Introduction
Matthew, Luke, and Mark share a broadly similar structure—at least when compared to the Gospel of John, which differs significantly. For this reason, I will focus here on Matthew, Luke, and Mark; John will be addressed later. It is worth noting that, across all the Gospels, the overall structure often receives too little attention. Frequently, individual “pericopes”—biblical narratives—are read in isolation. In their sermons, preachers typically confine themselves to the specific passage being read, perhaps glancing briefly at the text immediately preceding or following it. In doing so, the significance of the sequence in which these texts appear is lost. Moreover, this sequence—and its underlying meaning—varies from one Gospel to another. While the differences may not be vast, they are nonetheless highly meaningful—especially if one assumes that the various evangelists were familiar with one another’s work. These differences serve to highlight the specific version of the message presented by each Gospel, which is the central focus here. That is what I intend to demonstrate.[1]
The Sequence
To interpret these differences accurately, it is essential to understand the chronological order in which the Gospels were composed. Who was looking over the shoulder of whom? Why did a subsequent evangelist feel compelled to offer yet another version of an earlier account—a text that was already regarded by everyone with profound awe and respect? Why was the original account modulated, adapted, or applied to a new situation by a later author? Elsewhere, I have explored such questions in considerable detail (see here), and I have reached the following conclusion: Matthew comes first; Luke is an adaptation of Matthew; and Mark serves as both a summary of and a bridge between Matthew and Luke. Matthew wrote after the death of Stephen, at a time when the community had fled from Jerusalem to Galilee and Syria. Luke traveled with Paul and adapted Matthew’s Gospel so that communities in Greek and Roman cities could also follow the path of Jesus as the Christ— making sure they no longer felt excluded. Mark was written during or after the persecutions in Rome; through his Gospel, he attempts to build a bridge between Matthew and Luke, encouraging both Jewish and Gentile Christians to set aside their disagreements and stand firm together against their persecutors. Given their different eras and contexts, each author emphasizes a distinct primary point. This is how I propose reading the Gospels. For those seeking the supporting evidence, I refer once again to the aforementioned website, which contains several relevant contributions. In a sense, it is never possible to provide an airtight proof; one can always make certain assumptions—which cannot be unequivocally refuted—that lead to an entirely different narrative. After all, there are still people who claim the Earth is flat; if you make enough assumptions regarding the positions of the stars and the movements of the rest of the universe, you can even construct a coherent account for that. In my judgment, however, this particular interpretation is the most meaningful—and therefore the most convincing. I leave it to the reader to judge for themselves.
We do not know Jesus as a “mere” human being
Paul writes in the letter to Corinthians (2 Corinthians 5:16), “Therefore henceforth we know no man according to the flesh: if we have known Christ according to the flesh, now no more.” “To know according to the flesh” means to know Jesus only according to his human side, perhaps also his all too human side. The flesh – that is the Biblical expression for the limited man, or even the sinful man, not the man in his greatness that rises above himself. Strictly speaking, it is not the case that we do not know Jesus as a human being at all and so the inscription above this paragraph is not entirely correct. We know him as the man who withheld nothing of himself and therefore as the Son of Man who is the Son of God. But as a son of man and as a Son of God, he is not “according to the flesh.” Jesus, also Jesus as a human being, stands before us clothed with the gospel, as Noordmans puts it. Without that clothing there is nothing to be found. That is what is meant.
This also applies to the Gospels. There are traces of biographical events and actions, but all events that are related also have a spiritual meaning and you do not know whether sometimes the spiritual meaning prevails over what we would call the objective event. There is no objectively available event. The metaphors are in the language first and the objective clues come later. Is the ascension of Jesus in Matthew 28 an objective observation or a metaphor? Did Jesus heal and cure people? That is undoubtedly true. Did he have certain miraculous powers? Could well be. The very words he speaks are astonishing enough. What are miracle powers? Isn’t the word also a power? But the miracles that are reported, better yet we speak of healings, all have a spiritual meaning as well. The lame walk, the blind see, the poor hear the gospel (Matthew 11:5). The latter, that the poor hear the gospel, is apparently no less miraculous in this summary than that the lame walk and the blind see. In fact, wasn’t it true that the blind always saw more than the people who could normally see? The senses are much more connected to their meaning, and also vice versa, than we think. Nor can we consider the ordinary senses separately from the meaning they express.
The name senses for the five senses is therefore appropriate enough. Our senses always have a certain added value over so-called bare empiricism. They can never be completely reduced to empirical observation. Things are not what they are. We smell and taste, but we also have a feeling and a foretaste of what will/must come. That’s how we smell things too. If we don’t like something, it is also because we are not used to it and it displeases us both physically and mentally. For example, eating a dog is not done in Western culture. We have ears and eyes. We hear and see, but hearing and obedience flow into each other, and seeing is not merely seeing, but also insight. The Gospel stories and perhaps especially the healing stories stand before us in such metaphorical perception. The resurrection itself, the miracle par excellence, is that an “objective” fact? The resurrection is directed against the tragic sense of life that always sees decline. All life consists of rising, shining and sinking. That is the law of life of the cosmos. At the end of an ancient play, a Deus ex machina always emerges who has the last word and who confirms the order that prevails in the cosmos. That order has a tragic course and makes victims, but it is still just and therefore good, that is the message. An example is Oedipus who is left abandoned as a child and as an adult he kills his real parents without knowing who they are. He is punished by the gods and finally he accepts his punishment, also out of his own conviction! He broke the order and now the order is taking revenge on him. The resurrection, on the other hand, does the opposite. The resurrection reads and sees the cosmos as a prefiguration of new life and new love and new faith. The apostles also look back at the cross with that look. The story does not end with the grave. The grain of wheat that dies in the earth is the source of new life. Everything now appears in a new light. Everything takes on a spiritual meaning. In this way the apostles also look back on the life of Jesus before the crucifixion. Even those who were dead are suddenly no longer dead. When Jesus dies the earth trembles, the rocks are split and the graves are opened and the dead saints are brought back to life and are seen in the holy city (Matthew 27:52). But would anyone argue that the fate of Oedipus who complies can be determined empirically and the resurrection cannot? Isn’t the Gospel story as it continues in Acts and in the Roman Empire itself proof of the resurrection? In short, belief or disbelief plays a role here in what you think you can establish as facts.
The design and structure of Matthew
Several people have already noticed that in Matthew, Jesus’ five major discourses each form a kind of marking point in the text. The words occur five times: “When Jesus had finished this speech…” and so one naturally thought of the five books of Moses. Would Mattheus perhaps want to give an actualization of these? That could be possible. But in the last long speech, the apocalyptic speech in Matthew 24, one cannot think of Deuteronomy, the fifth book of Moses. One is more likely to think of Joshua, the story of the capture of the land. For example, Jesus conquers Jerusalem in the story of the entry into Jerusalem and in the cross and resurrection he conquers all peoples and tribes who must now recognize him as the Son of God (Matthew 28). The Sermon on the Mount, the first great speech, has always been reminiscent of the book of Exodus and the legislation at Sinai. Should we only start counting from the book of Exodus? That is not necessary, because in the chapters from Matthew 1 onwards the coming into being, the Genesis, of Jesus is recounted. So that’s where we have to start counting. This leads to the following result for Mattheus.
