Mk 9:1: From Jesus, the Early Christians, or Mark?

I've been pondering the infamously mistaken prophecy:

"I say to you that there are some of those standing here who will not taste death until they see the kingdom of God come in power." (Mk 9:1)

I believe it's highly unlikely that Mark created this saying. I see great difficulties with the idea that it comes from the historical Jesus (though I once believed so). I see a strong case for the theory that it comes from the first-generation church.

Mark is hardly the originator, since it's artificial to connect "those who won't die" with either the transfiguration event that occurs only six days after the prophecy (Peter, James, and John in Mk 9:2-13), or the crucifixion which occurs not terribly later than that (the women in Mk 15:39-41). An interval of years is suggested by Mk 9:1. That Mark made one or both of these connections cannot be denied(1), so he must have inherited a difficult saying. But was it from Jesus or the first-generation church?

I used to think the former since it reads like an embarrassing prediction that failed. John Meier, however, makes a strong case for it being the product of an early church that has experienced the death of some of its members and is getting impatient for the kingdom. Mk 9:1 then serves as an "assurance" text, somewhat like I Thess 4:13-18 ("what will happen to Christians who have already died?") or I Cor 15:51-53 ("what will happen to the bodies of Christians still living?"). "In each case, instruction, assurance, and consolation are given in a prophetic revelation of the eschatological future."(2) The time between Jesus' death and return was stretching beyond what was originally promised, raising concerns answered by these texts.

Furthermore, if Jesus had been preaching an imminent kingdom -- perhaps even to be inaugurated at the point of his martyrdom, before the parousia; if Mark could believe so, as Stephen Carlson argues, Jesus could have thought something similar -- then the case for the authenticity of Mk 9:1 looks even more precarious. He was urging followers to be prepared at every moment for the kingdom's arrival. What kind of sense does it make to assure that "some" followers would live to see this? The obvious implication is that many others will die beforehand, which, as Meier emphasizes, completely undercuts the urgency of his mission. Again, an interval of years is suggested by Mk 9:1, and an imminent kingdom (whether expected at the point of martyrdom or a parousia following tribulation) doesn't square naturally with the concern of Mk 9:1. So as much as I've cherished the saying as a key text pointing to the apocalyptic character of Jesus, it's more plausible as coming from early Christians coping with difficult questions. Actually, of course, the text does still point to the apocalyptic character of Jesus -- but obliquely, like I Thess 4 and I Cor 15.

In the Markan drama, those who died before seeing the kingdom come in power are the disciples who either missed the transfiguration, or fled the crucifixion, or both. They missed the inauguration of the kingdom and wouldn't live to see the parousia. In the first generation church, those who died were simply that, and those who remained were frustrated by failed expectations. Even if they couldn't know the hour, Jesus had likely promised that they would all be seeing the kingdom come in power, and very soon.


Endnotes

(1) The latter is an especially strong option. Stephen Carlson recently delivered a paper at Duke University, "Crucifixion, Coronation, and the Coming of the Kingdom of God in Mark 9.1", showing that for Mark, Jesus became king at his crucifixion, and indeed the kingdom of God came in power at the cross. I wouldn't want to sideline the transfiguration too much in favor of the cross, however. Mark placed it right after the prophecy of 9:1 for a good reason (which Luke of course ran with). It seems that Mark is trying to come up with as many disciples as possible who "didn't taste death" before "seeing" the kingdom in some way -- a trio of males on the mountain, a trio of females at Golgotha. (My thanks to Stephen for granting permission to refer to this paper before publication.)

(2) A Marginal Jew, Vol II, p 343.

Restless Ghosts

I've been meaning to plug Old Abram Brown's Restless Ghosts, since the band's lead singer used to be a library colleague before fleeing to pursue film and music at Emerson. The album was released last October, but I've only recently been able to purchase it through iTunes. It has more backbone than the first album, Alive in Winter, and has left enough of an impression to become playlist worthy in my iPod. If indie rock is your pleasure, give it a try.

Restless Ghosts is pretty solid from start to finish. The resonantly slow-paced "Your House on the Hill" (which for whatever reason puts me in mind of another album-opener, Depeche Mode's "Never Let Me Down"), the arresting melody of "Novelty Prize", the delightful guitar work on "Little Feet", the catchy beat (and lyrics) of "Mountain Lions" (a rework from the previous album), the frenetic rhythms of "Silhouette", the insistent keys behind "My Show", the soulful end-pieces, "The Good Man's Way" & "I'm Not Happy", all add up to a well crafted opus. "Tides" is the song where "restless ghosts" comes from, but has a chorus that sounds a bit too much like "Novelty Prize". When I hear the refrain, "And the tides are growing..." I'm already singing, "Could you stay the night..." Though I could have this the wrong way around depending on which was written first.

You can listen to segments of three songs on the band's website before purchasing the album here or downloading it from iTunes. Oh, and if you're wondering about the name "Old Abram Brown", it comes from a 19th-century hymn.

