^{page 352 note 1} Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition (F.R.L.A.N.T. n.F. 12) (Göttingen, 1961 ⁵), p. 372Google Scholar; E. T. by Marsh, John, The History of the Synoptic Tradition (New York, 1963), p. 347.Google Scholar

^{page 352 note 2} Schille, G., ‘Bemerkungen zur Formgeschichte des Evangeliums. Rahmen u. Aufbau des Markusevangeliums’, N.T.S. IV (1957/1958), 11, 24.Google Scholar

^{page 352 note 3} ‘Mark's Contribution to the Quest of the Historical Jesus’, N.T.S. x (1964/1965), 421ff., 431ff.Google Scholar

^{page 352 note 4} Burkill, T. A., The Mysterious Revelation (Cornell, 1963), p. 5.Google Scholar

^{page 352 note 5} As an exception, we may consider Dibelius, M., Die Formgeschichte des Evangeliums (Tübingen, 1961 ⁴)Google Scholar (with supplement by G. Iber), pp. 233 f. Dibelius speaks of Mark as a book of secret epiphanies and deals with Mark i. 1–13 in this light. This would be a much more convincing discussion if the Gospel began with the baptism itself and were not framed by the preaching of John and that of Jesus. We might also mention J. E. Yates, who holds that from i. 14 onward Mark presents ‘the “baptizing” or cleansing of Israel by the Spirit through the ministry of Jesus’. Yet Yates does not deal with the problem of the introduction as a whole (‘The Form of Mark i. 8b’, N.T.S. IV, 1957/8, 337).

^{page 353 note 1} Carrington, P., The Primitive Christian Calendar (Cambridge, 1952)Google Scholar; According to Mark (Cambridge, 1960)Google Scholar; Farrer, Austin, A Study in St Mark (London, 1951).Google Scholar Farrer claims i. 14–20 is the calling of the disciples (pp. 64 ff.) while at the same time he speaks of a series of little paragraphs in i. 1–15 which develop into a series of larger paragraphs in i. 16–ii. 12 and ii. 13–iii. 12 (p. 78).

^{page 353 note 2} E.g. H. J. Holtzmann described the introduction as ending at v. 15 and yet called vv. 14 f. the Überschnft of the Galilean ministry (Handkommentar zum NT [I. I Synoptiker], Tübingen, 1901³, pp. II, 115). F. C. Grant called i. 2–15 the introductory section and yet outlined the book with vv. 1–13 as the introduction, and i. 14–ix. 50 as ‘Jesus in Galilee’ (The Gospels, New York, 1957, pp. 87 f., 180 f.).Google Scholar

^{page 353 note 3} E.g. Burkill, , op. cit. p. 20Google Scholar; Goguel, M., L'Évangile selon S. Marc (Paris, 1909), p. 23Google Scholar; Klostermann, E., Das Markusevangelium (H.N.T.) (Tübingen, 1950 ⁴)Google Scholar; Kümmel's revision of Feine-Behm, , Einleitung in das N.T. (Heidelberg, 1963), p. 45Google Scholar; Lagrange, , L'Évangile selon S. Marc (Paris, 1911), p. cxviiiGoogle Scholar; Schniewind, , Markus (N.T.D.) (Göttingen, 1960 ⁹)Google ScholarTrocmé, E., La Formation de l'Évangile selon Marc (Paris, 1963), p. 57, n. 223.Google Scholar

^{page 353 note 4} The Gospel Message of St Mark (Oxford, 1950), chap. 2.Google Scholar

^{page 354 note 1} The Problem of History in Mark (Napierville, 1957), pp. 21ff.Google Scholar

^{page 354 note 2} In this, Robinson goes beyond K. L. Schmidt who also insisted on gaps between v 8 and v. 9, as well as between v. 13 and v. 14 (Der Rahmen der Geschichte Jesu, Berlin, 1919, pp. 28ff.).Google Scholar

^{page 354 note 3} Grundmann, Walter, Das Evangelium nach Markus (Theologischer Handkommentar, II) (Berlin, 1959), pp. 13, 36.Google Scholar

^{page 355 note 1} Mauser, Ulrich, Christ in the Wilderness (S.B.T. 39) (Napierville, 1963), chap. v.Google Scholar

