Last time I argued that the Markan account of the Gerasene Demoniac betrays knowledge of the Jewish uprising in the region of the Decapolis during the early years of Israel’s war with Rome. The resemblance between Legion’s ruin in the sea with Josephus’ reporting of the Roman massacre of rebels on the banks of the Jordan River formed the basis of this claim. I proposed that Mark recast the recent military disaster in allegorical form, disguised as a tale of exorcism, in order to demonstrate that the crucified but returning Galilean possessed greater δύναμις than did the demonic benefactors of the pagan empire. Christ was going to cast out the heathen imperium at his Parousia—an echo and reversal of the events that took place in the country of the Gadarenes years prior.
Yet this is not the only instance in which Mark’s βίος interacts with socio-political reality beyond the bounds of Jesus’ ministry, death, and resurrection. Further examination of the interplay between the text of Mark and the Evangelist’s own historical background allows for a broader understanding of the purposes that led to the first inscripturation of the Christian κήρυγμα. We will find that Mark’s εὐαγγέλιον regarding Jesus Christ, God’s Son, was designed to frustrate the gospel that upheld the Roman imperial order of the late first century.
Vespasian the Christ, the Son of [a] God
The destruction of Herod’s Temple in AD 70 constituted a major theo-political disturbance for the Roman Empire as well as for the Jewish people. In consequence of the war, a competent and ambitious family came into possession of the imperial throne in the aftermath of Nero’s chaotic demise in AD 68 and in the wake of his three impotent successors whose combined reign lasted about a year. A prominent general by the name of Titus Flavius Vespasianus managed to resolve this period of civil strife and in so doing inaugurated the Flavian dynasty, a house which prevailed in Rome nearly to the end of the century. By systematically eliminating the Jewish threat to Roman stability in the East, by obliterating the temple of Israel’s powerful god, Vespasian and his son Titus had distinguished themselves as divinely-authorized harbingers of a new age of order and blessing for an empire that appeared to be on the verge of disintegration. While the Julio-Claudian regime had come to an end, the legions, the senate, and the people were pleased to install Vespasian as emperor upon his safe return from Judea.1 To those who placed their trust in Vespasian, the Roman gods had restored a strong and Augustan governor to the helm of the Empire by placing this major rebellion and troubling civil war under the feet of their Son.2
A body of propaganda in service of Vespasian’s now unchallenged rule proceeded by word, coin, and sacrificial offering throughout the world. This Gospel of Vespasian3 promptly materialized in a triumph over the Jews in Rome. The commander who had earlier cured the blind with his spittle, restored the withered hand with the touch of his heel, loosed the paralytic leg with the tread of his “imperial foot,”4 and stamped out the messianic hopes of an unruly people, this man donned the purple robe and the laurel crown and led a host of captives down Capitoline streets to the executioner. Festal sacrifices were offered to Jupiter and the gods so as to secure their continued goodwill. Soldiers and crowds hailed Vespasian as emperor, by now a semi-divine figure in the eyes of many.5 The spectacle of power and glory made certain to a relieved Italy that Vespasian and his sons were God’s elect, if not gods themselves.
Not satisfied with merely crushing the Jews politically, propagandists also worked to identify Vespasian as the world-ruler prophesied by Israel’s scriptures, the Messiah. According to these theologians, the one whom the Jews had hastened to make manifest by means of their ill-fated revolt turned out to be a Roman, the punisher of Judea.
What incited [the Jews] to the war more than anything was an ambiguous oracle, likewise found in their sacred scriptures, to the effect that at that time one from their country would become ruler of the world. This they understood to mean someone of their own race, and many of their wise men went astray in their interpretation of it. The oracle, however, in reality signified the sovereignty of Vespasian, who was proclaimed Emperor on Jewish soil.
Josephus, War of the Jews VI.5
Few interpreted these omens [in AD 70] as fearful; the majority [of Jews] firmly believed that their ancient priestly writings contained the prophecy that this was the very time when the East should grow strong and that men starting from Judea should possess the world. This mysterious prophecy had in reality pointed to Vespasian and Titus, but the common people, as is the way of human ambition, interpreted these great destinies in their own favor, and could not be turned to the truth even by adversity.
Tacitus, Histories V.13
Rome’s imperial ideology was thus set in dialectical opposition with the central claims of Second Temple Judaism (and of early Christianity)—that is, that there is one true God, the aniconic Father of Israel, and one true Lord, the son of King David. The nations would come to serve these two as God and King when God rose up to judge the earth. The burning of Jerusalem, however, had seemingly falsified these key tenets—or radically reinterpreted them in the Romans’ favor. Whoever the supreme god was, he surely was on the side of the Latins and not of the Jews.
The Pax Romana and its enemies
Roman animosity toward the insolent Jewish people spilled out upon the still largely undifferentiated Christians as well. Tacitus recalls, for example, that Titus destroyed the Temple so as to deracinate both the Jews and the Christians.
