If you were to look into Jesus’ eyes in Mark 12, I imagine you would describe them like John did in Revelation 1 — as a flame of fire. Has a more subversive, weighty little story ever been told than what you hear at the beginning of Mark 12? It’s certainly on the level of Nathan’s “you are the man.” This is the story of the vineyard entrusted to farmers, who in the end killed all the owner’s servants and even killed his son in hopes of gaining the inheritance for themselves.

Here in chapter twelve, it’s like the undercurrent of furor that was boiling in Mark 3 spills over. There, early in the book, Jesus was brimming with anger because his opponents were more interested in playing legal games than showing compassion to those suffering. Here, however, he doesn’t hold his tongue. As chapter eleven comes to a close and prefaces Jesus’ story, I imagine him stepping up to the mic like Apollo:

Down from the peaks of Olympos he hastened, enraged at heart, carrying on his shoulders his bow and lidded quiver, arrows rattling loud on his shoulders as in his rage he strode on his way: he came as nightfall comes. (Iliad translated by Peter Green, 2015, p. 26)

Jesus is calm and composed as he tells the story. That composure mixed with the ferocity of the words is why I think in this moment Jesus’ eyes looked just as deep and fiery and filled with life and power as what John saw.

As he draws the story to a close and explicitly says that the lord (ὁ κύριος) will destroy the abusive farmers, he makes his own literary reference.

Haven’t you read this scripture? The stone the builders rejected, this one became the cornerstone. This was from the Lord, and it is marvelous in our eyes.

There’s the twinkle. The last clause. Can’t you see it? As he utters the syllables ἔστιν θαυμαστὴ ἐν ὀφθαλμοῖς ἡμῶν, don’t you know his face lit up with a smile? One of those I got you smiles that is resigned to whatever hostile reaction it might ignite. Despite all the misunderstanding up to this point, they got it this time: “They knew he told the parable about them.” The arrows sliced through their targets.

He said it was marvelous. Maybe the mention of wonder and marvel, as Jesus leans into his coming suffering, is related to the wonder and fear his followers felt on the road as they headed to Jerusalem (Mark 10:32). Things are changing, it’s from the Lord, but it’s scary and confusing and amazing. Hardly anyone knows what to think except the one who walked ahead.

Sometimes it’s the dead passages that draw you in and pique your curiosity — passages where there is no seemingly significant action. I’ll try to describe what I mean with two examples that I couldn’t help but visualize and imagine how the scene might look and feel.

Mark 10:32

What in the world is happening in this verse? Jesus has just finished some particularly hard teaching, but reading this verse still felt like a jolt.

I don’t see a direct connection to what happens before this verse and the state of consternation and fear in those who watch Jesus walking along ahead of them. I guess they are watching him. I visualize the passage through the eyes of those following behind, looking at Jesus and feeling fear and wonder. I don’t see a particularly strong connection to what follows either.

To me, 10:32 seems like a somewhat random verse. In another sense, however, it captures what I sense as a strange mood of confusion and disorientation present in the middle of Mark. I mentioned this mood on Twitter and towards the end of the previous post.

What does he look like as he walks up ahead? Is he frustrated or sad? What are those around you whispering as they articulate their fear and amazement?

Mark 11:11–12

This seems like a classic calm before the bar fight movie scene. He enters the place where the confrontation will happen. He looks around, and you think it might happen. But he leaves, and we wait for tomorrow.

What did he do that evening? After he checked out the place, what was his demeanor like, and what were the conversation like with his friend around the fire? How early did he go to bed? Did he stare up at the sky that night? Was he rehearsing exactly what he would say and do in the temple the next day?

The next day he went into the temple and turned the place upside down. There is a really interesting point in that scene where he wouldn’t let anyone carry anything through the temple, but that is another story for another post. It’s not exactly a dead passage.

“He was wanting to, but …” This refrain stands out to me as I read through Mark. I want to walk you through a few passages and make a simple point alluded to in the title. You see it clearly in Mark 6:48 and 7:24.