^{page 355 note 2} Schmidt, K. L., Der Rahmen Geschichte Jesu, pp. 20 f.Google Scholar; Marxsen, W., Der Evangelist Markus (F.R.L.A.N.T. n.F. 49) (Göttingen, 1959 ²), pp. 20f.Google Scholar

^{page 355 note 3} There is some lack of clarity in one of his articles. In ‘Mark's Contribution to the Quest of the Historical Jesus’, op. cit. pp. 421 ff.Google Scholar, he appears to repeat the analysis of ‘Die theologische Leistung des Markus’, Ev. Theol. XXIV (1964)Google Scholar and ‘Anmerkungen zur Theologie des Markus’, in Neotestamentica et Patristica (Cullmann Festschrift) (Leiden, 1962)Google Scholar in which i. 1–13 is treated as the introduction and i. 14f. as the summary introduction to the first section of the first half of the Gospel. In the first-named article, however, he uses the following ambiguous clauses: ‘with the arrest of John, the prologue comes to its end, anticipating the παραδοθῶναı of Jesus himself’; ‘the first part [his italics] begins with a summary (i. 14f.)…’. This ambiguity results from the fact that he does not regard the matter of the extent of the introduction as very important (so in conversation, 21 April 1965).

^{page 356 note 1} For an analysis of this paragraph and its function in Mark, see my article, ‘Mark iii. 7–12 and Mark's Christology’, in J.B.L. LXXXIV (1965), 341ff.Google Scholar I have discovered that B. W. Bacon also saw this importance of iii. 14 and vi.6, though he called iii. 7–12 ‘editorial breathing space’. ‘The Prologue of Mark: A Study of Sources and Structure’, J.B.L. XXVI (1907), 87f.Google Scholar Recently, on the other hand, Trocmé appears uncertain: op. cit. pp. 64, 67.Google Scholar

^{page 356 note 2} Symptomatic, in some ways, is V. Taylor who says, on the one hand, that Mark wanted to tell how the gospel began because he was associated with Peter and remembered his teaching; on the other hand, he speaks of apologetic, liturgical, catechetical aims. Because he does not distinguish between the function of the materials prior to Mark and their function in Mark, Taylor cannot give a clear picture of what Mark intends to say (The Gospel According to St Mark, London, 1952, pp. 130f.).Google Scholar More than half a century ago, B. W. Bacon of Yale contended not only for the Sitz im Leben of the gospel materials as the requisite starting-point (what he called ‘pragmatic values’), but insisted that Mark's purpose be inferred from his non-historical structure. See his ‘The Purpose of Mark's Gospel’, J.B.L. XXIX (1910), 41ff.Google Scholar, where he also refers to his previous work on Mark. Utterly unsatisfactory, on the other hand, is the recent book by Bowman, John, The Gospel of Mark (Studia Post-biblica 8) (Leiden, 1965)Google Scholar where the purpose of Mark is not inferred from analysis but merely asserted apodictically (a Jewish Christian Passover Haggadah for Jews in Rome!). In fact, the chapter entitled ‘The Gospel of St Mark and its Purpose’ shows that Bowman does not perceive what ‘purpose’ means…at least the intent of the author is the one thing not discussed!

^{page 357 note 1} Willi, Marxsen, Der Evangelist Markus (F.R.L.A.N.T. n.F. 49) (Göttingen, 1959 ¹), p. 83.Google Scholar

^{page 357 note 2} J. Schniewind, whose investigations of εύαγγέλıον still dominate the literature of biblical studies, was persuaded that ‘good news’ was not to be regarded as the secondary development derived from ‘reward for bringing good news’ (Euangelion (B.F.C.T. 1125), Gütersloh, 1931, II, 116–19).

^{page 357 note 3} The last passage, in which Mark's hand is least certain, says that the woman who anointed Jesus so lavishly will be remembered ὀπου έάν κηρυχθῶ τό εύαγγέλıον. In xiii. 10 (Mark's insertion) Mark speaks of τό εύαγγέλıον as being preached before the End. It is this preaching and the response of faith that precipitates the action against the believers (δıά τό ὀνομά μου of v. 13 is synonymous with ἒνεκεν έμῦυ). This theme is also central in viii. 35 and x. 29.