1. Genesis. The genealogy with which Matthew begins can be regarded as the first great speech. After all, Matthew 1, the chapter of the genealogy, begins with the inscription: “Overview of the descent of Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham.” The word descent in Greek is the word “genesis”, literally the “becoming” or “coming into being” of Jesus Christ. The genealogy is of course not a speech that one can and with the mentioned text “When Jesus had finished this speech…”. But the inscription is clear enough.
2. Exodus. It is indeed self-evident that Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount corresponds to the legislation on Sinai and is therefore related to the book of Exodus. The baptism by John the Baptist in the desert represents the exodus from Egypt and the crossing of the Red Sea in Exodus. Then comes the temptation in the wilderness, and the three temptations that Jesus undergoes correspond to the three temptations that Israel faced in the wilderness. Israel failed, where Jesus withstood the temptations with flying colors. Then follows the legislation at Sinai. At the end of that speech, the words “When Jesus had finished this speech…” are heard for the first time. From now on we know that that is a marker.
3. Leviticus. In Matthew 10 the appointment and sending out of the 12 apostles takes place. That is a parallel with the appointment of the priests and Levites in the book of Leviticus by Moses.
4. Numbers. In Matthew 13 it is about the number and size of the harvest and also about the question of who is and who is not fit to be admitted to the Kingdom of Heaven, as also happens in Numbers at the entrance to the promised land.
5. Deuteronomy. The entire book of Deuteronomy (literal meaning: second law) is a long speech from Moses. It is a farewell speech with a view to the future: how should Israel live in the promised land? This means that it is itself an update and intended to provide new inspiration. Matthew’s Deuteronomy is found in Matthew 17 and 18, in the transfiguration on the mount and the subsequent teaching to the disciples about the humility of those who will be leaders in the future church.
6. Joshua. The book of Joshua is about the conquest of the land and the fall of Jericho. Matthew’s Joshua can be found in Matthew 24 and 25, the speech on the last things and the fall of Jerusalem. This is how the new Israel enters the promised land.
That is the hexateuch of Matthew, each time ending with the same refrain “When Jesus had finished this speech…”.
What Luke does with Matthew
What does Luke do with that now? He leaves the order of Matthew in place, but in a somewhat weakened form and he places as much as possible under number five, under Deuteronomy. In Luke chapters 9-16, Jesus travels through the area of Samaria. That does not occur in Matthew. The Jews, including those from Galilee, avoided passing through Samaria, even when they went to Jerusalem for the Passover. Then they went south on the other side of the Jordan. In Luke 9, when Jesus prepares to go to Jerusalem to face rejection and the crucifixion, he decides to travel through Samaria. It is an anticipation of the mission among the pagan peoples and a first step in their direction. In this part, Luke 9-16, Luke includes much material that can be found in Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount or elsewhere. Why does he do that? In the first place, the early Christian community experienced the gospel itself as a Deuteronomy, a repetition and revival by taking more seriously the “first” law as Moses had already given it in the first four books. This second law, the gospel, adds Spirit to in itself dead and formal legal practices. After all, the gospel wants to break away from the dead and ritualized legal rules of the temple and that is why Luke always emphasizes the Spirit. The baptism with the Holy Spirit must also always be included in Acts as an extra to the baptism with water, to indicate that it is not about the ritual alone. Thus, in his journey through Samaria, Jesus gives the rule for the New Testament church, especially for the churches that Paul founded. After all, it is with them in mind that Luke writes his Gospel to build a bridge from the Jewish heritage to the Greco-Roman world. This leads to a revival and adaptation of the old legal rules in a new situation. That is also what Moses does in the long speech that is the book of Deuteronomy: he revives and updates the already known story in a new situation. Deuteronomy is also about generosity, humility and compassion.
Moreover, Jesus’ words in Luke were all spoken along the way. Jesus is always on his way, just as the Christian community is on its way. In the end, the church is also called: the Way, in Luke (Acts 2:42-47, 4:32-36 and 5:12-16). On the way to Jerusalem, Jesus speaks words that are not ritual but are serious and that cost him something. In this way, the community of believers from the nations follows in the footsteps of Luke and Paul into the promised land of the future. That is different from Matthew. Matthew is in conflict with the strict observance of the law. The Pharisees and scribes who wanted to keep all the regulations quite strictly pursued perfection in their own way. But that perfection was a perfection according to the rules, which did not prevent them from seeking their own honor and advantage and from looking down on the people who did not know the law. After all, if you were not in a certain wealthy position, it was completely impossible to adhere to all those regulations. Just think of all the dietary laws. Matthew contrasts this perfection of strict rules with perfection of the heart and faith in Christ. The “perfection” of the strict law is contrasted with the perfection of church life, in which brothers and sisters support each other. Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount also speaks of a different kind of perfection, not that of the rules themselves but of the mercy that visits the captives in prison, clothes the naked, and feeds the hungry.
In the book of Deuteronomy, the Shema is the heart of the matter. In Deuteronomy 5 and 6, in the plains of Moab (Deuteronomy 1:1-5), Moses recapitulates the law, specifically the 10 commandments and then follows the Shema. The Shema is the prayer that the pious Jew says at the hour of his death. It reads as follows:
Hear Israel, the LORD is our God, the LORD is one. (Deuteronomy 6:4). Therefore, love the LORD your God with all your heart and soul and with all your might. (Deut. 6:5, 11:13) and Write them on the doorposts of your house and on the gates of the city. (Deut. 6:9, 11:20).
There are two moments where this Shema is heard in Luke’s story. That is at the beginning of the long middle section, when Jesus sets out for nine chapters (10:25-28), on the way to the final confrontation in Jerusalem and at the end of this nine-chapter journey before he enters Jerusalem (18:18-30). In the first case a Pharisee asks how he can inherit eternal life and in the second case a rich man asks how he can inherit eternal life. In the answer, God above all and your neighbor as yourself, the words of the Shema come to life. At the same time, the story shows that Jesus himself also goes that Way, the Messianic way of living life with dedication and not making it your own. Walking the Way full of the Spirit, that is Luke’s Deuteronomy. Jesus is also filled with the Spirit and so he goes to his death and lives his life as a sacrifice. But the other books of Moses also appear in Luke. Luke does bring a shift in emphasis, but not a completely different message than Matthew.
Genesis: Luke also has a genealogy. He incorporates the themes of Matthew, but develops them in his own way. He goes back to Adam, and mentions six sets of seven names, so that we are now at the beginning of the seventh historical period. The period of the Way is then the last week of world history. That’s where we are now. Now the nations must enter first. For example, Luke says about the fall of Jerusalem: “24Its inhabitants will die by the sword or be led into captivity everywhere, and Jerusalem will be trodden down by the nations until their time is fulfilled” (Luke 21:24). It is the time of the nations.
