Mark 9
TLBCMark 9:2-13
The Coming Victory (9:2-13)
God had revealed Jesus’ vocation to him in the baptism; he revealed Jesus’ vocation to the disciples on the way between Caesarea Philippi and Jerusalem. Peter had confessed Jesus’ Messiahship, although only half understanding it. Now God gives his own testimony. What happened here on the mountain was, of course, by no means clear to the disciples at the time (vss. 9-10). It was an augury of the heavenly throne to which Jesus would ascend after his suffering and glorification. It was a manifestation of the heavenly glory which God had given to him. In the nature of the case, a disclosure of such heavenly glory must be described in terms unusual in human discourse.
The scene was “a high mountain” with its nearness to heaven and its separation from mundane concerns. We recall that Jesus had called and named the twelve Apostles on a mountain (Mark 3:13), and that he had himself gone to a mountain to pray (Mark 6:46). We will find, too, that in the last climactic week, he will watch Jerusalem from a mountain and disclose to the same three disciples what will be their task after his death (Mark 13:3). The mountain, in biblical lore, is the junction point between heavenly and earthly events.
In all early Christian records Peter, James, and John stand as foremost among the Twelve, and as representing the others. Among the first to hear the call (Mark 1:16-19), their names headed the list of Apostles (Mark 3:16-17). They were present at the first healings (Mark 1:29) and were occasionally chosen by Jesus to watch later cures (Mark 5:37). All three were later on, though probably before Mark was written, to become martyrs for the sake of the gospel. They, if anyone, had reason to be present on this particular mountain.
The transfiguration of Jesus, accompanied by the white garments of heavenly purity (John 20:12; Matthew 28:3), indicated God’s full approval of him. These garments were not only the traditional clothing of angels, but were the garb reserved for all faithful witnesses who were to carry their obedience to the point of death (Revelation 3:4-5; Revelation 4:4; Revelation 6:11; Revelation 7:9; Revelation 7:13). This is a vision of heaven, the invisible reality surrounding earthly actuality. Therefore Moses and Elijah can talk with Jesus. For a moment these three men of God share the same level of existence and can meet face to face. What did they say?
Luke answers that they were talking about Jesus’ departure (“exodus”) which he would accomplish at Jerusalem (Luke 9:31). Mark is content to note the fact of their conversation. What does their presence suggest? That these representatives of the Law (Moses) and the Prophets (Elijah) testify that in Jesus their work is to be completed. That these two previous emissaries of God represent the heavenly world and thereby reveal Jesus’ coming translation. That men are correct in associating Jesus’ mission with that of Elijah, but are wrong in identifying the two (Mark 8:28).
That Peter is right in calling Jesus the Christ even though his glory as the Christ awaits his resurrection.
The story invites conjectures of all sorts. If it is a true epiphany, as Mark understood it to be, men using earthly language will be quite unable to capture its full meaning. Mark sees in the story three important points. Peter misconstrues the reason for the disciples’ presence, as if they should build booths on the mountain for the three men to dwell in. (2) God, speaking from the cloud of his invisible glory, identifies Jesus as his Son and commands the disciples to hear him, a command which includes obedience to such teachings as have just been given (Mark 8:34 to Mark 9:1). (3) Jesus, in his effort to instruct the disciples, points forward to the Resurrection as if this epiphany were a preview of what would transpire then. Elijah must come first. In fact, he had already come, and had been rejected and killed. Jesus had in mind John the Baptist (Matthew 17:13; Matthew 11:14), who had begun the restoration of all things.
Then the Son of Man must carry through his sufferings and be vindicated against the contempt of men. The reason for the disciples’ presence, a matter vital for the whole episode, was wholly a matter of anticipation. When they at last should know “what the rising from the dead meant,” they would know that God had identified Jesus as his beloved Son, greater even than Moses and Elijah, and that they were under orders to obey him, even in preference to the Law and the Prophets.
Mark 9:14-32
Power to Heal (9:14-32)
The Transfiguration pointed ahead to future things. Therefore the descent from the mountain marked also a return from that future prospect to the confusions of the present. The disciples turned with a jolt from trying to comprehend the coming suffering and heavenly glory of the Son of Man to their everyday tasks. In these daily concerns they were too submerged in the hubbub to keep in touch with the glory. They were surrounded by “a great crowd.” They were deeply involved in arguments with the scribes. They were called upon to heal a man’s son by exorcism of a dumb spirit, and they found themselves quite helpless. The dumb spirit had more power than they.
When we first read this story, it sounds much like the other accounts of healings, although it gives more complete coverage than others. Yet it has a different accent which appears as soon as we note the significant place now held by the disciples. In bringing the sick boy to the disciples, the father assumed he was bringing him to Jesus (vss. 17-18). The impotence of the disciples elicited a penetrating rebuke. They are a “faithless generation” even after all the time he has spent with them and his endless patience with them. They will not have much longer to learn the source of his power (vs. 19).
By contrast with the faithlessness of the disciples, a strong accent falls on the faith of the father. To be sure he is an unbeliever, but he knows it, and has enough belief to call on Jesus for help. It is this halting, hesitant, humble belief which makes help possible (vs. 23). It makes possible even the raising of the dead (vs. 27). The power of Jesus to do this very thing corresponds to the message of the Transfiguration, for Jesus’ power to raise the dead is an anticipation of his own resurrection (vss. 9-13). Jesus can do such things because he is now bound for heavenly glory by way of total self-sacrifice.
