The “Messianic Secret”: Demythologizing a Non-Existent Markan Theme

by

David F. Watson

 

Previously Published in the Journal of Theology, Summer 2006

 

 

            Since the publication in 1901 of William Wrede’s highly influential work, The Messianic Secret, most scholars who have studied the passages to which Wrede called attention have assented to the idea of a “messianic secret” in Mark’s gospel.[1] In what follows I will argue against such a conception of these passages. Within an ancient Mediterranean cultural context, the main issue in these passages was not a secret regarding Jesus’ messiahship, but a refashioning of the way in which honor was reckoned. More precisely, these passages played into a larger theme that redefined the criteria for honorable actions and attitudes. Through this alternative understanding of honor, Mark’s gospel spoke to the needs of early Christians who experienced dishonor in the wider culture. My analysis will pertain primarily to Markan passages which relate Jesus’ attempts to keep his healings out of public view (1:40-45; 5:21-24, 35-43; 7:31-37; 8:22-26); his silencing of demons, who are aware of his special status (1:23-28; 1:34; 3:12); and his silence commands after Peter’s confession and the transfiguration (8:30 and 9:9).[2]

Ancient Honor

Ancient Mediterranean people were not “individualists” as we in the modern West tend to be. Rather, they were “collectivists”: they defined themselves and one another largely in terms of the groups (e.g., family, town, faction) to which they belonged.[3] It was crucial for them to receive affirmation from the members of their own groups, and especially their families. Such affirmation, in connection with a positive self-perception on the part of the individual, was known as honor.[4] Renown, reputation, and status were governed by the value of honor, and a wide network of terms was used to convey honor-related concepts.[5] Correlatively, it was crucial for individuals to avoid shame, which for males meant the loss of honor.[6] A person could lose honor through insults; by being shunned; through physical assault, especially to the head and face; and by various other means.

The primary group to which a person was connected was his or her family, and other groups by which an individual would be known were increasingly distant.[7] For example, along with his or her family connection, a person might also be known in terms of his or her place origin, (e.g., Jesus of Nazareth, Simon of Cyrene). These were “natural” groups; individuals were born into them, and the more immediate the group, the more important honor within that group was.  Yet there were also “voluntary” groups such as parties or factions (e.g., Pharisees, Stoics, followers of Jesus).[8] Occasionally a voluntary group might come to supplant the natural groups—even the immediate family—in importance.

Individuals outside of one’s in-group were normally distrusted. Honor could be gained and lost even in the most seemingly menial interactions with out-group persons, and one person’s gain of honor was normally another’s loss.[9] Envy, which involved the desire and intention to take honor from another person, was considered an evil but ever-present reality.[10] In buying and selling, conversations in the marketplace, or more serious circumstances such as fights or blood feuds, honor was at stake. For this reason, ancient Mediterranean culture is often termed “agonistic.”

Various groups might conflict with one another over the values that defined the honorable person. Honor depended upon what a particular group valued and acknowledged as worthy of approval.[11] Those who adhered to the values and accepted behavior of their social groups were considered honorable, and those who did not were considered dishonorable. A first-century Alexandrian Jew, for example, might find that his or her community of fellow Jews held up Torah-centered values that non-Jewish Alexandrians scorned. Honor among other Alexandrian Jews would depend upon adherence to proper values and standards of behavior. There were also certain attributes and actions that were quite widely considered worthy of honor. For example, wealth and high status, coupled with works of beneficence, were almost universally recognized as honorable.[12]

Broadly speaking, honor could be either ascribed or achieved. Ascribed honor did not derive from an individual’s merits or deeds, but from a high-ranking person, either through inheritance from or bestowal by that person. We might think of a dissolute royal son who inherits the throne, or a Roman senator who is a friend of the emperor and is appointed on that basis to be the governor of a Roman province.[13] The claim to worth of these individuals is backed by royal authority, and other people are thus compelled to acknowledge this claim to worth. Achieved honor, on the other hand, was not inherited or bestowed by some high-ranking individual, but won through the widespread recognition of one’s deeds. Military success, demonstrated wisdom, or works of benefaction could all contribute to one’s receiving achieved honor.[14]

Of particular importance with regard to achieved honor was the patron-client system, a widespread ancient Mediterranean institution in which patrons provided resources, such as financial support or political favors, to clients, who in turn showed their patrons honor, loyalty, and trust (pistis).[15] An important function of the client was to enhance the reputation of the patron. It was highly desirable for others to spread word of one’s generosity and deeds. Thus the relationship between the patron and the client was reciprocal: the client gained access to goods and services, and the patron gained honor when the client spread word of the patron’s generosity and ability to sustain clients.[16] At times, patrons and clients interacted through the services of intermediaries, or brokers.

