Elijah reappearing for his second career, to prepare for the imminent coming of God (Mal. 4:5–6; see Mark 9:11–13). A certified prophet had appeared as they used to do with regularity in the good old days, which could only mean that the beginning of the end was about to take shape. The people came out to him to get themselves ready. A rabbi from a later time is reported to have said: “If Israel repents for one day, forthwith the son of David will come” (y. Ta‘an. 1:1, 64a). The question in Mark is, Will they truly repent? and, When the Son of David comes, will they recognize him and receive him with open arms or with clenched fists?
(3) John’s message. John has only two small speaking parts in the Gospel (1:7–8; 6:13). The only thing that interests Mark in John’s preaching is his announcement that one who is more powerful than he is coming, who will baptize with the Spirit. What is remarkable about this statement is that John hardly seems to rank with those normally deemed to be powerful or mighty. He will end up a prisoner in Herod’s dungeon and will be summarily executed, his head handed to the besotted king on a platter (6:14–29). If he is to be regarded as powerful, then the conventional understanding of power must be completely recast. In John’s case, he is powerful by dint of his mighty proclamation of God’s will and of what God is about to do. The more powerful one who is to come is powerful because he will be the one who executes God’s will. John comes as a voice crying, a lowly servant. Jesus comes as the beloved Son, who also will serve. The more powerful one is not an invincible warrior who vanquishes his foes with the sword. He will die a powerless death on a cross. The baptism in the Holy Spirit occurs either after this death (which presupposes some knowledge of Pentecost) or during his ministry as he uses the Spirit, rather than gives it, to heal the sick, teach with authority, and cast out demons (see 3:22–30).12
Jesus’ Baptism (1:9–11)
FROM THE THRONG that goes out to John from Judea and Jerusalem, the focus shifts in verse 9 to one who comes from Galilee. Mark tells us nothing about when this occurs, nothing about Jesus’ background, pedigree, or birth (miraculous or otherwise), nothing about heavenly portents, strange callers at the baby shower, or childhood incidents that make it clear that he is no ordinary child prodigy. It is not that Mark is uninformed of the circumstances of Jesus’ birth and background, but providing a chronicle of such things is not his purpose. Consequently, all Mark tells is that Jesus comes from Nazareth, the only one mentioned as coming to John from Galilee. This detail creates a sharp contrast. Unlike the urban sophisticates who come from the city of Zion, Jesus comes from a town that did not even rate a mention in the Old Testament. The story will unfold another contrast: Many go out, but only one understands what it all means.
Jesus’ arrival is an anticlimactic entrance for one so rousingly introduced. Although the introduction, “It came to pass in those days” (NIV “at the time”), is a phrase that has a scriptural ring to it (Judg. 19:1; 1 Sam. 28:1), one might expect a more eye-catching appearance for the greater successor to John. Jesus appeared as unpowerful as a powerful one could get. One might also assume that the Messiah, the Son of God, would cut a more imposing figure, who would immediately capture the attention of the crowds. Instead, this Messiah, the one who comes from No-wheres-ville in rustic Galilee, seems indistinguishable from the rest of the crowds. He does not come with some special aura or halo.
Mark also does not tell us why Jesus went to be baptized. There is no protest on John’s part that he is unworthy to baptize him (see Matt. 3:14). Mark apparently is untroubled by the theological problem of why Jesus would submit to a baptism of repentance. He is only interested in telling what occurs at that baptism.
(1) The ripping of the heavens. The opening of the heavens occurs in the calling of Ezekiel in exile: “The heavens were opened and I saw visions of God” (Ezek. 1:1).13 It is usually a sign that God is about to speak or act and that one will get a quick peek at God’s purposes. But Mark does not use the word “open” (anoigo), as some translations render it. Instead, he describes that the heavens are torn (schizo),14 as one might imagine a bolt of lightning tearing its fabric. It is a significant difference. What is opened may be closed; what is ripped cannot easily return to its former state. When Jesus comes out of the water, Mark tells us, all heaven breaks loose.15 It is also significant that Joshua (Josh. 3:7–17; 4:14–17), Elijah (2 Kings 2:8), and Elisha (2:14) each parted the Jordan river as symbol of their power; and the messianic insurrectionist Theudas (Acts 5:36) promised to do it.16 Jesus, however, does not stand by the Jordan and part it; instead, something far greater is parted—the dome of heaven. It may be a sign of our access to God, but Juel comments: “More accurate than referring to our access to God would be to speak of God’s access to us. God comes whether we choose or not.”17 The barriers are torn down and torn open, and God is now in our midst and on the loose. The hope of Isaiah, “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains would tremble before you!” (Isa. 64:1) has come to pass.
