Introduction
For nearly two thousand years, the concept which stands at the center of Christian thought has been that the death of Jesus is the means by which the creator of the universe rescues humans from the problem of evil. Over this time, theologians have offered a variety of theories for how, exactly, this is accomplished. While many of them fixate on the letters of Paul to define their arguments for a proper salvation theology, the actual narrative for Jesus’ death is found elsewhere.
The four gospels of the New Testament have a complex relationship to each other. The vast majority of scholars have agreed for ages that Matthew and Luke are directly dependent on Mark. While the former two gospels do contain details not found in the latter, Mark was nevertheless the foundation they built on. The apparent outlier is John, with its heavier philosophical dialogues and seemingly more abstract presentation of Jesus as a divine being rather than a divinely-empowered human. However, there is a slowly growing agreement within scholarship that John likely was dependent on Mark (if not all three of those gospels), even if the author was not prone to copying the earlier book verbatim as his counterparts did.
This means that, in regards to learning about the circumstances which led to Jesus’ death—that is, the historical event which Christians seek to understand in theological terms—all of our available sources depend on Mark. This lack of independent corroboration for an event in ancient sources would be highly problematic in any other context. It makes it difficult to know how reliable that lone source actually is.
In our present case, while we do not have any independent sources which describe the death of Jesus that we can compare with Mark, we do have a wide range of texts which discuss elements which make up Mark’s narrative. This can help us find a more nuanced appreciation for how Mark’s crucifixion account functions as literature. However, it also calls into question the historical plausibility of large parts of his narrative.
Betrayal During Passover
The crucifixion narrative begins with the Passover meal celebrated by Jesus and his disciples. Two days before the Passover, the religious authorities in Jerusalem were plotting Jesus’ death, with the help of his disciple Judah Iscariot (14.1–2, 10–11). Once the day of Passover arrived, his group settled into a welcoming home for the ritual meal prescribed in the Torah. The moment they sit down to eat, Jesus declares that one of them is in the process of betraying him (14.12–21).
By the time of the Passover meal, Jesus has told his disciples multiple times that he will be killed after he arrives in Jerusalem (8.31; 9.9, 12, 31; 10.33, 45). He has already hinted that he will be betrayed by one of his own followers; the verb used to describe Judah’s actions (14.17–21),
The question of whether Jesus actually predicted his own death persists in scholarship.
There is an initial discrepancy in Mark’s depiction of Judah Iscariot. Namely, the idea to reward Judah for helping the priests arrest Jesus only comes after he has already decided to betray his teacher (14.10–11). What was Judah’s original reason to betray Jesus, before money entered the picture? The motivation Mark assigns to Judah only comes after he had already committed to his betrayal.
The revelation that the ‘son of man’ Jesus must be killed in Jerusalem by the religious leaders is first brought up at Mark’s halfway point, immediately after the disciples first express their belief he is the Messiah (8.31). The two revelations—that Jesus is the Messiah, and that he must die—are placed in tandem at the book’s center, around which the narrative turns. The reader is reminded of this theme in the following chapters, before Jesus goes to Jerusalem. He brings it up again during the Passover meal, and it even returns during Jesus’ trial: the moment he confirms to the religious authorities that he is the Messiah is the moment they sentence him to death (14.61–64).
Jesus reiterating his prediction at Passover, given with an exposition on his imminent betrayal, provides the author an opportunity to reinterpret the meal as a symbol of how Jesus’ death accomplishes salvation. This reinterpreted meal became the ongoing Christian ritual we call the Eucharist. However, we have another ancient text which offers a different understanding of the Eucharist’s symbolism. The Didache is an instructional book which many scholars agree contains traditions or layers of text predating the gospels. One of the earlier sections explains the Eucharist: the bread represents God’s people, who have been scattered and will be reunited during the end times (hinting at common Judean expectations of a restored Israelite nation; cf. LXX Deut 30.1–5; Mark 13.27), and the wine represents the vine of David’s dynasty, which is restored through Jesus. This interpretation of the Eucharist is at least partially alluded to by Paul (1 Cor 10.17), suggesting the Didache was not teaching an unusual doctrine.