Exodus: Luke adds to the exodus motif of the temptation in the desert the rejection of Jesus in Nazareth and Peter’s miraculous catch of fish. These can be read in parallel, respectively, with Stephen’s speech, where Stephen discusses the rejection of Moses by his brothers in Egypt, and also in parallel with the burning bush where Moses receives his commission (Acts 7:23-35). After the crucifixion, it is up to the age of the church to bring in the fish.
Leviticus: Luke tells the story of the appointment and sending out of the twelve disciples in chapter 6. The speech from the mountain in Matthew becomes in Luke a speech of the disciples took place) into the plain. Matthew’s sermon on the mount was the exodus, in Luke’s it belongs to Leviticus. The disciples are addressed in Luke’s sermon. They get their assignment. They are, as it were, to Israel what the priestly order of the Levites was to the other tribes.
Numbers: the installation of the twelve is the Numbers of Luke. This also includes the sending out of the seventy in chapter 10. Just as in Numbers the counting of the twelve tribes in Numbers 1 and 2 is followed by the appointment of the seventy elders in Numbers 11, so in Luke 10 the seventy-two disciples are sent out who will help with the harvest. In Numbers 10, between the counting of the twelve tribes and the appointment of the seventy elders, the people of Israel solemnly and resolutely leave the wilderness of Sinai to conquer the promised land. Corresponding to this in Luke is Jesus’ decision to go to Jerusalem, which also stands between the sending of the twelve disciples and the sending of the seventy disciples: “51 When the time drew near for Jesus to be taken up into heaven, he went with determination to Jerusalem” (Luke 9: 51). It is noticeable here that the word “taken up” is used. The same word is used in the Old Testament for Moses and Elijah who did not just die but were taken up into heaven.
Joshua: in Luke the cross and resurrection are the conquest of Jerusalem. The sermon on the last things in Luke 21 introduces this section.
Luke does not, like Matthew, intend to present the leaders in Jerusalem as the new Egypt, with Herod as the new pharaoh and the Pharisees as the astrologers who support his power. His focus is not political power, but the religious ritual of temple and sacrifices, of status and power. But it is not the political power of the large landowners in the sanhedrin, but the economic power of land ownership and especially trade in the Greco-Roman world that he has in mind. This group of people has been deprived of its political power since the Roman Empire abolished the local ecclesias, that is, the popular assemblies, because everything now is decided in Rome. In the Roman Empire they are sidelined, they are morally attracted to Jewish life according to the law, but there too they are sidelined because of circumcision and food regulations.
That context and that “target group” can be traced in the way Luke constructs his story. For example, the birth stories now circle not around Herod and the Pharisees and scribes as the new Egypt, but around the temple. That temple service is still there, but it is no longer alive. It is petrified. Zacharias, who serves in the temple, does not believe the angel who promises him a son. He falls silent, he can no longer speak. The marriage with Elisabeth is a barren marriage like that of Abraham and Sarah. A new beginning is needed! This is also expressed by the song of praise by Simon and by Hannah, two old people who sing about this new beginning at the circumcision of Jesus. The whole situation requires that a rigid, outdated era be translated into something new, a new era. This is not only the case of the temple in Israel, but it is also true of the leading elite in the Greco-Roman cities. The local ecclesias are good for job hunters, all important decisions are made in Rome. Luke, who had Matthew before him, deliberately changed the order of the temptation in the wilderness (Luke 4:1-13). Where Matthew maintains the order of the temptations that Israel underwent in the wilderness, bread, religious tribute, and culminating in political power, Luke reverses the order of the last two. The climax is now the suggestion to Jesus to throw himself down from the pinnacle of the temple so that he may be carried by the angels. The temple service is the highlight for Luke and this temple service must also be left behind by the nations who come to believe in Christ. Luke always seeks confrontation with that temple service, not only in the story of the Gospel, where Jesus teaches in the temple, but also in Acts. The outpouring of the Spirit on the church is the alternative to the temple service and the apostles proclaim Christ in the temple. Later an attempt is also made to kill Paul in the temple, and it would have succeeded if the Roman power had not intervened. In Luke, the Way takes the place of the perfection of the law. After all, the newly converted Greco-Roman townspeople cannot have yet achieved perfection. The Way is opened for them and that Way must begin with what is current and doable for them. In the Agape meals the Eucharist is celebrated and the rich share with the poor. Here a new community is being founded that does not operate according to the letter of the law, but is driven by the Spirit. Lost people are found. The church is a body of living members. The stone temple is replaced by living bodies.
Mark as a bridge to and bridgehead in the Roman Empire
I have already written extensively about Mark elsewhere (see here) and therefore I can keep it short here. Mark himself is also short. Mark mediates between Matthew and Luke: where Luke emphatically uses different expressions and formulations than Matthew with a view to his target group, Mark partly adopts this, but he also partly adheres to Matthew. He often uses both Matthew’s and Luke’s modes of expression in his text. In doing so, he largely omits Jesus’ discourses in Matthew and Luke. Perhaps that is also because the differences are the greatest there, because Lucas really wanted to give a different version there and somewhat chooses the opposition. But another reason is that there is no time for long stories in Rome. For in Rome persecutions are already threatening or real. There is no time for circumlocutory movements. Where Luke pays attention to the beginning of the Messianic path, in Mark the hour of crisis has arrived: persecutions in Rome. Now Christians from the Jews and from the Gentiles must each stand for it equally, and not abandon each other. Jesus as Son of God is opposed to the emperor as son of God. Confessing Jesus as risen means being ready for persecution.
Mark not only mediates, but also brings the gospel to a point: Vigilance and being ready for following in suffering. That is central. The seed that is sown, the growing into the harvest, the immediate reaping, and the bread that is broken, that dominates his gospel. In Rome an important question, the question of all questions, is the bread question. In this metropolis, people cannot provide for their own grain production. Jesus is the Son of God and not the emperor, and he gives the people bread, because he has all power in heaven and on earth. He himself is the bread that is shared and that is enough for everyone. That is the secret of the gospel, according to Mark. Mark likes in Luke and Matthew especially the stories of healing and those stories are merged with the calling of the disciples and the sharing of the bread. That is what gives structure to Mark’s Gospel. For that reason we will take a closer look at the stories of healing, first with Matthew and Luke and finally with Mark.
The healing stories in Matthew
In Matthew 7 the Sermon on the Mount comes to an end. The Sermon on the Mount consists of promising and encouraging words. Not merely commandments as Moses gave, but every commandment is also a promise. The kingdom is for the meek, do not judge, even love to enemies is commanded. What then should follow the Sermon on the Mount? In Matthew 8-12, Jesus does a whole series of healings. A total of ten people are healed. There really is no other way: Healing words, then healing actions follow. What can be found in those chapters in Matthew, in Mark, forms the structure for his entire gospel, as we will see later.
