Ripped!

At that time Jesus came form Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. As Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”
At once the Spirit sent him out into the desert, and he was in the desert forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.

OK, I did not have as my goal to make any of us into Bible scholars with these posts.* But I have to give us a bit of remedial info here for this study to have the impact I think it should. Despite the traditional ordering of the four gospels in your Bible (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John), the overwhelming majority of biblical scholars do not believe this is the chronological order in which they were written. You may or may not have noticed that Matthew, Mark, and Luke have some suspiciously similar material shared between them, such that it would earn them a charge of plagiarism at any modern institution of higher learning.** I concur with most modern scholars that Mark was in all likelihood the first gospel written. I have no idea whether Luke or Matthew wrote next. This is hardly the place and I am hardly the writer to explain all the nuances of this theory of composition, but if that sort of thing is suddenly intriguing you, type “synoptic problem” into the internet search engine of your choice, and I’m sure you’ll find much more to read than you have interest. Or buy me a cup of coffee sometime, and I'll give you my short version.

Point is, IF you take as a given that Mark wrote first, it makes comparison to Matthew and Luke more productive. Now, I’ve told you all this to bring your attention to but one “minor” detail in Mark’s baptism of Jesus account. In Mark, the sky is ripped open, torn. I’m gonna break one of my cardinal rules and use a Greek word, even though I think most Bible teachers who whip out Greek words for effect are the modern equivalent of those who wear flowing robes in the marketplace. Anyway, the Greek word there for “torn open” is schizo, recognizable as a root of English words such as schizophrenia. Yep, that one. Why should you care? Two reasons: First. That is the same word Mark will use later in 15:38 to describe what happened to the temple veil. Second. Luke missed it. Missed it!!! Changed it to “opened,” a nice, polite, sliding-door, Monty-Pythonesque aperture in the clouds that presumably closes back up neatly like a Ziploc bag once God is through speaking. And Luke, by most accounts, was a well educated guy. How could he miss the significance of the sky being ripped open?

What significance? Well, you might try thinking of it this way: If you open something, usually you can close it again. Even a bag of chips can have a clip put on it. But when you rip something, tear it open, there’s no closing it back. Ever. And I think that in the Christ event, that is what has happened. This mythic celestial separation of the realm of God and the realm of humanity has been breached. And depending on how you see it, that can either be really good news or really bad. If you like the kind of life where you know where the temple is, you are reasonably certain that God is there hiding out all Oz-like behind the curtain, you can still have your hiding place. God is “up there” or “in there.” But “in here,” we’re safe, because let’s face it: God is scary and has some rather rigid feelings about whatever it happens to be that we are doing “in here.” In the invasion of Jesus, that safety has been abolished. God is loose and running amongst us: freaking out demons, pissing off religious officials, breaking the rules of physics and society, and perhaps most disconcerting of all: forgiving sins. It’s awfully hard to forgive things you don’t know about, and if you’re anything like me, there’s a couple of things you might rather prefer God didn’t know about.

But God does know. God has escaped our man-built God-cages and is on the loose. And you are no longer safe “in here.” Not now. And that bit of “bad news” is the good news. God said so: “Son, I love you. I couldn’t be happier with what you’re doing ‘in here.’” God help us all, when God is on the loose. It looks like wild animals and angels have made peace with it. And we’d better get used to it, too. You can’t close up the God-shaped rift in the clouds.

* You know, it took me a second to decide what to call what we’re doing here. Meditations? Ichh. Sounds too needlessly churchy. Devotionals? Um. I guess, if you’re devoted to ‘em or something. Bible study? Again, a bit churchy for my taste. So, for now, I’m calling them posts, cause that’s all hip and bloggy and stuff. But if you are studying your Bible in a meditative state of devotion while hanging out at church, you call them whatever you want.
** As for John, um, he was working from completely different material. I promise. Seriously, just compare them sometime. Oh, and it is good to remember that although John intervenes between Luke and Acts in your Bible, the same author penned Luke and Acts such than some modern scholars refer to them as collectively as “Luke-Acts.”

Fast Fashion: Mark 1:5-8

The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to [John]. Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. John wore clothing made of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. And 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. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

Things happen quickly in Mark’s gospel. If Mark tells you a messenger is coming to prepare the way, then POOF! There’s John! And John’s message in the NIV translation takes all of 37 words! That’s pretty quick!

MARK! The Gospel for People on the Go!

