It’s hard to keep track of who’s who in these chapters.
All of the identifications feel a little off. One “son of the father” (the
literal meaning of ‘Barabbas’) is set free, while the Son of the Father is
executed. The logical candidate to carry Jesus’ cross is Simon Peter, the
disciple highlighted above all in Mark’s Gospel; but with Simon Peter nowhere
to be found, Simon of Cyrene is compelled instead. Jesus cries out for God (‘Eloi,
eloi’ in Aramaic) on the cross, but the crowd thinks he’s calling for Elijah
instead. We hear nothing about Jesus’ mother Mary in Mark’s version of the Passion,
but Mary the mother of James and Joses is mentioned repeatedly. As for the
young man mentioned in 16:5, the last time we heard about a “young man” was in
14:52. Has our naked man found himself a white robe? Probably not, but if the “young
man” in the tomb is an angel, why not just call him that like the other Gospel
writers do?
And then there’s the repeated title given to Jesus in
chapter 15 – “the King of the Jews”. No one in Mark has called him that so far,
yet this is the title given to him on the cross. Somehow the charge against
Jesus has switched from blasphemy to sedition. This makes some sense. Pilate
wouldn’t care about interreligious squabbles; the title “Messiah” means nothing
to him. Treason, however, he understands. Whether or not he truly believes
Jesus to be a threat to Caesar, he signs off on the death warrant anyway and
lets the charge stand.
One could say that the only character in Mark’s Passion
who identifies Jesus correctly is the centurion. “Now when the centurion, who
stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, ‘Truly
this man was God’s son!” (15:39). What exactly does he see that convinces him?
My favorite New Testament professor at seminary, Don Juel, thought that the
centurion was being sarcastic.* That may seem a bit jaded, but the point is
fair. If only the demons have gotten it right so far, what makes us think that
the centurion is sincere? What has he seen? A man with no defenders and no
defense is executed as a traitor alongside thieves; he cries loudly and dies
quickly. Crucifixions typically took longer; they lasted days, rather than
hours. Jesus calls out to God and dies shortly thereafter. Is that it? The
centurion doesn’t know that the curtain of the temple has torn from top to
bottom. Golgotha is far from the temple, outside the city walls. At least in
Mark’s Gospel, the only truly strange thing that happens is that darkness falls
at noon over the whole land. Who knows what he saw? Maybe you had to be there.
The women were there. Unlike the “official” disciples,
they do not desert Jesus and flee at his arrest. They save their fleeing for
the tomb. The earliest and most reliable manuscripts of Mark’s Gospel end at
16:8: “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had
seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Either the original ending was lost, or this
is really how Mark meant to end it. Verses 9-20, frankly, don’t sound like
Mark. We know his style by now. Given how the other characters have reacted to
Jesus throughout the Gospel, it’s not implausible that the women react
fearfully here.
In Mark 1:1, we were promised we’d hear “the good news of
Jesus, the Son of God.” So where is it? No
one sees the risen Christ in Mark. We don’t see him, but we’re told where to
look: “he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he
told you” (16:7). To paraphrase T.S. Eliot in “East Coker”, in our end is our
beginning.
* See Juel, Donald H. The Gospel of Mark.
Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1999, p. 146.