Jesus performed many healings, sometimes to the extent that he did not have time to eat. But why does Matthew want to highlight a series of ten here? Did Matthew just randomly sprinkle healings into his story to increase credibility? What should one think of precisely ten? Perhaps the ten plagues in Egypt, forcing Pharaoh to let Israel go? But this is not about plagues but about healing. The first five and the second five are similar:
| The Centurion’s servant who is a leper Peter’s mother-in-law who has a fever Two possessed people A paralyzed | Woman with the issue of blood Jairus’ daughter dying Two blind people A deaf and mute possessed |
It seems that Jesus has a preference for certain diseases to heal: paralysis, diseases related to impurity, not being able to walk, not being able to use the arms, being possessed, being blind and deaf and dumb. Leprosy and menstrual problems make one unclean. Jesus does not recognize that impurity. So one can read the story of the Centurion’s servant and that of the woman with the issue of blood in parallel. The woman with the issue of blood is impure, but as a pagan the Centurion is also impure. Peter’s mother-in-law and Jairus’ daughter can also be seen in parallel. The two possessed people and the two blind people as well: in the eyes of the people of that time, all diseases were actually associated with evil spirits. The two demon-possessed crie out loudly, “What have we to do with you, Son of God?” The two blind men shout out loudly, “Have mercy on us, Son of David!” Finally, someone who cannot walk is healed, and in the other row someone who cannot hear or speak is healed. Moreover, he is possessed.
Two hands full, two people who don’t belong, two people threatened by death, two screaming possessed people and two screaming blind people, two who are paralyzed in their limbs and speaking organs. The whole person is healed: that is what the good words of the Sermon on the Mount do. What the ten plagues do in a negative way, are the ten healings doing in a positive way, breaking the power of this world. The ten plagues in Egypt did not lead to a turnaround: Pharaoh was and remained hardened. It is the same with the ten healings. At the end of the ten healings the Pharisees say: “It is thanks to the prince of demons that he casts out demons” (Matthew 9: 33). Herod behaved like an Egyptian pharaoh during the infanticide. Here the Pharisees do something similar.
Matthew begins with a leper, Mark later begins with a demon-possessed man. That is indicative of their distinction. Uncleanness is about acceptance in society and that is always the theme in Matthew. He himself is not accepted as a former tax collector. Jesus was not accepted as the Son of David. People keep getting pushed aside. The new church clothes those who have no clothes, feeds those who have need, and visits those who are imprisoned (Matthew 25). That is the fulfillment of the law. For Matthew, exclusion from society must come first. Then follow paralysis, or stiffness of the hands and feet. Later it is about speaking, ears and eyes. Man is accepted, he can move again, he is given initiative, he is given the freedom and courage to speak. He will hear and see in a new way. The healing effect of speaking power and sincerity is central. This is how it goes in the first ten healings.
Yet we are not there yet. From chapter 17 onwards there will be three additional healings. After the story of the transfiguration on the mountain, when the three leading disciples, Peter, John and James, have seen Jesus on the mountain with a shining face together with Moses and Elijah, they come back down and then there is a kind of riot going on. It turns out that the other disciples are unable to heal a demoniac. Then Jesus thrives out the evil spirit. And later, before Jesus goes from Jericho to Jerusalem, there are again two blind men who cry out for him and Jesus opens their eyes, in Matthew 20: 29 – 33. One gets the feeling that there is a relationship between those three disciples, who are still full of incomprehension, even after they have seen Jesus’ glory and splendor on the mountain, and the three healings. The demoniac in chapter 17 could refer to Peter who does not realize what is at stake and wants to build three tents on top of the mountain for Jesus and for Elijah and for Moses. The two blind men could refer to John and James, who have not yet understood either. They want to sit on the throne to the left and right of Jesus (Matthew 20: 20 – 23).
Together we now have 10 healing acts when it comes to healings. That is also in accordance with the 10 plagues in Egypt. Only, here the plagues are lifted, salvation is brought. More people have been healed, but Jesus healed 10 of a total of 14 people, or at least Matthew explicitly reports it ten times. No wait, not, we skipped one. There’s one extra! There is an exception. Because this healing is exceptional. All other healings involved people from Israel. In Matthew 15: 22 – 28, on the other hand, there is mention of a Canaanite woman. Jesus is then in the area of Tire and Sidon. She cries “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David!” Her daughter is tormented by an evil spirit. The answer Jesus gives is strange and remarkable: “It is not good to take away the children’s bread and feed it to the dogs.” But this Canaanite woman now does what the Pharisees and the Scribes repeatedly fail to do: she captures Jesus in his own words! The dogs get the crumbs too! Jesus then says “You have great faith!” And her daughter is healed. It is as if Jesus does not want, but has to! Why is that so?
The story of the Canaanite woman stands between two multiplications of bread. In Matthew 14: 13 – 20 there are 5 loaves and 2 fish and these feed 5000 people. And there are still 12 large hives left. It is obvious to think here of the 12 tribes of Israel. In Hebrew, the word for 1000 is also an indication of a number of soldiers that a tribe can or must provide, not necessarily intended as a precise number. So one speaks of tribe and 1000 in Hebrew with the same word, “elef”. Maybe one would expect 12,000 people and that would correspond nicely with the 12 apostles. After all, the apostles will rule over the tribes of Israel (Matthew 19:28), so one apostle for each tribe. Undeniably, the story of the multiplication of bread also has a Eucharistic meaning. After John’s death, Jesus tries to withdraw, but the people do not give him the opportunity. They find him and he teaches them all day long and then feeds them. Doesn’t that indicate his broken body? Be that as it may, after the multiplication of bread, the story of the storm follows, where Jesus masters the elements and walks on the water. He acts as if he were the God of the sea, the God who controls the raging waves, Poseidon or Dionysus. The meaning here is that he is more than the God of the sea. The sea always brings destruction. Ultimately, everything ends in nihilism and ruin. However, the gift of self in suffering and cross is stronger. The love that stands for the other is stronger than the violence that leads to destruction. Love rises again from the dead. The two stories of the multiplication of bread are therefore also a prefiguration of death and resurrection. The multiplication of bread points to the surrender of oneself in the breaking of the bread. The bread is not an economic means to exercise political power as Satan presents to Jesus at the beginning of the gospel. It is the bread of his broken body that is shared. Such is the story of the feeding of the 5000. This is sealed by the next story, the storm on the lake, because walking on the water points to the resurrection and the beginning of the reign of Christ over the gods who are bent on destruction. Then follows the story of the Canaanite woman who captures Jesus in his own words. Because indeed, crumbs also fall at the table, even for the believers from the nations.