^{page 358 note 1} See note 2, p. 353.

^{page 358 note 2} Wellhausen, J., Das Evangelium Marci (Berlin, 1903), p. 9.Google Scholar

^{page 358 note 3} Wendling, E., Die Entstehung des Markusevangeliums (Tübingen, 1908), p. 3.Google Scholar

^{page 358 note 4} Zahn, Th., Einleitung in das N.T. (Leipzig, 1900 ²), pp. 220ff.Google Scholar

^{page 358 note 5} Seitz, O.J.F., ‘Praeparatio Evangelica in the Markan Prologue’, J.B.L. LXXXII (1963), 201–6Google Scholar; ‘Gospel Prologues: A Common Pattern?’, J.B.L. LXXXIII (1964), 262–8.Google Scholar The former is concerned to point out thematic parallels in Qumran but does not show how Qumran material affected (or effected) Mark's own prologue.

^{page 358 note 6} Kuby, A., ‘Zur Konzeption des Markus-Evangeliums’, Z.N.W. XLIX (1958), 54f. n. 8.Google Scholar

^{page 358 note 7} I am not persuaded by Manfred Karnetzki's claim that this verse belongs to the redactor of a Galilean version of Mark (‘Die galiläische Redaktion im Markusevangelium’, Z.N.W. LII, 1961, 265Google Scholar). The proper way to put the question is whether the verse is pre-Marcan. Probably it is from Mark himself.

^{page 359 note 1} If Mark were faced with the question, Is this an objective or a subjective genitive, he would probably have said it was both: the God-given message about God.

^{page 359 note 2} So Taylor, V., op. cit.Google Scholar; the phrase is found also in I Pet. iv. 17, as well as in Rom. i. I; xv. 16; II Cor. xi. 7; I Thess. ii. 2, 8. For Paul τό εύγγέλıον τỏυ is also ό λόγος θεỏυ as I Thess. ii. 13 shows. Mark shares this perspective, as ii. 2 makes clear: έλάλεı αύτοīς τόν λόγον; see also iv. 14, 33. Also Trocmé hesitates to call Paul the initiator of Christian usage: op. cit. p. 116.Google Scholar

^{page 359 note 3} While Hoskyns and Davey recognized that ‘to Mark…Jesus both announces the good news and is himself the good news’ they mistakenly contended that in Mark Jesus is shown ‘bearing witness to himself…the interest of the narrative is fixed upon the question whether men and women will recognize in Jesus the gospel of God and will accept the witness he bears to himself’. This is too ‘Johannine’. Moreover, because of this lack of focus, it is clear why they wrote that the word εύαγγέλıν is ‘obscure’ as Mark uses it (The Riddle of the N.T., London, 1947 ³, pp. 88 f.).Google Scholar

^{page 359 note 4} Despite the vigorous rebuttal by Weiss, J., Das älteste Evangelium, pp. 24ff.Google Scholar, the argument by Zahn is the more durable (op. cit. pp. 220ff.Google Scholar). Zahn contended that the phrase. here means not facts told about Jesus (res gestae) but the message of salvation which Jesus brought into the world and which was first preached by him and now is proclaimed by his messengers and which continues to bear the stamp of its author.

^{page 360 note 1} Zahn (ibid.) saw this also, just as he saw that Mark's treatment of John the Baptist was not concerned to transmit traditions but was kerygmatically dominated throughout (see subsequent discussion above).

^{page 360 note 2} W. F. Howard was too concerned to establish the possibility of concurrent work by Jesus and John to avoid interpreting Mark in the light of Matthew, for he contended that Mark regarded this term as a signal to Jesus that his hour had struck. Actually, at this point, Mark is not interested in Jesus’ interpretation of John's fate, nor in any of Jesus' mental processes. ‘John the Baptist and Jesus. A Note on Evangelic Chronology’, Amicitiae Corolla (R. Harris Festschrift) (London, 1933), PP. 119f.Google Scholar

^{page 360 note 3} Op. cit. pp. 23f.Google Scholar

^{page 361 note 1} Marxsen claimed the opposite—that Mark minimized Jesus' teaching. He says this because he has been misled by the quantity of each kind of material and has not paid sufficient attention to the emphasis Mark himself placed on the teaching (Einleitung in das N.T., Gütersloh, 1964 ², p. 121).Google Scholar

^{page 361 note 3} E. Schweizer has also called attention to the connexion of teaching and healing for Mark; yet his claim that the commands of silence are designed to prohibit preaching this ‘historical Jesus’ is not convincing (‘Anmerkungen zur Theologie des Markus’, pp.44f.).

