The Gospel of Mark was historically one of the lest researched Gospels. In fact, there was no commentary written on this gospel until the 6th Century. This state of affairs existed for several reasons. Augustine considered Mark an abbreviation of Matthew and Luke, while others thought that Mark lacked the literary quality of these two gospels, in particular the clear structure of Matthew and the elegance of Luke. This lack of interest in The Gospel of Mark however began to change as researchers came to conclude that Mark was the primary source material for Matthew and Luke.
This increased attention led scholars and theologians to come to appreciate the unique narrative quality with which Mark was written. Moreso than the other Gospel writers, the author of Mark was a storyteller, and his gospel was written as a novella of sorts, one infused with biographical details about Jesus, but intended to be read and experienced as a short story whose purpose was to reveal Jesus as the Messiah prophesized by Israel’s former prophets.
The author’s decision to provide his account of Jesus in this literary form, combined with the brevity of the Gospel, did not diminish its theological depth. While Mark’s gospel was not concerned primarily with providing an accurate account of the life of Jesus, the author was nevertheless concerned with providing an accurate account of who Jesus was and what he taught. Papias, the Bishop of Hierapolis in Phrygia wrote that “the Presbyter” (later identified as John the Apostle), had claimed that Mark gathered his insights into the life of Jesus by carefully recording lessons he heard on his journey with Peter. His concern therefore was not in providing a chronologically accurate account of the life of Jesus, but to accurately account for these lessons to demonstrate who Jesus was and what His death achieved.
Despite the Gospel of Mark’s renowned brevity, the author weaves in vivid descriptive details rarely seen elsewhere in the Bible, expertly showcasing his masterful grasp of storytelling. In Mark 5:1-5 for example, the author wrote;
They went across the lake to the region of Gerasenes. When Jesus got out of the boat, a man with an impure spirit came from the tombs to meet him. This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain. For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and in the hills, he would cry out and cut himself with stones.
The passage above reveals a rare narrative artistry within the Bible. Unlike the other Gospels, the author enriches the story with details that breathe humanity into it, capturing the anguish of the possessed man and the struggles of those around him. In Jesus' confrontation with Legion, we witness not only the encounter but again, the unmistakable touch of a master storyteller.
A large herd of pigs was feeding on the nearby hillside. The demons begged Jesus, ‘Send us among the pigs; allow us to go into them’. He gave them permission, and the impure spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned’.
In this passage, one observes a deliberate omission of precise details. Instead, we encounter a depiction of a sizable herd of pigs—approximately two thousand strong—a description that transports the reader to the scene, as if they were witnessing this event firsthand. Such narrative nuances are absent in the accounts in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. Matthew's account is briefer, omitting the name of the demons, and the number of pigs, a detail similarly absent in Luke's narrative.
These literary cues lend a human touch to Mark’s account of Jesus, offering a depth of description that allows the reader to experience the sense of truly being present. This intention is also evident in how the author portrays the disciples. While Matthew and Luke acknowledge the disciples’ shortcomings, neither do so as persistently as Mark, who consistently highlights their all-too-human failings. Mark recounts instances such as the disciples believing Jesus to be mad and attempting to seize him (3:21), Jesus questioning their faith (4:40), their hardened hearts (6:52), and their inability to see and hear clearly (8:18-19).
Another prominent literary technique in the Gospel of Mark is the "sandwich technique," or interlocution. This narrative device contrasts two parts of a story, with the middle section serving as the key to unlocking the deeper meaning of the surrounding episodes. A notable example appears when Jesus curses a barren fig tree in 11:12-14. Afterward, in 11:15-19, Jesus cleanses the Temple, denouncing it as a den of robbers, before returning in 11:20-21 to the withered fig tree. In this interlocution, the fate of the fig tree illuminates Jesus' condemnation of the Temple—just as the fig tree failed to bear fruit and withered, so too had the Temple, no longer fulfilling its purpose and being spiritually dead.
The Gospel of Mark, like all good stories do, unfolds along a deliberate and structured narrative arc. Beginning in Galilee and advancing towards Jerusalem, its geographical trajectory differs from that of the Gospel of John, which portrays Jesus' journeys as more varied. Yet, this progression in Mark does not diminish its authenticity; but rather reveals the authors intention. The geographical arc serves to partition the Gospel into three distinct stages, as identified by scholars. The first stage recounts Jesus’ ministry in Galilee, where His identity and authority are continually asserted, even as those around Him grapple with the profound implications of His mission. The second stage begins in 8:27, with Peter's declaration of Jesus as the Messiah, marking the journey to Jerusalem. The final stage centres on His death, addressing the full gravity of His mission and its ultimate consequences.
