Review

In our last installment we saw Jesus step away from teaching and into action mode.  No sooner were the final words of the Parable of the Mustard Seed out of His mouth than He turned to the men in the boat beside Him and said, “Let’s cross over to the other side of the lake.”  An interesting proposition. 

That crossing was in itself a kind of test and an adventure in faith for His companions.  Even more importantly, it gave them a fresh demonstration of the incontestable authority (Greek arche, exousia) of Jesus.  Not only is He Lord of the Sabbath, Lord of the Mosaic Law, Lord of Healing and Wholeness, and Lord of Human Relationships.  He’s also Lord of the Wind and Waves – Master of the physical universe.

In the passage that follows we’ll find out what happens when this Wielder of All Authority makes His landing “on the other side.”               

On the Other Side:  Verse 1

5:1 So they arrived at the other side of the lake, in the region of the Gerasenes.[i]

Don’t be confused by the varying place names used in different versions of this story.  Gerasa (modern Jerash) and Gadara (Matthew 8:28) are both cities of the Decapolis, that section of Roman Syria we identified last time as Hellenized Gentile country.[ii]  Apparently Gadara was much closer to the lakeshore (five as opposed to thirty-five miles), so it was probably the location of the incident Mark describes here.  Gerasa, on the other hand,was the bigger town, so it’s possible that its name was used as a generic designation for the entire Decapolis region.  Gergesa may simply be a variant spelling of Gerasa.  Bottom line:  they all pretty much amount to the same thing.     

Whatever the correct name of the place may be, one thing seems certain about Jesus’ landing there:  it makes a statement about authority and territory.  This, I’d suggest, is the ruling concept behind the account that follows. 

This landing is a bit like the landing of the Pilgrims on Plymouth Rock or Neil Armstrong’s landing on the moon.  When Jesus steps out of the boat, it’s as if He’s saying, “I hereby claim this coast for the kingdom of God!”  In effect, He’s taking a dramatic step in the direction of extending His authority into new territory.  He’s asserting His suzerainty on this side of the Lake as well as on the other.  More than that, He’s implying that His kingdom now includes non-Jews as well as Jews.  In other words, He’s claiming to be Lord of all mankind.  Viewed from this perspective, this little scene may well be one of the most significant in the entire Bible.                          

Expect the Unexpected:  Verses 2-6

2 When Jesus climbed out of the boat, a man possessed by an evil spirit came out from the tombs to meet him. 3 This man lived in the burial caves and could no longer be restrained, even with a chain. 4 Whenever he was put into chains and shackles – as he often was – he snapped the chains from his wrists and smashed the shackles.  No one was strong enough to subdue him. 5 Day and night he wandered among the burial caves and in the hills, howling and cutting himself with sharp stones. 6 When Jesus was still some distance away, the man saw him, ran to meet him, and bowed low before him.

Remember our rule of good story-telling?  You narrate a series of events and then ask, “What is the opposite of that?”  Something of the sort is about to unfold.   

In its original Latin derivation, an adventure is something that “comes to meet you.”  It’s the “next thing” to happen, and it isn’t always what you had in mind.  On occasion it can present a very random aspect.  More often than not, it doesn’t make a lot of sense.        

What is it that “comes to meet” Jesus as He disembarks and plants the flag of the kingdom on the Gerasene shore?  Answer:  it’s the opposite of what we might have assumed.  It’s not the Roman governor, a police force, or a defensive army.  Nor is it a group of hungry, needy, disgruntled, and oppressed people in quest of a Liberator.  Any of these might have seemed reasonable given the larger significance of the occasion as we’ve described it.  But no – what actually happens is something entirely different and unexpected. 

As it turns out, the only person who “comes to meet” Jesus is a nobody:  a man without a country, a person without power – a crazed outcast, rejected by society and shunned by his fellow human beings.  In fact, he’s even less than a nobody:  from the Jewish perspective, he’s about as “unclean” and “untouchable” as a person can possibly be, living, as he does, in a graveyard in close proximity to the dead.  Worst of all, he’s clearly dangerous:  wild, unbelievably strong, and possessed by a demon or “evil spirit.”  

Here’s the most unexpected part of all:  as soon as this man sees Jesus, he comes running towards Him.  It’s as if this insane demoniac is irresistibly drawn to Christ, magnetically attracted by His presence.  To top things off, as he approaches, he “bows low” or prostrates himself before the Master.  The Greek verb used here is one we normally find in the sense of worship.  What does it all mean?    

