Question Mark: Episode 6 – The DJ Battle

I don’t know how it all went down, but here’s how I picture it: 

Five or so years after Rome’s sacking of Jerusalem, a man hears talk about a written gospel of Jesus Christ.

He attends a public recitation of the story, and he burns with anger from what he hears. After some effort, the man manages to acquire his own written copy of the work. He then takes upon the arduous task of “correcting” the gospel, expanding upon it, joining it with other scriptures, and creating the most authoritative, inspired telling of the good news that he can muster. And in doing so, he declares war on this gospel that he considers to be false.

And thus was born what we now call:
the gospel of Matthew.

And thus was born what we now call: the gospel of Matthew.

Unlike the Mark author, this guy was not a laissez-faire Christian, or an admirer of the apostle Paul.

He embraced the prospect of Gentile converts to the movement. But any such convert would have to adhere to the laws and customs laid out in the Torah. The good news of Jesus Christ could be for anyone, but that “anyone” would have to submit to the sacred laws that God commanded for his chosen people, or they’re out. This was to be a Jewish movement with global reach and elite standards.

The primary foundation of this gospel was, interestingly enough, the gospel of Mark.

More than 90% of Mark’s text is found in the Matthew gospel, copied word for word. Yet through careful omissions, additional phrases, slight alterations, and re-sequencing—not to mention the wealth of new content introduced to the story—the Matthew author was able to fundamentally change the meaning of this source material. And, crucially, to advocate for an opposing point of view than what the original story had established.

In the Mark gospel, Jesus expresses contempt for Jewish laws and those who care about them. He even declares dietary restrictions to be null and void. In contrast, the Matthew gospel has Jesus say stuff like this:

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. 

“For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished. 

Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 

For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.” 

Jesus: Matthew 8:17-20

In line with this more Jewish-sympathetic point of view, the Matthew author keeps most of the bumbling cluelessness of the twelve disciples for his own gospel, but he adds some content to indicate that these men eventually redeem themselves.

The result of this alteration is actually a work of literary magic; it makes the disciples seem like three-dimensional, relatable characters, which in turn serves to make the Mark gospel’s comparatively flat depictions seem like sketches of an early draft, at least from a distance.

People reading Mark tend to have the images of Matthew (and Luke and John) in mind when they do so, and they mentally fill in the many gaps of that shorter first gospel with the compelling narrative details provided by the later ones.

This tactic of adding and altering existing content rather than a complete re-write pops up again and again in Matthew. The author even keeps some Mark material where Jesus treats Jewish law somewhat liberally, like healing a man on the Sabbath, perhaps to establish the special nature of Jesus as the messiah.

So not only is the story granted more color and nuance, but the Mark gospel simply seems like a less complete version of the real story.

I mean, heck, Mark doesn’t even cover Jesus’ birth! Surely this grand narrative that covers the life of Jesus from birth, to death, to resurrection, to his ascension into heaven was the authoritative story.

Right?

Incidentally, this type of scriptural revision was in no way a new thing in Jewish tradition.

Scholarship on the Hebrew scriptures highlights the evidence for multiple layers of authorship on works like Isaiah, Zechariah, even the books of Genesis and Exodus (tradition tells us that the Torah is a Mosaic work, yet scholars tell us it’s really mosaic).

The scholar Richard Eliot Friedman explains this type of layered revision as an attempt to counter a rival narrative that has gained traction among a community.

To eliminate or completely change the narrative would result in objections, such as, “but remember when Moses did XYZ in the desert. Should we not follow this example?”

On the other hand, to preserve the rival story in your own work and yet neutralize the details with a major reframing, that’s an effective way to control a narrative and unite the people to your cause.

And so, the Matthew author got his hands on this literary affront to his people, then he cut it, sampled it, reworked it, then turned it, flipped it, and reversed it.

The Mark gospel itself was already a sampledelic masterpiece of scriptural hip-hop, but Matthew proved to be a remix that eclipsed the original. 

Years later, another man took both of these gospel writings—and probably some other choice sources and scriptures—and constructed what he declared to be the authoritative account of Jesus Christ. He quoted, combined, and shuffled and added a bit, until he had a thoroughly comprehensive story.

This is the Luke gospel, and it really does demonstrate some impressive skills in storytelling. This same guy even wrote a sequel to his sleeper hit, the Acts of the Apostles.

Ironically: what ends up being lost in this revised version is the moral theme of how strict Christians should be with regard to Jewish laws. In its endeavor to be comprehensive and compelling, it ends up being ambivalent, and ultimately ambiguous, on that point.

While we know is that these later authors caught on to the Mark author’s ambitions as a mixmaster of scriptural samples, and they followed in kind with their own literary collages. 

But did these gospel authors “have ears to hear” everything the Mark author was trying to convey?

What’s the role of esotericism in early Christian culture, and how widespread was it?

…to be continued…

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