GOOD FRIDAY: Lenten reflections from Mark’s Gospel (39)

“It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.”

And with him they crucified two bandits, one on his right and one on his left…When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land…At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” …Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.  Now when the centurion…saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!”

 (Mark 15.25-27, 33-39) 

     Jesus came to Jerusalem as the king of Israel.  That is evident from the demons’ frequent declarations of Jesus’ identity as Son of God (e.g. 1.24; 3.11), Peter’s confession (8.29), God’s two declarations of Jesus’ sonship (1.11; 9.7), and the crowd’s acclamation during the triumphal entry (11.9-10).  Since Peter’s confession, Jesus has been teaching those around him that he is a different kind of king – he is a king who will suffer.  He has been articulating an upside-down vision of greatness/power (cf. 9.35-37; 10.42-44).  Jesus has been exemplifying what it means to be a servant-king, a Messiah who reigns by becoming the slave of all.  It’s a question of give-and-take – the more Jesus gives, the more people take.

     As opposed to a “character-arc”, in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus’ narrative trajectory begins at the top of a diagonal line which leads down, down, down…  In the first half of the story, Jesus exerted himself in teaching and feeding, healing and casting out demons from the crowds of desperate Galileans that flocked around him.  Indeed, one of Jesus’ healings was the result of someone “taking” power from him by touching him in faith (cf. 5.25-30; 6.56).  All of his deeds of power and authoritative teaching had earned Jesus a reputation that he often regretted and tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to contain (e.g. 7.36).  In the second half of Mark’s narrative, Jesus performs far fewer deeds of power, repeatedly predicts his passion and death, and finds himself embroiled in controversy with scribes and Pharisees, priests and elders.  The content of Jesus’ teaching takes on darker hues, as he depicts the cost of discipleship and pronounces judgment against those who remain deaf/blind to the arrival of the kingdom of God.  The king arrives in Jerusalem amid shouts of Hosanna!  The ambiance is exuberant and hopeful.  However, the glory soon fades as the Temple authorities decide that Jesus must be destroyed (11.18).  Once Judas agrees to hand Jesus over to them (14.10-11), the king enters a downward spiral which begins with betrayal – followed by arrest, abandonment, trial, preliminary condemnation, denial by a close friend, sentencing to death upon the request of a “lynch mob”, humiliation, torture – and finally ends with despair and death.

     “Kingship” is clearly the theme of chapter 15, and the theme is developed by Mark with excruciating irony.  Mark refuses to allow us to divert our eyes from the horror of what is happening.  Mark is forcing us to see and understand that THIS – IS – THE – KING, and this is how he is “crowned” and “enthroned” in “glory”.  There are five occurrences in this chapter of the phrase “the King of the Jews” – three times on the lips of Pilate, who finds the idea laughable (15.2, 9, 12), once on those of the soldiers who make sport of Jesus before leading him to Golgotha (15.18) and once in writing, the capital charge affixed to the cross – a cruel joke (15.26).  As we have seen, the Sanhedrin finds the idea of Jesus as Messiah to be blasphemous (cf. 14.61-64; 15.31-32).

     Another prominent theme is that of betrayal.  From 14.10 – 15.15, the verb “to betray” (“to hand over”: paradidomi) appears ten times.  Judas betrays Jesus to the Sanhedrin, who in turn, betrays him to Pilate, who betrays him to the crowd’s desire that he be crucified (15.12-15).  Indeed, once the chief priests gain control of the crowd, Jesus’ fate is sealed (15.11).  When the crowd had reappeared in 15.8 (cf. 12.41), Jesus was in Roman custody and those who had previously hailed him as king and had spent the week enamoured of his teaching now bay for his blood – “Crucify him!” they scream at Pilate.  Faced with the choice between Barabbas, a freedom-fighter, and Jesus, condemned by the Sanhedrin as a heretic, there had been only one option.  What about those closest to Jesus?  When Jesus had been arrested – far from the protection previously provided him by the crowd – all of his disciples had abandoned him; Peter had followed at a safe distance, only to later deny three times that he knew him (cf. 8.38).  Those whom Jesus would certainly have considered his friends had run away at his darkest moment, to say nothing of Judas’ actions.  Everyone who has been named in the narrative and who has benefited from being associated with Jesus has now either disappeared or has publicly turned against him.  The king has been used and tossed aside.

     Ironically, the mockery of the soldiers constitutes a cruel parody of the gestures of veneration and honour which Jesus had so often received in the first half of the narrative (15.16-19).  As Jesus hangs naked on the cross, passersby mockingly tell him to come down and thus demonstrate his power; the members of the Sanhedrin similarly ridicule him, saying that they will believe his claim to kingship if he will only descend from the cross.  They also make a statement that eerily echoes what Jesus had said about the Son of Man coming to serve – “He saved others; he cannot save himself” (15.31; cf. 10.45).  Even those crucified on his right and left taunt him (15.32).  Everything has been taken from the king – his freedom, his friends, his reputation, his dignity, very soon his life – even the sense of his Father’s presence and favour is now denied him (cf. 14.36). 

     In the end, even God abandons his Son; as the noonday sun is swallowed by darkness (cf. 13.24), Jesus cries out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (15.33-34; cf. Ps. 22.1).  The king is utterly alone.  Though, as one theologian has said, it is precisely at this moment that God is no longer separate from Jesus…  Jesus’ solitude is actually the means of his divinity being put on full display, for those with eyes to see.  It is the Roman officer who oversaw the crucifixion who becomes the only non-demon-possessed human being in the narrative to call Jesus the Son of God (15.39).  He is the only person in the narrative for whom the charge leveled against Jesus has no trace of irony or sarcasm – he believes that it is true.  Jesus’ kingship is affirmed – by a pagan! (albeit in the past tense) – as his lifeless body hangs limp from the nails.  This man had indeed been a strange Messiah.  But where is his kingdom?  Is there any possible future for a God-forsaken corpse of a king?