Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary
In this week’s lection (Mark 12:28-34), Mark surprises us. We meet a scribe who is sympathetic, not antagonistic, to Jesus. We find him lingering nearby, listening in while three sets of Jewish leaders question Jesus, hoping to catch him opposing either Jewish or Roman legal codes.
First, a group of Temple priests, scribes and elders demand to know by what authority Jesus does his mighty deeds (11:27-33). Jesus will reply, but only after they have answered his own question: “Was the baptism of John of divine or human origin?” They argue among themselves. If they say, “merely human,” the people, who revere John, will mutiny. If they say “divine,” they shall have to explain why they refused John’s baptism. They say, “We don’t know.” So their question goes unanswered.
Next, an obsequious coalition of Pharisees and Herodians tries to corner Jesus by asking whether one ought to pay taxes to Caesar (12:13-17). In a brilliant riposte, Jesus has them bring him a Roman coin and asks them whose image it bears. (It is Caesar’s image.) Jesus counsels, “Render to Caesar things that are Caesar’s, to God things that are God’s” (v 17). The implication, of course, is that even Caesar bears the divine image and is thus subservient to God, an awkward fact for Herodians, allied with Rome. Next to arrive are some Sadducees, who deny the resurrection of the dead. Citing the rule of levirate marriage (when a man died, leaving no heirs, a surviving brother was obligated to marry his widow), they propose an unlikely set-up: seven brothers, none leaving heirs, marry the same woman in sequence. Then she dies. Whose wife will she be in the resurrection? (The goal is to prove resurrection implausible.) “No one’s,” says Jesus. “They do not marry in heaven” (12: 25).
The attentive scribe, impressed with Jesus’ deft parries, now asks a question of his own: “Which is the greatest commandment?” Some interpreters of Mark treat him with suspicion, as if his question, too, is meant to be a trap; but nothing in Mark’s text suggests his query is disingenuous. Jesus’ reply cites the Shema (Dt 6:4-5) and Leviticus 19:17b. The scribe readily embraces Jesus’ two-part answer, which inspires an insight of his own—that to love God and neighbor is more significant than “all burnt offerings and sacrifice.” Jesus declares, “You are not far from the Kingdom of God.” This, in Mark, is as striking as Bartimaeus’ faith. This is more than Jesus has said, even of his own disciples.
Preachers will need to make clear that neither the scribe, nor Jesus, is dismissing Temple worship, or the sacrifices and offerings customary in their day. Active love of God and neighbor is the foundation and presupposition of all liturgical action. They are mutually interpretative. One might explore this enduring connection in a sermon. Alternatively, one might explore the expansive definition of “neighbor” in Leviticus 19 and the strikingly concrete examples of love of neighbor, stranger, and alien we find there. “Neighbor” love is not a benign, kindly attitude toward the person next door; it is risky, and seeks the well-being, at times, of persons our literal neighbors may well fear or despise.
Why, we wonder, does Jesus say that this insightful scribe is “not far” from God’s reign? Is there another step yet to be taken? A connection yet to be made? Maybe being able to discern intellectually, or articulate theologically, the primacy of love for God and neighbor still leaves us safely inside the sanctuary. Imagine if our prayers and offerings were suddenly interrupted by a stranger’s cry in the street, and we rose and rushed out to help. Maybe we would realize then, in a flash, that our petition—“Thy kingdom come”—is, at its heart, a petition that the wall of separation between sanctuary and street be broken down, in and through us. Let us pray, as the scribe may well have, that we might love concretely and boldly, and thereby experience the coming reign of God.
Insights into Biblical Greek Grammar and Syntax 