Following the account of the Canaanite woman, the second multiplication of the loaves takes place. The people had been listening to Jesus for three days by then, without having anything to eat—perhaps another allusion to the three days between death and resurrection? On this occasion, there are seven loaves and a few small fish, which are used to feed 4,000 people. Seven baskets full remain. Five loaves in the first account and seven in the second add up neatly to twelve. One might conclude that there are twelve loaves in total—much like the “bread of the Presence” in the Temple, as prescribed by the Law of Moses. This serves as another striking parallel between the twelve tribes and the twelve apostles. Seven baskets (smaller than the ones used previously) are left over—meaning there is still more to share, for a later time. Yet, the amount remaining is smaller this time. Could this be because the “dogs” are now also receiving their share of the scraps? After all, this second account of a multiplication of the loaves follows the story of the Canaanite woman. There is certainly enough—there is still a surplus—but less than the previous time.
There is another noteworthy detail: the total number of people fed does not reach 12,000; it stands at 9,000. There is a logical progression here: 5,000, then 4,000—and then it stops. Another 3,000 would have brought the total to 12,000, but that does not happen. While many in Israel do follow Jesus, a large number do not, and the leadership of Israel rejects Him, ultimately pushing for His crucifixion. The narrative remains open-ended. Will all of Israel eventually come to participate?
The story brings to mind Paul’s discussion in his letter to the Romans—specifically the famous chapters 9 through 11. In essence, Israel—or rather, the Jewish synagogue, for the most part—says “no” to the Messiah. Consequently, the Gentile nations are grafted onto Christ in their place, while the original branches are broken off. Yet, Paul issues a warning to the Gentile peoples to whom he is writing—the congregation in Rome: the situation could just as easily be reversed. Let anyone who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall! For, in truth, the expectation remains that Israel, too, will eventually share in this new community grafted onto Christ. That will be the moment of the Second Coming. Evidently, this is also the perspective of Matthew: the Gentile nations are now receiving fragments that were originally intended for Israel. It remains an open question how the final 3,000—those yet to come in—will be brought into the fold.
Does Matthew himself intend for his numbers to carry an additional, deeper meaning? There is a moment when the disciples set off by boat to the other side of the lake, only to realize they have forgotten to bring any bread with them. Because it is quite important for understanding, we are printing it here in its entirety (the reader may compare it with the same text in Mark, which we will include further on):
“5 The disciples sailed to the other side, but they had forgotten to bring any bread. 6 So when Jesus said to them, ‘Watch out; beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the Sadducees,’ 7 they began to discuss among themselves the fact that they had not brought any bread. 8 Jesus noticed this and said, ‘You of little faith, why are you discussing among yourselves that you have no bread? 9 Do you still not understand? Do you not remember the five loaves for the five thousand, and how many baskets you gathered up? 10 Or the seven loaves for the four thousand, and how many baskets you gathered up then? 11 How is it possible that you do not understand that I am not talking about bread? Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the Sadducees!’ 12 Then they understood that He did not mean they should be on guard against the leaven found in bread, but rather against the teaching of the Pharisees and the Sadducees,” – Matthew 16:5–12.
The story has layers. The disciples have forgotten bread, which is the first layer, literal bread. But if we read carefully the feeding of the 5000 and the 4000 with the 5 loaves and the 7 loaves, 12 loaves have now been spent. There are 12 disciples, so there were 12 loaves of bread, one for each disciple. That means the bread is indeed finished. But Jesus points out the danger of continuing to think in the terms of the Pharisees and Sadducees, because then thinking is still too much steeped in an old reality. Here we encounter a deeper layer in the story. After all, the new reality consists in the Eucharist, the breaking of the bread that is Jesus’ body itself. During the temptations in the wilderness it is a temptation to make bread out of stones and thus conquer political power. Whoever feeds the people can control them. Thinking like that is also old thinking. Thinking in terms of 12 loaves and 12 disciples is also not enough. That’s old leaven, old thinking. The bread is not finished. After all, when feeding the 5,000 and the 7,000, Jesus himself was the bread and he distributed himself through his disciples. Even if we accept that each of the disciples or apostles is also a bread that is broken, then Jesus is the thirteenth bread. It is more correct to say that he is the only bread – that is the new way of thinking and speaking. He is the one bread that is broken and shared. This way there is always enough, both for Israel and for the pagan nations.
In the meantime, it is also striking that in the first eight healing stories before the glorification on the mountain takes place, ten people are healed. It is therefore as if Matthew is in doubt and combines two thoughts. He wants to evoke the memory of the 10 plagues in Egypt by contrasting them with 10 healing actions, twice a handful in the storyline before the glorification on the mountain. At the same time, he wants a total of 12 healings to take place, 12 people to be healed, so that the healings symbolically extend to all of Israel, to the 12 tribes. The extra healing of the Canaanite woman stands out even better than the thirteenth healing. The meaning of this is: The pagan nations also receive part of the one bread. After the glorification on the mountain, two more healing stories follow with three healed people. That makes 12 healing acts and 15 people healed + the sixteenth is the Canaanite woman. That makes twice eight together. There is symbolism in that too. Eight is the number of the Messianic age. The Christian congregation meets on the eighth day.
The Healing Narratives in Luke
We may assume that, in the early days of the church, the healings were counted in the same way we have counted them thus far. Such a method of reading was quite common in antiquity. Elsewhere, we have already argued that Luke wrote his Gospel after Matthew (see here). In a sense, Luke looks back upon what still lies ahead for Matthew. Matthew presents Jesus as the Son of David. Because Jesus finds no resonance among the leaders of his own people—and because the community that follows him after the crucifixion and resurrection is itself subject to persecution—Matthew’s account remains open-ended toward the Gentile nations. He envisions a subsequent chapter for the new community, a chapter in which he himself no longer plays a part. The perfection of Israel—the fulfillment of the Law—is realized in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ. That is his reality. The community, in its own life, gives expression to that perfection. Yet, as the community faces rejection and persecution, the door to the Gentile nations swings open. Not everyone from Israel joins in the feast. The story of the Canaanite woman, who claims the crumbs intended for the dogs, is central here and marks this turning point. Jesus cannot refuse her. And at the end of the Gospel according to Matthew—a point frequently highlighted by Rosenstock-Huessy—Jesus is revealed as the Son of God, and all nations are to become his disciples, as described in Matthew 28, in the account of the Ascension. However, nothing in Matthew’s text suggests that a mission to the Gentile nations was already underway. Matthew’s community was forced to flee toward Galilee and Syria, and they now find themselves on the fringes of Israel. According to Matthew 28, Jesus will go ahead of them to that region; they will find him already there upon their arrival. In the context of Matthew’s Gospel, this makes perfect sense: at the very moment when one might assume all is lost, the Risen One is there to meet them. In the same way, the Spirit of Christ encountered Paul on the road to Damascus and called him.