With the possible exception of the Didache, Paul is our earliest source to discuss the Eucharist (1 Cor 10–11). While Paul does interpret the bread and wine as symbolizing Jesus’ body and blood, and he does claim Jesus espoused this symbolism the night before his death, he does not identify it as having been a Passover meal. Paul only once explicitly connects Jesus to Passover (1 Cor 5.6–8), but he does so in a context where he is using the unified festivals of Passover and Unleavened Bread to make analogies for the moral state of the Corinthian church. And, importantly, Paul shows no awareness that Jesus was betrayed. He uses the verb
It has been suggested by a few scholars that the author of Mark had at least some of Paul’s letters as sources, and 1 Corinthians is usually the suspected point of intertextual contact.
Sentenced to Death
After the Passover meal Jesus takes his disciples to the Mount of Olives, where he shocks the disciples with another revelation: they will all abandon him. In a garden at the base of the mountain, Jesus fervently prays that God will provide some way for Jesus to avoid his imminent death (14.26–42), a sharp contrast against all his predictions that his death was utterly certain within God’s plan. When he finishes praying, Judah Iscariot arrives with a ‘large crowd’ sent by the religious leaders. (When Judah actually left Jesus and the disciples is unclear. The text implies he was present through the meal.)
The Passover festival provided Mark with a setting to allow multiple items to coincide in a historically plausible (if narratively convenient) way. However, having the Passover festival as the backdrop for Jesus’ death is only the first of several major discrepancies scholars have come to notice with the text. The historical problems with Mark’s account are numerous.
There were tens of thousands of pilgrims visiting Jerusalem during Passover.
The trial of Jesus begins at night, ends at night, takes place on the day of a festival, takes place on the day before the Sabbath, has no charges decided upon before it convenes, begins with the assumption of the defendant’s guilt, renders its guilty verdict on the same day when the trial first convened, and renders its verdict with unanimity. Every single one of these was impermissible for capital offense trials (M Sanh 4.1).
Mark 14.61–64
Again the high priest asked him, ‘Are you the Messiah, the son of the Blessed?’
Jesus said, ‘I am, you will see the son of man seated at the right hand of the Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven.’
Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, ‘Why do we still need witnesses? You have heard his blasphemy! What is your decision?’ All of them condemned him as deserving death.
Despite arguments to the contrary, nothing in Jesus’ response would have been considered blasphemy without an intense debate first. It was generally required that, to even qualify for a blasphemy charge, the accused must have used the divine name ‘Yhwh’.
Leviticus 24.16
Mishnah Sanhedrin 7.5
One who blasphemes the name of Yhwh shall be put to death; the whole congregation shall stone the blasphemer.
One who blasphemes, i.e., one who curses God, is not liable unless he utters the name of God and curses it.
We see the high priest avoid the name, referring to God as ‘the Blessed’. Likewise, Jesus uses the circumlocution ‘the Power’, fully complying with this legal ruling. Without uttering the name, could Jesus still have said something defamatory about God? Could ‘blasphemy’ have been applied in a wider sense?
The trial scene is so egregiously contrary to all known evidence for how the Sanhedrin practiced law, that scholars tend toward two opinions: either the Judean leaders were genuinely that hyperbolically corrupt, or Mark does not depict a ‘trial’ at all. Instead, it has been proposed, the author is telling us about a preliminary ‘hearing’.
Josephus and Philo tell of multiple incidents when Pilate deliberately offended both Judeans and Samarians, or responded to their complaints with brutal methods of control.
Crucifixion Under Darkness
Pilate draws attention to the injustice of Jesus’ arrest by means of a festival tradition. Every year at Passover, Pilate releases a prisoner chosen by the people. This time, he gives them two specific choices: Jesus, or Barabbas, who ‘was in prison with the rebels who had committed murder during the insurrection’. (For Pilate to give them the option of having Jesus receive a pardon would mean he accepted the guilty verdict, or ‘suggestion,’ of the Sanhedrin, despite the final call for Jesus’ fate being his decision alone.)
