Analyzing Mark’s Redaction Profile
Synoptic Problem: Markan Priority Defies Logic (Part 10/13)
Why Would Mark Even Bother?
Once we dispense with the circular argument of editorial fatigue, the strongest surviving argument from Markan priority comes in a form such as “why would Mark, writing third, intentionally leave so much important information out of his Gospel?” Given our scientific focus here, one could argue that this presupposes a number of biases, namely that a later Gospel writer should always expand on, rather than conflate, what came before. While that is a fair criticism, the question asked here is far more legitimate than it may appear at first. As such, it warrants further exploration in spite of any presupposition bias. Still, even with this charity, there’s almost no way to approach this point without wading into an abyss of unresolvable speculation (and ever-lurking circularity).
The late Professor William Farmer, Biblical scholar and fervent proponent of the Griesbach Hypothesis, made the following lament late in his career:
Among these difficulties the only one which appears to be so serious as to block a shift away from the Two Source Hypothesis in the direction of its major rival, the Two-Gospel Hypothesis, is the difficulty in imagining how one can explain the omissions Mark has made from the Gospels of Matthew and Luke on the assumption that the author of Mark has derived his Gospel largely from those two earlier Gospels. — William R. Farmer, The Present State Of The Synoptic Problem, 1998 (emphasis added).
Indeed, this still seems to be the biggest sticking point of all for those unwilling to indulge Matthean Priority. From my vantage point, I find this to be an odd thing to be troubled about given that there are so many possible explanations. Given the biases already embedded in the question, it just seems to be a curious thing to have to “prove.” So before getting into additional arguments below, I will lay out a summary of a very reasonable explanation for why Mark even set out to do what is hypothesized. For this purpose, we will assume Matthean Priority (specifically in this case, the Griesbach Hypothesis). I’ll refer to this hypothesis generally as the “Mark the Harmonizer” hypothesis. And to avoid any extra “controversy,” the hypothesis will not presume as true the Patristic testimony about who wrote Mark and why. My burden here, given our study so far, is to proffer a reasonable hypothesis, not one that is provable beyond a reasonable doubt. Remember, to this point Matthean Priority is the most logical answer, and there’s been nothing yet that compels a rejection of our null hypothesis.
A Non-Jewish Gospel for Gentiles
Comparing the Gospel of Mark and the other two Synoptic Gospels reveals Mark’s consistent motivation to deliver a non-Jewish Gospel to his burgeoning Gentile Greco-Roman audience. Indeed, every relevant omission can be explained by this rationale. It appears that the author of Mark sought to write a practical guide for Gentile converts to Christ — converts who may face persecution for their newfound beliefs. And thus, he seems to have excluded anything that was not directly related to that goal. This includes deep dives into the fulfillment of Old Testament Scripture, overly Jewish prayer systems and practices, and complicated eschatological messages.
But why would the author of Mark specifically want to remove the Jewish elements of Matthew and Luke? Perhaps because those themes were no longer relevant to the far-removed, increasingly Latinized population he was addressing? Complicated genealogies and birth details tying Jesus to the house of David would only slow the message down. Long-winded passages like the Sermon on the Mount, contrasting Jewish followers of Christ with with rigid “law-adhering” Sadducees simply did not fit with Mark’s action-pact story arc. If the aim was to get converts fast, Mark’s decisions seem reasonable to that objective.
A Servant Teacher Who Was Human and Divine
More than any other Gospel, Mark emphasizes the human elements of Jesus. The first-century church — especially non-Jews — still needed to understand who Jesus was. Matthew and Luke portrayed Jesus as a divine being, God in the flesh. But it was Mark who made it a point to highlight the living, sacrificing human side of Jesus — the Jesus who serves, and who had to suffer and die for the sins of humankind. And it would be centuries before church councils would settle on creeds and doctrine affirming this human/divine duality.
