PART 1 – Introduction and Premises

This series of posts is my attempt to distill a decade of notes on only one aspect of the Gospel of Mark. It’s long. I’ll divide it into digestible pieces. If you’re already familiar with biblical criticism, you might want to skip this post and move on to the next one.

Introduction

The Gospel of Mark is widely regarded as the earliest, the shortest, and the least theologically or rhetorically polished of the four canonical gospels. In early 20th-century scholarship. B. H. Streeter called Mark a “source document.” W. D. Davies, R. T. France, and Dale Allison describe Matthew as correcting or improving Mark’s syntax, arrangement, and clarity. Rudolf Bultmann famously dismissed Mark as a patchwork of oral units loosely strung together by a primitive eschatological framework. Mark accounts for just four percent of citations of the four gospels.

The idea, implicit or explicit, is that Mark is a rough draft. The real polish came later, first in Matthew, then in Luke, and ultimately in John, where style and theology finally reach their high form. This view depends on certain assumptions: that rhetorical excellence is a matter of formality and symmetry, that coherence requires direct explanation, and that more surface clarity leads to better persuasion, enlightenment, and epiphany.

What if Mark is playing a different game altogether? I’ll argue that the qualities that earlier critics judged as defects – abrupt transitions, ambiguity, repetition, narrative asymmetry – are not signs of immaturity but deliberate rhetorical strategies. What if the reader is not a passive recipient of doctrine, but the only character in the story intended to see clearly?

This essay argues that Mark’s lack of disclosure is calculated. I suggest that accepting the reader as a character in the story explains Mark’s apparent incongruities. By withholding, he provokes instead of sermonizing. Mark doesn’t seek exposition through polished antithesis. Instead, it combines dramatic irony drawn from the Greeks with innovations like rhetorical compression and a consistent narrative inversion of expectation. Where Matthew teaches, Mark tests, leaving characters in the dark, signaling to the reader through omission, and forcing interpretation through tension. Radical innovations in Mark’s time, these devices are common in 20^th century literature.

This approach puts me, as writer of this essay, at odds with a long tradition of biblical criticism, but it frees a reader to see Mark on its own terms – as a standalone literary performance unequalled in the New Testament.

What follows is a reading of Mark attentive to narrative strategy, reader positioning, and the rhetorical use of silence, irony, and repetition. Along the way, I’ll contrast Mark with Matthew to highlight the aesthetic and rhetorical choices that shape each gospel’s voice. I’ll also compare Mark’s rhetorical approach to that of ancient Greeks, the other gospels, the epistles, and finally, to modern literature.

The focus here has gone largely unexamined: how the rhetorical effect of changes to Mark by Matthew and Luke reshapes the reader’s experience. What would a Christianity based solely on Mark look like? How would it feel?

One of the greatest barriers to reading Mark as Mark intended is overexposure to other gospels. Even more, it’s exposure to a whole cultural composite of “gospel truth,” much of it untethered from the texts themselves. Readers come to Mark not just having heard Matthew and Luke, but having absorbed centuries of harmonized retelling, devotional imagery, and theological overlay. They know what to expect. Shepherds, wise men, angels, a calm nativity scene, and Mary with a halo. And they see it even when it’s not there.

Nearly every nativity scene includes an ox and an ass, though no gospel mentions them. The Old Testament reference is clear (Isaiah 1:3), but the animals themselves are part of the interpretive afterlife of scripture, not scripture itself.

To read Mark on its own terms, to hear its urgency and feel its narrative shocks, you’d need to forget not only Matthew, Luke, John, and Acts, but centuries of art, sermons, and Christmas cards. If you could do that – if you could read Mark fresh – it would feel strange, stark, and full of unanswered questions. Mark wants his readers off-balance.

This analysis of Mark’s rhetoric relies on two premises, each widely but not universally accepted in biblical studies: Markan Priority and Short Ending. Markan Priority involves a related topic of scripture studies, the Synoptic Problem.

The Synoptic Problem

Matthew, Mark, and Luke share many of the same stories, sometimes word for word. Nearly 90% of Mark’s content appears in Matthew, and roughly 50% in Luke, sometimes verbatim. This cannot be merely coincidental. This shared structure and language is what scholars call the Synoptic Problem, because the gospels can be “seen together” (syn-optic), but don’t always agree. Who borrowed from whom?