Arky Conflict of a Different Kind:  Verses 7-9

7 With a shriek, he screamed, “Why are you interfering with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?  In the name of God, I beg you, don’t torture me!” 8 For Jesus had already said to the spirit, “Come out of the man, you evil spirit.” 9 Then Jesus demanded, “What is your name?”  And he replied, “My name is Legion, because there are many of us inside this man.”   

I don’t think we can resolve that question without first mustering up the courage to confront a more fundamental problem – a problem that presents nagging difficulties for many modern readers of the Gospels.  What exactly are demons and why do they get so much air-play in the New Testament texts?  I’m going to suggest that the answer is primarily a matter of authority and territory. 

If we gather together in one hand all the various strands of biblical revelation on this topic that we’ve been pondering over the past two or three years – particularly the material we’ve gleaned from our studies in the book of Revelation – I think we will find ourselves driven to an inevitable conclusion.  As was already noted in an earlier installment, the “demons” or “evil spirits” of the Gospels are something far more significant and imposing than the wicked imps, goblins, or bogeys we often imagine them to be.  They are in fact the archai and exousiai who wield dominion over this fallen world: the “rulers, powers, world forces of darkness, the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places” that Paul describes in Ephesians 6:12.  In the language of Vernard Eller, they are the Arkys within the arkys; the brains behind the governments, traditions, institutions, organizations, and establishments that are “out to control us.”  They are the unseen, supernatural puppeteers behind the visible, mortal, human puppets. 

We have already seen Jesus engage in a number of different Arky conflicts.  What we have in this passage is an Arky conflict of another kind:  a direct, visceral, unmediated Arky conflict.  Instead of Pharisees, priests, scribes, magistrates, officials, or family patriarchs, Jesus here finds Himself confronted with a whole legion of invisible “world rulers” who have assumed immediate control of a single individual human being.  This is the kind of thing we can expect to run into on “the other side of the lake”: a conflict which, precisely by virtue of its less “civilized”, less “respectable”, less orderly and formalized nature, is all the more raw and real.

This passage shows us two things about these demonic Arkys.  First, because authority (exousia) is what they’re all about – a part of their essential nature – they recognize and bow before ultimate authority when they see it.  Though they regard Jesus as an enemy, they nevertheless acknowledge Him for who He is: “Son of the Most High God” (a term that would have carried a special significance for Gentiles as well as Jews). As a result, they tremble before Him as their uncontested Master (James 2:19).

Second, these demons understand the connection between authority and territory.  It’s true that one of the commentators I’ve been reading makes the statement, “There is little clear evidence that demons operate in specific geographical areas and that their relocation to other areas renders them powerless in their initial area of operation.”[iii] But in making this assertion, this writer is forgetting our cardinal point:  that demons are not simply troublesome, mischievous sprites, but rather powerful subordinates of “the Bent Oyarsa,”[iv] representatives of the illegitimate Prince of the Power of the Air.  As we have noted elsewhere (see the entry on Mark 2:10-11, “Authority”), they include among their ranks “the Prince of the kingdom of Persia” (Daniel 10:13), “the Prince of Greece” (Daniel 10:20), and “the King of the South” (Daniel 11:5).  They are in fact the angelic powers who stand behind the human rulers of this world, and as such they have very definite connections with the “sovereign powers” we normally associate with nations, states, institutions, organizations, corporations, and other localized entities.  Like dogs, they are possessed of highly territorial instincts and will fight viciously to protect their respective domains.                        

Turf Wars:  Verse 10

10 Then the evil spirits begged him again and again not to send them to some distant place.

That last phrase – “to some distant place” – is the NLT’s rendering of three Greek words (exo tes choras) that literally mean “out of the region or territory.”  This plea on the part of the evil spirits reflects and underscores the point I’ve just been trying to make. It connects these Arkys with what we might describe as a very specific form of “regionalism.”  Jesus is Lord of the universe.  Archai and exousiai, on the other hand, are renegade usurpers, rogue barons who exercise a limited authority over a proscribed region or territory which God has permitted them to dominate for the time being.  They are fiercely possessive, but also cravenly fearful. Accordingly, it is out of both dread and jealousy that they speak when they beg Jesus not to “send them to some distant place.”  In effect, they are saying to Him, “This is our territory!  This side of the lake belongs to us!”  But it doesn’t – not any more.              