Favorite songs: "Your House on the Hill", "Novelty Prize", "Little Feet", "Mountain Lions".

Did Jesus Exist?

For those who follow Mark Goodacre's NT Pod, the most recent episode, "Did Jesus Exist?" (mp3 here), is worth listening to. Mark makes a crucial point about the mythicists being right on target about an early genesis of high Christology: "We should side with the mythicists to the extent that they're pointing out something important, which is just how early and how striking some of the exalted language about Jesus is." No one speaking about Jesus in the 30s, 40s and 50s could do so without speaking of his resurrection and Lordship, says Mark, and I have appreciated the way some scholars even refer to the Big Bang of high Christology to correct those who see more of a gradual evolution.

In my view, the problem with the mythicists is the inverse of the conspiracy theorists. The former use the Big Bang model (the right one) to wrongly conclude there could never have been a historical Jesus. The latter claim that high Christology came so late (gospel of John at the earliest, or in extreme cases, only by Constantine in the fourth century), that the original historical figure was entirely misrepresented. The former at least have the right starting point. But as Mark says, Pauline Christology, exalted as it is, shouldn't obscure the fact that there is certainly Jesus tradition to be found in the apostle's letters, even if not as much biographical information as we would prefer, on account of the occasional nature of the letters. "We tend to be more familiar with the gospels than Paul," he says, "and the gospels set up a certain expectation of what we should see in Paul."

Last, I also agree with Mark that mythicists are more worthy of attention than normally granted, not least because they keep the rest of us honest. And I have gone on record plenty of times as lending more sympathy to the mythicist position than the minimalist one based on the underlying assumptions of each (see Millenialism or Myth?). Mythicists recognize an early explosion of fantasy that cannot be reasonably denied. But to conclude that such fantasy didn't enmesh an historical figure is also unreasonable, given everything we know about the nature of apocalyptic movements and their deluded leaders.

Piss Against the Wall, Take 2

Three years ago, Pastor Steven Anderson infamously explained why men should urinate standing up, based on the passage of I Kings 14:10 and five other Deuteronomist texts. I've only now become aware of a sequel diatribe he delivered last year, Pisseth Against the Wall, Take 2, in which our beloved pastor continues railroading effeminate Germans, modern "sissified" versions of the Bible which censor manly images of those who "piss against the wall", and -- above all -- women who micromanage the lives of their husbands in the bathroom. Unbelievable.



This segment comes from the tail end of the sermon, Show Thyself a Man.

For perhaps a more reasonable defense of why men should resist the trend in Germany (and France, and Holland) and continue to urinate standing up, see The Naked Scientists.

The Top Films of 2010

It's that time of year again, the start of it, that calls for looking back on the best of cinema. So without further ado...

1. A Prophet. There needs to be a defining gangster film for every decade, it seems, one that leaves an epic stamp. In the '70s it was The Godfather; in the '80s, well, nothing (sorry, but I deny that Scarface merits the accolade); and in the '90s obviously Goodfellas. A Prophet straddles the '00s and '10s, telling of an illiterate Arab thrown into a French prison and a cold world of bullying, drug deals, and murder. If Coppola invested crime with unprecedented tragedy and made scumbags sympathetic, and Scorsese did the absolute inverse, Audiard is flatly neutral in showing how evil unfolds from pure innocence and naivete. It's a Darwinian lesson reminiscent of Cronenberg's History of Violence but grounded in complete reality instead of superhero wackiness. The best film of the year hands down.

2. Black Swan. It says something about how compelling a film is when it takes a subject I'm entirely uninterested in -- even hostile to -- and draws me thoroughly into its subculture. The same was true for The Wrestler (fake wrestling being worthy of thrice as much derision as ballet), and this film is a sort of twin. Aronofsky seems riveted by the theme of individuals willing to die for sport or athletic art, but where The Wrestler was grounded in gritty social reality, The Black Swan revels in hallucinations and Jungian archetypes. Nina's metamorphosis into the White Swan's evil twin is patiently realized as her nightmare world gradually tugs her down, and she discovers the impulses of Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" mirrored in her own life.

3. Inception. The lack of character development stands out, but hardly counts against a story whose strengths lie entirely elsewhere. Nolan takes us down a tempus fugit which spirals into something more rewarding than mere Matrix imitation. The minimalist feel, the black-greys, and the rigid architectures of the dream world match perfectly with the concept of intentional design, completely unlike the wildly surreal and unpredictable nature of dreams as seen in The Science of Sleep and What Dreams May Come. The synchronized triple climax is flawlessly executed, and the film's premise -- that the "protagonists" are out to destroy a decent man (or at least his financial world) -- preserves the amorality of a heist drama as it should. It's over 2 ½ hours, but over before you know it.

