When once the fundamental solution of the synoptic problem has been achieved, the editors, Matthew and Luke, need no longer remain names standing at the head of their respective gospels. The manner in which they treated Mark is more than a subject of mere literary analysis: it betrays the interests of the men themselves. The older critics were fully alive to the importance of the editorial changes which Matthew and Luke made in their handling of Mark. They made a valiant attempt to see in these changes the complication of an earlier and simpler tradition, a complication brought about by the introduction of precisely those elements in primitive Christianity, which they judged to be foreign to the life and teaching of the Jesus of history. By this process the editors, they said, heightened the Christology, placed Jesus in a more and more supernatural setting, and, in fact, paved the way for that 'catholicizing' of the church which wholly, or almost wholly, obscured the memory of him at the beginning of the second century.
A certain uneasiness concerning this judgement upon the work of Matthew and Luke arose, it is true, in the heart of the older radical criticism itself, but now that uneasiness has ripened into what must be called a revolt. It is therefore necessary to point out what has led to this growing change of critical opinion. A detailed account of the editorial methods of Matthew and Luke is clearly outside the scope of this book. It is possible to consider only the more striking divergences from the gospel of Mark.
Certain characteristics of Matthaean and Lucan editing hardly need discussion, for they are nowhere denied. It is clear that both editors felt the Greek of Mark to be rough and his method of writing narrative to be verbose. Consequently, both improve his grammar, remove obscure or vulgar words, and generally trim his narrative, partly by grammatical alterations, partly by rewriting awkward passages, and partly by quite radical abbreviation. Most of the minor differences of words, order, and even narrative, many of their omissions also, are due to the desire to make the story of the life and death of Jesus more readable. Both, for example, incorporate the Marcan story of the Healing of the Paralytic almost as Mark had recorded it (Mkii.1-12; Mt.ix.1-8; Lk.v.17-26); but whereas Mark had used colloquial words for the roof through which the paralytic was lowered and for the bed on which he was carried, Luke in both cases substitutes more dignified words; and Matthew not only substitutes other words, but abbreviates the passages in which they occur. Their care for quite small details of style is shown in their treatment of Mark's redundant expression: 'At even, when the sun was set'. Luke retains only 'And when the sun was set'. Matthew prefers 'At even'. (Mk.i.32; Mt.viii.16; Lk.iv.40)
But these editorial alterations do not explain the main differences between the
gospels of Matthew and Luke and the gospel of Mark.
A very superficial comparison of the first three gospels shows that they are vastly different in general plan.
The main difference, and it is surely a very remarkable difference, lies in the emphatic description of Jesus in both Matthew and
Luke as a teacher. Mark frequently describes Jesus as teaching: ten times he records that he was addressed as teacher, and
elsewhere he definitely states that his hearers were astounded at his teaching. But again and again, when Mark thus describes
Jesus, he gives no word of what he taught. Mark records only two extended parables, but he expressly states that Jesus was
accustomed to use this form of teaching (Mk.iv.12; cf.Mk..1). It is however only from Matthew
and Luke that a comprehensive knowledge of the contents of this teaching can be gained. Mark emphasizes the fact that the parables
were unintelligible to the crowd. His own disciples had to ask for an interpretation, and when one was given did even then not
fully understand. Mark, it is true, records an eschatological speech, and also controversies with the Jewish authorities (Mk.i); but, on the whole, he leaves the impression that the main subject of the teaching of Jesus to
his disciples was that the Son of man must suffer (Mk.viii.31 f.; xi.31 f.). It is to Matthew and
Luke that the reader must go for any comprehensive record of the teaching of Jesus concerning the nature of the kingdom of God: to
Luke for the parables of the Prodigal Son, the Good Samaritan, Dives and Lazarus, and the Pharisee and
the Publican (Lk.xv.11-32; x.30-35; xvi.19-31; xviii.9-14): to Matthew for the parables of the Ten
Virgins, the Great Assize and the Labourers in the Vineyard (Mt.xxv.1-13; xxv.31-46; xx.1-16).
Only Matthew and Luke record the great discourse concerning the righteousness of the kingdom known as the Sermon on the Mount or
the sermon on the plain, and above all the Lord's Prayer itself (Mt.v-vii; Lk.vi.17-49; Mt.vi.9-13;
Lk.xi.2-4).