^{page 361 note 3} Op. cit. p. 50.Google Scholar

^{page 361 note 4} Schniewind was to have written the article on εύαγγέλıν for Kittel, but it was taken over by his student, G. Friedrich, who used Schniewind's unprinted materials as well as the results of his own researchGoogle Scholar (Th.W.B. II, pp. 705–35).Google Scholar

^{page 361 note 5} This point is emphasized especially by Robinson.

^{page 362 note 1} Ulrich Mauser sees that the ‘temptation’ story is important for Mark's introduction, but splits it away from vv. 14f. Therefore he must say that Mark has no victory over Satan here and that the entire Gospel is the story and explanation of Jesus' temptation (op. cit. pp. 100f.).Google Scholar

^{page 362 note 2} For a general analysis, see Anselm, Schulz, Nachfolge und Nachahmen (Studien zum Alten u. Neuen Testament 6) (Munich, 1962), pp. 97–116.Google Scholar

^{page 363 note 1} Anselm Schulz sees that in mark (and the other Synoptics as well) the disciples do not continue to do what Jesus commissioned them to do at iii. 13 ff. and vi. 7ff. He does not reckon, however, with the fact that this is attributable to Mark's own interest and is not to be taken directly as a mark of Jesus' own intent (ibid. p. 72).

^{page 364 note 1} Dodd, C. H., The Apostolic Preaching (London, 1936), pp. 15, 42Google Scholar; here Dodd was speaking of Paul and the primitive kerygma generally, not specifically of Mark. What he does say of Mark (pp. 46–52) is deliberately congruent with what is said of Paul and the kerygma.

^{page 364 note 2} We can see this clearly in Burkill's book. Because he says that in the first part Mark is ‘mainly concerned to represent the words and deeds of Jesus as esoteric manifestations of the secret fact of the Messiahship’ and the second with the necessity of Jesus' suffering, he must say that we must not assume Mark is logically coherent (pp. 5f.). The relative incoherence of Mark—if such can be demonstrated—can be traced equally well to the fact of his use of traditional materials (as Burkill recognizes) and to Burkill's own over-emphasis on the Messianic secret.

^{page 364 note 3} Anselm, Schulz, op. cit. pp. 68 f.Google Scholar, has pointed out that the Synoptics use similar terminology to describe the ‘sending’ of Jesus and that of the disciples.

^{page 364 note 4} In contrast with Cullmann's effort to base a Christian doctrine of baptism on this logion and thus to anchor this teaching in the mind of Jesus (Baptism in the N.T., trans. by Reid, J. K. S. [S.B.T. I], London, 1950, pp. 19f.Google Scholar), the sober judgements of Beasley-Murray, who shows why this should not be done, are to be preferred (Baptism in the N.T., London, 1963, pp. 72ff.).Google Scholar

^{page 365 note 1} Op. cit. pp. 101ff.Google Scholar E. Trocmé's hypothesis that a primitive edition of Mark ended with chap. xiii is not persuasive: op. cit. 169ff.Google Scholar

^{page 365 note 2} Despite Beasley-Murray's critiques of all efforts to trace elements of this chapter to pre-Christian sources and traditions, he has not succeeded in showing that this material ‘approximates so closely’ to the undoubted teaching of Jesus that there is no need to look elsewhere than to him for it. Beasley-Murray's survey of the discussions is a highly instructive introduction to the complex problems (Jesus and the Future, London, 1956).Google Scholar Recent German literature is discussed briefly by Alfred, Suhl, Die Funktion der alttestamentlichen Zitate und Anspielungen im Markusevangelium (Gütersloh, 1965), pp. 16ff.Google Scholar