While the text explicitly mentions two other crucifixion victims, ‘one on his right and one on his left’, we have no reason to think they would be the only ones executed that day. It was common for larger groups to be crucified together, often next to well-traveled paths.
There is no evidence of the prisoner tradition Pilate uses in a last-ditch attempt to save Jesus’ life.
Mark 14.18–20
Psalm 41.9
And when they had taken their places and were eating, Jesus said, ‘Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me. […] It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the bowl with me.’
Even my bosom friend in whom I trusted, who ate of my bread, has lifted the heel against me.
Mark 14.21
1 Enoch 38.2
’For the son of man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the son of man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.’
And when the Righteous One
Mark 14.24
Exodus 24.8 (cf. Zech 9.11)
He said to them, ‘This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.’
Moses took the blood and dashed it on the people, and said, ‘See the blood of the covenant that Yhwh has made with you in accordance with all these words.’
Mark 14.48–49
Isaiah 53.9
Then Jesus said to them, ‘Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a bandit?’
although he had done no violence
Mark 14.56–57
Psalm 27.12
For many gave false testimony against him, and their testimony did not agree. Some stood up and gave false testimony against him
Do not give me up to the will of my adversaries, for false witnesses have risen against me, and they are breathing out violence.
Mark 14.61 (cf. 15.5)
Isaiah 53.7
But he was silent and did not answer.
He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.
Mark 14.65
Isaiah 50.6
Some began to spit on him, to blindfold him, and to strike him, saying to him, ‘Prophesy!’ The guards also took him over and beat him.
I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; I did not hide my face from insult and spitting.
Mark 15.18–19
Micah 5.1
And they began saluting him, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ They struck his head with a reed, spat upon him, and knelt down in homage to him.
Now you are walled around with a wall; siege is laid against us; with a rod they strike the ruler of Israel upon the cheek.
Mark 15.24
Psalm 22.16–18
And they crucified him, and divided his clothes among them, casting lots to decide what each should take.
For dogs are all around me; a company of evildoers encircles me. My hands and feet have shrivelled; I can count all my bones. They stare and gloat over me; they divide my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.
Mark 15.29–32
Psalm 22.7–8
Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, ‘Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!’ In the same way the chief priests, along with the scribes, were also mocking him among themselves and saying, ‘He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.’ Those who were crucified with him also taunted him.
All who see me mock at me; they make mouths at me, they shake their heads; ‘Commit your cause to Yhwh; let him deliver—let him rescue the one in whom he delights!’
Mark 15.34
Psalm 22.1
At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?’ which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?
Mark 15.36
Psalm 69.19–21
And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, ‘Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.’
You know the insults I receive, and my shame and dishonour; my foes are all known to you. Insults have broken my heart, so that I am in despair. I looked for pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none. They gave me poison for food, and for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.
Amid all these is where we find that the land was shrouded in darkness. There is no historical corroboration for the phenomenon.
Mark 15.33
Amos 8.9–10
When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon.
On that day, says the Lord Yhwh, I will make the sun go down at noon, and darken the earth in broad daylight. I will turn your feasts into mourning, and all your songs into lamentation; I will bring sackcloth on all loins, and baldness on every head; I will make it like the mourning for an only son, and the end of it like a bitter day.
The turning point was the revelation of the main theme, that the Messiah must be killed. Jesus explains to his disciples that the son of man’s death in Jerusalem would be the means by which God will accomplish the eschatological salvation (10.45; 14.24). But these explanations are soon followed by a repeated emphasis on Jerusalem’s destruction (11–12), when the ‘son of man comes on the clouds of heaven’ (13.1–27). Jesus indicates via parable that Jerusalem’s destruction will be vengeance from God for its leadership killing his ‘son’, the Messiah (12.6–9, 12). The climax of the Sanhedrin trial scene is when Jesus admits that he is the Messiah. He follows this with a declaration that his accusers will see the ‘son of man coming with the clouds of heaven’ (14.61–62).