Final Thoughts

We’ll have more to say about all this when we cover the second half of this story in verses 11-20.  But for now we can close with a very simple thought.  The idea that demons are territorial is perhaps of little significance to most of us – a piece of “Bible trivia” at best.  On the other hand, the realization that territorialism is demonic – well, that’s a different issue altogether. 

What are we really saying when we make statements like, “This is my place, my town, my neighborhood, my bailiwick, my country, and you don’t belong here!  I’m king of this hill!”  What are we doing when we try to defend our “rights” by translating this kind of petulant whining into official policy and government legislation?  Could we be echoing the perspective of the “world rulers” whose only goal is to advance their own agenda in defiance of the One who comes to establish His kingdom on “their side of the lake”? 

It’s a possibility worth considering. 

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[i] This week’s Scripture quotations come from The New Living Translation. 

[ii] Eckhard Schnabel, The Tyndale Commentary on Mark, p. 116.

[iii] Schnabel, p. 119. 

[iv] C.S. Lewis, Out of the Silent Planet. 

Review

Can you believe it?  We’ve been studying Mark’s Gospel together for about twenty weeks (including the time we spent in meetings at my house before the COVID-19 crisis began)!  Maybe it’s time to pause for a few moments and take stock.  Where have we come from?  What have we seen?  Where are we now, and where are we headed?  Here’s an overview. 

We’ve talked about the advent of the Arche of the Good News of Jesus Christ (1:1) – the only authority to which any of us owe absolute allegiance and obedience.  As a matter of fact, we’ve said that authority and allegiance are key themes in the Gospel of Mark.  Accordingly, we’ve seen this Arche step onto the stage of the world and into direct and immediate conflict with other “arkys” or “principles of governance” that want to control us:  family, tradition, the state, civil government, and the religious establishment to name a few.  We’ve seen Jesus confront each one of these “arkys” with His bold claim to unrivaled sovereignty.  We’ve watched Him demonstrate His dominion over every competitor, from physical illness to demonic “powers and principalities” (Ephesians 6:12) to the Law of Moses to natural family ties.  And we’ve heard Him articulate His message of the kingdom through a series of parables and analogies – parables that underscore the ironic, ambiguous, subtle, paradoxical, and irrepressible nature of the kingdom of God. 

Now it’s time for Jesus to stop teaching for a while and shift back into action mode.  In the passages that follow, He will once again show us by way of His mighty deeds how the principles set forth in the parables apply to the real world.  This shift of emphasis is important, for as the apostle Paul says, “The kingdom of God does not consist in words, but in power” (1 Corinthians 4:5).              

New Horizons:  Verses 35-36

35 On the same day, when evening had come, He said to them, “Let us cross over to the other side.” 36 Now when they had left the multitude, they took Him along in the boat as He was.  And other little boats were also with Him.[i]

Up to this point, Jesus’ ministry has taken place primarily in and around Capernaum, a town on the northwest shore of Lake Galilee.  At this point in the narrative the Master has just finished presenting a series of parables from His seat in a fishing boat at the edge of the lake.  As the crowd disperses and the sun sinks below the horizon, He says to His companions, “Let’s cross over to the other side.”  It seems like a small thing, but it’s the launching point for the next episode, and it’s worth pausing over for several reasons.

First, as my friend Richard Harris (a “remote” member of our group since the beginning of the pandemic) has reminded me, this word of Jesus deserves notice because “this is what He told them to do and they, in obedience, went about it.”[ii]  They might have balked, but they didn’t.  Their unquestioning cooperation is perhaps all the more remarkable in that Jesus doesn’t tell them what He intends to do on the other side of the lake or why He wants to go there now, with darkness coming on.  The disciples probably thought it was a crazy idea, but they put out from shore anyway.  And that’s a good thing.  Apparently they were already learning that Jesus sometimes asks us to do unreasonable things.      

Second, any objections they might have expressed would have been more than justified.  Violent storms are frequent occurrences on Lake Galilee.  As N. T. Wright explains, “To this day, the car parks on the western shore have signs warning drivers of what happens in high winds.  The sea can get very rough very quickly, and big waves can swamp cars parked on what looked like a safe beach.”[iii]  It’s true that Peter and his fellow fishermen often plied their trade at night despite the threat of sudden squalls; but they probably kept fairly close to land in case of emergencies.  In any case, it’s almost certain that they would never have considered sailing all the way over to the southeast shore – a distance of about ten miles – at night and in the dark.  That’s something they probably wouldn’t have done at any time.