Unlike the more glorified presentations in Matthew and Luke, Mark’s Jesus could suffer; Mark’s Jesus could feel betrayal. Mark’s Aramaisms made his Jesus feel more relatable, like a real person. Mark’s use of Latinisms were also more in touch with the audience he was targeting. With Mark’s Jesus, it was okay for regular followers to “not get it.” Even Jesus’ disciples didn’t always “get it.” And that was okay, even the point. Mark’s Jesus didn’t come blasting an obvious message. In Mark, Jesus takes his time and builds tension, performing many actions in secret. The story Mark tells is not about perfection, it’s about redemption. And the path of following Christ in Mark did not require flawlessness. This approach provides a relatable and intense drama.
A Dramatic Narrative For First-Century Greco-Romans
More than any other Gospel, Mark is largely focused on telling a detailed, fast-paced story and less about conveying sacred Scripture. And where a read-through of Matthew and Luke takes nearly three hours, one can get through Mark in about half that time. This was a Gospel that could be memorized in large part, easily copied, and consumed in a short amount of time. Mark’s Jesus follows dramatic story arc from: arriving with a crucial message →to gradually revealing that message →to winning over converts by healings and miracles →to betrayal and denial →to humiliation and suffering → to death by crucifixion →and ultimately to resurrection and fulfillment of glory.
The 19th century work, “History of the Church” puts it succinctly: “Mark gives us a Gospel of facts, while Matthew’s is a Gospel of divine oracles.”¹ In Mark’s high-action drama, there is a villain lurking around every corner, whether it’s a religious leader, Satan, or even one of his own disciples. But his “hero” is a Homeric, miracle-working, teaching, and healing human and divine being who sacrifices for us all, and triumphantly takes on the sins of the entire world.
Harmonizing and Resolving Inconsistencies
One additional motivation in Mark appears to be his desire to create a “harmony” between Luke and Matthew, and resolve inconsistencies. I’ll briefly discuss what I think is also a consistent, reasonable explanation for Mark’s decisions, if Mark was last. I first encountered it in an analysis by Professor Farmer, who argued that Mark attempted to bridge together diverging accounts of events in the earlier Gospels of Matthew and Luke.² And when he couldn’t readily verify tradition from the earlier sources, he excluded it. For example, there would have been places where reconciling accounts from two different scrolls would have been especially cumbersome and would have required multiple back and forth checks in order to harmonize it. This may have given Mark an additional reason to exclude it. I’ve summarized, and modified this view here:
- Mark aimed to resolve inconsistencies between Matthew and Luke (we’ve seen potential examples of this already with editorial fatigue).
- Consistent with the above, Mark aimed to “harmonize” the accounts of Matthew and Luke into a unified, coherent story.
- In effecting 1 and 2, Mark also provided commentary and extra detail in areas of the shared accounts where Mark had additional tradition.
All told, Mark’s aim was never to “do better” than Matthew or Luke, but rather offer readers a simpler “Cliff’s Notes” version of the Gospels — focusing on essentials — and then allowing readers to get other details as needed from the earlier traditions.
Putting It All Together
Mark set out to deliver an fast-paced, hard-hitting, narrative about Jesus the relatable man, and mysterious Son of God. It was an “everyman’s” Gospel account for Gentiles (many being pagans) that didn’t require or expect any connection to the earlier Jewish traditions. And it did not require followers to be flawless. In doing his work, he combined the salient parts from Matthew and Luke, removed the parts that weren’t needed for his story, and reconciled the inconsistencies he found to the best of his ability. I cannot prove that this is what happened — no one can. However, this view reasonably supports and accounts for all of the concerns with Mark’s redactions and omissions, without any strained or incredible inferences.
Analyzing Mark’s Redactions
We’ll now turn to a case-by-case analysis of Mark’s redactions, followed later by his omissions. While the “Mark the Harmonizer” hypothesis above is helpful in framing the analyses below, it is not required. Unless stated otherwise, we’re no longer assuming Matthean Priority. Instead, we’re analyzing each example under both Markan and Matthean Priority hypotheses and weighing which is more logically persuasive.
Would Mark Make These Revisions?