The danger is that Mark’s fever pace will prove contagious. I find I have to force myself to slow down when I read Mark. Mark isn’t short on details, just on verbiage. Now, before I make my next few observations, please remember, I don’t believe most passages have “a” meaning, as if there were black-letter law principles lurking behind the story that could be effectively harvested and then the story tossed aside as a mere vehicle. In fact, I consider that to do violence to the medium of story. We live stories. And this one is God’s. When I slow down and “experience” this story, I enjoy “seeing” the details. Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mark is obviously taking pains to paint John as a prophetic figure conforming to existing roles appropriated from Old Testament stories.* And yeah, yeah, yeah, there is some obviously important stuff about how much greater Jesus and his baptism are, as will be evidenced by the next installment of these devotionals (That’s called a teaser!). But hopefully, you’ve either already been taught that or figured it out on your own. Kudos for you. So, if you are like me, you’re gonna need new material once in a while so as not to feel like you are just mouthing along the words of the “sermon” like an old song on the radio.

Here goes.

Is it just me, or is this the first sign that Mark has a clothes fetish? John’s got on his prophet costume (1:6). Jesus wears hippie thongs (1:7). Mark knows about quality clothes repair (2:21). Cured demoniacs get to put their clothes back on as a sign of sanity (5:15). On multiple occasions, touching Jesus’ clothes is somehow miraculously healing (5:27, 30; 6:56). When Jesus sends out the twelve to preach, he gives them strict instructions about what clothes to pack (6:8-9). On the mount of transfiguration, Jesus’ glory is revealed as his clothes glow suspiciously white (9:3)! When Jesus rides into Jerusalem, people placed their cloaks on the ground before Jesus (11:7-8). Jesus criticizes religious officials for dressing to the nines just to be noticed at the supermarket (12:38 and, yeah, I took a little poetic license there). The high priest tears his robes to signify his horror at Jesus’ “blasphemy” (15:63). Costume changes play an integral part in the soldiers’ mocking of Jesus (15:17-20). Jesus hung presumably naked, his own clothes disposed of by means of casting lots at the foot of the cross (15:24). The deceased Jesus’ body was then wrapped in linen cloths by Joseph of Arimathea (15:43). And then there is my favorite: The unidentified “young man” of Mark’s gospel who had fled naked as Jesus was apprehended (14:51-52) sits calmly clothed in white robes after the resurrection (16:5).

At the risk of overstating my case for a fashion-conscious gospel writer, I think it worth noting the details that our writer thought were worth noting. But what do the details “mean”? Maybe nothing. Maybe quite a lot. Perhaps there’s a lesson on God’s power? Jesus’ clothes on his back wield healing power, while off his back they are good for little more than a minor jackpot in a pre-eBay era. In other words, God’s power is not a magic spell. Perhaps clothes aren’t “values-neutral,” at least in Mark’s gospel. Prophets look like prophets when they are prophets. And did you notice: Jesus didn’t condemn the “teachers of the law” for wearing flowing robes. The problem appears to be flaunting clerical garb in the marketplace as a status symbol. Can you imagine a pastor who wore his clerical collar, robes, and miter (translation: funny pope hat) to go shopping at Wal-Mart? Totally inappropriate!
But for me, the most powerful statement that the “clothes make about the man” is the fact Jesus has on clothes. I mean, if you buy the whole “God became flesh and walked among us” thing, it really is quite remarkable. The God of eternity, clothed in his own splendor, adorned by the stars in the heavens, put on a robe. Or, to update the idiom, through Jesus, God slipped on a pair of jeans, a polo, and some sneakers and spent time with folks who wear jeans, a polo, and sneakers.
And that’s pretty cool.

* One quick note. I’m not entirely comfortable with the term “Old Testament.” I like Hebrew Scriptures or the Scriptures of Israel only slightly more. I mean, I prefer just to call those books “the Bible,” but for convenience sake, I’m sticking with OT.

Beginning at the Beginning. Again.

The Gospel According to Mark*
The beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
It is written in Isaiah, the prophet:
“I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way” – “a voice crying in the desert, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.’”
And so John came, baptizing in the desert region and preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.


Mark* has been my favorite gospel since Seminary. It wasn’t always. There’s not a lot of “red letters” in Mark. Jesus’ speech is short, clipped, and to the point in Mark’s account, and I have come to appreciate that. Despite the shorter, crisper style of Mark, it is not without art and certainly not without a distinct feel of humanity.