Luke, by contrast, writes from a later vantage point. He has already traveled with Paul through various Greco-Roman cities, helping those among the Gentiles who took an interest in the Jewish tradition to embrace Jesus as the Christ. Following the Jewish tradition—as interpreted through the access provided by Jesus Christ—these affluent, Greek-speaking townspeople opened their homes to the poor. It was the prominent people in these Greek-speaking cities—those excluded from the political power once held by the traditional popular assemblies—who opened their doors. These urban assemblies, or ecclesiae, had ceased to function effectively once all decision-making power shifted to Rome, leaving these well-to-do citizens stripped of their political influence. Furthermore, also within the context of the Jewish synagogue, this Greek-speaking population was often treated as second-class—not truly Jewish, as they were uncircumcised. Through a major collection organized during his travels among these Greek-speaking believers, Paul sought to convince the community in Jerusalem that these individuals were, in fact, deeply and genuinely committed. Their faith was sincere, even without circumcision or adherence to dietary laws; they, too, had received the Spirit. However, the Gospel of Matthew was still written for traditionally Jewish people who still observed the Law—including dietary laws and circumcision—while imbuing these practices with a Christian significance. In this context, belief in Christ adds a new dimension to their existing observance of the Law. The Gospel of Matthew contains many elements that could have been used to challenge Paul’s strategy—arguments that might have been employed to demand that believers from among the Gentiles should first become “true” Jews. Paul and Luke perceived such a demand as a failure to recognize the genuine convictions of these individuals, as well as a disregard for the specific requirements of their situation.
Consequently, Luke revisited the work of Matthew, adapting his Gospel to address the particular needs of this group. While Matthew focuses on perfection and the life of the new community, Luke portrays the community as being on the way toward perfection, describing the Christian faith itself as “the Way.” In doing so, Luke translates the spirit of Israel to suit the circumstances and requirements of his target audience: members of the upwardly mobile, middle-class population within the Greco-Roman world. Whereas Paul, through his collection for Jerusalem, sought to convince traditional Jews within the Christian community of the sincere intentions of these Gentile believers, Luke approaches the matter from the opposite direction: he aims to persuade this group of Greek-speaking believers that the message of Jesus Christ’s life, death, and resurrection is intended just as much for them, and that their participation is equally earnest. Obviously, they have not reached the final destination; rather, they stand at the very beginning of the Way.
If all this is the case, how did Luke deal with the healing stories in Matthew? Luke’s Gospel always shows that he treated Matthew’s text with respect, but with all due respect he often gave it a different twist, by strengthening the text in one sense or weakening it in another sense, and by adding something or omitting something. How did he deal with Matthew’s healing stories?
In any case, Luke has no need for the reference to Egypt that is present in the first ten healings in Matthew. Luke has also omitted the reference to Egypt in the birth stories. Luke wants to show that the Spirit of Israel leaves the temple service behind and that this Spirit now settles in a congregation of living building blocks, which follows the Way of Christ. After all, the believers from the pagan nations also leave a temple service behind them, just as much one that has become rigid. They too now become a church of living building blocks, the body of Christ – so Paul. Luke also has no need for the three additional healings that take place after the transfiguration on the mount, and which correspond to the role of the three leading apostles, Peter, James and John. We already read in Paul’s letter to the Galatians that he also does not have these three privileged apostles in high estimation. Luke does copy from Matthew that he has 2 rounds of healing stories, but he then has a total of 25 people. He more or less follows Matthew in the first 13. He adds a second round with 12 healings. In that second round, most healings take place in the area of Samaria. In each round, Luke also mentions someone who is explicitly of pagan descent. The first round concerns Cornelius, the Centurion, who even built and paid for a synagogue (Luke 7: 1-10). And in the second round, 10 lepers are healed in the area of Samaria and only one of them, a Samaritan man, comes to thank Jesus for this (Luke 17: 11 – 19). This shows that Luke did understand the meaning of Matthew’s members! In each round of healings there is one directed at the Gentiles. In the first case a Roman Centurion, in the second a Samaritan man. That is also well distributed.
It is notable that Luke does not have the story of the Canaanite woman in Matthew (Syrophoenician woman in Mark). That’s understandable. Obviously, he cannot accept that the Canaanite woman almost forced this healing of her daughter upon Jesus by capturing him in his own words. That could suggest that the believers from the nations cannot really participate after all. Luke wants to show that the pagan nations are grateful, where Israel is not. The Centurion is praised by Jesus for his faith. Jesus doesn’t even have to come into his house and heals from a distance. Of the 10 lepers, one comes back and that is a Samaritan. Jairus, ruler of a synagogue, has a similar request for Jesus to heal his daughter who is dying. Here Jesus comes in and heals her even though she has already died. But upon entering he is ridiculed when he says she is only sleeping. Thus Luke shows us the contrast between the believing Gentiles and the skeptical Jews.
So if Luke did understand Matthew and also emphatically heals a non-Jew in each round, why doesn’t Luke have 26 healings? That would be a good parallel with Matthew, 12 + 1 each time. Why does he stop at 25? First of all, the word of Isaiah plays an important role in all Gospel writers: “They have eyes but do not see, and have ears but do not hear.” The second round of 12 in Luke consists of the 10 lepers who are healed, one of whom is grateful, and then Bartimaeus and Malchus. Bartimaeus is a blind man who is healed when Jesus passes through Jericho on his way to Jerusalem (on his way to the entry into Jerusalem!). Bartimaeus’s eyes are opened. He immediately follows Jesus. Malchus is the Roman soldier whose ear Jesus puts back on after someone cut off his ear with a sword when Jesus was captured. He is not yet mentioned by name in Luke, only in John. When we notice that sight and hearing have been restored and we are looking for a thirteenth healing, should we not think of Jesus’ resurrection itself? If it is true that the New Testament church already knew the Gospel of Matthew and also counted the healings in Luke’s version, then this idea is obvious. By comparison, John’s Gospel also has seven signs and the last sign is the resurrection of Jesus himself.
Luke does tell the story of the multiplication of loaves for the 5000 with 5 loaves and 2 fish (Luke 9: 10 – 17). But he does not tell the story of how the 4,000 were fed. Perhaps that story suggests too much for him that although room is now being made for the Gentile peoples, 4000, it is still a smaller number and only crumbs. Lucas doesn’t want to see it that way. The symbolism that the numbers have in Matthew: 5000, then 4000, then waiting for the next 3000, which does not come, and the opening to the nations, is therefore missing in Luke. Perhaps this is because in his day the majority of Christ’s followers already consisted of Christians from the pagan nations. It may also be, of course, that he has not understood the meaning of the allusions that Jesus makes to those two multiplications of bread, when Jesus warns about the leaven of the Pharisees, the passage which we have discussed in detail. But we have also already noted that the disciples/apostles have a less important role in Luke than in Matthew. So it may also be that he does not like an equation of apostles = loaves. Perhaps he thinks that is too much honor.