The Two-Source Hypothesis posits that Mark and a hypothetical source called Q, containing material shared by Matthew and Luke but absent in Mark, account for the similarities and differences among the Gospels. Matthew and Luke sometimes agree in wording that is different from Mark. This logically necessitates the existence of Q by set theory: Q = (Luke ∩ Matthew) – Mark.

The possibility that Luke used Matthew directly (Farrer Hypothesis) eliminates the need for Q but faces challenges explaining Luke’s omitting major Matthean material. Other non-canonical source like Gospel of Thomas and the Logia of Jesus cloud the picture, and volumes have been written on the topic. But this simple summary, which roughly represents consensus, will serve our needs.

Markan Priority

Most scholars agree that Mark was the first of the canonical gospels to be written. Augustine of Hippo thought otherwise but did so on theological grounds. Markan priority has been the dominant view in New Testament studies for over a century.

Here’s why:

1. Triple Tradition: Scholars estimate that 90–95% of the content in the Gospel of Mark (measured by verses or words) appears in either Matthew or Luke, often with similar wording or structure. Matthew incorporates about 600–620 of Mark’s 661 verses (90–93%), either verbatim or with modifications, while Luke includes about 350–400 (53–60%).
2. Directional Dependence (redaction evidence): When Matthew and Luke both draw on the same Markan passage, they tend to revise or clarify Mark’s wording, suggesting they were using him as a source. The direction of influence runs from Mark to Matthew and from Mark to Luke because both sets of changes move from rough to refined.
3. Theological Development: Mark’s accounts of events are often shorter, less polished, and present theological or narrative difficulties that Matthew and Luke appear to smooth over or “fix.” This suggests Mark was written first, and later authors refined its content to align with developing theological needs or to address potential misunderstandings.  In Mark 6:5, Jesus “could not do any miracles” in Nazareth due to unbelief, implying a limitation. Matthew 13:58 softens this to “he did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith,” removing the suggestion of inability. Mark 10:18 (“Why do you call me good?”) is similarly rephrased in Matthew 19:17.
4. Indifference to the Synoptic Problem: The Two-Source Hypothesis posits that Matthew and Luke are based on Mark Q because minor agreements between Matthew and Luke necessitate it. Markan priority holds regardless of theory choice between Two-Source and Farrer.
5. Markan Agreements: Matthew and Luke rarely agree against Mark, a pattern that fits if they both used him independently, but not if they used each other. Triadic comparison entails that if Matthew and Luke were independent, or if one used the other, you’d expect them to sometimes agree with each other against Mark. They rarely do. Instead, they either both agree with Mark or they diverge from Mark independently. The three synoptics share the healing of the paralytic (Mark 2:1–12; Matthew 9:1–8; Luke 5:17–26). Matthew and Luke deviate independently from Mark. Matthew simplifies the story, omitting details about the four men and the roof, and adds “Take heart” to Jesus’s words, a unique Matthean flourish. Luke retains Mark’s detail about the roof but specifies “through the tiles,” a detail absent in Mark. He changes “Son” to “Man” in Jesus’s address. The Parable of the Sower and the feeding miracles show similar independent deviations.
6. Augustinian Hypothesis Flaws: Augustine’s Mark-as-summary theory entails that a Christian (Mark), in summarizing Matthew, could somehow deem the annunciation and virgin birth secondary details. Matthew 1:18–25 establishes Jesus’s divine origin. For early Christians, this element was central to the story of Jesus. Omitting core doctrinal claims in a summary would be unthinkable. Mark also lacks other material key to the Christian agenda including post-resurrection appearance and Sermon on the Mount.

If Mark came first, then Matthew and Luke aren’t just telling the same stories but are reacting directly to Mark, often repeating his words. And when they change him, we can learn a lot about what they found unacceptable or confusing.

Modern readers now have the opportunity to read Mark as I argue its author intended, though doing so isn’t easy, for reasons stated above. Mark’s omission of post-resurrection appearances and other key theological events are striking – and consequential. I hold that Mark was an original, complete work capable of delivering its message perfectly – for readers trained to read rhetorically and who treasure ironic writing.