Today, when I read these opening words, again, I was struck by the word “beginning.” Sure, it’s obvious that this is the beginning of Mark’s gospel, right!? I mean, you know it’s “a” gospel, right? And that bit of knowledge sort of handicaps us. See, most scholars believe Mark was the first complete, written account of the life of Jesus, which quickly came to be known as a “gospel.” But this “gospel” was not exactly an existing genre of literature. So it is unlikely Mark meant “gospel” as a type of literature. More likely, gospel here refers to the larger idea of good news. But I digress. See, the reason I cared about the “beginning” of the gospel is that I know a few important things about the end. If you were to flip to the last words in Mark, you might be surprised at the lack of resolution. There is no verse that says, “And thus concludes the gospel of Jesus Christ, Son of God.” Nope. The most likely ending speaks of fear, confusion, distress. I like that. Ending? What ending? Why should good news end? It might freak you out, but end? Not so much.

Now, as for Mark’s Bible Quotation skills! If you have a “good” bible, there should be two footnotes referencing Mark’s “Isaiah” quotation. And only one of them should reference Isaiah. They should point you FIRST, not to Isaiah, but to Malachi 3:1, then to Isaiah 40:3. Which raises the question: “Why did Mark conflate these two verses? Why did he say Isaiah but quote Malachi?” The answer, of course, is simple: WE DON’T KNOW!
There have been some terrifyingly smart people (and otherwise) who have confronted this issue and come up with some wonderful hypotheses which I find intellectually stimulating but personally unsatisfactory. I am much more intrigued by the fact that this didn’t seem to bother the early church. I am much more comforted by the idea that Mark, like people like you and me, might (now, deep breaths here) misquote the bible. That’s not the same as saying the bible is “wrong” or has “errors.” It is a beautiful reminder that even when proclaiming the coming of God into the midst of humanity, we are still pretty darn human: flawed, fallible, and (at least in the eyes of divinity) lovable, maybe even redeemable.

Mark’s idea of a beginning is unique. No mangers. No stars shining in the east. No meandering philosophizing about the “word.” I’m guessing Mark probably had access to the existing orally transmitted stories about Jesus’ miraculous birth. But Mark’s Jesus comes on the scene after an appropriately brief quote from the scriptures of Israel (read: continuity) and an appearance from Jesus’ cousin John.

OK, now, here is the scary part: Notice what John was proclaiming: a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. If you grew up in church like me, you may have heard this phrase so many times that it fails to strike you that this phrase comes well before what many, in fact most, Christians consider the saving moment in the Jesus story: the crucifixion and resurrection. Not here. This is just the prep work to bring Jesus on the scene. Without delving into an extended and contentious study of salvation theory (soteriology for the theology nerds among us), I would assert that this is a reminder that God has always been in the business of calling humanity to their second chance. God has always been interested in you living a healthy life: physically, mentally, spiritually. God has always been intent on forgiving people through a relationship with them. As we study Mark together, that would probably be a great thing for us to be on the lookout. Just because it’s good news doesn’t mean it is new. God has, from the beginning, decided to include us in the story. And God is well aware of what having a relationship with you will mean. You aren’t bringing anything to the table that wasn’t already common knowledge to God when he built the table to which you are now bringing whatever the heck it is you are bringing to said table. John’s part of the story? To let you know that the aforementioned table has been set, dinner is ready, wash your hands, and come eat.

* I have left out the chapter and verse numbers in the text to promote attention to flow of the text rather than location of the “verses.”

** Now, to be honest, all four of the gospels in the canonical (read: leatherbound) New Testament (hereinafter, NT) are anonymous. The oldest and most reliable manuscripts lack internal claims of authorship, and even as the gospels came to be attributed to MtMkLk&Jn, it was by a simple phrase at the head of the text, such as “kata markon” i.e., “according to Mark.” The closest thing we have to a claim of authorship comes at the beginning of Luke, and there the author neglects to include his name! I chose not to get into a lengthy debate over traditional authorship of the canonical gospels. If “Mark” was in fact the author of the gospel that now bears his name, we have no absolute proof for or against this notion (although some rather impressive arguments have been mounted for and against). Rather, the argument I will engage in is that it doesn’t matter. Which Mark? John Mark? Even if so, “So what?” What do we know about Mark that would add or take away from the text before us? Little. So, for the sake of simplicity, clarity, and respect, I will refer to the gospel by its traditional name and refer to the author by his traditional name.