(2) The descent of the Spirit. The Messiah was said to possess the Spirit of God (Isa. 11:1–2; Tg. Isa. 42:1–4; Pss. Sol. 17:37; 18:7), and the Spirit comes fluttering down on Jesus “like a dove” (not “as a dove”). It is a dovelike descent, not a dovelike Spirit.18 The descent of power from heaven that inaugurates God’s reign does not swoop down like an eagle or a falcon but comes quietly and gently like a hovering dove. The same Spirit that once hovered over the primeval waters in the beginning of time (Gen. 1:2) now descends on Jesus “to liberate the earth from the stranglehold of chaos, and a voice unheard for age upon age sounds forth, announcing a decision made long ago in the eternal council.”19 Many thought the end time would be like the beginning. Creation would be renewed and Paradise restored. The hovering of God’s Spirit on Jesus like a dove was a sign that this new creation had begun. The beginning of the gospel is then also the beginning of a new creation. This time, however, the Spirit hovers over a human being, not over a formless void, which suggests that God intends to transform humanity.
(3) The declaration of the voice from heaven. A voice from the sundered heavens sounds forth: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” Mark relates that only Jesus saw the rending of the heavens, and one can assume that the voice was also audible only to Jesus since it speaks in the second person, “You are,” not in the third person, “This is” (contrast Mark 9:7). It is therefore directed to Jesus (and to Mark’s readers, who are privileged to overhear), not to his contemporaries. The veil of the heavens may be rent, but the revelation is still veiled to those without eyes to see or ears to hear.
The announcement conveys several things to a reader attuned to the Old Testament. (a) In the Old Testament, God is delighted in Israel when Israel is obedient. What the Scriptures ascribe to Israel, Mark transfers to Jesus. The divine good pleasure does not mean that Jesus is an object of God’s proud love but signifies God’s delight in Jesus as an “agent of a special mission.”20
(b) Some suggest that this phrase may be an allusion to another biblical “beloved son”—Isaac, whom Abraham offered up (Gen. 22:3, 18). The beloved son reappears in the parable of the vineyard (12:6) and this time is killed.
(c) Mark’s language recalls Psalm 2:7 and Isaiah 42:1. Psalm 2 is an enthronement psalm, which celebrates the enthronement of the king to rule over God’s people. “My son” is a title for the Davidic kings of Israel (see 2 Sam. 7:12–16). One can interpret the voice at Jesus’ baptism as God’s announcement that Jesus has been chosen to rule over his people and that he assumes royal power as king. This enthronement, however, is private; and the reader may wonder when others will recognize and accept him as king. The Gentiles will try him and mock and crucify him as the king of the Jews (15:2, 9, 18). The Jewish leaders will taunt him as the king of Israel (15:32). Jesus therefore ascends his throne when they hang him on the cross, but there is only an ironic recognition of him as king. The next time the voice speaks from a cloud announcing that “This is my Son, whom I love” (9:7), Jesus tells his disciples not to make it known until after the resurrection (9:9). Jesus, therefore, is not a triumphant Davidic king but one who will suffer. One can only fathom his kingship after his death and resurrection.