“Deeds of Power”
In the first example above, Jesus and his apostles have returned to Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth. After some narrative, Mark goes on to say Jesus “could do no need of power there.” After similar narrative, Matthew instead says Jesus “did not do many deeds of power there.” The argument Markan Priority advocates put forth is that Mark’s version could have been read by early Christians as implying Jesus was weak, or worse, not the omnipotent God in the flesh. They argue that Matthew’s version makes Jesus appear more powerful, and that we can reconcile the two passages as being a more natural progression if Matthew came after Mark. The converse, they argue, is harder to imagine because it’s harder to conceptualize that Mark, writing after Matthew, would “limit” Jesus in this way.
Let’s accept the underlying premise as true that a later writer would want to “amplify,” or “strengthen” the image of Jesus. (If it’s not obvious already, it is reasonable to doubt this as a consistent motivation). The question for us here is, which version shows the “more powerful” Jesus? If the passage ended here, I would concede that the better argument would be for Matthew. But it doesn’t end there. As shown, the very next portion of the same verse in Mark reads “except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them.” In Matthew, there is no such passage. Mark’s passage doesn’t contain the “because of their unbelief” phrase either. So, even accepting presumption that the later writer would seek to increase the power of Jesus, is it clear that it’s Matthew’s version that is doing this? Let’s review our choices:
- Option 1, Matthew comes along and sees Mark’s version saying Jesus could “do no deed of power” except curing a few sick people. Matthew wants to amplify Jesus. And so, he decides to include the same passage in his Gospel (he could have chosen to omit it as well), but elects to change it to “did not do many deeds” (“because of their unbelief”) while dropping the curing miracles that Jesus performed.
- Option 2, Mark comes along and sees Matthew’s version saying that Jesus “did not do many deeds of power there.” Mark wants to amplify Jesus. And so, he decides to include the same passage in his Gospel (he could have chosen to omit it as well), but elects to change the text to read “could do no deeds of power, except…[a few miracles],” and then drops the “because of their unbelief” phrase.
Which option clearly amplifies Jesus more? Which version of Jesus is harsher? The one who refuses to heal because people didn’t believe or the one who performs some miracles anyway? You decide for yourselves. I happen to find option 2 more compelling, if we accept the presumption of later amplification. But it’s not so much that there is a “right” answer here. It’s that, at best, a case like this is wildly open to interpretation, and nothing compels us to Markan Priority here. Should we overturn 1700 years of history over this?
Now, ask the questions again under the “Mark the Harmonizer” hypothesis. Could it make sense that Mark sought to add commentary to this message to help show that Jesus actually did something miraculous there? Does it fit with his aim to show a miracle-working Jesus? Could it be that Mark sought to remove the “because of their unbelief” because it appeared vindictive and it did not paint the picture of Jesus that was consistent with his narrative? Are these points-of-view also reasonable?
Why Do You Call Me Good?
In the second example given, Mark has Jesus asking “why do you call me good?…” The rest of the verse (not excerpted in the example) reads: “…No one is good except God alone.” Matthew has this worded differently saying “why do you ask me about what is good?…” That verse (not excerpted) continues “…There is only One who is good; but if you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments.” Again, the presumption we’re operating under here is that the later writer would seek to augment, rather than weaken, Jesus.
Another implicit assumption here (one that’s especially required when the Patristic testimony is summarily rejected) is that, since these cannot be “eyewitness accounts,” we cannot just take them at face value as firsthand recollections, “this happened…then that happened…etc.” We are to assume that if accounts like these show up in a Gospel at all, there must be some “theological” reason. To be clear, even eyewitness could have the same theological motive, but in the case of recounting eyewitness testimony, we are not as obligated to assume that. Nevertheless, we’ll evaluate this passage with and without this assumption.
First, there is the non-theological view. The view that a first or second century Christian is hearing or reading these Gospels as is, with no theological context. The argument Markan Prioritists make for Mark being earlier is that Matthew appears to be clearing up the fact that this early reader might have been confused that Jesus is denying he is “good” by asking “[w]hy do you call me good?” So he takes Mark’s Gospel and “softens” the question to say “why do you ask me about what is good?” But wait a second. What is it that prompted these questions, because they don’t seem to be following the same thing? And, in fact, they’re not.