But this deep‑seated emphasis upon Jesus as teacher is not only secured by what Matthew and Luke add to Mark; it is also evident in their actual editing of what Mark does record. Their procedure may be illustrated by the manner in which they handle the Marcan usage of the noun 'gospel'. Neither Matthew nor Luke adopts the title with which Mark heads his work ‑ 'the gospel of Jesus Christ' (Mk.i.1); and whereas the noun 'gospel' appears seven times in Mark, it occurs only four times in Matthew, and not at all in Luke. Luke, indeed, uses the e.g. kindred verb 'to gospel' or 'to preach good tidings' (Lk.viii.1; ix.6); but even so, never where Mark had used the noun (Mk.i.14, 15); instead he very carefully omits the Marcan noun, and equally carefully paraphrases the passages where it occurs (Lk.iv.14, 15). Matthew retains Mark's noun twice (Mt.xxvi.13; xxiv.14), once exactly as Mark had it, and once with the addition of the defining genitive 'of the kingdom'. Elsewhere his usage of the word is similarly qualified. For Matthew the gospel is the gospel of the kingdom (Mt.iv.23; ix.35). These phenomena suggest that both Matthew and Luke were for some reason or other uneasy with Mark's use of the word.
Why did Mark choose to call his work 'the gospel of Jesus Christ'?
Classical and contemporary Greek offers no explanation, for the word evangelion, especially in the singular, is a very rare word
indeed, and when used means the reward given to someone who brings good news. There is some evidence that in the plural it could
also mean good news itself, or a sacrifice offered when the good news was received. It is only when reference is made to the
Septuagint version of the Psalms and of the Book of Isaiah that a background for Mark's usage of the word is discovered. There a
Hebrew verb meaning 'to announce good tidings' had been translated by the Greek verb corresponding to the noun evangelion. In its
context in the Psalter and in Isaiah this verb is used to express the declaration of the good news that God was fulfilling his
promises, was acting, or was about to act. It is connected with the advent of the salvation of God, with his mercy, with remission
of sins, with the peace of God and with the coming of his righteousness, with the acceptable year of the Lord, with the
justification of the poor, with the emergence of Zion as the centre of the world where the action of God would take place (Is.xi.9; lii.7-10; lx.6; lxi.1; Joal.ii.32; Ps.xcvi.2; Nah.i.15; Ps.xl.9). It belongs therefore to the
rich vocabulary of the Old Testament expectation of salvation. This Old Testament background is clearly presumed in the title of
Mark's book. 'The gospel of Jesus Christ' means either the good tidings about Jesus Christ or the good tidings that he brought (Mk.i.1; Mk.i.14 f). In either case, the story of Jesus is linked to the action of God, and in some
sense is that action. Its significance, therefore, lies in the fact that it is the fulfilment of Old Testament hope.
Mark follows up his title with a summary in which he announces and introduces the ministry of Jesus.
Now after that John was put in prison,
Jesus came into Galilee, heralding the gospel of God, and saying,
"The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is upon you;
repent ye, and believe in the gospel".
(Mk.i.14 f.)
('At hand', the usual translation of the Greek, is not strong enough since it lacks the suggestion of arrival.)
All the Old Testament vocabulary of salvation is called up by the definition of the ministry of Jesus in relation to the gospel of God. In Mark's next use of the word, the connexion is even more pronounced.
If any man would come after me,
let him deny himself and take up his cross, and follow me.
For whosoever would save his life shall lose it:
and whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel's shall save it.
(Mk.viii.34 f.)
Here the decision to follow Jesus involves not merely a relationship to him, but also a relationship to the promised action of God, which is the good news.
When the disciples are astonished at the difficulty of entering the kingdom of God, Peter protests, and exclaims, 'Lo, we have left all, and have followed thee.' And
Jesus said,
Verily I say unto you,
There is no man that bath left house,
or brethren, or sisters, or mother, or father, or children,
or lands, for my sake, and for the gospel's sake,
but he shall receive a hundredfold now in this time ...
and in the age to come eternal life.
(Mk.x.26-30.)
So close a connexion between Jesus and the gospel suggests that the title, 'The gospel of Jesus Christ', does not merely mean, 'The good news which Jesus Christ brought in His teaching', though this is, of course, involved. 'The gospel' is for Mark an all‑embracing term which gives a peculiar significance to his narrative of Jesus of Nazareth, his teaching, his actions, and, finally, his death and resurrection. The whole ministry of Jesus, according to Mark, is the advent of precisely those things that were sighed for in the messianic hope of the Jews. It has already been seen that Jesus is represented as promising 'salvation' to those who follow him. e.g. He responds to the call 'son of David, have mercy upon me' (e.g. Mk.i.13; Mk.x.47 f; Mk.ii.10; Mkt.v.15; Mk.ii.17); he is shown exercising authority to remit sins, and bringing peace to those possessed by evil spirits; he calls sinners to repentance. But with all those who are convinced that they are righteous he has no concern, except to place them under the judgement of God. He teaches with authority and wields power with authority (Mk.i.22, 27). The gospel, therefore, is not only the gospel brought by Jesus Christ, but the gospel of Jesus Christ: The good tidings of the expected action of God which is, according to Mark, the ministry, passion, and resurrection of Jesus.