This argument about Mark also relies on the notion that the short ending of Mark is the original, not the longer version.

Short Ending – the Manuscript Problem

The “short ending” of Mark’s Gospel ends abruptly at Mark 16:8:

And they went out and fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment had seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. (ESV)

Whether this or a longer version that includes post-resurrection appearances was original has caused scholarly debate for centuries. Concluding with the women fleeing, afraid, and saying nothing seems anticlimactic or unsettling to many modern Christians, as it did in ancient times. Inerrantists often seek to harmonize Gospel accounts to maintain consistency, but some inerrantists, like the Evangelical Theological Society, conclude that the short ending is original and defend it as intentional, suggesting it conveys a theological point: awe at the resurrection. I agree.

More comprehensive analysis in recent decades leaves little doubt that the long version is a later addition:

1. Manuscript Evidence The earliest and most reliable Greek manuscripts, such as Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Vaticanus (both 4th century), conclude the Gospel of Mark at 16:8, with the women fleeing in fear and saying nothing. So do the earliest Syriac and Latin translations. These manuscripts, considered among the best-preserved and closest to the original texts, show no trace of the Longer Ending (16:9–20). Additionally, no early manuscript ends mid-sentence or shows signs of physical damage (e.g., a torn page) that might suggest an accidental loss of text after 16:8. This textual stability in the earliest copies strongly supports the Short Ending as the original, as later manuscripts (from the 5th century onward) introduce the Longer Ending, indicating it was a subsequent addition rather than part of Mark’s original composition.
2. External Testimony Early church fathers provide compelling evidence that the Short Ending was the original. Figures like Clement of Alexandria (late 2nd century) and Origen (early 3rd century) quote extensively from Mark but show no awareness of the Longer Ending (16:9–20), suggesting it was absent from their texts. Later, Eusebius and Jerome (4th century) explicitly note that the majority of Greek manuscripts known to them ended at 16:8 (at what we call 16:8 – numbered verses came much later), with Eusebius stating that “accurate” copies stopped there. This testimony from early Christian writers, combined with their silence on the Longer Ending, indicates that 16:8 was the widely accepted conclusion in the earliest centuries, before alternative endings appeared in later traditions.
3. Textual Style and Vocabulary The Longer Ending (Mark 16:9–20) exhibits a distinct shift in style and vocabulary that sets it apart from the rest of Mark’s Gospel. Unlike Mark’s typically concise and vivid Greek, the Longer Ending uses words, such as poreuomai (“go”) and theaomai (“see”), that are absent elsewhere in Mark but common in later New Testament writings. Its polished, summary-like tone contrasts with Mark’s rugged narrative style. For example, the Longer Ending’s list of resurrection appearances and signs (handling snakes, drinking poison) feels formulaic and unlike Mark’s enigmatic storytelling. This linguistic discontinuity strongly suggests that 16:9–20 was written by a different author, likely to provide a more conventional conclusion.
4. Abruptness Fits Mark’s Strategy The abrupt ending at Mark 16:8, with the women fleeing in “trembling and astonishment” and saying “nothing to anyone, for they were afraid,” aligns with Mark’s narrative strategy of emphasizing silence, mystery, ambiguity, and human failure. Throughout the Gospel, Mark portrays disciples who misunderstand Jesus (e.g., 8:21) and uses enigmatic statements to challenge readers (e.g., 4:11–12, where the purpose of parables is to obscure understanding for outsiders). The Short Ending’s lack of resolution invites readers to wrestle with the resurrection’s implications, fitting Mark’s pattern of leaving questions open-ended to provoke faith and reflection. This deliberate ambiguity makes the Short Ending consistent with Mark’s theological and literary goals, rather than a mistake or truncation.
5. Internal Coherence The Short Ending at Mark 16:8 is internally coherent with the Gospel’s themes and tone. The women’s reaction is fear and silence in response to the angelic announcement of Jesus’ resurrection. This is a plausible human response to a divine encounter, echoing Mark’s portrayal of awe and fear elsewhere (e.g., 4:41, 5:15). In contrast, the Longer Ending shifts abruptly to a series of post-resurrection appearances and a commission, which feels like an attempt to resolve the ambiguity of 16:8 and align Mark with the more detailed accounts in Matthew and Luke. This shift disrupts the narrative flow and theological emphasis of Mark.
6. Scribal Additions The Longer Ending appears in later manuscripts (from the 5th century onward, e.g., Codex Alexandrinus) and shows signs of being a composite text, likely drawn from elements in Matthew, Luke, and Acts (e.g., the Great Commission in Matthew 28:19–20, signs in Acts 2:4). Some manuscripts include an “Intermediate Ending” or other variants after 16:8, indicating scribal attempts to provide closure. These multiple endings suggest that later copyists, uncomfortable with the abruptness of 16:8, added material to make Mark’s conclusion more consistent with other gospel traditions.