This leads to the third point.  “The other side” was not friendly territory.  It was Gentile country – part of the Decapolis or “Ten Towns,” a loose coalition of Hellenistic cities operating under the suzerainty of the Roman Empire and forming a part of the Province of Syria.  We’ll come back to this when we talk about what happened after Jesus got there.  But for now it’s worth mentioning that the apostle Paul wasn’t the first to come up with the idea of evangelizing non-Jews.  Here, in the very earliest stages of His ministry, it’s Jesus Himself who makes the decision to take the message of the kingdom to “those other people.”  And in so doing He strikes a fatal blow at spiritually sanctioned jingoism, separatism, racism, ethno-centrism, and nationalistic loyalty.  Biblically speaking, if any group of people ever possessed the slightest justification for such loyalties and prejudices, it was the Israelites, the Chosen (by the way, Americans aren’t even in the running).  But Jesus nips this kind of thing in the bud when He says, “Let’s cross over to the other side.”                  

Finally, as Richard has also pointed out, part of the irony of the situation lies in the fact that the disciples’ unexpressed misgivings prove to be well-founded.  As it happens, they do run into a storm.  It’s a bad one, too, with violent winds whipping down from the Golan Heights, stirring up waves more than sufficient to overwhelm a twenty-five to thirty-foot fishing boat.  As it turned out, “The thing they feared had overtaken them” (Job 3:25).  If they’d had the presence of mind, they might have said to Jesus, “We knew it would turn out this way!”  The point, as Richard expresses it, is that “sometimes when God tells us to do something, we will encounter problems.”  This is part of the irony and ambiguity of the kingdom.  There are no guarantees.                   

Asleep in the Storm:  Verses 37-38

37 And a great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that it was already filling. 38 But He was in the stern, asleep on a pillow.  And they awoke Him and said to Him, “Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?”

I just said, “There are no guarantees.”  I’m going to take that back.  There is one.  Just one.  And it is the guarantee that Jesus Himself will be with us no matter what kind of problems or storms we may encounter (Hebrews 13:5).  What’s more, He isn’t worried about the situation.  It’s of no great concern to Him how bad it looks.  He’s there, sleeping on a pillow in the stern, for all the world like a child who doesn’t know the meaning of words like “danger”, “death”, “fear”, or “responsibility”.  These things don’t exist for Him, because, as God, He is Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End, the Author and Creator of all things.  But it would be equally correct to say that these things don’t exist for Him because, as a human being, He has perfect confidence in the watch-care of His Father. 

In this, Jesus does not differ from you or me.  Theoretically speaking, we can have that same confidence.  And yet, as we know all too well, He is in fact very different from us in this regard, for most of us (myself at the top of the list) find it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to exercise that kind of trust.  In fact, we don’t understand it.  From our perspective, to sleep in the midst of the storm is dereliction of duty.  After all, it’s our job to fret and fume when things get tough.  If we don’t do it, who will?  Certainly not Jesus.

And so the disciples, in a flush of righteous indignation, actually rebuke Jesus.  They call Him on the carpet and blame Him for His “lackadaisical” attitude.  “Don’t you care that we are going to die?” they shout.  He’s there, He’s with them in the situation, yet they still feel entitled to accuse Him of not caring.  It’s a familiar scenario.                    

“I can almost see Peter standing there, with a spare bucket ready to hand it to Jesus – as if to say, ‘The least you can do is help us bail the boat!’  Peter and the others had an idea of how they were going to save themselves and they wanted Jesus to help them with their plan.  That’s just how we are.  We have our own plans, and our prayers are asking God to endorse and cooperate with them.  ‘Oh God, we say, here is my strategy, now won’t you bless it?  I know it’s a really good idea!’  We presume to tell God how he should manage our problems.  But of course, God is not limited by our imaginations, nor is he obliged to respect our comfort zone.”[iv]                  

The Word of Authority:  Verse 39

39 Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!”  And the wind ceased and there was a great calm.    