This all‑embracing significance, which is attached to the noun 'gospel', and which, because of its Old Testament background, is consequently attached to the whole ministry of Jesus according to Mark, involves a considerable manipulation of the Old Testament passages which contain the word 'gospel'. In fact, in the relevant passages the noun is used neither in the Hebrew original nor in the Greek translation, and this is because nowhere in the Old Testament is the future action of God named 'the gospel'. It is rather the witness of men to the action of God, which is described by the verb 'to announce good tidings'. To Mark, however, Jesus both announces the good news and is himself the good news. Hence Mark portrays him throughout as bearing witness to himself, not merely in his teaching, but even, and indeed primarily, by his actions. The interest of the narrative is fixed upon the question whether men and women will recognize in Jesus the gospel of God, and will accept the witness that he bears to himself,
Mark therefore places a considerable strain upon the word 'gospel'. In fact, the word is obscure as he uses it. It is this obscurity that both the editors tend to remove. They rivet the word 'gospel' to the teaching of Jesus concerning the nature of the kingdom or rule of God, and consequently Luke, approximating more closely to Old Testament usage, employs throughout the verb and not the noun, while Matthew qualifies the noun with the addition of the genitive ‑ 'of the kingdom'. Jesus proclaims, rather than is, the gospel.
Matthew speaks three times of the gospel of the king?dom. Twice it appears in a set formula that summar?izes and replaces Mark's detailed description of main episodes in the ministry of Jesus:
And Jesus went about, and all Galilee,
teaching in their synagogues,
and preaching the gospel of the kingdom,
and healing all manner of sickness
and all manner of disease among the people.
(Mt.iv.23, & ix.35)
Once it appears with reference to the end:
And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in
all the world
for a witness unto all nations: and then shall the end come.
(Mt.xxiv.14; Mk.i.10)
This is an emendation of the Marcan 'And the gospel must first be preached unto all the nations'.
It would seem therefore, that for Matthew the gospel is before anything else 'good tidings of the kingdom'.
Luke uses not the noun, but the verb. Twice he speaks of 'gospelling' the kingdom of God: once when he changes the Marcan 'Let us go elsewhere into the next towns, that I may preach there also' (Mk.1.38; Lk.iv.43) into 'I must gospel the kingdom of God to the other cities also', and once when he gives a saying curiously paralleled in Matthew: 'The law and the prophets were until John: since that time the kingdom of God is gospelled.' In two other cases he substitutes 'gospelling' for the Marcan 'preaching' or 'teaching'. His conception of 'gospelling' seems therefore more like that of Matthew than that of Mark, since the word describes the characteristic feature of the teaching of Jesus. (Lk.xvi.16; cf. Mt.xi.12; Lk.ix.6 & xx.1. cf. Mk.vi.13 & xi.27) Consequently, he uses the word in Acts (e.g. Acts xiv.7), not only for the preaching of Jesus, but also for the continuation of his teaching by his apostles and disciples. The word then describes the witness that is borne, to the action of God in which Old Testament hope is fulfilled.
Both Matthew and Luke, then, emphasize the fact hat Jesus was a teacher. For this purpose both of them incorporate into the Marcan narrative massive material illustrating his teaching, and simplify the Marcan usage of the word 'gospel' making it refer only to the teaching of Jesus.
A serious problem now arises.
Is it possible to describe this particular editorial process as 'heightening the Christology'?
Is not the reverse nearer the truth?
Would it not be possible to say that it is in the Matthaean and Lucan gospels, especially if the Marcan material be removed, that
there emerges the picture of Jesus as a teacher of righteousness, as a man who disclosed to men the outline of the moral life as
God wills it, and who died rather than compromise the truth as he saw it?
Such a conclusion could be reinforced by the fact that on the whole Matthew and Luke do not introduce into their accounts of the
ministry additional miraculous narratives. They are content to reproduce the Marcan miracles ‑ abbreviating them radically
‑ and to add to them, presumably because it stood in their non‑Marcan common source, the story of the healing of the
centurion's servant or son (the meaning of the word used by Matthew varies) (Lk.vii.1-10; Mt.viii.5-13).
The Lucan account of the raising from the dead of the young man at Nain is not an illustration of a general tendency (Lk.vii.11-17); it is an exception, which has a peculiar explanation (Lk.vii.22).
Luke wishes to support the saying that he is about to record containing the statement that 'the dead are raised up'; he therefore
introduces this particular episode in order to justify it.
Were Matthew and Luke justified in making these drastic changes in the Marcan narrative?
In so doing, did they distort the, picture of the Jesus of history, by making him more of a teacher than either the Marcan gospel
or the actual history warranted?
Did they subtly alter the Marcan perspective: and is their handling of the word 'gospel' a significant illustration of this subtle
alteration?
Can this united emphasis upon Jesus as a teacher of righteousness be justified?