Patronage on a wide scale, to an entire city or region, for instance, was known as benefaction. As with patrons and clients, the relationship between benefactors and the recipients of their favors was reciprocal. Cities or regions that had benefited from the generosity or protection of a benefactor owed him or her a debt of public recognition (i.e., honor), which might be fulfilled by statues or inscriptions honoring the benefactor’s generosity.[17] In fact, philotimia (love of honor) was a common term for public benefactions.[18]

Mark’s Jesus and the Reshaping of Honor

Jesus’ attempts to prevent widespread knowledge of who he is or what he has done are part of a larger Markan theme that, for ancient Medietrraneans, would have involved a countercultural understanding of the way in which honor and shame were to be established. Mark develops this new understanding in a variety of ways. Perhaps the clearest example is seen in Mark’s treatment of Jesus’ crucifixion, which was a deeply shaming form of punishment.[19] It involved public humiliation, intense physical assault, and a complete disempowerment of the victim, who was nailed or tied to a cross, or perhaps impaled upon it. The humiliated victim might be on public display for a period of days, allowing ample time for mockery by onlookers.[20] Yet Jesus teaches, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it” (8:34-35, NRSV). Jesus himself goes to the cross, enduring public scorn. His crucifixion, while dishonorable in the eyes of the wider public, was considered honorable among Christians.

In another example, when the disciples are arguing about who is the greatest, Jesus reverses traditional honor-related expectations by teaching, “Whoever wishes to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (9:35). He then likens himself to a child (9:36-37).[21] Children were not the proper recipients of honor.[22]  They were too young to engage in the kinds of behavior that were related to the acquisition of honor (e.g., beneficence, challenging others, and displaying power).[23]

In the same vein, James and John request of Jesus, “Grant to us that we may sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory” (10:37), and the remaining ten disciples become angry with them. In response, Jesus teaches that “whoever wishes to become great (megas) among you must be your servant (diakonos), and whoever wishes to be first (prōtos) among you must be slave (doulos) of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many” (10:43-45). These Greek terms are specifically honor-related language: megas and prōtos are terms of prestige, whereas diakonos and doulos are terms of servitude. [24] Positions of servitude did not carry with them high honor ratings, yet Jesus holds up servitude as honorable.

Also relevant is Jesus’ teaching regarding wealth. Although wealth was commonly considered an important resource for achieving honor, Jesus teaches that those who have wealth cannot enter the kingdom of God (10:23-26). He then teaches that “many who are first will be last, and the last will be first” (10:31).

Passages such as these demonstrate that there are a number of honor-related conventions to which Mark’s Jesus does not assent. In fact, he reverses particular conventions. The cross, widely regarded as a symbol of shame, becomes something that one must “take up” if one is to follow Jesus. Those who are generally thought to occupy low stations, such as slaves, servants, and children, occupy the highest station; and those who wish to be the greatest, or first, or rich, must abandon such ambitions if they are to enter the kingdom of God.

These reversals of conventional honor-related expectations are crucial for understanding many of those passages generally associated with the “messianic secret.” As the Messiah and the Son of God, Jesus is worthy of high ascribed honor, but he chooses at times to forego the recognition of his high status by other people. We see this in his commands that the disciples tell no one that he is the Messiah (8:27-30), that those disciples who are with him at the transfiguration keep silence until the Son of Man has risen from the dead (9:9), and that demons who know who he is be silent (1:23-28; 1:34b; 3:11-12). In these passages, Jesus resists various markers of ascribed honor. He makes efforts to avoid being known by honorific designations such as “Messiah,” “Son of God,” and “Holy One of God,” whether they are spoken by human beings or by demons.

Yet as 9:9 indicates, after the resurrection it will be fully appropriate to proclaim Jesus’ great honor and glory. Once Jesus has been crucified—once he has died that most disgraceful of deaths—God, who is ultimately worthy to ascribe honor, vindicates Jesus by raising him from the dead. The resurrection is a visible sign of the honor that God ascribes both to Jesus and his death on the cross. Jesus has indicated earlier that the cross should not be regarded with shame, but as a crucial aspect of his in-group identity (8:34-9:1). In the resurrection God verifies Jesus’ claim, but only those people who perceive what God has done will recognize the honor value of Jesus’ death. By acknowledging the honor of the crucified one, Jesus’ followers acknowledge a group-specific, countercultural set of standards regarding what is and is not honorable. Correlatively, the one who is regarded favorably in God’s eyes will necessarily be regarded unfavorably, and thus dishonorably, in the eyes of the wider public.