Some thought that a consecrated shrine (i.e. the Temple), which was famous beyond all other works of men, ought not to be razed, arguing that its preservation would bear witness to the moderation of Rome, while its destruction would for ever brand her cruelty. Titus himself, opposed, holding the destruction of this temple to be a prime necessity in order to wipe out more completely the religion of the Jews and the Christians; for they urged that these religions, although hostile to each other, nevertheless sprang from the same sources. The Christians had grown out of the Jews: if the root were destroyed, the stock would easily perish.
Tacitus, Histories Fragments 2
In this way the removal of the Temple came to represent Rome’s rebuke of two misguided millenarian peoples—the Jews and the Christians—each of which expected Israel’s God to execute his vengeance by toppling sinful pagan kingdoms on their behalf. But such kingdoms had reigned unimpeded in the Mediterranean and Near East for centuries. By violating even the inner sanctuary of the Jerusalem Temple—without any response from God—Titus and Vespasian had delegitimized these pretensions doubly.
While the Jewish threat to the Empire was thus repressed for many decades, their temple tribute now diverted into imperial coffers, the Christians proved obstinate to Roman efforts to assimilate them into the ideological order. The master of the Christians—a dispatched Galilean peasant who had apparently undergone ἀποθέωσις—was a jealous god. His followers seldom offered sacrifices to the divinity of the emperor, the great symbol of Rome’s theo-political authority, even under compulsion, and instead reserved their cultic devotion for Christ alone, himself a θεῖος ἀνήρ who would, so the Christians said, soon arrive from heaven to supplant the government. Occupying the same sphere of dominion, therefore, these two God-anointed hegemons—Christ and Caesar—were locked in competition, the vassalage of the nations for spoils. Either the Pax Romana would continue uninterrupted or Christ would prove himself the Lord of all by seizing the empire at his adventus.
The Gospel of Jesus the Christ, the Son of God
Mark decides to construct his Gospel with this procession of political developments in mind. While the Septuagint and Paul had already occasionally employed terms like “Son of God” and “gospel” with reference to the Messiah and the announcement of the messianic age, respectively, pagan kings had likewise exploited similar concepts in order to justify their rule at least since the days of Pharaoh. Mark, however, will make these elements the centerpiece6 of his account in order to undercut Flavian ideology in a few critical aspects.
In light of Vespasian’s messianic ambitions, Mark must showcase Jesus as the true Messiah-Son-of-God who will take ownership of the nations in the age to come. He will achieve this by opposing Roman ideology along four main avenues: miracles, scripture, temple, and triumph.
Miracles
The God of Rome had designated Vespasian emperor not by resurrection from the dead but by miraculous deeds performed in Alexandria (cf. Romans 1:4). To counteract this, Mark will transform oral traditions regarding the curative activity of Jesus into literary units that can compete with the Emperor’s propaganda. Mark’s Jesus will heal two blind men—not just one—once with spittle and a second time with a word. Mark’s Jesus will cure a paralyzed man, not just a lame leg, and restore a withered hand by the power of his declaration, not his touch. His finger will cleanse lepers, his spit will unclog the ears of the deaf and unbind the tongues of the mute, and his command will quell the storm. By narrating a host of such mighty deeds, Mark will show that God appointed Jesus as Son long before Vespasian ascended to the throne.
Scripture
Mark will also demonstrate that Jesus conforms more fully to the messianic expectations delineated in Israel’s scriptures than does Vespasian. Mark’s Jesus was heralded by Isaiah’s wilderness messenger, tortured in accordance with Psalm 22 and all the prophets, and raised from the dead as befits God’s promises of vindication sworn to his saints. He performed signs of God’s kingdom as the Lord’s spirit-anointed servant. He crossed the sea as on dry land and supplied bread and fish in the desert place as the prophet like Moses. Despite his prolonged absence from the scene, Mark’s Jesus is also the Danielic Son of Man, the Messiah, the one who will soon appear upon the clouds, sickle in hand, to obtain the fealty of the nations. As Son of Man Jesus will repay everyone according to their deeds, save his people from their enemies, and inaugurate his reign over the inhabited world. All peoples will serve him forever and his dominion will have no end. Vespasian’s Rome, the frail kingdom of iron and clay in Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, will be no more, replaced by the Kingdom of God.