What kind of a teacher and what kind of righteousness are they imposing upon the Marcan narrative?
When Matthew introduced the Sermon on the Mount go into his gospel, he made no arbitrary interpolation. He carried out a very definite plan. The sermon ends with a formula, which reappears four times in his gospel, at the end of four great discourses. But each of these is introduced at a point where the where the Marcan material requires some such teaching. Each of the discourses contains a certain amount of Marcan material, a greater amount of material taken from the common source, and a certain amount of special Matthaean material (Mt.vii.28; Mt..1; i.54; xix.1; xxvi.1). All five discourses are conglomerations, but conglomerations of such high workmanship that they have both unity and clarity. And this is of importance. For it means that the reader can turn up and see clearly and at once what Jesus said about offences, or about the end of the world, or what were his directions to his disciples. Again, Matthew made these additions to the Marcan narrative because he had access to a great deal of non‑Marcan tradition concerning Jesus, which contained not merely illustrations of the teaching of Jesus, but precisely those illustrations which were necessary to make sense of what Mark had written.
Further, Matthew did not create the picture of Jesus teaching by means of connected discourses. The source that he used side by side with Mark already contained discourses. This is clear from a comparison of Matthew's sermon on the mount with Luke's sermon on the plain (Mt.v‑vii; Lk.vi.17-49). The skeleton of the discourse is common to Matthew and Luke, and was therefore contained in their common source.
The emphasis, which Matthew lays upon Jesus as teacher, is therefore in no sense arbitrary. Matthew had before him in his non‑Marcan sources a mass of sayings of Jesus and the framework of a sermon. Matthew was therefore wholly justified in giving great weight to the picture of Jesus teaching. He was justified by the Marcan gospel, and he was more than justified by the non‑Marcan material to which he had access, and which enabled him to supplement the inadequate illustrations of the teaching of Jesus contained in the Marcan gospel.
The purpose of Luke was identical with that of Matthew, though his method of introducing the material from the common source and from his own special material was different. He also was able to do this because his oral and written sources provided him with what he required.
Matthew and Luke were equally justified in concentrating this teaching upon the theme of the kingdom of God. Whereas Mark had used the phrase fourteen times, Luke uses it more than thirty times, and Matthew even more frequently. (Matthew nearly always paraphrases 'kingdom of God' in Semitic fashion: 'kingdom' of heaven'.) Five of the Lucan occurrences are found to be changes of the Marcan material. Thus where Mark has 'for my sake and the gospel's', Luke has, 'for the kingdom of God's sake'; where Mark writes, 'when ye see these things coming to pass, know ye that he is nigh, even at the doors', Luke has, '... when ye see these things coming to pass, know ye that the kingdom of God is nigh' (Mk.x.29; Lk.xviii.29; Mk.i.29; Lk.xxi.31). Evidently both these changes were made for the sake of clarity. In the latter it is not quite certain who was meant by 'he': (A.V. and R.V. Marg. translate by 'it', referring vaguely to the summer.) in the former, 'for my sake and the gospel's' is a cumbersome expression. But they reveal a change of emphasis. Luke, like Matthew, thought of the gospel more naturally as a whole set of ideas connected with the kingdom of God, whereas Mark seems to have been occupied chiefly with the personal activity and authority of Jesus, and with the kingdom only because the rule of God was revealed in his concrete actions. Here was for Mark the sphere in which the active rule of God was bursting forth.
The other changes made by Luke show that he thought of the activity of Jesus and of the twelve as 'preaching the kingdom of God and healing the sick', just as Matthew was wont to summarize it as 'preaching the gospel of the kingdom and healing all manner of disease and all manner of sickness among the people'. (Lk.iv.43; Mk.1.38; Lk.ix.2; [Mk.vi.7 f]; Lk.ix.11; [Mk.vi.34]; Mt.ix.35)
But Matthew and Luke have very good ground for emphasizing the kingdom of God as the theme of the teaching of Jesus. Not only did it stand in Mark, it stood also in their common source, where stood the injunction to the disciples to 'heal the sick' and to say 'The kingdom of heaven is upon you' (Mt.x.7 f; Lk.x.9). Indeed, the theme of the kingdom permeated the material, which they introduced from their non‑Marcan sources.