^{page 365 note 3} Robinson has seen this too, though his remarks are exceedingly brief (op. cit. pp. 60ff.Google Scholar). Much more emphatic on this point is Busch, F., Zum Verständnis der synoptischen Eschatologie. Markus 13 neu untersucht (N.T. Forschungen, 2) (Gütersloh, 1938), p. 34.Google Scholar

^{page 365 note 4} Op. cit. pp. 362–76.Google Scholar

^{page 365 note 5} Op. Cit. pp. 205ff.Google Scholar

^{page 365 note 6} This would mean, then, that the primary concern of the interpreter is to locate the paraenetic motives which caused Mark to take up apocalyptic traditions at this point. This is a more fruitful starting-point than the analysis of the disparate material. Where the latter approach dominates, one always ends with the unresolved problem: why does Mark suddenly give us an apocalyptic Jesus in contrast with the rest of the Gospel? Marxsen rightly sees that precisely this concentration on the apocalyptic details distracts us from what Mark is trying to say by it (op. cit. p. 128Google Scholar). (Kloster-mann sees Mark's paraenetic interests but does not develop the consequences, op. cit. p. 133.Google Scholar) Still, Marxsen tends to take the materials literally. E. Grässer, on the other hand, has rightly seen that for Mark paraenetic interests take precedence over apocalyptic instruction, and that Mark is concerned to deal with the delay of the end (Das Problem der Parousieverzögerung in den synoptischen Evangelien (Beih. Z.N.W. 22), Berlin, 1960 ², pp. 156 ff., 169Google Scholar). Still, it is not simply the fact of the delay that dominates Mark but the demeanour of the church that must wait longer. Ernst Käsemann, more-over, has rightly reminded us of the role of apocalyptic in the emergence of the Gospels; cf. ‘Die Anfänge christlicher Theologie’, now in Exegetische Versuchungen und Besinnungen, ii (Göttingen, 1965), pp. 95f.Google Scholar

^{page 366 note 1} This is an exceedingly difficult phrase. Klostermann is ambiguous: on the one hand, he also sees that this is basically a claim to Christ's authority, yet on the other he asks whether is not to be deleted. He does not reckon with the possibility that this phrase is a Christian (Mark's own?) reinterpretation of , the claim to self-authentication, as does V. Taylor. On this basis, the Christianization and adaptation for paraenesis (of ) led to the addition of because for the Christian no real rival to Christ was possible. (That Paul speaks of ‘another’ Jesus (II Cor. xi. 4) must not be taken literally as representing the opponents' own claim but Paul's perception that their claim to interpret the ‘real’ Jesus was, in effect, ‘another’ Jesus.) H. Conzelmann, on the other hand, has suggested the opposite, that Mark is trying to interpret false Messiahs in terms of the traditions in vv. 21ff., and that he himself added the έγώ εμı. ‘Geschichte und Eschaton nach Mc xiii’, Z.N.W. L (1959), 218.Google Scholar F. Busch's attempt to make the word an authentic logion because of its Old Testament roots is not successful (81 ff.) nor is his claim that the phrase means that some Christians will claim to be Christ himself (p. 123).

^{page 366 note 2} This possibility requires us to say that Mark took xiii. 21 symbolically, that is, that the problem was not one of literal false Messiahs (as Marxsen and others hold) but that Mark used this traditional formulation to characterize the false teachers of the church, just as I John used the term ‘Antichrist’ (I John ii. 18; iv. 3). On this basis, ‘let the reader understand’ (xiii. 14) would be Mark's signal to the reader that the following material is not to be taken in its traditional, literal way. Holding that Mark meant it all literally, on the other hand, usually makes his phrase mean ‘pay close attention’— which the text does not really say. Marxsen (op. cit. pp. 66 ffGoogle Scholar) associates Mark with the flight to Pella, which he connects not only with the political crisis but with the parousia expectation as well. Yet, as Manfred Karnetzki has contended, Marxsen did not reckon seriously enough with the possibility of Galilean (or at least Palestinian) materials being re-used later in another context in which they may take on another meaning. (It is questionable, of course, whether there was such a thing as a Galilean redaction of Mark as Karnetzki holds; op. cit. pp. 246 ff.Google Scholar)

^{page 367 note 1} Op. cit. p. 48.Google Scholar See also pp. 52f. where the themes of Mark viii. 35–ix. I are set parallel to Mark xiii.