By casting a shadow over the land of Israel specifically ‘at noon’ during Jesus’ crucifixion, the author not only provides an omen to mark the death of an important person,
Mark 14.50–52
Amos 2.14–16
All of them deserted him and fled. A certain young man was following him, wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They caught hold of him, but he left the linen cloth and ran off naked.
Flight shall perish from the swift, and the strong shall not retain their strength, nor shall the mighty save their lives; those who handle the bow shall not stand, and those who are swift of foot shall not save themselves, nor shall those who ride horses save their lives; and those who are stout of heart among the mighty shall flee away naked on that day, says Yhwh.
For the author, it was not enough to simply show the disciples running away. He needed to demonstrate that this, too, was the beginning of the Day of Yhwh.
Burial in a Tomb
Jesus dies in the middle of the afternoon. The temple’s curtain rips in half, and the centurion guarding Jesus realizes he must be the son of a deity. Later in the evening, a man named Joseph is given permission by Pilate to take Jesus’ body. Joseph places the body in a tomb outside Jerusalem, and blocks the entryway with a large stone (15.42–47).
The cause for the centurion’s reaction is unclear. It seems it was due to the temple’s curtain tearing apart at the moment of Jesus’ death, but this would be nonsensical. The curtain was inside the temple, behind walls, atop Mount Zion, off inside the city. The centurion could not have seen it, especially not while it was dark.
The centurion’s reaction happens because the author is driving in another part of his main theme. While Jesus’ disciples have their revelation of Jesus being the Messiah halfway through the story, the author has other characters in the book recognize his importance before this, each of them commanded to keep it a secret (1.25, 34; 1.44; 3.12; 5.43; 7.36; 8.26, 30; 9.9). The ones who make these declarations about Jesus are evil spirits, ailing lepers, and rural laborers. The educated religious authorities, the people who (in the author’s mind) should be most prepared to recognize who Jesus is, are the ones wholly opposed to everything he says and does. When Jesus confirms for them that he really is the Messiah, they call for his death. Having a gentile soldier make the connection is the penultimate irony of the book.
It is sometimes thought that Jesus, as a crucifixion victim, would have been denied burial in a tomb. It is argued it would be more historically accurate if he was carelessly thrown in a mass grave. But the placement of Jesus’ body in a tomb is entirely plausible. In 1968 an ossuary with the bones of a Judean man who died in the first century was found, his name inscribed in Hebrew on the stone box. Jehoḥanan, son of Ḥagqol, was crucified.
Josephus, Judean War, 4.5.2
No, [the Idumeans] proceeded to that degree of impiety, as to cast away their dead bodies without burial. But the Judeans used to take so much care of the burial of men that they took down those who were condemned and crucified, and buried them before the sun went down.
The only apparent problem is that the man who buried Jesus, Joseph of Arimathea, is identified as someone ‘who was himself also waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God’. The author says his request to Pilate was ‘bold’. This man evidently agreed with Jesus’ message. Yet, the narration also says Joseph was ‘an honorable councilman’. He was a part of the very same Sanhedrin whose every member sentenced Jesus to death. It seems the author may have forgotten the verdict was unanimous. This casts doubt over the historicity of at least some of Mark’s description of the burial.
The Resurrection
A group of women who followed Jesus observe his death (15.40–41). They come to the tomb on the third day, intending to anoint his body for a proper burial. They wonder how they will move the heavy stone blocking the entry, but upon arriving they find the tomb already open. Inside, ‘a young man’ informs them that Jesus has been restored from death and is going to Galilee, as he had promised (16.1–7; cf. 14.28).
There are attempts to identify the ‘young man’ waiting for the women with the naked ‘young man’ who fled during Jesus’ arrest—based on the shared word
The book shockingly ends with the women remaining silent when told to inform the disciples that the risen Jesus will be waiting for them in Galilee. This was bothersome enough that later Christian scribes invented endings to append to the book. The so-called ‘long ending’ (Mark 16.9–20) appears to be written by someone who had Matthew, Luke, Acts, and possibly John, suggesting it was written sometime after the mid-second century CE. While the late origin of those endings is broadly accepted, the real debate is whether the book was designed to end with verse 16.8, or if there was more to the story that was lost before it could be widely copied.