In Mark 10:16, we see: “…[a] man ran up to Him and knelt before Him, and asked Him, ‘Good Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?’” In the analogous verse in Matthew 19:16, we have: “And someone came to Him and said, ‘Teacher, what good thing shall I do that I may obtain eternal life?’” In other words, in Mark, the man referred to Jesus as “Good Teacher” and Jesus responded with “Why do you call me good?” In Matthew, on the other hand, the man asked “what good thing shall I do…” and Jesus responded with “why do you ask me about what is good?” In short, we can’t draw anything from Jesus’ follow up question by itself because the narrative prompting the question was different in each case. Could it be that a “later” Matthew changed this entire passage so that Jesus wouldn’t have to ask the harsher question? Perhaps. But the crux of the passage comes after Jesus’ question. And the question for us is, does what Jesus says next lead one to conclude that he’s denying being good?
In Matthew 19:17, following the man’s question about “what good thing” he should do for eternal life, Jesus responds with: “…There is only One who is good; but if you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments.” However, in Mark 10:18, after the man’s question that begins with “Good Teacher,” Jesus responds with: “And Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call Me good? No one is good except God alone.’”
So when all the context is considered³, we have Mark having a man who asks a “good teacher” what it will take to have eternal life. And Jesus responds with “no one is good except God alone.” And in Matthew, we have a man who asks what “good thing” he should do, and Jesus responds with “There is only One who is good.” Does Matthew make it clearer that Jesus is not denying being good? In both passages, Jesus is claiming there is only “one” being that is good. Matthew does nothing to clean up any confusion made by an allegedly earlier Mark because even in Matthew’s version there is only one who can be good. At this point, the argument that this somehow makes more sense if Matthew came later is challenging.
But the case becomes even more difficult if we grant the widely held theological view that Jesus here is claiming to be good, and therefore God.² To a first century reader or hearer of these Gospels, inclined to view these passages theologically, the section from Mark is much clearer that Jesus is connecting the reference to Himself: why do you call me good?” vs. “why do you ask me about what is good?” in Matthew.
The passage in Matthew could be viewed as merely responding to the original question of “what good thing shall I do….” And the response Jesus gives could be read as telling the man that the man himself cannot be good — only God can. This necessarily eliminates the man from being good. But it doesn’t say anything to make it clear that Jesus is not also eliminating Himself. If that was Matthew’s point, he has not forced the issue or added any clarity. In fact, he’s made what Jesus is saying about Himself even more confusing to the reader/hearer.
On the other hand, the passage in Mark unambiguously refers directly to Jesus rather than the man. While it’s true that Mark’s question “why do you call Me good?” doesn’t make it unambiguous that Jesus is good/God, it does force the man, Jesus’ disciples, and the reader/hearer to confront the question directly with respect to Jesus and no one else. And the question leaves only two options: either Jesus is good and therefore God. Or he’s not good, and therefore not God.
So again, let’s look at our options:
- Option 1, Matthew comes along later and sees Mark’s passage. It appears to Matthew that Jesus is denying to be good (and therefore God) when he says “why do you call me Good?…No One is good except God.” Matthew tries to clean it up by changing the original question to point to the man, rather than Jesus: “what good thing shall I do….” Matthew then has Jesus respond to that question with “[t]here is only One who is good.” This “good” reference clearly eliminates the man. But Matthew still leaves unresolved the issue of whether Jesus is the “only One,” leaving that for the reader/hearer to decide.
- Option 2, Mark comes along later and sees Matthew’s passage. It appears to Mark that the question of what “good thing…” followed by “[t]here is only One who is good,” may leave ambiguity for the reader as to the purpose of the “only One…” statement. Mark sees that it’s ambiguous whether Jesus is including Himself in this analysis or just responding to the man. Mark believes that ambiguity may lead readers/hearers to wrongly believe that Jesus is eliminating Himself too (*or, further, not claiming to be God). Mark tries to clean it up by changing the original question to refer to Jesus as the “Good Teacher” and then have Jesus respond with “[n]o one is good except God alone.”
You decide. Whichever we assume to be first can make its case here (recall hidden circularity). As before, the point is not to say which option is clearly better. This could be argued either way. The point is that this is not the kind of definitive evidence should lead to overturning a unanimous 1700-year historical record.