^{page 367 note 2} Marxsen has seen this too, but has not made it as prominent as Mark himself did; op. cit. p. 128.Google Scholar In this way, our analysis confirms Ernst Käsemann's conclusion, that apocalyptic was the original matrix of paraenesis: op. cit. p. 96.Google Scholar

^{page 367 note 3} E. Fuchs has written suggestively that all the gospels take care to show that Jesus called disciples before the passion, and that this reveals Jesus' authority. He does not distinguish, unfortunately, between the Evangelists' various motives for doing so. Still, his statement that in the Gospels Jesus did not so much disappoint hopes as endure distorted faith is especially true for Mark (Zur Frage nach dem historischen, Jesus, Tübingen, 1960, pp. 174 f.).Google Scholar

^{page 368 note 1} This is seen also by Anselm, Schulz, op. cit. p. 92Google Scholar, who points to the emphasis on ‘abandoning’ previous occupations and norms of life in all the stories.

^{page 368 note 2} H. Conzelmann makes a similar judgement: the secret theory is the hermeneutical presupposition of the form ‘gospel’ because this is the ‘messianic’ interpretation of the tradition given in the material itself. However, he did not raise the question of the epiphanous miracle-material (‘Gegenwart and Zukunft in der syn. Tradition’, Z.Th.K. LIV (1957), 294 f.).Google Scholar

^{page 368 note 3} This feature of Mark's Christology has been discussed in my article, ‘Mark iii. 7–12, etc.’

^{page 368 note 4} Marxsen appears to have seen this too, Einleitung, p. 122.Google Scholar His book on Mark would have been stronger had this insight appeared there as well.

^{page 369 note 1} These remarks reverse the judgement of J. Weiss's influential work on Mark in which he said that the Evangelist himself retreated so completely behind the traditional material that he had no awareness of creating anything special but was only the one who happened to commit it to writing something anyone else could have done (Das älteste Evangelium, p. 23Google Scholar). At the same time, Weiss had to admit that the Evangelist wanted to serve the practical needs of his context (p. 41).

^{page 369 note 2} This is clearly evident in the recent study by Harald Sahlin, who speaks of ‘the plan of Mark’ on the basis of the Gadarene demoniac story and subsequent interest in Gentiles. But Sahlin neither deals with the plan of the whole gospel nor does he investigate the place of his partial plan (if he indeed ‘makes’ his case) in the work as a whole (‘Die Perikope vom gerasenischen Besessenen und der Plan des Markusevangeliums’, Studia Theologica, XVIII, 1964, 159–72).Google Scholar

^{page 369 note 3} This position is to be maintained despite Bultmann's firm refusal to draw any consequences whatever from the ordering of the material (op. cit. pp. 374 f.Google Scholar). Here Bultmann's argument is curious. Having rightly said that one must reckon with pre-Marcan collections as well as with Mark's own work, especially in viii. 27–x. 52, he refuses to ask seriously whether Mark's outlook has affected the ordering of the whole and flatly asserts that Mark was not sufficiently master of the material to structure the book at all! Here the ghost of Papias appears. In any case, it is a methodological short-circuit to say that because Mark's material does not always fall neatly under a rubric since he works with earlier groupings he has no order in mind whatever. H. Riesenfeld has commented on the relation between the ideas of Jesus in the tradition and the idea of Jesus that Mark himself developed, but his analysis of Mark (i. 14–viii. 26, the Son of Man and Israel; viii. 27–xiii. 37, Messiah as Teacher and Judge; xiv. I ff., the passion) is too general to grasp Mark's ideas at all (‘Tradition and Redaktion im Markusevangelium’, Neutestamentliche Studien für R. Bultmann, Berlin, 1957, pp. 157 ff.).Google Scholar

^{page 370 note 1} Sherman, Johnson, The Gospel According to Mark (Harper Comm.) (New York, 1960).Google Scholar