Jesus’ concealing behavior also subverts the acquisition of honor through beneficence. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus is the one through whom God’s power is mediated. As the broker of such power, Jesus is in a position to provide works of beneficence and to receive honor as a result. Yet on a number of occasions Jesus commands that those whom he has healed be silent about what he has done (1:40-45; 5:21-24, 35-43; 7:31-37; 8:22-26). This entirely contravenes the way that patronage and benefaction normally worked. Under normal circumstances, the client would (and would be expected to) spread word of the patron’s beneficence, but Jesus attempts to curtail this type of response.[25]

Why Not Secrecy?

In the ancient Mediterranean world, secrecy had rather specific functions. Generally speaking, secrecy was a way of keeping honor within one’s in-group. John J. Pilch explains that secrecy divided in-group members from other people and made it difficult for outsiders to gain information about one’s actions and what was going on among one’s in-group. It also allowed one to maintain one’s social status and honor by keeping out possible challenges to honor.[26] Secrecy was not keeping information to oneself, then, but keeping information within one’s in-group.

The ancient Mediterranean understanding of secrecy does not provide a sufficient model for understanding Jesus’ behavior in Mark’s gospel. At times, Jesus seems utterly unconcerned to conceal his deeds and/or identity (e.g., 2:1-12; 2:28; 3:1-6; 5:1-20; 6:30-44; 8:1-9; 10:46-52). At other times, he admonishes people not to spread word widely of what he has done, but he does allow out-group members to know what has happened (e.g., 1:44; 7:36; 8:26). In short, Jesus is not always concealing, and when he is concealing he is not always concerned to keep information within his in-group.

Repetition and Contrast

While modern readers might consider this type of inconsistency a problem, it is unlikely that Mark’s intended audience would have done so. The ancient Mediterranean world was a largely oral-aural culture, and in such a culture the techniques used in storytelling differ significantly from those in a high-literacy, print-oriented culture such as our own.[27] One difference is that, in oral narratives, one perceives an important idea not by noting that it is consistently and coherently presented throughout the story, but through that idea’s being repeated over and over again. Put in more technical terms, in oral-aural cultures important ideas are communicated in a redundant and copious manner.[28]  By repetitively portraying Jesus as behaving in particular ways, Mark is able to bring apparently contrasting elements together: Jesus is a powerful and public healer and exorcist, and one who is not interested in honor in the wider public. He is an authoritative teacher, even the self-acknowledged lord of the Sabbath, and he chooses not to exploit his role as such in order to gain widespread esteem. He is one who will publicly honor a hemorrhaging woman by performing for her a great work of beneficence in the midst of a large crowd, and he eschews the publicity that would come from his raising a girl from the dead (see 5:21-43). Mark need not consistently portray Jesus as foregoing honor or acting counterculturally. By repetitively portraying Jesus as acting in ways that subvert traditional understandings of the components of honor, Mark makes his point.

Early Christians and Honor

There has been a longstanding consensus that the Markan audience was experiencing persecution, or at least severe hardship of some sort.[29] In many cases, the hardships and social disdain that early Christians had to endure would have resulted in the rupturing of kinship bonds (3:31-35) and a disconnection from commonly held social values. Ascribed honor (obtained through one’s family) and the possibility of acquiring honor as social eminence were thus no longer live options. These early Christians had broken with traditional symbols of authority and respect, and they would not have received acceptance within their former social groups, including that most basic of social groups, the family.

In Mark 3:35, however, Jesus states, “Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” Halvor Moxnes tells us that, conflicts with family members were common among the early followers of Jesus. In response, “the Christian communities became ‘surrogate families’ or ‘fictive kinship’ [groups] (Mark 3:31-35).”[30]  The voluntary group supplanted the natural group. The fictive family served as a new court of public opinion, displacing the natural family as the primary context in which Christians secured honor. Instances in which Jesus resists widespread acclaim demonstrate that such acclaim is not desirable, and that only the approval of the new in-group is of real significance.

Mark not only proposes a new context for securing honor, but through the actions of Jesus promotes new criteria by which honor is established. God’s own Son has shown a new way of living, and those who wish to be a part of this new community centered on Jesus must be ready to adopt a vision of honorable behavior quite different from that held by the vast majority of people in the wider culture. By enduring dishonor from outsiders, showing compassion and humility, becoming a servant, and putting others first—all of which Jesus does in Mark’s gospel—Christians displayed honorable behavior according to the standards of their own group. Thus they achieved honor among other Christians.

Conclusion

This analysis of the concealment passages in Mark’s gospel differs from much scholarship on the “messianic secret.” Wrede’s work is certainly a landmark in NT studies, deserving of attention by any serious student of Mark’s gospel. Yet it may be that by approaching Jesus’ concealing behavior in terms of new categories, we can shed new light on this much-studied problem. If I am correct in this analysis, there is no messianic secret in Mark’s gospel. Mark’s Jesus is not keeping a secret regarding his messiahship, but demonstrating the standards for establishing honor within the new family of faith.