(d) The text does not tell us how Jesus is God’s Son or exactly why God is pleased with him. What has he done except to come in obedience with many others to pass through the waters of John’s baptism? When God is said to be “well pleased” or expresses “good pleasure,” however, it refers to God’s “inscrutable decree,” what is otherwise “unaccountable,” the sovereignty and mystery of God’s choice.21 The announcement reflects God’s divine choice of Jesus “for an eschatological work.”22
Testing in the Desert (1:12–13)
THE SPIRIT’S DESCENT on Jesus does not induce a state of inner tranquillity. It drives him deeper into the desolate desert and into the clutches of Satan and the wild beasts for forty days, a biblical round number. Mark does not present the testing as a succession of temptations with specific content, as do Matthew and Luke, but as one major clash. One can only assume that Satan has prepared for him another path and will try to coax him to go in a different direction.
The mention of the wild beasts with Jesus in the desert could convey a couple of ideas. It might conjure up the image of Adam, who started with the beasts when the Lord formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air and brought them to the man to see what he would call them (Gen. 2:19). Soon, however, Adam is forced out of Paradise and must toil in land that has been cursed. The testing in the desert with the beasts at peace with Jesus may point to the restoration of Paradise (Isa. 11:6–9).23 The desert, however, remains a barren place and is not transformed into a garden.24 Thus it is better to interpret the reference to the wild beasts as conveying the idea of desolation and danger (see Lev. 26:21–23; Ps. 22:12–21; Isa. 13:21–22; Ezek. 34:5, 8; Dan. 7:1–8). The beasts are malevolent and are the natural confederates of evil powers (Ps. 91:11–13).25 The desert represents the uncultivated place of the curse, Paradise lost, and the realm of Satan. Now Satan must contend with a new Adam, who has the power of heaven at his side and angels as his cornermen. Mark does not report the outcome of this harrowing ordeal but does say that angels served him.26
Bridging Contexts
ROBERT STEIN INCLUDES in his book on interpreting the Bible a dialogue from a home Bible study. The group read from the opening verses of Mark and then shared their thoughts on what it meant. The first offered, “What this passage means to me is that everyone needs to be baptized, and I believe that it should be by immersion.” A second responded, “I think it means that everyone needs to be baptized by the Holy Spirit.” A third reacted honestly, “I am not exactly sure what I should be doing.” A fourth suggested that the passage meant that if one is to meet God, one needs to get away and commune with nature in the desert.27 These Bible students were sharing what the passage meant to them, but Mark is not talking about us—what can happen to us or what we should do. His emphasis is on the one who comes who is more powerful than John, who will baptize with the Holy Spirit, who is announced from heaven, and who is tested by Satan in the desert. Jesus is the long-promised one, the Messiah, the Son of God, the bearer of the Spirit, and the victor over Satan. The passage is not about John, the nature or mode of baptism, meeting God, or fighting off Satan. Mark introduces us here to Jesus, the central character in all that follows. Our interpretation must stay centered on him and what his coming means.
If the focus is on Jesus, Mark leaves out of his prologue all the details of Jesus’ background that most moderns are interested in. We want to know all that has happened in his life to this point, his high school career, what he looked like, how old he was—all of which are things that would divert us from the point. Not until chapter 6 does Mark provide any background information about Jesus’ family and hometown. He does, however, sprinkle the text with scriptural allusions to give us the background he thinks is essential for evaluating Jesus. They tip off the reader that unseen forces are working within history to accomplish God’s redemptive purpose.
The problem is that we may miss these allusions because of our ignorance of the Scripture. Sometimes we may wonder how a first-century audience might have known the Old Testament so intimately that they were able to pick up on subtle hints, because we project our ignorance of Scripture on to them. Literary allusions are generally lost on modern audiences. Surveys have shown that many cannot name the first book of the Bible, list more than three of the Ten Commandments, or identify more than two of Jesus’ disciples. One must remember, however, that the Scripture was the only textbook for the education of a devout Jew and was studied intensely by Christians, including Gentiles. If one were to whistle only a bar of a theme song of a popular TV show in years of syndication, such as the Andy Griffith Show, a modern audience would catch it immediately. They would also probably appreciate any allusions to characters or incidents in the show. The explanation for these phenomena is the pervasive influence of the visual media in our culture. Why should it surprise us that the Scriptures, which so pervaded Jewish culture, should be as well known? It was read Sabbath after Sabbath (Acts 14:27). Life centered around it and was ordered by it.