The differences between the Matthaean and Lucan gospels and the Marcan gospel can therefore be quite precisely explained. They are due first of all to a knowledge of material other than the Markan gospel. The editors are wholly unconscious that the introduction of this other material involved any alteration in the Marcan picture of Jesus. They expanded and supplemented rather than corrected, since at each point they were merely amplifying and illustrating something already present in the Marcan gospel. Secondly, their procedure is occasioned by the fact that the Marcan gospel is in detail and in general an obscure and difficult document, especially for Greek readers unfamiliar with Jewish idiom, and consequently unable to detect that subtle background of scriptural allusion which provided the essential context of the earlier tradition about Jesus. The changes and corrections which the editors made and the manner in which they added their non‑Marcan material were an attempt to achieve greater clarity and better arrangement, to simplify the material and above all to make more obvious the allusions to the Old Testament. In particular Matthew compiled his material with the greatest regard for order. He presented the teaching of Jesus in five great discourses, which clearly demonstrated the contrast between his teaching and the teaching of the Jewish law, and showed that the Old is superseded and fulfilled in the New. But in this process of compilation he was markedly guided by the tradition that lay behind him. The reader of his gospel is not disturbed, as the reader of Mark is, by odd little scraps of teaching or by odd isolated narratives of healing. Matthew sometimes collects, sometimes conflates ‑ for example, he substitutes one healing of two blind men, for two separate healings of single blind men‑and sometimes replaces a particular action by a generalized summary (Mt.xx.29-34; Mk.viii.22-26; x.46-52; Mt.iv.23; Mk.i.23-25). This is not haphazard. He is concerned that his readers should have the tradition about Jesus in an accessible and ordered form, and he is even more concerned that they should understand the implications of the tradition for their own behaviour. He therefore, as in his record of the entry into Jerusalem, underlines the fulfilment of the Old Testament citation by quoting it, and even by adjusting the episode to the prophecy. But he is not introducing the Old Testament allusion; he is only making plain what in Mark would be quite unintelligible to Greek readers. At times we can almost see him struggling with a very awkward saying of Jesus that is intelligible only when its Aramaic background is recognized. There was a saying in the common source, 'Blessed are ye poor' (Mt.v.3; Lk.vi.20), which when translated literally into Greek, becomes simply a crude approval of lack of money. So it stands in Luke. But Matthew knows that the Aramaic word, which underlies the Greek word translated 'poor', has other suggestions. It denotes those who are oppressed by the tyrannical power of evil and who long for the intervention of God. The poor are primarily the faithful men and, women whose spirits are oppressed by the present order. Hence Matthew adds, and no doubt adds correctly, 'poor in spirit', in order to avoid misunderstanding. We may wonder whether the Greek readers did without further instruction understand the Matthaean gloss. But Matthew did his best to render into Greek a very intractable Jewish idiom.
Luke has a far less massive sense of orderliness than Matthew. But he also sought clarity, better arrangement, and simplification. He preferred, where there was redundance in his sources, to omit radically rather than to conflate. When he put sayings together, he was far less meticulous than Matthew about the aptness of the sequence. A single word in common was sufficient to attract together widely disparate material (e.g. Lk.xvi.9-13; 14-18), and he could conclude an episode with a series of crisp sayings, the precise relevance of which is extremely difficult to discover. Luke also emphasized the Old Testament background by his quite amazing power of writing Greek so that it evokes the memory of the Greek version of the Old Testament. But he displayed no such understanding of the meaning of the rough material as did Matthew. Not only did he omit crudely Hebraic passages, but it is in his, rather than in Matthew's, editing that the rough material is smoothed out so that it becomes more easily intelligible to Greek readers and also less liable to shock their sensibilities. His parables are illustrations of goodness rather than difficult stories requiring explanation. Luke does not really interpret the awkward material behind him; he simplifies it. The result is that those passages that Luke has rewritten rather than merely edited, provide the modern reader with his best illustrations of a general humanitarianism, uncomplicated by a peculiarly awkward Jewish background. Luke, of course, did not intend to give this humanitarian impression, but he was a Greek who possessed a sense for the dramatic and for what is moving, and was capable of giving this literary form. The important critical conclusion is that this is a simplification of the tradition behind Luke. The original material is far rougher than Luke at times allows us to perceive, and it is an almost intolerable critical procedure to fix upon this editorial simplification, and to announce that there we have the Jesus of history, which modern criticism has unearthed. In fact, the simplification is secondary and Lucan, and is the product of Luke's inability to struggle, as Matthew did ' with the rough Jewish material behind him. There are, however, points in the Lucan writings at which this roughness is not only preserved but recognized, as, for instance, in the parable of the Importunate Widow, and in the conclusion of St. Paul's speech at Athens. (Lk.xviii.1-8; Acts.xvii.31; cf.xx.28)
(In St.Paul's speech to the heathen at Lystra (Acts xiv. 15‑17) the challenge that concludes the speech at Athens is significantly omitted.)
Orderliness, explanation, simplification, illustration, are the characteristic marks of Matthaean and Lucan editing.
The supreme question now arises.
Did Matthew and Luke distort by this procedure the Marcan picture of the ministry?
Did they alter the Marcan perspective and is their handling of the word 'gospel' an illustration of such alteration?
In the end did they misunderstand Mark, and substitute a teacher who announced and described the imminent action of God in place
of the Christ of Mark, whose life, death, and resurrection was the action of God, the fulfilment of prophecy, and the ground of
human salvation?