In the letters of Paul—our earliest sources—we are told about his experience with the risen Jesus that led to him believing he was the Messiah. Paul was a seeker of visions, the sort commonly found within apocalyptic streams of Judaism (2 Cor 12.1).
In discussions of the book’s value as a dependable source of history, it is often argued that the identification of women as the first witnesses to Jesus’ resurrection is a strong point in favor of the empty tomb’s historicity. Because women in this time period were allegedly stereotyped as poor, flighty witnesses, an author would not try to convince people of a spectacular claim on the testimony of women unless he was absolutely sure what they said was true. Yet, this argument skips a vital detail: the Gospel of Mark, in fact, does not present the women as reliable witnesses. Their portrayal here is overwhelmingly negative.
Mark 16.8
So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them. And they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
In my opinion of the text, this ending performs two functions. The first is that it reads as a deliberately blunt conclusion to the book. Jesus must regularly command people to keep his identity as the Messiah a secret. But now, the only people given explicit permission to spread the word that Jesus is alive again, commanded to tell others, instead fail to reveal it to anyone. It is the final twist of irony on the theme of the ‘messianic secret’.
The second function of their silence requires another look at Paul.
Part of the puzzle is not whether Paul thought Jesus had been buried. He knows Jesus was (1 Cor 15.3–4). The question is whether Paul had any awareness that Jesus was buried in a tomb which was then found empty. This would require that Jesus’ resurrection body was the same body which had been buried in the first place, a mortal body restored to life and transformed to be immortal. This does not seem to reflect what Paul thought resurrection was. In his discourse on the nature of the resurrection, the only bodies Paul describes as being ‘transformed’ or ‘changed’ are those still alive when the eschaton arrives (1 Cor 15.50–57). Otherwise, ‘the resurrection of the dead’ consists of earthly, soulish bodies being traded for heavenly, spiritual bodies (1 Cor 15.42–49). He elsewhere compares the resurrection to an old tent being replaced with a new one, or old clothes replaced with new clothes (2 Cor 4.1–4). These analogies do not suggest a mortal body becoming immortal, but the person ‘inside’ the mortal body leaving it behind and later receiving an immortal body.
Some recent scholarship has drawn attention to the work of a Roman author, the Satyrica by Gaius Petronius, as a point of comparison for the gospels. In one passage, the reader learns of the Widow of Ephesus, a woman grieving her dead husband in his tomb. A nearby centurion, guarding a crucified man, is distracted by the commotion. While the centurion is away from his post on the third day, the crucified man’s body is stolen. Not wishing for the centurion to be punished, the widow assists him in placing her own husband’s body on the cross. This causes other people to wonder how someone already dead wound up on a cross, away from his tomb.
There are many striking elements to the Widow of Ephesus if one has the gospels in view. The robbers, the crucifixion, guards, three nights in the tomb, missing crucified corpses, and so forth are all shared topoi. […] The episode also evokes the motif of the empty tomb with the widow’s husband ascending the cross.48
The Satyrica’s date of origin is disputed. The ‘vast majority of scholars’ put it as early as the 50s CE, but others suggest a time around 115 CE.
Missing corpses were a very common occurrence in antiquity. [There are too many cases to detail here] Throughout Mediterranean literature (and material culture), more often than not, these missing dead were understood to have experienced some form of apotheosis, resurrection/rebirth, or transition into a supernatural state.50
Looking past the sheer surface of the narrative, we do not have to suppose some kind of historical basis for Mark’s empty tomb simply because (to borrow from one academic) ‘some stories are so odd that they may just have happened’.