Interwoven with this structure are temporal markers that subtly shape the narrative. In the early verses, time is depicted vaguely—phrases such as “in this day” and “after some days” abound, while the passing of time is marked only by "afternoon" or "evening." These ambiguous references allude to Jesus’ divine nature, hinting at His existence beyond the confines of earthly time. However, as the narrative nears the Crucifixion, time takes on a different weight. The Son of Man, once seemingly beyond time, becomes increasingly bound by its constraints, as His opponents close in, setting their trap. This shift is mirrored in the narrative’s pace, as the crowds press in, literally slowing the progression of events.
Though not as precise in detail as John’s account, Mark’s divisions lay the foundation for an arrangement of events that emphasizes key themes and pivotal moments in Jesus' life, drawing the reader's attention to the profound significance of His journey.
God made man because he loves stories – Elie Wiesel.
Elie Wiesel, a Holocaust survivor, emerged from that most horrible experience to become a renowned political activist, Nobel Laureate, and writer. In 1964, he penned The Gates of the Forest, which features a preface that recounts the story of three Hasidic leaders who must undertake a three-step ritual so that God would perform a miracle to rescue their communities, should the need arise. Over time, these leaders forget the ritual, and one of them, Israel Friedman of Ruzhyn, becomes so forgetful that he cannot recall a single step of the ritual. When called upon to save his community, he turns to God and declares, “All I can do is tell a story.” Pleased by this, God grants him the miracle because, as Wiesel concludes, “God made man because He loves stories.”
While the author of Mark did not, one could assume with some certainty, read Wiesel’s preface, he nevertheless understood the distinction between the historical Jesus and the narrative Jesus. For the Gentiles, of which the Gospel of Mark was probably written for, Jesus was not merely a historical figure. Their belief in Him was intricately shaped by the narrative constructed around His life, a story that gave the life of historical Jesus meaning and purpose beyond the mere historical fact of his existence. This understanding would reflect how the author, like Wiesel, recognized that historical details acquired their depth and resonance only when woven into a compelling story, absent this story they were but lifeless truisms that would eventually be consigned to history books on dusty shelves. By framing Jesus' life and teachings within a rich narrative tapestry, the author of Mark enabled his audience to engage with the transformative nature of faith in Jesus, making Him accessible and relevant to their experience.
The genius of the Gospel of Mark was not just that it recognised this simple yet profound fact, but that the author then crafted his story in a manner that would reflect perhaps the most significant aspect of the kingdom of God as taught by Jesus. One third of what Jesus taught was in parables, and about 16% of the Gospel of Mark consists of these parables. As was stated by a New Testament scholar about parables,
One of the features of Jesus’ coming was the subversive and veiled nature of his advent, rather than the cosmic, militaristic political kingdom expected. The kingdom came imperceptibly in the person of a king born in obscurity who refused to use his power to bring the kingdom by force. The parables fit this type of kingdom. They are simple, short stories a child can understand. Yet, they declare the kingdom in a veiled and indirect way, challenging without forcing the hearer to “hear” the parable and discern the kingdom in and through it.
This same scholar went on to explain that,
Parables are indirect and noncoercive. As fictional stories relevant to culture and context with generic characters, they do not directly challenge, but are invitational and nonconfrontational. One must interpret them and find one’s place in the story, and this place is open to the choice of the hearer. As such, they invite but do not impose. They cause a person to reflect on the meaning and make a choice. They function in the subversive manner of the coming of the kingdom.
Beyond offering theological insights, the parables were also an invitation—an open door to draw nearer to Jesus and God. The original text of the Gospel of Mark mirrors this invitation through its enigmatic and abrupt conclusion at 16:8. While subsequent versions of the Bible have added verses to provide a more conventional resolution, the author of Mark chose to end his account with: “Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” This conclusion leaves the narrative unfinished, inviting the reader to step into the story of Jesus, to continue it in their own lives as Jesus intended. This sense of invitation permeates the Gospel of Mark. For those early Gentiles, who did not have the privilege of witnessing Jesus in the flesh, as well as for us today, the narrative of Jesus becomes the lens through which we come to grasp the meaning and purpose of Jesus and the invitation to become active participants in the greatest story ever told.
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