These questions have only to be formulated to be answered.
The editors may have simplified Mark in detail, and at times may have misunderstood the significance of this or that passage. But
their emphasis upon the teaching of Jesus does not for one moment lead them to present him merely as a teacher or merely as a
prophet, who like the teachers and prophets in the Old Testament announced an inevitable and imminent intervention of the living
God. It is not the conception of Jesus as a teacher, which leads them to represent him as one. The teaching of Jesus is for
Matthew and for Luke, as for Mark, a necessary aspect of his messianic activity.
When Matthew portrays Jesus standing on the mountain (Mt.v), demanding with
the authoritative 'But I say unto you' the immediate fulfilment of the law of God, and illustrating in detail precisely how it
must now be fulfilled, the reader is not confronted with a teacher outlining certain new ideas or setting forth some new ideal for
human life. The reader is confronted with the messiah who demands the complete fulfilment of the law of God, and who once stood in
the midst of Palestine and called men to himself. Not for one moment does Matthew intend to detach the teaching of Jesus from his
actions. When he summarizes his ministry he refers always to the interweaving of teaching and authoritative healing as
characteristic of it.
Nor is it otherwise with Luke.
He most carefully introduces the ministry as the fulfilment, not of one single aspect of the hope of the prophet Isaiah, namely
the announcing of good news, but of the whole panorama of God's awaited salvation (Lk.iv.18). The
actions and teaching of Jesus are presented as the place where the salvation of God is manifested in human life. Nor again do
either of the editors suggest that the crucifixion was merely the murder of a prophet or of a teacher. Luke with great care marks
the death as the culmination of the ministry, for he adds to the Marcan account of the transfiguration a note that Moses and
Elijah conversed with Jesus 'of his decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem' (Lk.ix.31).
In describing the events that led to the death of Jesus, Luke, like Mark, shows that the initiative lay with Jesus rather than
with the Jews, as when he presses home in the narrative of the walk to Emmaus the divine necessity of that death, necessity, that
is, according to the scriptures Lk.xxiv.26 f); when he thrusts into the story of the last supper a
collection of sayings reversing natural human conceptions of greatness and clearly directing the reader's attention to the
greatness which is to be revealed in the crucifixion of the messiah (Lk.x.24-30); when he ends
the words of Jesus with an open avowal that his death is the fulfilment of Isaiah's prophecy of the suffering servant: 'For I say
unto you that this which is written must be fulfilled in me, And he was reckoned with the transgressors' (Lk.x.37);
and finally, when he places in St. Paul's mouth the well‑known words to the elders of the Church at Ephesus, commanding them
to 'feed the church of the Lord, which he purchased with his own blood' (Acts xx.28). Nor is it
otherwise with Matthew. He preserves the structure of the Marcan gospel with its steady movement towards the crucifixion as the
climax of the ministry. Like Mark, he records the words spoken to the disciples in the upper room in which Jesus declares his
death to be the foundation of the new covenant between God and man; and he glosses the words 'This is my blood of the covenant
which is shed for many' (Mk.xiv.24) with the explanatory addition 'unto remission of sins' (Mt.xxvi.28), thus making the death of Jesus the ground of redemption.
When the teaching of Jesus is read in the whole context of their gospels it is plain that for Matthew and Luke as for Mark the kingdom of God is manifested in the whole ministry of Jesus, and that for them as for Mark it is the fulfilment of the hope of the prophets of Israel.
That they quite consciously intend this is finally proved by the fact that both editors preface their narratives by recording the miraculous birth of Jesus, and by recording it, not as an isolated miracle which compels belief simply because it is a miracle, but as the fulfilment of Old Testament prophecy. They record the birth of the messiah, and they emphasize his birth as the inauguration of the new order of salvation for men, not as the birth of a prophet or teacher. Concerning the origin of the belief in the virgin birth the critical historian can say nothing. The two editors agree only in recording the birth of Jesus as the fulfilment of a particular prophecy. (Is.vii.14; Mt.i.23; Lk.i.26-32) Otherwise their infancy narratives have no points of contact. This single point of agreement proves only that neither evangelist was responsible for originating the belief. Mark had no birth narrative, and the Jesus of the Marcan gospel remains to its readers an enigma. He appears suddenly bringing the salvation of God, and, more than that, he is salvation, since everything, even eternal life, depends upon whether men do or do not accept him, believe in him, surrender to him, and take up the cross and follow him. He does what in the Old Testament is attributed to God alone. But Mark does not explain why one who seems to be a mere man should act and speak with ultimate divine authority. Matthew and Luke adopt the virgin birth into their narratives in order to make the Marcan gospel less enigmatic. Whether they were historically justified in so doing no critic can say, because it is impossible to know what was the form of the tradition before Matthew and Luke edited it and expanded it, and therefore impossible to discover on what authority they introduced it into their narratives. It is possible to say, and, indeed, quite emphatically, that there is here no heightening of the picture of Jesus which already stood ‑before them in the Marcan gospel.