The author, of course, would not want to say he determined the fact of Jesus’ burial in a tomb by means of his own inspiration while reading Greco-Roman literature, Paul’s letters, and the Book of Isaiah. This is the second function of the women’s silence: it hermetically seals the narrative, similar in purpose to Daniel being told to hide away the account of his apocalyptic visions (Dan 8.26; 12.4, 9). For Daniel, it explained how an ancient prophecy about the Maccabean Revolt just happened to be discovered during that very event. This kind of literary ‘seal’ preemptively answers the critical question, ‘How come we have never heard about this before?’ Because the only witnesses, a small group of women, never told anyone.
Changes in the Other Gospels
My conclusion on the literary nature of Mark 14–16 is probably obvious at this point. Before we bring this to a close, however, we should first explore the other gospels and survey how they interact with Mark’s version of the story.
Matthew sometimes places Mark’s narration into Jesus’ mouth (e.g. 26.1–2, 26–29). He explicitly identifies the high priest as Caiaphas (26.3–5). He makes several changes to Judah Iscariot’s subplot: his motivation for betraying Jesus is greed (26.14–16); Jesus clearly identifies Judah as his betrayer (26.25); Jesus now bravely faces his enemies when Judah points him out (26.50); and, Judah is consumed with regret, returning the money to the priests and killing himself before Jesus is even taken to Pilate (27.3–10). Jesus not only complains to the crowd for their injustice, he now first takes a moment to rebuke his own disciples for attempting to prevent his arrest and thus thwart God’s plan (26.52–54). Matthew not only adds details; he cuts the small pericope of the naked young man, probably confused about its meaning. Matthew seems to think Jesus did threaten to destroy the temple, and so rewords the accusation at his trial to imply it did not come from a ‘false witness’ (26.59–61; see here). He also modifies Jesus’ response to the high priest, adding the word
Legendary elements in Matthew’s account are even more obvious than Mark’s: Pilate is absolved of all guilt (27.19, 24); a vicious fabrication is placed in the mouth of the entire Judean populace (27.25); and, other omens accompany the temple curtain (27.51–53; the centurion now reacts to an earthquake, rather then the curtain he can’t see). Joseph of Arimathea is now plainly ‘a rich man’ and is no longer a member of the Sanhedrin (27.57–61). Matthew asserts the presence of temple guards assigned to watch Jesus’ tomb; they see an angel open the tomb, but are subsequently commanded by the nefarious priests to lie about what they saw (27.62–66; 28.4, 11–15). Finally, and most importantly, the unsatisfying and abrupt ending of Mark has been ‘fixed’: the women now witness the tomb being opened (28.1–2); they eagerly run with ‘great joy’ to tell the disciples (28.8); they see the risen Jesus (28.9–10); and, the disciples find Jesus in Galilee as promised (28.16–20).
Luke moves the story of Jesus being anointed with perfume to a completely different part of the book (7.36–50). The satan is directly involved in events: he possesses Judah Iscariot (22.3–6), and he is the cause for Peter’s denial of Jesus (22.31–34). The wine of the Passover meal is featured twice, and adheres closer to Paul’s phrasing in 1 Corinthians (22.17–20). Luke also provides a reason for how anyone could possibly think Jesus posed a threat of violence: not because he threatened the temple—this accusation is omitted from the trial—but because he specifically told his disciples to carry swords with them that night for the express purpose of forcing prophecy to be fulfilled (22.35–38). Jesus rebukes his disciples when they fight back, as in Matthew, but he now goes a step further by healing the slave’s ear (22.51). Jesus calls out Judah’s betrayal (22.48), as well as the Sanhedrin’s disbelief (22.67–68). Similar to Matthew, he adds the word
Luke inserts another pericope: women mourn Jesus’ death, and he cites back a prophecy about Israel coming under judgment (23.27–31; Hos 10.8). Jesus offers one of the crucified men salvation (23.39–43), possibly to show that even last-second repentance is valid. Luke keeps Joseph of Arimathea on the Sanhedrin, but removes the unanimous verdict from the trial scene, here noting that Joseph objected (23.50–51). He also specifies that the tomb was brand new, truly ‘empty’ (22.53). The women now find two men at the tomb, and, as in Matthew, tell the disciples what they saw (24.8–9). However, it is here that we now notice a significant change to Mark: Luke has completely scrubbed all references to Jesus’ plan to meet the disciples back in Galilee after his resurrection. Instead, he simply happened to be in Galilee at the time he mentioned his coming resurrection (24.6–7). Thus, Jesus appears to several of his disciples not only in Jerusalem, but on a road far away from the city (24.13–48). He even requires them to stay in Jerusalem (24.49) and disappears into heaven the night of that same day he rose from the dead (24.50–53), which prevents any attempts to harmonize with Matthew’s ending.