But Jesus doesn’t need a bailing scoop.  Neither is He concerned with our well-laid plans for survival and self-deliverance.  There’s just one thing He requires, and it’s the very thing we’ve been talking about ever since we started studying Mark’s Gospel some twenty weeks ago:  the Authority He wields as the Absolute, Indisputably Sovereign Arky of God.  There’s a sense in which the book of Mark is all about this Authority.  And Jesus demonstrates it here in a powerful, unforgettable way.          

To the storm He says, “Peace!  Be still!”  Or, in Wright’s translation, “Silence!  Shut up!”  And instantly there is a “great calm.”  

N. T. Wright introduces his discussion of this passage by saying, “This tale … isn’t just about danger and rescue.”[v]  He’s right.  More than anything else, it’s about the irrefutable Authority of Jesus.  And the context in which it makes its claim is all the more powerful by reason of its associations with profound and ancient biblical imagery. 

The sea, for ancient Israelites, was always a place of dark, primal evil:  the home of monsters (e.g., Isaiah 27:1; Revelation 13:1); the source of tumults and disasters (Psalm 65:7); an obstacle and an enemy to be conquered, parted, and pushed aside by the power of the Lord (Exodus 14:21).  The readers of Mark’s narrative, like the disciples in the boat, would have had all this at the back of their minds as they heard the wind roar and saw the waves pounding against the bulwarks of the ship.  And when the storm fell still at Jesus’ command, they could not have failed to remember passages such as Psalm 89:9 (“Thou dost rule the swelling of the sea; when its waves rise, Thou dost still them”) or Psalm 107:29 (“He caused the storm to be still, so that the waves of the sea were hushed”).  The implications would have been inescapable.                      

Fear and Fear:  Verses 40-41

40 But He said to them, “Why are you so fearful?  How is it that you have no faith?” 41 And they feared exceedingly, and said to one another, “Who can this be, that even the wind and the sea obey Him!”

“Who can this be?”  My friend Richard says that this is one of the profoundest questions in the entire Bible:  a question that cuts to the heart of who we are and what our lives in this world are all about.  Who indeed is this Jesus who, on the one hand, looks, acts, and sounds like one of us, and yet, on the other hand, rules the forces of nature by the power of His word?  According to the testimony of the Scriptures, there is only one possible answer:  He must be God in the flesh:  YHWH Himself. 

No wonder the fear they felt in the presence of the forces of mere nature (Greek deilia, a “cringing cowardice”) is transformed on the spot into the dread and awe (Greek phobos, “a fear which inspires flight”) that we all must experience when suddenly confronted with the reality of the Supernatural – what Rudolf Otto calls the “Numinous”[vi].  According to Otto, it is this elemental “creature feeling” – the only appropriate response to an encounter with the Mysterium Tremendum et Fascinans[vii] – that forms the foundation of all true spiritual experience and changes our day-to-day existence into a never-ending adventure.

And no wonder Jesus chides them, though ever so gently, with the words, “How is it that you have no faith?”  How indeed?  Given everything they’d seen – and everything we’ve read – up to this point, they should have known better.  But they didn’t.  Somehow or other, they still didn’t get it.  And they wouldn’t for some time to come.    

Final Thoughts

I’m going to give my friend Richard the last word on this week’s study:

“Who is this God we follow?  The answer to that question is of paramount importance.  Is He really who He claims to be:  the maker of trillions of stars, untold worlds across the universe, sovereign of the trillions of cells in each of our bodies; the one who knows every hair on our head by its number, all 100,000 of them, ours and all eight billion others with whom we share this little blue planet?  Who is this, that all these things obey Him?  Ought we not, as the old hymn goes ‘Trust and obey, for there’s no other way, to be happy in Jesus, than to trust and obey?’”

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[i] This week’s Scripture quotations are taken from The New King James Version. 

[ii] I should mention right up front that I’m indebted to Richard for a number of excellent insights into the deeper implications of this passage.

[iii] N. T. Wright, Mark for Everyone, p. 51.

[iv] More from Richard.

[v] Wright, p. 51.

[vi] Rudolf Otto, The Idea of the Holy, Chapter II, “Numen and the Numinous.”

[vii] Ibid., Chapter IV, “Mysterium Tremendum.”

Review

In the verses we’re about to read Jesus continues to teach the people by way of parables and analogies; and, as in the previous passage, we’re given some explanatory information about His reasons for speaking in this way and what He hopes to accomplish by casting His message into this enigmatic form. 

