February 26 / First Sunday in Lent Mark 1:9-15
Suggested alternative first reading: Daniel 4:28-37
The opening chapters of all four gospels are more important as theology than history. The introduction to each gospel provides the foundation for the authors’ interpretation of the Jesus story. Much of the richness is lost to us if we take these chapters first, and often only, as history. In its brevity our reading from Mark says at least as much as the longer narratives in Matthew and Luke. Yet we often skip through Mark’s version of the baptism and temptation of Jesus because it doesn’t offer the kind of detail we’re looking for.
Some see Mark as a summary of the authorized story of Jesus for beginners. Others suggest it’s for believers far removed from the origins of the story. People who don’t recognize the sources other gospel writers employ so extensively to advance their understanding of what Jesus means for the world. That’s one reason Matthew comes first in the canon. For centuries, Mark was thought inferior to the other gospels. And Mark unfolds with breathlessness, like a story told by an excited child, who just has to tell an adult every detail, or he’ll just die! “And then, and, and, and . . .” Count them in today’s reading.
Jesus appears. From nowhere. And he’s baptized. And the sky opens. And a dove appears. And a voice sounds from heaven. And the Spirit immediately… Mark loves “immediately” almost as much as “and.” The spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness. Immediately. Does Jesus even have a chance to catch his breath after being dunked in the river?
This forward drive continues through Mark’s gospel, until it ends in a broken sentence that leaves us hanging. Or does it drive us into the wilderness? In this year of Mark do we catch the gospel’s energy?
Embedded in the opening chapters of all four gospels are reflections on texts and themes largely lost to us. Matthew sets Jesus up as a new Moses, liberator and law – giver. Founder of the new covenant people. Luke draws lines back to the story of Samuel. Prophet and priest. Reformer. Maker and conscience of kings. The gospels represent an ancient literary form, in which the life story of a famous person begins with narrative that echoes stories from the past. What sources does Mark rely on? He may be thinking of Nebuchadnezzar, of all people! Mark probably knew the narrative of Daniel, with its theme of faithfulness and vindication under oppression. Its story of God at work in unexpected places, through unlikely agents, ultimately toward the release of God’s exiled people.
King Nebuchadnezzar heard a voice from heaven. He was driven into the wilderness. He was even bathed (baptized?) with the dew of heaven. Why? So Nebuchadnezzar could learn who God was and, therefore, who he was. He returned no less a king, but so much more a man of God.
The old story tells of God’s power to change the heart of the very emperor who sacked God’s house and oppressed God’s people. Does Mark want us to wonder what God might do in and through Jesus when he comes back from the wilderness? What will this king bring to the world?
Jesus comes back, goes home, and picks his time to begin his mission. God’s reign is at hand. God’s reign, not the emperor’s, is dawning. And, as Nebuchadnezzar confessed, “all God’s works are truth, and God’s ways are justice; and God is able to bring low those who walk in pride.”
Mark’s Jesus gets to work, fast, proving those words true in all he does and says. Time and again Jesus encounters evil powers and routs them with greater power. He sets captives free. He presses on, to do as much as he can in the time he has on earth.