The recognition that Matthew and Luke introduced the story of the virgin birth into their gospels in order to explain the authority of Jesus, may lead to a misunderstanding on the part of the reader, since, once it is presented to him, it is possible for him to concentrate attention on the miracle, isolate it, and then find in it the revelation of the power of the living God. Matthew and Luke did not here misunderstand Mark, nor for one moment did they intend their readers to see in the virgin birth the fulfilment of the hope of the prophets. The fulfilment is to be found in the ministry of Jesus, not in his miraculous birth.
There is, however, misunderstanding to be detected in the Matthaean‑Lucan editing of Mark. In the Marcan gospel Jesus is isolated and wholly misunderstood, not only by the crowds and by the Jewish authorities, but also by his family or kindred, and by his chosen disciples. In Mark this is of vital importance because it is precisely in this complete humiliation and isolation that the revelation of God takes place. Jesus works out the salvation of men as an opus operatum in complete isolation. The gulf that separates Jesus from the Jews is hardly greater than the gulf that separates him from his disciples. Both the editors are unable to preserve this isolation with the consistent rigour of Mark. To them this terrible misunderstanding seems derogatory to the apostles, to the family of Jesus, and even to Jesus himself.
'A prophet', records Mark, 'is not without honour, but in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house.' (Mk.vi.4) In editing this passage Matthew writes: 'A prophet is not without honour, save in his own country, and in his own house.' (Mt.i.57) And in a parallel passage Luke writes (Lk.iv.24): 'No prophet is acceptable in his own country.' In neither of these cases are the 'kin' of Jesus mentioned, and it is difficult to resist the conclusion that this is an editorial omission. Mark goes on to say:
And he could do there no mighty work,
save that he laid his hands upon a few sick folk, and healed them.
And he marvelled because of their unbelief.
(Mk. vi. 5.)
Matthew changes this statement, which might suggest that Jesus' power was conditioned by the belief of his audience, substituting 'And he did not many mighty works there because of their unbelief' which leaves the initiative definitely with Jesus. In his account of the incident Luke cuts the gordian knot by altogether omitting any mention of works of healing in Nazareth and, indeed, records that the hostility of his countrymen was so fierce that Jesus was deprived of the opportunity of doing any charitable work there at all! But, in effect, like Matthew, he removes the uncomfortable suggestion of the Marcan narrative.
In neither of these cases, however, does Mark mean to suggest anything derogatory to Jesus, or to depreciate his power. Neither of these generalizations lies outside the perspective of the Marcan narrative. The first is an a-fortiori argument. If the prophetic emissaries of God were misunderstood among their own people, an even greater misunderstanding awaits the Christ, the Beloved Son of God. This argument is paralleled in the parable of the Wicked Husbandmen. In the second passage Mark does not in fact lapse into the representation of Jesus as a mere faith‑healer (Mk..1-12. cf.Mk.x.28-30). The work of the messiah is to evoke faith, and the great work that results from faith and discipleship is the gift of eternal life. Throughout the Marcan narrative any instinctive movement towards Jesus, however inadequate, is re‑ e.g. warded by a great display of messianic power (e.g. Mk.x.46-52). In Nazareth, however, there is no motion of faith, and consequently no signal messianic action. The editors, misunderstanding Mark's meaning, or thinking it to be capable of misunderstanding, change the Marcan words; but the result is not to heighten the power of Jesus. The result is rather to obscure the very precise emphasis upon the nature of his power, which is characteristic of Mark's narrative.
Two other illustrations of Matthew's so‑called 'heightening of the Christology' are offered in most modern critical studies of the gospels. The first occurs in the Matthaean account of the baptism, where he interpolates into the Marcan narrative a conversation between the Baptist and Jesus (Mt.iii.14 f), the purpose of which is to show that John recognized him as the sinless messiah, for whom no baptism for the remission of sins could conceivably be necessary. But Mark had not intended to suggest that Jesus was a sinner like other men, that he was purged by baptism, and received a prophetic call after his purging. He simply recorded that Jesus came to John in the midst of the crowds as the unrecognized messiah, the Son of God, the Beloved, and that with his coming the ministry of God's salvation was inaugurated amongst the people whom John had prepared to meet him. No doubt the Marcan narrative is open to misunderstanding by those who fail to catch the Old Testament allusions in his account; but no heightening of the Marcan picture of Jesus is really possible. Matthew has attempted to remove this possible misunderstanding, but at the cost of introducing the recognition of Jesus by John, and thus damaging his complete isolation, one of the most characteristic features of Mark's gospel.