As I mentioned last time, I have a feeling that most of us have heard these stories so many times before that we’ve become numb to their impact.  To compound the problem, far too much preaching, teaching, and Bible commentary seems to consist in repeating platitudes and pointing out the obvious.  I’d like to avoid that if possible.  So on this occasion I won’t attempt to say everything that could be said about this section.  Instead, I’ll limit myself to a few key observations that may not lie quite so close to the surface.

The theme here, as I understand it, is the irrepressible nature of the kingdom of God:  in other words, the idea that the kingdom is coming and will come of its own accord, no matter what people do to promote or oppose it.  I believe this to be an extremely important idea.

Hidden to Be Revealed:  Verses 21-25

21 He also said to them, “Is a lamp brought in to be put under a basket or under a bed?  Isn’t it to be put on a lampstand? 22 For nothing is concealed except to be revealed, and nothing hidden except to come to light. 23 If anyone has ears to hear, he should listen!” 24 Then He said to them, “Pay attention to what you hear.  By the measure you use, it will be measured and added to you. 25 For to the one who has, it will be given, and from the one who does not have, even what he has will be taken away.”[i]

Let’s start with light.  It’s the nature and purpose of light to shine.  Like truth, the light will eventually out.  You don’t put a light under a basket because that would be absurd; but if you were to try, you’d probably have a hard time keeping it concealed.  Inevitably, some of the light-beams would seep through the seams of the basket.  That’s because light is one of the most irrepressible of all physical phenomena.

That’s how it is with Jesus’ proclamation of the kingdom.  When He speaks to the crowds, He veils some of the disturbing brilliance of His message by expressing it in parables, similes, and metaphors.  But the light of the kingdom will eventually out.  That’s the nature of the thing.

This leads us to the most important point.  Why does Jesus put the light under the bushel?  Why does He use enigmatic language?  The answer comes in the form of another paradox.  The Greek particle hina, which is used twice in verse 22, functions grammatically to express purpose.  According to this sentence, the truth is concealed precisely so that it may be revealed.  “The present hiddenness serves the purpose of revelation.”[ii] 

What’s intriguing about this is that it appears to contradict what Jesus told His disciples back in 4:12.  At that point in the narrative He claimed to be using parables “in order that (hina)” His listeners might not see, hear, understand, and repent.  In other words, His purpose in that instance was to keep the message hidden.  How do these two ideas fit together?

There are probably lots of ways to interpret this.  I’m going to suggest one possible approach.  Perhaps Jesus is talking here about the two phases of a single painful process.  First, the light is hidden so that people become confused.  Once confused, they begin to grope for answers.  They lose their bearings.  A cold shadow of doubt falls across long-held assumptions and presumptions; as, for example, the idea that the kingdom of God is essentially a nationalistic-political proposition, or that Jesus has come to advance my agenda.  As a result, a sense of disillusion and disorientation sets in.  Faced with my own cluelessness, I become desperate.  I realize my need for a Savior, Teacher, and Guide.      

In the second part of the process, when the mind has been stripped of all its pre-conceived notions, the way becomes clear for the advent of the light.  Having been thrown for a loop by Jesus’ odd word-pictures, the humbled listener is now prepared to see and hear the truth for what it really is.  It’s a bit like Marine boot-camp training:  the sergeant dismantles and “deconstructs” his recruits in order that he might build them back up again in the image of the Corps.  In the same way, Jesus pulls the rug out from under us in order that He may set us on our feet.

This, I believe, is what He has in mind when He says “To the one who has, it will be given, and from the one who does not have, even what he has will be taken away.”  Those who know what it means to cling to Christ in utter dependency are granted the keys to the kingdom (Matthew 16:19).  But if we persist in leaning on our own understanding and promoting our own agenda (Proverbs 3:5), our darkness will only increase.  

Automatic Growth:  Verses 26-29

26 ”The kingdom of God is like this,” He said.  “A man scatters seed on the ground; 27 he sleeps and rises – night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows – he doesn’t know how. 28 The soil produces a crop by itself – first the blade, then the head, and then the ripe grain on the head. 29 But as soon as the crop is ready, he sends for the sickle, because harvest has come.”

