The first three books printed in the New Testament--Matthew, Mark, and Luke--are called the Synoptic Gospels, because they tell essentially the same story in the same way, often with almost identical words. (Syn-optic: "to see together.") One way to account for the similarities is to hold that God dictated the same words to three evangelists, who, being all capable secretaries, took it down accurately and thus ended with very similar results. There is another explanation that arises when one places the texts side-by side and reads very closely. Almost all of Mark's content is in both Matthew and Luke. Most of the remaining part of Mark--the part that's not in both Matthew and Luke--is in one or the other. Further, when Mark and Matthew differ with respect to sequence, Luke invariably follows Mark; and when Mark and Luke diverge, Matthew also follows Mark. Scholars thus posit that the similarities between these three gospels are the result of a literary relationship known as "the priority of Mark." It means only that Mark was written first, and that Matthew and Luke, working independently, both used Mark as a source.
Though it's embarrassing for fundamentalists, subjecting the gospel narratives to the methods used by scholars of other ancient texts gets results. (The magical thinking, on the other hand, is a dead end: all you can do is keep invoking the magic.) We learn something of the mind of Shakespeare by comparing the plays he wrote with the sources from which he drew the plots. What themes does he bring to the fore? What does he omit? If a character is changed, in what way? When the source is left behind, so that events are being invented by Shakespeare, what do we then observe? The literary relationship between the Synoptic Gospels makes them amenable to this kind of analysis. If we know Mark, it will help us to comprehend the distinctive traits of the gospels attributed to Matthew and Luke.
So what should be said about Mark? Such an obvious point as its comparative brevity is a good place to start. The beginnings and ends of the other synoptics--the nativity stories and the appearances of Jesus after Easter morning---are absent. The ending of Mark is problematic. It's widely recognized that what follows 16:8 is from a later editor who was put off by the abrupt, bewildering conclusion. Three women go to the tomb to anoint the body. We shall only note in passing that, since Jesus had supposedly been dead already for a day and two nights, it seems they were tardy. They worry about how they will deal with the gigantic stone that blocked entry to the tomb, but, upon arrival, find that it has already been rolled away. A man dressed in white is inside and announces that Jesus is risen. Then the last words we have from the pen of the author of Mark: "And they went out and fled from the tomb; for trembling and astonishment had come upon them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid."
Well, even if they hadn't been afraid, who would believe them? Some scholars think the real ending to the gospel has been lost, or that Mark for some reason couldn't finish it, or that something about it caused it to be suppressed, but I have to declare my allegiance to a conclusion that acknowledges we are at a remove from ordinary human experience. The women were stunned and afraid, then: Curtain. This is the ending for those of us who were always annoyed by the way the preachers and Sunday school teachers made a villain out of doubting Thomas. We are just to accept with equanimity? Really? It seems you should have to allow that the story has some highly unusual elements.
The jump-stop ending is matched in its way by the opening in which Jesus, already an adult, is baptized by John the Baptist and then begins his ministry immediately upon the arrest of the Baptizer. There is a certain parallelism at work here, for of course Jesus too will be arrested ,and both are killed. The author deploys the same somewhat idiosyncratic diction when describing what happens to John and Jesus. In 1:7 John "preached" and at 1:14 he is "delivered up," at which time Jesus immediately begins his "preaching" before he is himself "delivered into the hands of men" (9:31) and "delivered to the chief priests" (10:33). (The Revised Standard Version alternately renders the same Greek verb as "deliver" and "arrest.") Then, in the thirteenth chapter, which forms an apocalyptic discourse, Jesus says that before the end of time
. . . the gospel must first be preached to all nations. And when they bring you to trial and deliver you up, do not be anxious. . . .
So there is this recurring pattern of preaching and being delivered up--first John, then Jesus when John is gone, then the first Christians when Jesus is gone. This is a distinctly Markan characteristic and it seems to be of a piece with the rush, rush, rush of his brief narrative. Jesus is perpetually busy, preaching and teaching and healing, out on the water in a boat or being transfigured in the hills, always on the move to a new place. It has become almost a commonplace to note that one of the author's favorite words is "immediately": in 678 verses, it occurs about forty times in the Revised Standard Version.
Why the hurry? It's because the time is short. "Truly, I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see that the kingdom of God has come with power" (9:1). The other gospel narratives allow for a longer view. There is a straightforward reason for this. They were written at a later date, and it hadn't happened.
The preponderance of scholarly opinion assigns the authorship to an unknown Christian writing in the immediate aftermath of the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem in 70 C.E. The pithiest statement of this view is from the New Testament scholar Norman Perrin, who, citing the opening of chapter 13--
As Jesus was leaving the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher! What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!”
“Do you see all these great buildings?” replied Jesus. “Not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down.”
--observes that "it is standard to date an apocalyptic work by the latest historical incident it refers to as prophecy." If the Gospel of Mark was off on the timing of the Second Coming, it at least was inerrant when predicting events that had already happened.