In this respect there is also a difference with the apostles in Luke and the apostles in the book of Acts. In his Gospel, Luke seeks more opposition to Matthew than in the book of Acts that he wrote later. Luke traveled with Paul to Rome. His gospel was probably also taken to Rome on that trip. He completed the book of Acts in Rome, because it ends in the year 62, when Paul awaited his trial in a rented house with a soldier in front of it. If that is the case, he certainly saw, with Paul and perhaps with Peter, the need not to bring internal ecclesiastical contradictions to a head, but to seek solidarity between the Christians from the Jews and the Christians from the Gentiles. In the book of Acts the apostles, especially Peter, rise above themselves. And in that context it is remarkable that after Peter’s sermon in Acts, approximately 3,000 people are baptized (Acts 2: 41). Has he spoken to Mark in the meantime and internally accepted the story of the multiplication of bread 5000 + 4000 + 3000? In any case, with those 3000 converts he gives an allusion to these stories. In the book of Acts, as well as in the Gospel of Mark, the point is that Gentiles and Jews come together into a new community that is “persecution-resistant”. They would not be resistant to persecution if they would have too much disagreement among themselves.
The healing stories of Mark
Mark’s healing stories reflect the design and intent of his gospel as such. Paul sees a great tribulation coming again and again in his letters. He wants to prepare the congregations for this. In my understanding of the origins of the Gospels, Mark’s Gospel was written at the time of the crisis in Rome, sometime in the sixties. After the fire of Rome, Christians were blamed and killed in large numbers. Mark writes his gospel to give them courage to stand firm and remain faithful in the face of tribulation. Mark no longer has time to give a special version of Jesus’ words, which can already be found in Matthew and Luke. There has undoubtedly been some controversy between the “followers” of Luke and Matthew. This can also be seen from the fact that Mark does his best to avoid the contradictions between the Gospels or not to bring them to a head. If Matthew has one expression for an event and Luke has another, Mark often gives both expressions. He also tries to keep the middle ground in the order of the stories of his gospel and he does this, among other things, by following either Matthew or Luke in the order of his gospel. As Peter’s secretary, Mark also adds many expressions and context that he received from Peter. Finally, and most importantly, he again and again makes a direct connection between discipleship and persecution. Jesus is above all the Son of God who overrides the authority of the emperor, but his authority involves discipleship, persecution, suffering, being willing to go to extremes. To endure that suffering is nourishing bread.
What does that mean for the structure of his gospel and especially for the healing stories? For the structure of the gospel it means that Mark follows the opposite strategy of Luke. After all, Luke spins out Matthew’s story, he adds healings and parables and, above all, the role of the disciples is pushed more into the background. Mark actually compresses the Gospel story. In Luke and Matthew, Jesus’ speeches provide the structure and the healing stories are only found in certain sections of the gospel. Actually, Mark’s story is all healing stories, apart from the chapters that follow Jesus’ process up to crucifixion and resurrection. Mark reduces the named healed people to 13 in number. When the people have been healed, the grain has, as it were, grown and is ripe for the harvest (Mark 4: 26 – 29). One sometimes gets the impression that healing and martyrdom coincide. The word “egerein” is also often used in healing, which means: to awake, to raise up. This also happens with the other evangelists, but more often with Mark. Mark drops the distribution of the healing stories first related to the 12 apostles, with later especially stories of healing when it comes to the 3 prominent apostles, as Matthew has them. He simply tells 13 healing stories. He does however include the special position of the leading apostles in his list of apostles. He does this by giving special qualifications to Peter, James and John: Peter is like a rock and John and James are sons of thunder (Mark 3: 16 – 19). In addition, he gives his first series of four healing stories after the calling of the first four apostles. One gets the impression that an apostle must be called for every healing. Because after that Matthew, the publican, is called, there is another healing story following upon it. Mark only does this with the first five, because then the appointment and deployment of the twelve follows. Mark does give a greater role to the disciples, certainly also to the 3 leading apostles and especially Peter. But at the same time he does this by repeatedly highlighting their failures, especially Peter’s. Here too he plays a mediating role between Matthew and Luke. In a sense he is harking back to Matthew’s version of the gospel. He also recalls the story of the Canaanite, Syrophoenician woman who received the crumbs. And he omits the mission of the 70, as Luke knows it. It is to a certain extent plausible that an equal footing or even replacement of the apostles by the 70 evangelists who are sent out again to repeat the work of the apostles on a larger scale was difficult to accept for many Jewish Christians, especially in Palestine itself. Perhaps it is also no longer relevant for Mark, because whether it was 12 apostles or 70 evangelists or both, in Rome at the time that Mark wrote, it was a matter of remaining faithful and keeping one’s back straight. By continually showing that those 12 apostles are very important but nevertheless very emphatically fail, Mark again finds a middle ground: he follows Matthew but at the same time undermines the disciples as people who do not understand it at all, time and again. In this way, Mark in addition poses the question to his readers and hearers: and now you! Are you running away too? At the same time, he shows that the decision to remain steadfast was just as difficult for the apostles. Even Jesus in Gethsemane prays to his father that “this cup” might pass from him. And yet in Mark Jesus as Son of God always does what is necessary and is quite in control, not hindered by any doubt and very straightforward.
However short Mark’s Gospel is, both the feeding of the 5,000 and the feeding of the 4,000 appear in it. In between, just like Matthew, is the story, this time not of the Canaanite woman (Matthew) but the Syrophoenician woman. The name varies. The function is the same. Luke left her out, Mark brings her back. He probably feels that this story represents a crucial transition that he cannot leave out. He later compensates for this by describing Jesus more emphatically as the one bread that feeds all, Jews and Gentiles. She traps Jesus and now the Gentiles also get the crumbs. 5 loaves of bread feed 5,000 people and 12 baskets are collected again. After the story of the Syrophoenician woman, 4,000 people are fed with 7 loaves of bread and 7 baskets (smaller baskets taking into consideration the Greek words) are collected again.
After the feeding of the 4000, Mark also tells the story of the disciples who forgot to bring bread with them (compare the text with the previously printed text from Matthew):
14 The disciples had forgotten to bring bread; they had only one loaf with them in the boat. 15 He warned them: ‘Watch out—beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.’ 16 They discussed among themselves the fact that they had no bread. 17 Aware of this, He said: ‘Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not understand or perceive? Are your hearts so hardened? 18 Do you have eyes but fail to see, and ears but fail to hear? Do you not remember 19 how many baskets of bread you collected when I broke the five loaves for the five thousand?’ ‘Twelve,’ they answered. 20 ‘And when I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand, how many baskets of bread did you collect then?’ ‘Seven,’ they replied. 21 Then He said to them: ‘Do you still not understand?’
Mark 8:14–21
The progression of the story is more or less the same as in Matthew, but Mark places a much stronger emphasis on the fact that a riddle is being posed to the disciples: “Do you still not understand?” Clearly, there is something here that can—and should—be understood! Matthew does not recount the story with this same level of emphasis. Could it be that Mark intentionally seeks to underscore what is already present in Matthew’s account—namely, that the Gentile nations also share in the bread intended for Israel? And might he simultaneously be emphasizing that Jesus Himself is the one bread that is shared among all—both Jew and Gentile? They have no bread with them; that is what they themselves say. If each disciple represents one loaf, that is hardly surprising, given that twelve loaves were consumed during the feeding of the 5,000 and the feeding of the 4,000 together. And yet, there is one loaf in the boat—or so the narrator tells us. Jesus himself, therefore, is that single loaf. According to Mark, there is more to grasp here than in Matthew’s version; there is an additional layer of meaning. In Matthew, the disciples are warned not to continue thinking in the terms of the Pharisees and Sadducees—referring, it seems, to the teachings of those groups. Mark, however, frames it more enigmatically: “Do you still not understand?” The one loaf present in the boat is broken, and in this way, both Jew and Gentile are fed.