Mark 6:48 and 7:24

These verses don’t say that Jesus was very upset by wanting one thing and experiencing another. They don’t say he wasn’t either. Maybe they stand out to me because earlier in Mark I was thinking 3:12 had a similar vibe.

Mark 3:12

At first, I read πολλὰ ἐπετίμα as “he would often fuss at them.” This caused me to reflect on on how Jesus knew what it was like to have to say something over and over and not be listened to. 5:10, however, makes me think πολλά ἐπετίμα might rather be intended to communicate something like “with a lot of words” or “fuss and fuss.” In 5:10, the demon begs Jesus πολλά.

Here, πολλά can’t mean often; it is a description of the demon’s speech in that moment. Mark seems to use πολλά frequently to describe someone speaking at length. Swete was helpful in pointing out other uses in Mark.

Πολλὰ ἐπετίμα, Vg. vehementer comminabatur: πολλά as an adverb is characteristic of Mc., cf. 5:10, 5:23, 5:43, 9:26. Mt. has the less vivid ἐπετίμησεν αὐτοῖς: Lc. omits the circumstance. (Henry Barclay Swete, The Gospel According to Mark. Classic Commentaries on Greek New Testament, [Macmillain & Co., 1913]. Archive.org; Logos)

So, 3:12 could mean Jesus “would fuss often” and be describing Jesus’ many encounters with demons and how he had to over and over command them not to reveal his Identity. Or, more likely, it describes how Jesus, on that occasion, fussed at length for that demon to keep its mouth shut.

Either way you read 3:12, it fits with the idea I’m pointing out in 6:48 and 7:24. Jesus could have shut the demons’ mouths with a word, like he calmed the sea, but he didn’t. Or perhaps we should say he wasn’t permitted to. In the words of Hebrews, and to tip my hand to the conclusion, he learned obedience through what he suffered.

One more passage.

Mark 7:18

This portion of Mark is so interesting and mysterious. Jesus and the disciples are overworked and too busy, and it’s like Jesus is in a sort of twilight zone. Similar situations repeat like a biblical Groundhog Day, and he is surrounded by people that do not understand him. Those with whom he is closest come to him and show that they don’t get it either. His response is striking:

I understand that in this passage Jesus is pushing his disciples to deeper understanding. I know the force of the statement is a rebuke. What I’m interested in, however, is the tone of the words. It can be both a rebuke and an expression of disappointment and frustration. In these words, I hear a clear tone of sadness, loneliness, and frustration. He is working hard physically and mentally, he is emotionally taxed, and he is misunderstood despite repeated explanations. How can he be fully human and those experiences not lead him to frustration and disappointment?

Conclusion

These passages shows that Jesus knows what it is like to want one thing and experience the frustration and disappointment of getting another. It is a simple observation, but it’s one that means a lot to me.

The first part of Mark 3 is one of my favorite passages in the Gospels.

Mark 3:1–6

Two Subordinate Clauses

The religious leaders think they have him. What’s he going to do? Jesus leans in and speaks directly to the issue, but they won’t say a word. The tension is thick. There are versions of the same story in Matt 12:9–14 and Luke 6:6–11, but Mark adds a detail that arrests my attention.

As Jesus turns from their silence to the crippled man, Mark prefaces Jesus’ words with two subordinate clauses. In the bold words above, you see Jesus look around the room, from one person to the next, with anger. What might his face look like in this moment? Why is he so mad? What kind of people would be in a room where Jesus looks around with anger?

With Whom?

These aren’t people who know they are weak and want help. When Jesus gets angry, it’s with people who think showing compassion is a threat. Throughout the Gospels Jesus calls out sexual immorality and speaks very clearly about all sorts of moral issues. When the Gospel writers say he is mad, however, it is because people withhold love and grace from those who are broken and know they need help.

The best thing here is that Mark’s little addition (μετ᾿ ὀργῆς) highlights something about Jesus. If Jesus himself isn’t compassionate, his reaction doesn’t make sense, does it?