4. Shutter Island. On first viewing it left me nonplussed, but grew on me once I got over being insulted by the narrative rug-jerking and worn out formula of a lead protagonist's delusional insanity. The fact is that Scorsese does such a good job with the material (from a vastly inferior novel written by Dennis Lehane) that its problematic aspects become more invisible with subsequent viewings, the non-revelations forgivable. It's a film defined by a haunting atmosphere, Teddy's intense relationship with the shade of his wife, the gothic mood of the island and its denizens. I've reached the point where I'm actually amused at how Scorsese went out of his way to not pay us off, sort of like the way De Palma didn't in Raising Cain.

5. Winter's Bone. The odyssey of a teen who is forced to care for a younger brother and sister, not to mention a mentally absent mother, while living in destitution. It's one of those films carried largely by the lead role, and rest assured that Jennifer Lawrence is a rarely gifted young talent -- a lot like Ellen Page and Jennifer Connelly were, and still are. (See The Poker House (2008) if you haven't; she's just as good in that one.) Ree must locate her father who skipped bail, or her family will become homeless, and her rough encounters on the road to a morbid endpoint find her clinging to selfless values in an entirely believable way. More films like this, please.

6. Unstoppable. My favorite popcorn director Tony Scott is back in top form: this is easily his best work since Crimson Tide. And it wouldn't be a Tony Scott film without Denzel Washington (playing Denzel Washington), and even though he's such a non-actor, I at least like the character he always plays. There's the usual fast-paced camerawork, raw energy, and frenetic cutting, on top of searing dramatic conflict despite the lack of villains. The runaway freight train carrying explosive cargo is more than enough villain, a missile barrelling ahead at 70 miles/hour straight to Stanton PA, as two hostlers engage in a desperate plan to stop it. Based lossely on an actual event in Cleveland, believe it or not.

7. The Last Exorcism. It takes courage to play the exorcist card after Friedkin's classic, but this mockumentary does a surprisingly good job, even by PG-13 standards. Here we have a disillusioned Baptist pastor who sets out to prove the fraudulent nature of his own exorcisms, but finds a girl whose possession state won't be put to rest so easily. It's never clear if she's really possessed or mentally ill, though the controversial ending strongly implies the supernatural is involved in some way. Though I usually despise the Blair Witch approach to camerawork, it works well here, and I was genuinely scared at points. Abalam may have nothing on Pazuzu, but compared to most demons, he comes across as one to take seriously, as indeed our good reverend does in the end.

8. Kick-Ass. Every list has a guilty pleasure or two, and I've seen Kick-Ass enough times that to keep it off this list would be plainly dishonest. Perhaps it's because I despise superhero films so much that I can't get enough of those which subvert the genre by the jugular. Thus my reverence for Chris Nolan's Batman Begins & The Dark Knight (which denied adolescent males everything they're used to and made Batman for everyone), and my orgasmic glee for this film -- which gives the genre the finger and serves up beatings and ass-kickings to the "heroes" which hardly merit the title. Along these lines, I'm looking even more forward to James Gunn's Super slated for April release, in which Ellen Page's Boltie will apparently be kicking the asses of good guys as much as Hit-Girl does the baddies.

9. Peacock. Ellen Page and Cilian Murphy are at it again (as in Inception, #3), this time playing incredibly damaged souls, especially Murphy who delivers a split-personality performance worthy of Hitchcock. He's a bank clerk with a grim past: horribly abused by his mother. Now he effectively assumes her role after work hours, acting and dressing as a woman, but also really believing himself to be, as he compensates for insecurity and low self-esteem with this hideous feminine side. A perfect role for Murphy, his deepest to date, and it's criminal that the film went straight to DVD without hitting any theaters in America.

10. Cracks. Not terribly strong on story, but it has great performances, and given that I'm a sucker for students under the tutelage of nefarious instructors, it makes the cut. An aristocratic Spanish girl comes to board at an Irish school off the coast of northern England in 1934, and without even trying incites jealousy and rage amongst her peers. They all crave the approval of a teacher who has eyes (and loins) for this newcomer. Things get unpleasant, naturally, and don't end well. Jordan Scott, directs, and yes, she's related to the great Tony (#6) and dreadful Ridley who hasn't done anything decent since Alien and Blade Runner.

Now for two particular films that didn't make the cut against expectation.

1. Let Me In. It's the best American remake of a foreign film I can think of, almost as good as the Swedish original, but so identical and derivative I can't really count it. If I'd never seen Let the Right One In, it would have placed at #3. Certainly Chloe Moretz and Kodi Smit-McPhee are as impressive actors as their Swedish counterparts, and for kids in cinema these days, that's saying a lot.

2. Life During Wartime. As a fan of Todd Solondz, I was astounded by how empty this was. Frankly I never thought Happiness needed a sequel, and what you know, it turns out it truly didn't. Unlike Welcome to the Dollhouse, Happiness, Storytelling, and Palindromes, there is precious little anti-wisdom to embrace here. What happened to the Solondz who made us love to hate ourselves? Now he's making us yawn.


For another top-10 list, see Carson Lund's choices.

And for my other end-of-the-year lists, see The Top Films of 2005, The Top Films of 2006, The Top Films of 2007, The Top Films of 2008, The Top Films of 2009.