Let’s consider this again under the “Mark the Harmonizer” hypothesis. Could it make sense that Mark sought to add commentary to this message to force hearers and readers to confront who Jesus was claiming to be (i.e. God Himself)?⁴ And, does it fit with the hypothesis that Mark was continuing to build drama by having Jesus continue to give cryptic messages about his divinity?
Avoiding the Historian’s Fallacy
It’s hopefully even clearer how dangerous it can be to try to interpret first century texts with modern lenses. And it’s not that scholars shouldn’t try. Rather, there is real danger of committing an Historian’s Fallacy. The historian’s fallacy where the modern historian assumes that past actors viewed events from the same perspective and with the same data as today. To the extent we can go back and try to figure a first century writer’s intentions at all, it should be done in as narrowly tailored a way as possible and with very little conjecture. With that in mind, let’s turn now to the 800 lb. gorilla in the room, Mark’s “omissions.”
Would Mark, Writing Later, Omit So Much?
It’s not merely Mark’s alleged “redactions” that are the concern with the argument that Mark was last. But it’s the redactions like those above, coupled with “omission” of what some deem to be essential portions of the Gospel(s) that would have come before. For example, Mark does not include: 1) Jesus’ infancy/nativity story or genealogies, 2) the Sermon on the Mount, 3) the Lord’s Prayer, and 4) the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus.⁵ Why would Mark, writing later, exclude these “important” sections? We’ll note a few things before we answer this question. And, again, we are conducting this analysis with and without our “Mark the Harmonizer” analysis above.
Mark as Second?
Before going further, it is worth pointing out that the arguments made by Markan Prioritists below have the greatest strength if Mark is presumed to be third to Matthew and Luke. However, for the sake of argument, if Mark was second after Matthew (and thus only copying from one source instead of two), many of the the arguments about Mark’s “omissions” lose some force. As we’ve stated already, there’s no logical reason to exclude that possibility. And the Patristic record is at best mixed on who wrote second and third. We don’t need to resolve second place here. Our job, as logicians, is to make sure we consider that possibility when evaluating our theories.
Preaching of Peter?
Of course, if we accept the Patristic accounts about the origins and purpose of Mark’s Gospel, many of the concerns go away too. But since it’s beyond unfathomable to Biblical scholars that the Patristic accounts could be true, or that Mark the Evangelist could have written the Gospel associated with him, we’re forced to discount this evidence in our analyses. (See section on Boogeymen). But if Mark is simply a written version of Peter’s oral take on the earlier Gospels, harmonized for readers and hearers, many of the issues below also disappear.
Gospel of John
Lastly, we will briefly touch on John. The Gospel According to John is, by nearly all accounts in the evidence, the last of the canonical Gospels to be written. As it’s clearly not “synoptic,” we won’t spend much time on it here. I reference it merely to remind us to have pause when presuming that latter Gospels wouldn’t “omit” material from the predecessors.⁶ It is widely agreed that John did, in fact, omit a great deal from the Synoptic Gospels. The reasons are myriad and beyond the scope. But the point is: reasons. And whatever those reasons may be, they could just as easily apply to Mark.
Would a Later Mark Omit the Lord’s Prayer?
This one is perhaps the easiest to analyze. The version of the Lord’s Prayer in Luke is a rudimentary version missing several of the verses in Matthew. In fact, it’s only Matthew that contains the full version. That is, it’s not even in the (consensus last) Gospel of John. While there are many arguments that can be made as to why any writer may have chosen to include/exclude any narrative in their writing, we will focus here on the logic.
If the Lord’s Prayer was so important at the time of writing — the predicate we are to assume — then why do we only see a rudimentary version in Luke and, again, nothing in John? And doesn’t its exclusion from John significantly weaken the already weak presumption that a later Gospel must include everything from the previous one(s)? Could it be that we’re committing an historian’s fallacy, one where we assume that past decision makers viewed past events the same way we do today? This doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to some parts of the early church. But how certain can we be that this staple of modern Christianity was universally important in the first century?