The Gospel of John is substantially different from the other three overall. The etiology for the Eucharist is moved to an earlier dialogue (6.22–59). Judah Iscariot, as in Luke, is possessed by the satan, and Jesus reveals his betrayal to other disciples early on (13.21–30). Jesus delivers a long series of philosophical monologues before his arrest (13.31–17.26). Judah Iscariot is not even given the chance to point Jesus out; Jesus approaches his enemies and identifies himself to their surprise (18.1–9). The violent disciple and the maimed slave are both named: Peter and Malchus. Jesus rebukes only Peter, not the crowd arresting him (18.10–11a). Jesus nowhere prays for God to ‘remove this cup’, allowing Jesus to avoid his death; he now flatly says he must ‘drink the cup’ set before him (18.11b); this resolution is more in line with a typical martyrdom account.
There are more than just the four gospels of the New Testament, but we will look at only one of them. The Gospel of Peter explains that Pilate granted Joseph’s request because they were friends. Jesus is stated to feel no pain when crucified. The Judeans acknowledge Jesus’ innocence, declaring that God’s judgment was on Jerusalem. The tomb’s entry is sealed shut, and Pilate sends Roman soldiers to guard it. A crowd from Jerusalem witnesses angels open the tomb and accompany the risen Jesus as he emerges. The cross, evidently buried with Jesus, follows him out of the tomb and speaks. The next day, the women find the tomb open, but run away in fear. A full week later, at the end of the eight-day festival, the disciples still have not seen the risen Jesus.
Conclusion
In each one of these later gospels, we see how items are rearranged, added, removed, and altered. There is a general sweep across those books to portray Pilate (and all Romans, by proxy) better and the Judeans worse. They fix plotholes, adjust motivations, and completely fabricate new details to serve their individual agendas and theological perspectives. The Gospels of Matthew and Luke both embellish Mark, and the Gospels of John and Peter both further embellish all three of their predecessors.
Mark may have had an existing ‘passion’ document as a resource, but he was not simply slavishly copying extant documents and passing on oral traditions. We have no reason to think the author of Mark was not capable of the same kinds of authorial decisions his successors made. We see him regularly exercising his prowess as a creative writer.
The general outline of Mark 14–16, the suffering of a holy man, had plenty of ‘literary models’ to survey for ideas on how to construct a narrative.
As Mark’s author established his basic story structure for the crucifixion and decided how it would tie into his ongoing ‘messianic secret’ theme, he also searched through the scriptures. He found a handful of especially poignant chapters which focused on the suffering of God’s followers and which prophesied judgment against Israel itself. He borrowed from these texts—especially Isaiah 53 and Psalm 22—to convey that Jesus was a truly righteous man whose unjust suffering had resulted in divine vengeance coming upon Jerusalem. The Day of Yhwh had arrived, and festivals like Passover would turn ‘into mourning’ because the people killed the Messiah, the ‘only son’ of God.
When we peel away the editorial side of Mark 14–16, searching for the bare story underneath, what we find is that Jesus was crucified by the Romans on charge of sedition, sentenced to death perhaps through an expedited legal process.
Jesus may have been buried in a tomb, though not surrounded by fearful guards or scheming priests. Perhaps he was even buried by a disapproving member of the Sanhedrin, someone concerned not for Jesus, but for obeying the Torah. Jesus was probably one among many crucified that morning, and would not have received special attention from Pilate or the executioners. The temple curtain was not torn, and the sun was not eclipsed. There were no omens to mark the day.
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