Chagrined by their impotence and nonplussed by his rebuke, “his disciples asked him privately, ‘Why could we not cast it out?’ " His answer shows to what an extent this whole story was told for their sakes. After all, they are the men whom he has charged to heal in his name. To their despondent and perhaps petulant query, certain answers had already been given. They were without faith (vs. 19), not able to believe that all things were possible to them (vs. 23). Perhaps they were too concerned with the crowd, or too nettled by the scribes’ debates, to give full attention to the demon. Perhaps they did not realize that only by participating in the Messiah’s suffering could they participate in his conquest of Satan and his demons. All this may be summarized in one word: prayer (vs. 29) — not as a trick device, or a sure-fire method of gaining results, but as the necessary listening to God in the wilderness where alone Satan’s power can be overcome (Mark 1:12; Mark 1:35; Mark 6:46).
That Jesus’ concern now lay with his task of training the disciples becomes clear, for he immediately pushed on with them toward Jerusalem. He tried to keep their presence a secret (vs. 30) so that he could spend more time on his teaching. The lesson remained the same (vs. 31) — and their obduracy as well. For Jesus, prayer included accepting the cost of obeying God’s will (Mark 14:32-42). It was this kind of praying which they did not yet understand.
Mark 9:33-50
Proverbs for the Journey (9:33-50)
In this section of the journey we find teaching material almost divorced from narrative settings. No single story, no single situation, unifies the separate proverbs. Each deals with a different topic and has a life of its own. Sometimes what brings them together is merely a common word, which may bear two quite different meanings in adjacent axioms. This fact has led many students to conclude that these axioms first circulated in the Church as isolated bits of oral tradition. They gravitated together because of similar verbal links, and because they could be remembered more easily when thus linked.
This sort of explanation can be checked if one follows the chain backward and notices the links. “Salt” brings together the three separate maxims of verses 50 and 49. “Fire” connects verse 49 to verse 48. “Fire” in verse 48 is suggested by “hell” in verse 47. The same phrase introduces verses 47, 45, and 43 : “If your eye [or foot, or hand] causes you to sin.” Verse 43 is connected to verse 42 by the idea of causing to sin, although different persons are involved in the two actions. Separate sayings in verses 37-41 all deal with various ways of receiving or welcoming another. Verse 36 follows verse 35 in introducing a “child” who is an example of one of the “last of all.”
When the reader recognizes the fact that this passage presents him with such a diverse collection of fragments, he will not try to force them all into a single consecutive discussion. Nor will he be discouraged if he cannot discern a single thread of meaning. Mark took pains to provide an introduction to the whole series. He included the whole series because all deal with duties of the disciples, which was Jesus’ main concern on the way to Jerusalem. But the first axiom was most important to Mark, because it clinched the meaning for him of the entire road. On this very road to the Messiah’s humiliation, disciples had been quarreling over places of honor!
Nothing could stand in sharper contrast to Jesus’ journey than their private ambitions. In such a setting, therefore, this axiom received a tremendous thrust: “If any one would be first, he must be last of all.” The explanation of what it meant to be last of all was provided in part by the phrase “servant of all” (vs. 35) and in part by Jesus’ own rank (vs. 31). One could place this axiom over the whole of Mark’s document as its keynote.
Two of the maxims deal with hospitality granted to a follower of Christ. If we want to see into what kind of church situation they fit, we should read Romans, chapters 14 and 15. In Rome there were house-churches which did not welcome certain Christians, because those strangers were either too careful or too carefree about observing the scriptural commands (see the Introduction) . It is with regard to such a situation that it became unusual for a congregation to grant table hospitality to a person on no other ground than that he bore the name of Christ (vs. 41). In contrast to this inhospitality, the thrust of Jesus’ principle was sharp and penetrating: to receive the least attractive and least prominent “child” in the name of Christ was a welcome given to Christ himself, and to welcome Christ was to welcome God (vs. 37; compare Matthew 25:31-45).
A similar situation in the Roman church throws light on the axiom: “He that is not against us is for us” (vs. 40). A man was known to be in town doing mighty works in the name of Christ. “But he,” said members of some congregations, “is not truly one of us. We must therefore oppose his work.” Such an attitude, in fact, had been taken by various leaders in the Roman churches toward Paul (Philippians 1:15-17). Against this background the Markan proverb insists that no person who truly does a mighty work in Christ’s name can be “against us.” If he bears this name, we must not add other requirements before accepting him into our fellowship. Thus the proverb is not a plea for expediency in a world where forty per cent are Christians, ten per cent are non-Christians, and the other fifty per cent are neutral. No, the proverb pronounces no blessing on neutrality.
Men are either against or for. The real line — and a sharp line indeed in Mark’s day — is the line drawn by the name “Christ,” and this name is defined by the work of Jesus himself.
True faith is so difficult, and the Messiah so concerned for his “little ones,” that every disciple must avoid the risk of causing a brother to stumble (vs. 42; compare Romans 14:20-21). By the same token a disciple must act ruthlessly toward his own temptations. Entrance into God’s Kingdom is so desirable that any sacrifice is justified (vss. 43-47). According to this austere mode of life, in which a single desire of the eye (Matthew 5:28) or a single offense against one’s neighbor (Matthew 18:10-14) may spell perdition, “every one will be salted with fire.” That is, none of us can avoid God’s judgment, with its purging and refining fire (1 Peter 1:6-7; 1 Peter 4:12-19). In a different sense, believers are the salt of the earth, so long as they retain their saltiness, that is, their willingness to fulfill the requirements of the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1-13). In still a different sense, each congregation needs salt (tolerance, mutual sympathy, reconciling attitudes) to preserve and enhance the peace of the Church.
Some of these sayings may be later than the time of Jesus, at least in their present form. Yet all of them reflect the genuine difficulties of faith, whether in Jesus’ day or in Mark’s. All receive added urgency and clarity from the setting Mark gives to them, for it was in fact Jesus’ journey to the Cross which became for his disciples the vivid standard by which their own attitudes and actions were to be salted.