Moreover, authors normally do not write to the lowest common denominator and often include subtle allusions even though they realize that not everyone in the audience will catch them. They know, however, that some will gain increased enjoyment and understanding from their extra knowledge. Therefore, it is important to help modern listeners see these biblical allusions. It reminds them this story has a much broader setting in God’s purposes for Israel’s and all creation’s redemption.
For example, the story starts in the wilderness (NIV, desert),not in the holy temple of the holy city (as in Luke) or with the heavenly council of God before creation (as in John). The wilderness image would evoke all kinds of memories for those grounded in the Old Testament. For those reading from translations that refer to “the wilderness” (e.g., NRSV, REB), that word might rouse a picture from a Wilderness Society poster with a lush forest, sparkling streams, snow-capped mountains, and wild animals (buffalo roaming and antelope playing), which cause tourists excitedly to stop their cars on the highway to take snapshots. For Jews, however, the wilderness/desert called forth a host of different images. It was more than just a place on the margins of civilization; it evoked a variety of powerful biblical memories and expectations. For one, it marked the place of beginnings. It was the region where God led the people out and from which they crossed over Jordan and seized the land promised to them. It was the place to which God allured the people to win them back (Hos. 2:14). It was also the place where one went to flee iniquity. According to 2 Maccabees 5:27, Judas Maccabeus fled with nine others to the wilderness and lived off what grew wild “so that they might not share in the defilement.” According to the Martyrdom of Isaiah 2:7–11, the prophets Isaiah, Micah, Ananias, Joel, Habbakuk, and Josab, his son, all abandoned the corruption of Judah for the mountainous wilderness, where they clothed themselves in sackcloth, lamented bitterly over straying Israel, and ate wild herbs.
The wilderness was also considered to be “the staging ground for Yahweh’s future victory over the power of evil.”28 It was the place where some thought that the final holy war would be fought and won (1QM 1:2–3). The Christ was thought to appear in the wilderness (Matt. 26:24), and it was the haunt of messianic diviners, such as the Egyptian false prophet (Acts 21:38). The wilderness was not only God’s staging grounds for the eschatological victory, it was also God’s proving grounds for testing the people. Consequently, it was remembered as the place of disobedience, judgment, and grace.
The Jordan River was also evocative. It was more than simply a river to Jews; it represented the border between the desert and the Promised Land. When John refers to a more powerful one who is coming, his audience would naturally understand it to refer to God, since God is the Mighty One in the Old Testament, who comes in judgment and pours out the Spirit. This biblical imagery evokes the expectation that God is about to liberate Israel again. But Mark emphasizes that God now acts through his beloved Son.
The arrival of Jesus to be baptized with the mass of people has perplexed many because it might imply that he was an evildoer who was now reforming his ways or was in some way subordinate to John. But one should not understand repentance only as a turning away from something evil; it can also be understood positively as a turning toward God. Jesus’ repentance here represents an openness to God. Mark does not connect Jesus’ baptism by John to the later Christian practice of baptism. John was calling Israel to acknowledge God’s judgment on Israel. Passing through the waters of the promise again, a new, forgiven Israel would emerge. When Jesus comes to John for baptism, therefore, he is consenting to this calling of Israel. He is not seeking salvation for himself or fleeing from the wrath to come; rather, he is joining in the renewal of Israel and in the march of God’s unfolding purpose for the world. Like Moses, who gave up his regal status to identify with his people to deliver them, Jesus humbles himself by entering the ranks of sinners and taking his stand with them, just as later he will die for them, isolated and alone. His baptism, therefore, launches him on the servant road of obedience, which ultimately leads to his death (10:38).
In Jesus’ baptism, we also glimpse the mysterious balance between the human and the more-than-human Jesus. The thundering approval from heaven discloses Jesus’ divine identity, but it is linked to his humble subjection to human conditions.29 Jesus does not come as a powerful, conquering Messiah, an irresistible force, but as a submissive Messiah, who yields in obedience to the baptism of John. For first-century readers, this unexceptional arrival gives a clue that this Messiah, Son of God, is not like the divine men they might have been familiar with from Hellenistic religions. One should not expect sensational public displays during Jesus’ ministry. The kingdom of God does not come with sirens blaring and bombs bursting in air, but quietly and inconspicuously.