Like the shining of the light, the growth of the seed is a thing that happens of its own accord.  The people of Jesus’ time thought they could do something to usher in the kingdom of God.  The Pharisees, for example, prayed and fasted.  The Zealots plotted and stockpiled weapons.  The Herodians made deals and got on the good side of powerful political arkys.  In the same way, Christians today study demographics, utilize Search Engine Optimization, plan evangelistic rallies, implement advertising and marketing techniques, devise fund-raising strategies, or elect presidents who seem likely to appoint certain judges to the Supreme Court.  But it’s all for nothing. 

Why?  Because despite our power, our prestige, our smarts, our savvy, and all of our technical expertise, we really have no idea how the kingdom grows.  Like the farmer who plants the seed and waits, we have no control whatsoever over the humanly incomprehensible Phenomenon that Jesus has set in motion.  In the original language, this kingdom, like the seed, is said to grow automate – “of itself.”  And there’s nothing we can do to hinder or promote the process.  It’s an independent, self-determined, irrepressible force.  Our role is to listen, pay attention, and make sure we’re on the right side of things when the sickle comes in for the harvest.

Small Is Beautiful:  Verses 30-32

30 And He said:  “How can we illustrate the kingdom of God, or what parable can we use to describe it? 31 It’s like a mustard seed that, when sown in the soil, is smaller than all the seeds on the ground. 32 And when sown, it comes up and grows taller than all the vegetables, and produces large branches, so that the birds of the sky can nest in its shade.”  

What will this growing seed become once it reaches full maturity?  This, at first glance, appears to be what the Parable of the Mustard Seed is all about.  N. T. Wright suggests that it is intended to teach us “not to look down on small beginnings.”[iii]  Jesus’ ministry among the peasants of Galilee may seem insignificant now, but just you wait:  in time it will blossom into an Empire of political as well as spiritual dimensions and implications.  It will become a plant with branches big enough for the “birds of the air” to take refuge in its shade.  Ezekiel (17:23; 31:6) and Daniel (4:12, 21) employed the same imagery to communicate this same idea of expansion and power. 

There is, of course, much to be said in favor of Wright’s idea.  After all, this same Jesus who has come to us in the guise of the Suffering Servant is destined to re-appear as the truly Benevolent Despot of a borderless universal domain.  Nevertheless, I’d like to propose that another vital truth lies “hidden” in the simple lines of this parable – a truth we ignore to our own disadvantage. 

In 1973 E. F. Schumacher, Chief Economic Advisor to the British National Coal Board from 1950 to 1970, wrote a profound little book on economics called Small Is Beautiful.  The principle expressed in Schumacher’s title is of eminent importance to this discussion.  While it’s true that Jesus’ ministry and its “small beginnings” will eventually “prove to be of ultimate, far-reaching significance,”[iv] it’s equally worth bearing in mind that smallness is to be valued for its own sake.  It is, in fact, an indispensable part of the kingdom’s inner workings.  It’s the fuel as well as the mechanism that makes the whole thing run.  It’s the answer to the question, “How does the seed grow?” 

We’re discovering this truth all over again in the age of pandemic-induced restrictions.  The church may be “essential,” as some disgruntled Christians have asserted in the face of social distancing measures, but bigness isn’t.  Perhaps the Lord is using the coronavirus to cure us of our characteristically American misconception that “kingdom success” is measured in terms of the Mega-Church.  God has a very different way of working.  Life and growth are miraculous, supernatural gifts that we receive from His hand alone.  And He grants these gifts in the small, secret places where the tiny but irrepressible seed grows of its own accord.    

Final Thoughts:  “Not Without Parables”:  Verses 33-34

33 He would speak the word to them with many parables like these, as they were able to understand. 34 And He did not speak to them without a parable.  Privately, however, He would explain everything to His own disciples.

This section concludes with a reiteration of the principle articulated back in 4:10-12:  for “outsiders”, parables; for “insiders”, plain language.  But at this point in the journey we have an even clearer conception of the clientele of these two groups.  “Outsiders”, as we can now see, are those who plunge themselves even deeper into misunderstanding and darkness by leaning on their own wisdom and promoting their own agenda; whereas “insiders” emerge from darkness into light by embracing their own inadequacy, hitching their cart to the irrepressible “automatic” power of the kingdom, and clinging to the Savior’s outstretched hand.      

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[i] This week’s Scripture quotations are take from The Holman Christian Standard Bible. 

[ii] Schnabel, The Tyndale New Testament Commentary on Mark, p. 107.

[iii] Wright, Mark for Everyone, p. 50.

[iv] Schnabel, p. 110.