Temple
The razing of Jerusalem and its Temple by the Romans presented a challenge to those constrained by the prophetic and apocalyptic output of the Hebrew Bible. The Son of David was expected to preside over the nations from Zion. The peoples were to bring their offerings to God at his house atop David’s city. Early Christians were forced to grapple with this confounding loss—perhaps a spiritual temple was to take the place of the one made by hands. For Mark’s part, he will seek to subvert the Roman claim that Jupiter, the God of Rome, overpowered the God of Israel. He will do this by presenting the tragedy of the war as the fulfillment of prophecy issued by Jesus, being, as it were, a necessary birth pang bringing forth the age to come. Moreover, Mark will demonstrate by these predictions that no god but the God of Israel was responsible for the overthrow of Jerusalem. The true God had brought desolation upon the city in order to avenge his servant Jesus, not to enrich Vespasian, a man deluded by his sycophants. In the final estimate, Jesus had upended the Temple in a prophetic act some forty years before Titus, acting as the mindless hammer of Israel’s God, took the fortress. The man whose cry of pain had split the Temple’s curtain in half would one day finish his work.
Triumph
The last element of Flavian propaganda that Mark will redress is the triumph of Vespasian and Titus wherein the treasures of Jerusalem’s Temple were paraded through Rome. This amounted to a significant instantiation of the Roman gospel—the power of God leading to the obedience of all nations to the Emperor. It is here that Mark will definitively resolve the problem of the crucified Messiah, the Messiah who has, unexpectedly, died but not yet reigned. Mark will undo the shame of the crucifixion by transforming Jesus’ suffering into a proleptic triumph worthy of Vespasian, a mock coronation anticipating the Son of Man’s glorification with his angels at the Apocalypse. Jesus the captive, led to the slaughter by pagans, will appear as he really is to those with eyes to see: the God-blessed general becoming the emperor at the behest of his armies. The praetorian regiment and their leaders will dress Jesus in imperial purple attire, set a sylvan crown atop his head, worship him as the King of the Jews, and declare him the Son of [a] God upon his lofty throne—a cross rather than an ivory chair.7 The Romans will unwittingly carry out to completion the triumph that Christ initiated when he entered Jerusalem on a humble colt to the shouts of Hosanna—exhibiting himself as the royal avenger of Israel (cf. Zechariah 9-14). Mark will give narrative form to the irony entailed in Jesus’ exchange with Pilate: “Are you the King of the Jews?”… “You say so” (15:2).8
Allegiance to the future king
Along these four lines, in addition to the allegory found in the story of the Gadarene Demoniac, Mark seeks to dissuade defection from the cult of Jesus, an ideology devoid of power and influence, to the cult of Caesar, the dominant ideology and civic religion of the world. Various pressures, persecution being only one facet of which, bore down on Christians as they voluntarily inhabited shameful social space. In the hands of Mark, the Christian Messiah—the tortured, humiliated, and executed Jesus of Nazareth—became a man capable of exceeding the pretensions of the Roman emperor.
Years later, in the hands of another literary genius, this same Jesus would receive unprompted adulation as “my Lord and my God.” Though the Parousia had still not yet arrived, the cult of Christ had at last outlived the conceit of the final Flavian, Emperor Domitian, who had decreed “our Lord and our God” as his official imperial title.
1—Vespasian minted coins with the abbreviation Nep[tuno] Redux—”Neptune who brings back [the Emperor across the sea].”
2—Vespasian and Titus were not known to indulge in megalomaniacal pretensions via the imperial cult. They did not insist upon being recognized as divinized men—gods or sons of gods—as did Alexander, Antiochus Epiphanes, Augustus, Caligula, Nero, and later on, Domitian. A 1st century inscription from Macedonia reads: αὐτοκράτορι Καίσαρι θεῶι θεοῦ υἰῶι Σεβαστῷ (To the emperor, Caesar, God, Son of God, Augustus).
3—Josephus twice uses the word gospel to describe the ascendancy of Vespasian in his War of the Jews (III.1, III.5).
4—References to Vespasian’s miracles appear in the works of Tacitus and Suetonius and purportedly occurred in Alexandria around AD 69. According to the historians, such deeds functioned within a complex of signs and prophecies that swept Vespasian into power and legitimized his divinity, identified here with the god Serapis, a popular and powerful Graeco-Egyptian deity.
5—Description of Vespasian’s triumph from War of the Jews VII.5.
6—The word “gospel” appears six times in the Gospel of Mark and once more in the title at Mark 1:1. Christ is recognized as God’s Son a similar number of times: once in the title, three times at critical narrative moments (Baptism, Transfiguration, Crucifixion), and a few other times, particularly by evil spirits who are privy to special knowledge.
7—Luke systematically eliminates all of this material, transforming the centurion’s satiric declaration of Jesus as God’s Son (i.e. the emperor) into a sincere admission of his innocence: “Surely this man was just.” Christ’s purple mantle becomes a “bright” robe given by Herod’s soldiers—probably the silver robe of the Herodian king (Antiquities XIX.8). Luke appears to be aware of the anti-Roman parody Mark has built but he harbors no desire to antagonize the Empire—into which Christianity has penetrated with some success.
8—The words and structure of Pilate’s question—Σὺ εἶ ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων—are equivalent to the confession “You are the King of the Jews.”
Scribes of the Kingdom 