Mark also may frustrate us in telling nothing about Jesus’ victory over Satan in the desert. He simply reports that Jesus is among the beasts and that angels come and attend to him. Jesus does not order Satan to leave, and the devil does not run off, tail between his legs. This could signify that the desert sojourn is only the first round in Jesus’ struggle with evil. The battle is not over; the decisive victory is yet to come. The confrontation with the foremost of the demonic forces will therefore extend throughout his ministry. At the same time, however, Satan never reappears in the story, and Mark probably intends to depict a decisive defeat of evil. Jesus drubs Satan in a single combat. What ensues in the story is a mopping-up action, the release of Satan’s hostages.
Whichever option may be correct, clearly the appearance of the Son of God is a direct onslaught on Satan’s realm. All of the unclean spirits recognize him and cower before him. The exorcisms are proof that the powerful one, Satan, has been bound by a more powerful one (Mark 3:22–7), and that his house can now be cleaned out. When Jesus grapples with demons, the outcome is never in doubt.
The temptation scene also reinforces Jesus’ distinction as the Son of God. Gundry comments:
His being tempted by none less than Satan, the archdemon, carries an acknowledgment of Jesus’ stature as the very Son of God. The wildness of the beasts with which Jesus is present without harmful consequence bears witness to his being God’s Son, the stronger one of whom John the Baptizer spoke. That even the angels serve Jesus adds a final touch to Mark’s portrayal of him as no less a personage than the Spirit-endued Son of God.30
The devil, the beasts, and the angels all acknowledge in their own way that Jesus is the one who brings God’s victory.
Contemporary Significance
MARK SHOWS NO interest in listing Jesus’ human credentials (as do Matthew and Luke) because those things might cause the reader to miss the divine dimension of who Jesus is. Jesus’ status does not derive from his family pedigree but from God. The narrator gives us access to this divine dimension in the prologue so that we know in advance the answers to the questions raised by a variety of baffled characters in the story. A stunned synagogue crowd asks, “What is this? A new teaching—and with authority!” (Mark 1:27). Livid theological experts ask themselves, “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” (2:7). Spooked disciples ask, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!” (4:41). A resentful hometown crowd asks, “Where did this man get these things?… What’s this wisdom that has been given him, that he even does miracles!” (6:2). Vexed priests ask, “By what authority are you doing these things?… And who gave you authority to do this?” (11:28).
The truth suddenly hits a centurion in the execution squad when he sees how Jesus died: “Surely this man was the Son of God!” (15:39). The Pharisees think he is in league with Satan. Herod’s best guess is that he is John the Baptizer come back to life to haunt him for his sins. Some think he is Elijah; others, one of the prophets (6:14–16; 8:27–28). The disciples are captivated by his powers but are baffled as to who he is for much of the opening chapters. Only Peter, James, and John are let in on this mystery at the Transfiguration. They hear the voice from the clouds proclaim that Jesus is God’s beloved Son and learn on the way down from the mountain that Elijah has already come and gone (9:2–13). Even so, this experience does not spare them from failure.
We readers and listeners of this Gospel know far more than the characters in the story. We know that John the Baptizer, the messenger sent before the more powerful one, must be referring to Jesus when he confesses that he is unworthy to stoop down to loosen the thongs of that person’s sandals. We see the heavens rip open at his baptism and the Spirit descending on him, and we hear the voice proclaim that he is God’s beloved Son. This is why we might become exasperated with the disciples who, as the story progresses, sometimes are as thick as a brick. We know more than they do. The coming of the Son of God, who makes a claim on everyone’s life, has made an irreparable breach in the fabric of reality. Perhaps for the first disciples, the light was too bright for their eyes to behold. Perhaps it was not too obscure, but too full of meaning for their minds to grasp. But knowing what we know about Jesus, are we any more faithful, any more discerning, any more willing to give our lives?
