The Gospel of Mark abounds in vivid touches. He is the most graphic and pictorial of the four Evangelists. And, though it is well to bear in mind that style per se is a very minor thing, at any rate when compared with the truth presented, yet the Spirit of God knows how to make use of natural gifts to promote the ends that He, as the real author of “every scripture” has in view. It is but an exemplification of the general principle, one that applies, too, to lowlier departments of Christian service than the writing of inspired books, that gifts are given “according to the several ability” of the recipients, as we learn from Matthew 25:15. Thus, as one has said, the same divine water flows through all the vessels, but it takes the form of the one through which it happens to be flowing. So does the Lord deign to acknowledge the mental endowments of His servants. For this is abundantly seen in a John, a Paul, and a Peter, pre-eminent among the apostles, as here in this most precious Gospel, which portrays our blessed Lord in His servant-character, though all the time He is seen also as the wonder-working Son of God; and that by the pen of one who had once drawn back from the work, but was subsequently deemed “useful for ministering,” as well as in more exalted ways.
Now, among all the vivid touches referred to as so characteristic of Mark, none are more striking than those in the verses that head this paper. Let us turn to the passages, and first to chapter 9. The Lord had just come down from the holy mount, and it would seem, on comparing the account in Mark with those in the other Synoptists, that the Savior's aid was sorely needed in view of an aggravated case of possession. This apparently had caused the collection of the crowd. Then, when Christ appeared, they were at once struck with amazement, and so powerfully affected that they ran to Him and saluted Him. It is clear there must have been something unusual in the Savior's appearance. For while the wonderful glory of His person must always have been discernible to faith, and a divine brightness in His glance in no wise conflicting with the concomitant of a sorrow—marred visage—a divine brightness, certainly not a nimbus, as Jerome intimates by his “something starry,” and which painters love to depict—yet the gay and the thoughtless, the busy and the engrossed passed Him by as having “no beauty that they should desire Him.” But at this moment all is changed. The multitude is eager to greet Him. Doubtless the glory that had been so dazzling on the Mount of Transfiguration had not wholly faded; and, while it lingered, there was that which could not but attract the wonder and homage of men. It is the more noticeable as being in marked contrast with the case of Moses when he descended from Mount Sinai with the tables of stone, and that, too, not the first time, but the second, when grace was somewhat mingled with law. But law prevailed—stern, majestic, and inexorable—and we read the children of Israel “were afraid to come nigh Him.” Truly there is one splendor, one glory, of law, another of grace. I do not enter now into another interesting point, viz., the fact, emphasized by Paul in 2 Corinthians that the old dispensation was merely visited by glory (shall I say?), whereas the new is established in glory. In other words the one, that of law, was rather διχ δόξης the other, of grace ἐν δόξη. The point to emphasize now is that the brightness connected with law alarms, while that of grace attracts. Yet only three had been permitted to gaze on its full radiance. Now not apostles only, but the humblest believers, are privileged to see the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.
The second passage, in chapter 20, is not less vivid, but how different? True, that on Mount Hermon (for the weightiest opinion is in favor of this more northerly hill, lofty and apart, which Mount Tabor in no sense was), as we read in Luke, the subject of converse had been His decease, His “exodus which he should accomplish at Jerusalem” (chap. 19.). But now the time was drawing very near, the shadows were deepening, and the Lord was actually on the road. And He walks before the disciples, who instinctively fell behind, awestruck, and, we read, “as they followed they were amazed.” They, like Bartimus, “followed Jesus in the way,” now emphatically the way of the cross; truly the way of light ultimately, but meanwhile of awful horror and the “power of darkness.” A sad hour for the disciples, too, so slow to understand what lay before their Master, though before this He had apprised them of it. But they had not heeded. So again, the Lord tells them of what was before Himself. He had a baptism to be baptized with, as we read in Luke 12:50, and, He added, “how am I straitened till it be accomplished?” It is well to note the word, for it is the same, with difference of mood and tense only, as is rendered “It is finished” (one word only in the Greek) in John—an altogether unexceptionable translation, of course. But if we say, “It is accomplished” an interesting link is established. For, while no doubt what I may call the doctrinal and more theological significance is paramount in that triumphant cry of the dying Redeemer, yet may we not reverently think of the infinite relief most blessed, most longed for, with which the divine Sufferer, who had been so straitened, said, “It is accomplished"? It may be remarked, before passing on, that in the passage from Luke, already referred to, about the Lord's exodus, the word for “accomplished” is one that means to fulfill (πληροῦν). But in the verse, “The things concerning Me have an end” (Luke 22:37), the word for “end” is τέλος –in short, from the same root as the verb rendered “accomplished” in Luke 12 and John 19.
We may also observe that the word meaning “amazed” in Mark 9 is somewhat stronger in force than what is substantially the same word in chapter 20, and is rightly given “greatly amazed.” It is the same word in the last chapter, where we read of the women being affrighted” in the A.V. But the R.V., as in so many instances of this kind, gives the stricter rendering “amazed.” In fact, no English word could express better the very forcible original, being itself most forcible. To one more passage I may allude, and this, if possible, even more solemn than in Mark 10, where it is said—another most striking instance of this Evangelist's vivid description— “He began to be sore amazed and very heavy” (ἐκθαμβεῖσθαι καὶ άδρμονεῖν); this in xiv. 33. The latter verb is rendered “sore troubled” in the R.V., and this, too, is closer to the original. The word άδημονεῖν is what may rightly be called a pathetic word, and, according to a very possible derivation, denotes the homeless feeling of one who is away from country and friends. Hence the employment of it accords well by reason of its energy with what we have been endeavoring to show is so characteristic of Mark. Yet it should be noted that it is found in the parallel passage in Matthew (26:37), but only once more in the New Testament, viz., Philippians 2:26, of Epaphroditus. Needless to say, the word is charged in the Gospels with a quite unique intensity of meaning: “Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto My sorrow.”
In these two passages, taken thus by themselves, we have the reverse of the usual order, not the sufferings first, “and the glories that should follow,” but first a most interesting incident bearing on the coming glory, a side-light, so to speak, or rather, we may say—comparing the Gospels as a whole to some colossal architecture majestic and sublime—a bit of exquisite tracery; in short, of fine carving, as one has called it, showing that in every detail there is the infinite perfection that it is only natural to expect in the records God has given us of His Son. And, as of the first passage in chapter 9, so in the next may we speak of the graphic portraiture of the divine Lord, followed by His trembling disciples, and steadfastly setting His face to go to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51).
R. B.