On the matter of external testimony (2, above), I should say a bit more, because the argument here uses logic that comes up repeatedly in a study of Mark. The logic of this argument is what the ancients called argumentum ex silentio, an argument from silence. This reasoning infers a conclusion from the absence of evidence or statements where one might expect them.

Argument from silence is a contentious topic in biblical criticism. Apologist William Lane Craig challenges arguments from silence in debates, particularly on the matter of historicity. Apologist Greg Bahnsen judged arguments from silence sharply, arguing that unbelievers’ suppression of truth (Romans 1:18–20) makes silence on divine matters irrelevant.

But the silences supporting the Short Ending are from Christian writers themselves. Origen and Clement wrote lengthy, detailed analyses of what Mark had to say, but with no mention of Mark beyond 16:8. These prolific early Christian scholars focused on Christology, resurrection, and apostolic testimony, making it very likely they would have referenced the longer ending’s post-resurrection appearances (e.g., Jesus’s commission in 16:15-18) if they knew of them, because they align with their theological interests and would support their apologetic arguments. Their omission is not neutral; it’s powerful evidence that the longer ending was unknown to them.

Darrell J. Doughty (via Robert M. Price) proposed that Mark’s gospel may be circular in structure, the Short Ending intentionally echoing the beginning, prompting the reader to loop back to the opening scene of Jesus calling his disciples. While this idea remains speculative, the suggestion reflects a broader recognition that Mark’s structure is too intentional to be accidental.

The figure or figures responsible for assembling the New Testament canon – whether an ecclesiastical redactor, as David Trobisch argues, or a clerical-scribal network shaping a proto-canon – likely viewed the Short Ending of Mark as a theological and narrative deficiency. The women’s flight in fear and silence contrasts sharply with triumphant accounts in Matthew, Luke, and John, potentially creating unease for early Christians seeking a unified Gospel message. Despite this, the redactor or clerics recognized Mark’s foundational influence on Matthew and Luke, as evidenced by the significant textual overlap. Excluding Mark was not an option, given its historical and literary significance. Placing Mark second in the canonical order, after Matthew’s comprehensive narrative, masks any perceived shortcomings of Mark’s ending, allowing readers to encounter Matthew’s resurrection appearances first and thus harmonize the accounts. This positioning may suggest anxiety around Mark’s rhetorical style before the canon was formalized. Note on canonization: It did not occur at the Council of Nicaea as popularly believed, or at any other specific event. The Synod of Hippo in 393 addressed canon directly, but much earlier manuscripts show the modern ordering of books.

One other bit of housekeeping is worth noting here. The debates regarding Markan synthesis and scriptural construction – the claim that the Gospel of Mark constructs its Jesus narrative solely from Old Testament texts – is interesting but tangential to examining Mark’s rhetorical approach. Mark uses OT scripture to narrate meaning, regardless of whether its author was writing history or inventing fiction. He’s producing sacred narrative in a form recognizable to his audience. To narrate meaningfully was to echo scripture. Whether Mark saw the parallels as a signal of divine orchestration (fulfilment of prophecy, loosely) or solely as a literary device doesn’t matter. Mark likely courted that ambiguity like many others in his gospel.

I will argue that Mark is the most strategically self-effacing writer in early Christian literature, canonical or otherwise, hiding his own brilliance so you can experience something mysterious. He hides his craft by separating Mark the author from Mark the narrator, who seems slightly puzzled and slow, so that the reader can outpace the story itself. Differentiating author from narrator is the realm of reader-response criticism.

Coming next: What Is Reader Response Criticism?