The opening section of Mark is frequently used as an Advent text in lectionaries. Most Christians consequently associate it with preparing the way for a babe in a manger and assume that it has something to do with getting ready for the coming of the Christ by catching the Christmas spirit. It is questionable, however, whether this text calls for us to do anything to prepare the way for the Christ. Certainly, that way does not lead us to a manger with angels singing, shepherds bowing, and a little drummer boy tapping out the beat. John the Baptizer does prepare the way by leveling the ground, so to speak, in calling all Israel to repentance. He humbly confesses that the gifts of salvation and of the Spirit are not his to give but another’s—a good model for modern-day preachers. His arrest, however, makes it clear that the way made ready for Jesus is not going to be a smooth path.
The “way” (hodos; 1:2) appears again as a theme in 8:27; 9:33–34; 10:32, 52. In these sections, Jesus speaks frankly (8:32)—the way for him will end in Jerusalem and in a solitary death. The disciples do help somewhat in preparing for his death. They throw clothes on the road as he enters Jerusalem (11:8–10). They prepare the Passover (14:15–16). A woman prepares him for burial (14:8–9). Joseph of Arimathea buries his body in a tomb on the Day of Preparation (15:42–47). But most play their parts without a clue as to what is really happening. This makes it doubtful whether the followers of Christ can prepare or construct the way if they are so often blind to God’s purposes. Throughout the story, the disciples spend most of their time getting in the way or trying to lead the way themselves, but always in the wrong direction. The same holds true for modern disciples.
When one reads Mark again, it becomes more clear who it is who needs to prepare the way: Jesus is the one who must be out in front, blazing the trail (10:32, 52) and leading (14:28; 16:7). Disciples are those who follow in his way (8:34–10:52). When Jesus’ disciples try to precede him on their own to the other side of the Sea of Galilee (6:45), they do not make it. They are helpless until he comes to their rescue. Jesus must go before them (6:48). Schweizer uses the illustration of a heavy snowfall that strands a young boy in the home of a friend after school. He cannot get home
until his father comes, with his strong shoulders, and breaks the way through three feet of snow. The boy “follows him” in his footsteps and yet walks in a totally different way. Father is not merely his teacher or example—or otherwise the boy would have to break his own way, only copying the action of the father—nor is it a vicarious act of the father—otherwise the boy would just remain in the warm room of his friend and think that his father would go home instead of himself.31
The problem is that the way that Jesus prepares for us to go home is not the one we want to travel. It is arduous and paved with suffering, but it is one that we must journey to get home. If the church prepares the way for anything, it is for his return by following in the path he has laid out and in the worldwide proclamation of the gospel (13:10).
In following the way that Jesus has prepared, disciples will encounter many enemies, just as Jesus did. Mark does not tell us the specific content of the temptation that Jesus faced in the desert. Did he fast or not? How did he parry Satan’s wiles? Mark does not let us in on any internal conflict. Today, we are far more interested in the psychological drama: Jesus’ struggle with doubt, with his sense of purpose, with his commitment to his task laid out for him by God32—all things that we might identify with from our own pilgrimage. The emphasis in Mark, however, is that Jesus does battle with Satan. The temptation, like the baptism, has cosmic significance. It is not so much a temptation scene in the moral sense as a titanic power struggle between the more powerful one and the prince of the forces of evil. The battle to put the evil genie that crushes the hopes of humanity back into the bottle has begun. It is not enough for God to win over human hearts and for them to repent and to confess their sins. Evil forces organized under the prince of the power of the air (see Phil. 2:9–10) must be defeated before the kingdom of God can be established. The power of God as long promised breaks into the world to conquer the powers of evil that imprison, maim, and distort human life.
If the battle takes place on the cosmic stage, we also learn that God has a cosmic plan discernible from the Scriptures. Few today bother reading or studying the script, yet it is vital because the kingdom of God manifests itself in disarming ways. The power of God appears in the desert, in weakness, in ones who come out of nowhere and will be handed over. God’s activity has been hidden from human beings, and even when it is revealed through Jesus, many will be unable to see. Those who do see will take comfort when they pass through the desert. They will know that Jesus has already been there and knows the way. All they have to do is follow.