The second illustration is provided by the Matthaean alteration of the Marcan introduction to the story of the rich man who loses eternal life by his refusal to surrender his wealth and follow Jesus. Mark wrote that the man thus addressed him (Mk.x.17.f):
Good Master. What shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?
Jesus picks out his casual use of the ad adjective 'good' and asks him:
Why callest thou me good? None is good save one, even God.
Luke (Lk.xviii.18.f) leaves the Marcan passage almost unaltered; but Matthew (Mt.xix.16.f) removes, or tries to remove, any possible implication that the adjective 'good' was inapplicable to Jesus and rephrases both question and answer:
Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life?
and the answer runs:
Why askest thou me concerning that which is good?
One there is who is good.
Matthew is certainly struggling to remove a ground of misunderstanding. But he is not transforming an imperfect man Jesus into the sinless Christ. Can it be seriously maintained that Mark regards the epithet 'good' as inapplicable to Jesus? To do so would make complete nonsense of the Marcan gospel. Jesus, according to Mark, is the messiah in whom the righteousness of God is concretely present in the midst of Israel. The question merely tests the sincerity and intelligence of the man's address, 'Good Master', and the rest of the story shows how little his words really meant, since he refused to obey the call of Jesus, and consequently lost eternal life. Here again there can be no possible heightening of Mark's picture of Jesus of Nazareth. Matthew has only attempted to remove the possibility of a very unintelligent reading of the story, and in so doing has made it more difficult to understand the episode correctly.
What then in the end are the results of an investigation of the Matthaean‑Lucan
editing of Mark?
The editing is occasioned by the difficulties of the Marcan narrative. The authors of the two later gospels are concerned for
their Greek readers. They add, in order to make clear what Jesus demands of his disciples. They simplify, in order to avoid crude
misunderstanding. They omit what appears to be trivial and unnecessary. They order and arrange the tradition, in order that it may
be the more easily read in public or in private, and they improve the grammar and style, in order that their intelligent readers
may not be unreasonably provoked. They attempt to answer gross attacks made by the Jews against the truths upon which the gospel
of the church is grounded. They remove the pitiless Marcan insistence that the apostles to the end of the earthly life and death
of Jesus hopelessly misunderstood the meaning of his words and actions; and they throw back into the period of the ministry, the
faith of the apostles, which in fact emerged as the result of the resurrection. But in the whole of this process of editing they
nowhere heighten Mark's tremendous conception of Jesus. No deifying of a prophet or of a mere preacher of righteousness can be
detected. They do not introduce hellenistic superstitions or submerge in the light of later Christian faith the lineaments of
Mark's picture of Jesus. They attempt to simplify Mark. He is more difficult to understand than they are. In fact, it is quite
impossible to set Luke against Matthew or Matthew against Luke, or both of them against Mark. All three evangelists record the
intervention of the living God in the heart of Judaism at a particular period of history in the words and actions and death of
Jesus of Nazareth: all three describe this intervention in the context of Old Testament prophecy: and all three regard these
happenings as one great act of God by which his rule is inaugurated on earth, and as a result of which those who believe are
enabled to do the will of God, are freed from the powers of evil, are forgiven their sins, and are given a confident hope that
they will share in that life which belongs to the era that is to be.
But this does not necessarily mean that the historian has discovered the Jesus of history. It only means that he is thrown back on a more thorough investigation of the Marcan document, on the material, which Luke and Matthew have in common, and on those traditions, concerning Jesus, which we know only from Luke or only from Matthew. Is it possible to go behind the Marcan narrative? If not, may it not at any rate be possible to find a contradiction between Mark and the non‑Marcan material to which the editors had access? After all, it may be Mark who has, under some influence or other, complicated the story of Jesus of Nazareth. If so, a comparison of Mark with the other strata of tradition ought to reveal the nature of the complication he introduced.
For an analysis of the meaning of the words evangelizomai evangelion, proevangelizomai, evangeliotes, see the article in Kittel's Theologisches Worterbuch zum Neuen Testament. The article is by Gerhard Friedrich, a pupil of Julius Schniewind whose immense work entitled Euangelion has been in course of publication since 1927. The conclusion of Dr. Friedrich's analysis of the meaning of the word evangelion in the synoptic gospels is as follows:
The question whether Jesus made use of the word evangelion or not is in the end the problem of his messiah consciousness. If he knew himself to be the Son of God who should die and rise again, then he also recognized that he was himself the subject matter of his disciples' preaching. His gospel is not a new doctrine: rather, he brings himself. His gospel is provided with content by what has been given in his person. Therefore, for his disciples, the gospel means the disclosing of the secret of the messiah.
Compare Gerhard Kittel, Die Probleme des palsatinischen Spatjudentums und das Urchristentum. Stuttgart, 1926, pp. 129‑140.