Under our Mark the Harmonizer hypothesis, the exclusion makes even more sense. The Lord’s Prayer, along with Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount, is considered by many scholars to be a Jewish-focused prayer, designed from first-century Jewish followers of Christ. Dr. John Dominic Crossan, a Biblical studies scholar from Depaul University asserts that “The Lord’s Prayer…is utterly, totally, fully Jewish — there’s nothing in it that is particularly Christian.”⁷ It’s entirely reasonable that a later Mark, writing for a Greco-Roman audience, could have decided that this prayer wasn’t furthering his Gentile-focused agenda.
How Could Mark Ignore Baby Jesus in the Manger?
Again, it’s of dubious logical validity to try to analyze the mindset of any historical figure, let alone one from two thousand years past. But the question nonetheless arises as to why Mark, if writing last, would exclude the “important” infancy narratives. Again, myriad answers can be provided — itself rendering this question of limited probative value. One answer could be that Matthew included it because he was writing to a first century Jewish audience that needed to see Jesus as a fulfillment of Jewish scripture. This is consistent with what we know about Matthew’s Gospel. But such genealogy/nativity narratives would have been of limited significance to the gentile converts Mark was aimed towards. This argument is amplified under the hypothesis that Mark was removing overly Jewish elements from his Gospel.
Of course, Luke, also writing to a gentile audience included it and John excluded it (again, rendering it’s inclusion/exclusion of little probative value).⁸ Again, if it was so important, shouldn’t we also ask why the later John also didn’t include it? There is no reason that could be given to John that couldn’t be also given to Mark. Is this, yet again, another case of historian’s fallacy? It bears repeating that this “omission” is a bit less troubling if Mark is writing second, rather than third, as well. This is because Mark wouldn’t have been omitting two narratives, but only one.
Notably, Luke omits a substantial portion of the infancy narratives himself, as well as other material from Matthew (we’ll come back to Luke’s “Great Omission” as well later). See, e.g., Fig. 2 below.
Lastly, under the Mark the Harmonizer hypothesis, in addition to having no desire to connecting Jesus to Jewish prophesies, Mark could have seen that the genealogies and infancy narrative “conflicts” between Luke and Matthew were too difficult to reconcile. And thus, he may have also excluded them for that reason.
Ahh, But the Sermon on the Mount?
The Sermon on the Mount contains some of the most widely quoted sections of any Gospel, read by millions weekly around the world. But was it always universally “important?” Only Matthew includes it in his Gospel. Luke scatters bits of it in separate sections throughout his Gospel (and in the Sermon on the Plain). Unless Matthew is last (a wholly unsupportable contention), one or more “later” writers omitted it. So we can’t conclude all that much from its absence in Mark either way. And again, under the Mark the Harmonizer hypothesis that has Mark tailoring his content to remove overly Jewish theological references, is it that unreasonable that Mark omitted this iconic section?
Gotcha — How About the Resurrection Narratives?!
Of all the omissions in Mark, this one is perhaps the most challenging. Even setting aside modern biases about the importance of the resurrection, there is little doubt that this event was seminal in the early days of Christianity (see, e.g., Paul’s epistles). In fact, it is widely believed that without the events of the resurrection narratives, there would be nothing like what we know as modern Christianity. So why would Mark intentionally omit this, no matter what order he was writing in? All the other gospels cover it extensively, and Paul references the resurrection extensively as well. Is this the smoking gun?
To repeat the now familiar refrain, it’s logically questionable to advance untestable theories about a first century writer’s motives. But that point bears repetition. Still, there is a much more involved discussion here, much of which is beyond the scope of our analysis. And that has to do with the long-standing debate about the original ending of Mark.⁹
The Ending of Mark
The “uncontested” Gospel of Mark ends at 16:8 after Mary Magdalene and other women arrived at tomb of Jesus, only to find it empty: “They went out and fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment had gripped them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” There are many who argue that this ending seems abrupt, especially given that Mark “foreshadowed” future meetings between Jesus and apostles after his resurrection: Mark 14:28 (“‘But after I have been raised, I will go ahead of you to Galilee.’”) and Mark 16:7 (“But go, tell His disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see Him, just as He told you.’”).