The story of the Syro-Phoenician woman in Mark—parallel to the account of the Canaanite woman in Matthew—serves as an additional act of healing, turning the twelve into thirteen. While Luke omits the story of the Canaanite or Syro-Phoenician woman, Mark includes it, explicitly framing it with an interpretation—one less prominent in Matthew—that there is an extra loaf in the boat, and that Christ himself is that one loaf. Only when the disciples arrive at this insight are they liberated from the “leaven”—the old way of thinking—of the Pharisees and Sadducees. Mark deliberately presents this as a riddle, compelling everyone to reflect; he often employs this technique. Christ is the broken bread that nourishes all people. This is something that must be understood not only by the disciples, but by all Christians—whether they come from a Jewish background or from the Gentile nations—yes, even those from among the Jews! Mark does not need to tell them; they can figure out the answer to the riddle for themselves.
Conclusion
What I have sought to demonstrate in this contribution is that the sequence of Matthew, Luke, and Mark forms a coherent whole. Furthermore, the Gospels allow us to discern who was looking over whose shoulder, and how a conversation between the evangelists unfolded—a fact that lends the texts an additional layer of significance. The Gospel of Matthew undoubtedly reflects the many discussions that took place within the early community in Jerusalem following the resurrection. Luke translates the Gospel for the Gentile nations, who are now invited to participate in the Spirit of Israel. Mark, writing in Rome, addresses a situation of great urgency: the need to take a stand—with the true Son of God—against the emperor (who also claimed that title) and to endure martyrdom. To perceive this internal dialogue as a discourse that modulates—from an initial imperative (Matthew and the “perfection” of the early community), next through a dialogue between opponents who are also interlocutors (Luke, whose Gospel effectively says “yes, but…” to Matthew’s account), next to a consolidated community with a shared narrative (Mark, who unites Jews and Gentiles)—is an impressive march through time, one in which the reader becomes involved simply by listening closely. A new paradigm of community-building is expressed here. Truth is not an exclusive possession; rather, it continues to unfold within an ongoing conversation. The participants in this dialogue no longer exclude one another. In his Gospel, Mark discovers that this sequence of Gospels is, in fact, a conversation. He now uses the word gospel as a general term “the gospel”, so that it does not hurt that there are also three and according to John four of them, four versions of the gospel. He is the first among the evangelists to do so. The Gospels are a conversation. The Gospel writers do not say “no, because” to each other, but “yes, but”. They listen to each other. That conversation does not just consist of different words but also in different ways of life and the exchange between them. That conversation continues today. We are that conversation.
According to Rosenstock-Huessy, a real historical event only exists if reality subsequently looks different than before. The first church also wondered: what really happened in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus as the Christ. The history of Israel has been fulfilled. That determines the structure of the birth story and the five reasons that Matthew gives. The word of truthfulness and faithfulness, of love and justice, spoken in the speech and parables of Jesus, has had an effect, a healing effect. People have recovered from it. They can walk, act, see and especially speak and hear again. But legalistic rules and the interests of Israel’s leadership, which benefited from them, have won over the sincerely spoken word. The Word of God is nailed to the cross. But this loss is gain. It is this Word that continues to sound and is only now fully sounding! The Word rises from the dead and brings a church to life. This Word can only come into effect if it does not shun death. This is how Jesus/Joshua conquers the land. Thus the Word will go to the ends of the earth, even to Rome. In John we will see that this word encompasses the entire cosmos, all creation, from beginning to end. He brings the common narrative to a common denominator. It is not a limited history in which these steps are taken, somewhere in a remote corner of the planet, but the cosmos is created from beginning to end through this Word.
[1] For the interpretation of the healing narratives presented here, I have primarily drawn upon the work of Austin Farrer: “St. Matthew and St. Mark” (Dacre Press, Westminster, 1954). Farrer was a prominent figure in England in his time, having authored numerous works in the fields of theology and the philosophy of religion. Early in his publishing career, he also wrote about the Gospels. Although not a specialized New Testament scholar, he was a highly skilled exegete, adept at identifying allusions to Old Testament books as well as the often-implicit internal cross-references within the Gospels he analyzed. This enabled him to develop exceptionally creative interpretations, forge unexpected connections, and uncover surprising, new insights. Nevertheless, he never questioned one of the foundational conclusions of 19th-century biblical scholarship: that the Gospel of Mark was the first to be written. He appears to have been unaware of the 1951 work by Butler—discussed elsewhere on this website—as well as the research conducted by Chapman in 1931. He did, however, effectively dismantle the “Q” hypothesis; in New Testament studies, this alternative view is now known as the “Farrer hypothesis.” This stems from an essay he wrote in 1955 titled “On Dispensing with Q” (see here), in which he argues that the Gospel of Luke is essentially a rewriting of Matthew, tailored to the interests of the followers of Paul. His central argument is that Luke constitutes a coherent, meaningful work with a distinct message of its own, rather than being a mere compilation. In this contribution, I have also drawn upon these insights—specifically those from his 1954 work on Matthew and Mark. In that text, he primarily offers an interpretation of Mark, viewing Matthew as an adaptation and expansion of Mark. However, in my own study of the sequence of these texts, I have concluded that William R. Farmer—in his 1964 book “The Synoptic Problem”—provides a more compelling analysis. His argument suggests that Matthew came first, followed by Luke (which is an adaptation of Matthew), and that Mark is an adaptation of both. Mark’s objective was to reconcile the divergent accounts found in the earlier Gospels, a task prompted by the crisis situation in Rome during the 1960s. While I have certainly utilized his interpretations of the healing narratives in Mark, my understanding of the sequence of adaptation differs from Farrer’s model. In his 1954 work, Farrer did discuss Luke and Matthew—and their respective interpretations of the healing narratives—to illustrate how, in his view, they adapted Mark. I have made use of these observations as well, though I employ them to demonstrate how Mark, conversely, adapted the existing material, making use Luke and Matthew. In a sense, I have rewritten Farrer’s perspective within the framework presented here. Furthermore, I have found nothing in his interpretations that would preclude reversing the Mark-Matthew sequence. On the contrary, I believe that the sequence of Matthew, Luke, and Mark—when applied to the healing narratives—forms a coherent whole. Mark had ample reason, given the situation in Rome, to condense the accounts found in the earlier Gospels and bring them into greater alignment. I aim to substantiate this argument throughout this contribution. In fact, I would even argue that Farrer’s contribution and research gain greater significance when viewed in this way.