For example, some scholars argue that Mark 16:8 ends awkwardly on the Greek conjunction, γαρ (meaning “for” though some argue it literally means “because”), and that this too makes the uncontested ending somewhat incoherent.¹⁰ This had led a large number scholars to posit that the original ending (which may or may not actually be the longer ending) has been lost.
As one of many explanations for this, there is a “longer ending” of Mark, verses 16:9–20, that does contain post-resurrection narratives. However, there is debate as whether this was part of the original text, or a later scribal addition. While there is an interesting, but certainly not conclusive, record of several early church writers referencing the longer ending of Mark, there is no genuine debate that Tatian included the entire longer ending, all 12 verses, in his Diatessaron which was completed circa 160–175 C.E.¹¹ This pre-dates the earliest extant manuscripts (which date to the 4th century) by a few hundred years. Notably, however, these earliest manuscripts omit the longer ending.¹²
We won’t attempt to resolve any of this here. For our purposes, it’s sufficient to note that the ending of the Gospel of Mark remains contested and is either:
- a) lost (or unintentionally unfinished),
- b) inclusive of resurrection narratives in 16:9–20 or some other ending,
- c) Mark’s intended ending¹³
If the answer is either “a” or “b,” then we can’t logically make much of Mark’s “failure” to include it in his writing. Even if one is personally convinced that the uncontested ending truly is Mark’s intended ending (and how could one be?), stylistically chosen by him for whatever reason, it’s at best disingenuous to argue this as an omission favoring Markan Priority given the genuine and unresolved controversy.
But even assuming Mark omitted the greater details intentionally, Mark does include foreshadowing of the events and acknowledges, albeit sparsely, the resurrection of Jesus. Even if Mark was writing first, it would be hard to come up with any better explanation for the omission than “it’s how he wanted to tell the story.” Sure, one can conjecture that the resurrection wasn’t yet materialized narrative under early Markan Priority, but that has real problems (e.g. it conflicts with the foreshadowing, is inconsistent with parallel Pauline tradition, etc.). So regardless of priority order, the exclusion of more detailed resurrection narrative is equally challenging to explain.
On balance, and even giving this argument of “hard to explain” Markan redactions/omissions all benefits of the doubt, there’s not enough here that’s conclusive — or even sufficiently probative — for Mark being definitively first. Without more, there is no reason yet to reject our null hypothesis.
What About the Reverse?
A major issue with the omission arguments for Markan Priority is that they’re reversible. That is there are cases where both other Synoptic Gospel writers also omit, and also cases where Mark adds, content. This makes it nearly impossible to formulate a consistent, logically coherent argument either way on this matter.
Luke’s Great Omission
Luke omits a large amount of material from Mark, ~75 verses from 6:45–8:26 (corresponding to Matthew 14:24 to 16:13a). Many refer to this as Luke’s Great Omission in order to distinguish this from another omission, the so-called “Little Omission” of Mark 9:41–10:12 (mostly also has corresponding passages in Matthew as well).¹⁴ Again, for our purposes here, we cannot get into all the explanations as to why. The point is, there is very little dispute that Luke wrote after one or both of Mark and Matthew. And he omitted a substantial amount of material from one or both. It’s a minor point, but it’s evidence we must consider if we’re going to simultaneously make a big deal about Mark’s omissions. It very well may be that we can’t possibly, with 21st century vision, understand why a first century Gospel writer made the choices they did. As such, we should use extreme caution when drawing broad conclusions from such speculative data.
Mark’s Additions
But there’s one more thing to consider. Mark also includes material that is not found in either Luke or Matthew. This consists of Mark 1:1; 2:27; 3:20–21; 4:26–29; 7:2–4, 32–37; 8:22–26; 9:29, 48–49; 13:33–37; 14:51–52.¹⁵ For example, Mark includes two accounts of healing: the healing of the blind man of Bethsaida (Mark 8:22–26), in which Jesus spits on a man’s eyes and heals him in two stages, and the healing of the deaf mute (7:33–36), in which Jesus puts his fingers in a man’s ears, and spits and touches his tongue. Notably, Mark also has longer pericopae, with more details, than the parallel stories throughout the triple tradition, and as compared to Matthew and Luke separately.¹⁶ We’ve already discussed why this would be the case with the Mark the Harmonizer hypothesis above. These additional stories of healing fit squarely in Mark’s action-oriented, “Jesus the miracle-worker” narrative. Matthean Priority scholars refer to this as part of what they call the “Markan Overlay.”¹⁷ That is, there are aspects of Mark that are unique to Mark and appear to be part of a broader theme unique to Mark.
But how does one logically reconcile the notion that Mark also contains so much information that neither Luke nor Matthew include with the argument that Mark also made inexplicable redactions and omissions? And how do we sustain consistency while arguing both that Mark inexplicably omits content and that Matthew and Luke also omit content as any logical basis for ordinality?
Having concluded our analysis of the “strongest” rebuttal arguments for Markan Priority, we’ll turn next to our summary of the rebuttal case thus far, and next steps (Part 11/13).
[1]: Schaff, Philip. History of the Christian Church: Apostolic Christianity, A.D. 1–100 / Phil Schaff. United States: Scribner, 1882. p. 388.
[2]: See generally, Farmer, William R., The Gospel of Jesus: The Pastoral Relevance of the Synoptic Problem, pp 24–25. United States: Presbyterian Publishing Corporation, 1994.
[3]: Both passages go on to have Jesus instruct to follow the commandments, and then sell all possessions and follow Him, etc.
[4]: I’m aware of the counter-argument that this passage is Jesus denying to be the “one” who is good, and therefore God. I understand that view, but don’t find it to be the most logical. It requires us to read entire Synoptic Gospels as Jesus never claiming to be divine. If the claim of divinity can be sustained in even one passage in Matthew and/or Mark, then the reading that Jesus is denying to be God in these passages fails. We can’t dive into that here, but there are several scholars who have demonstrated exactly that. Even without the divinity claim, these passages do nothing to necessitate priority of one writer over the other.
[5]: Four Views pp. 49–50
[6]: Many scholars believe that John must have had access to the Synoptic Gospels. But the point with John’s omissions is strong whether or not John had the Synoptic Gospels in his possession. If he did, he intentionally left out a lot. If he didn’t, then it bolsters the point that we’re committing a historian’s fallacy when we tack on modern significance to these early teachings. They must not have been important enough for John to include them either.
[7]: Interview with John Dominic Crossan regarding his book on the Lord’s Prayer: Crossan, John Dominic. The Greatest Prayer: Rediscovering the Revolutionary Message of the Lord’s Prayer. New York, NY: HarperOne, 2010.
[8]: Professor Mark Goodacre, for example, claims that “Luke is doing his own thing in the birth narrative” and that “Luke got the very idea got a birth narrative from seeing it in Matthew” and that it was it was “not that obvious a thing to do.”
[9]: See, e.g. Stein, Robert H. (2008), The Ending of Mark, Bulletin for Biblical Research, 18 (1): 79–98, doi:10.2307/26423729, JSTOR 26423729, S2CID 248455140
[10]: See, e.g., The Ending of Mark, pp. 79–98
[11]: Irenaeus of Lyons, writing circa 184, also quoted from the longer ending when he quoted Mark 16:19 in his work Against Heresies: “Also, towards the conclusion of his Gospel, Mark says: ‘So then, after the Lord Jesus had spoken to them, He was received up into heaven, and sits on the right hand of God.” See also , e.g., Snapp Jr., James. Authentic: The Case for Mark 16:9–20: 2016 Edition.
[12]: There is a much longer discussion here, see, e.g. generally, The Case For Mark 16:9–20.
[13]: There is also a much less common argument for a “shorter ending” than 16:9–20. See, e.g., The Ending of Mark.
[14]: Pettem, M. (1996). Luke’s Great Omission and his View of the Law. New Testament Studies, 42(1), 35–54. doi:10.1017/S0028688500017069
[15]: Four Views, p. 117
[16]: Four Views, p. 50
[17]: Four Views, p. 20
