Mark begins his Gospel abruptly: there are no dazzling song and star-filled accounts of the birth of a Savior. Instead, the lonely cry of John the Baptist rings out in the desert, announcing the coming of One who is mightier than himself. Jesus appears and is baptized, and immediately is catapulted into the wilderness, there to be tempted, and also face the dangers of wild animals: And He was with the wild beasts (Mark 1:13).
In his telling of the story of the Temptation it is Mark alone who includes a reference to the wild beasts; Matthew and Luke make no mention of them. There must have been some compelling reason for the inclusion of this mysterious detail, that was not so apparent to the other Evangelists.
It is true that the overarching purpose of each of the Gospels was to bear witness to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and to set forth His universal claims and Lordship. At the same time, each Gospel was also underpinned by a particular theological emphasis, designed to minister to the spiritual needs and challenges of a particular group of people.
Where, when and for whom, then, did Mark write his Gospel?
Early church tradition is unanimous that the Gospel of Mark was written by John Mark, who accompanied Paul and Barnabas on the first missionary journey as described in the book of Acts. Many years later he is discovered in Rome with the Apostle Peter, and there (according to church father Papias):
“having become the interpreter of Peter, wrote down accurately, though not in order, whatsoever he remembered of the things said or done by Christ.”
This seems to suggest a picture of Peter as an older man, preaching in his native Aramaic to the congregation in Rome, as they listened enthralled to stories of Jesus’ teaching and miracles in Galilee, and the shattering events of His betrayal and death in Jerusalem. As Peter’s interpreter, Mark most probably translated Peter’s Aramaic into Greek or Latin; and, according to Papias, the Gospel he later wrote was a faithful record of the preaching of “the prince of the apostles.” It seems likely, therefore, that Mark’s primary audience would have been the Christians of Rome and the Italian church.
Within the Gospel itself, a number of details support this tradition. Latin terms such as “Legion,” “Praetorium” and “centurion” are sprinkled throughout. Mark also uses Roman time reckoning, which had four watches in the night. Often he breaks his narrative to insert an explanation of Jewish customs such as the washing of hands, presumably intended for a Gentile audience. Several Aramaic words are included and translated: “Boanerges”as “Sons of Thunder,” “Talitha Cumi” as “Little girl, arise,” “Abba” as “Father,” “Golgotha” as “Place of the Skull.”
Above all, Mark’s Gospel is shot through with the intense conviction that Jesus, the One of whom he writes, is “mighty in word and deed,” appealing to the Roman admiration for the virtues of strength and heroism of character.
Tumultuous events in Rome
Evidence for the date of the composition of Mark’s Gospel seems to point to the mid-60s of the first century, after events transpiring in Rome threatened to jeopardize the faith of the newly-converted Christians. Up until that time, the government had seen the church as merely another sect within Judaism, which had a privileged position as a religio licita. But scandalous rumors about Christian rituals had begun to circulate, and they were regarded with suspicion for failing to acknowledge the divine status of the emperor.
In that tumultuous decade, the reigning emperor was Nero, later to become a byword for decadence and cruelty, and things were about to change dramatically for the Christians.
One summer night in the year 64 AD, a fire broke out and swept across Rome, ravaging the city for six days. It would become known as the Great Fire of Rome, the “Magnum incendium Romae,” and it was said that, at the very time when the city was in flames, the emperor took up his fiddle and sang of the destruction of Troy. An “infamous rumor” began to circulate, alleging that Nero himself had started the fire for political gain, so that he could proceed with his ambitious building program. According to Tacitus, Nero then tried to shift the blame:
“ … in order to abolish that rumor, Nero falsely accused and executed with the most exquisite punishments those people called Christians. A vast multitude were convicted, not so much for the crime of burning the city, but for hatred of the human race. And perishing they were additionally made into sports: they were killed by dogs by having the hides of beasts attached to them, or they were nailed to crosses or set aflame, and, when the daylight passed away, they were used as nighttime lamps. Nero gave his own gardens for this spectacle …”
Nero burned Rome to the ground, and in an effort to curry favor with the angry mob turned their hatred on a common enemy, the despised and misunderstood Christians. Tacitus’ account suggests that the Christians were killed in the same summer in which the fire had started, and early Christian tradition adds the details that the Apostles Peter and Paul were also martyred during this time.
In this context of suffering and martyrdom, it seems likely that Mark’s Gospel was written to strengthen and encourage the believers in Christ. Enduring hatred and betrayal, driven into hiding, they could read of their Lord who was sent deep into the wilderness. The picture of Jesus “with the wild beasts” was filled with special significance for those who had seen their fellow believers torn limb from limb by savage dogs.
Later, after the Colosseum was constructed, Christians were among the thousands sent into the arena to face lions and tigers for the delectation of the crowds. In Mark’s Gospel they would find comfort, knowing that nothing they could suffer at the hands of the Romans was alien to the experience of Jesus.
“Christians and Lions in a Roman Arena,” by Jean Léon Gérôme
The cost of discipleship
Mark does not shy away from emphasizing Jesus’ teaching on the cost of discipleship, and the trials and temptations that would come to them as they confessed their faith. But he also illuminates the fact that Jesus Himself had already walked that path of suffering before them. He had been unjustly condemned by a Roman governor, scourged by Roman soldiers and crucified on a Roman cross. Yet it was through His very suffering that Jesus had triumphed and been vindicated, and Mark wanted to assure his audience that they too, if they followed Jesus faithfully, would be overcomers. Their suffering would also lead to glory.
So it was that, in that wilderness of suffering, countless men and women, their souls nerved by the prospect of glory, faced their dreadful torments with death-defying courage. The early days of the church were bathed in the blood of martyrs, and yet the faith did not yield, more than that, was triumphant. And the stories of the moral and spiritual grandeur of the first Christians would inspire and fortify the believers in later times of suffering and loss.
For the next two centuries, from AD 64 to 313, to be a Christian in the Roman Empire meant one was frequently liable to arrest, criminal prosecution and, unless a Roman citizen, sentenced to death in agonizing ways. In Rome itself, Christians were necessarily discreet, employing various symbols to communicate their faith, along with works of art. The catacombs seem to have been begun within a few years after the first preaching of Christianity in Rome. In this subterranean labyrinth of passages, cut through the soft volcanic rock of the Campagna, the ancient Christians buried their dead and sometimes even met for worship during times of severe persecution.
In the catacombs
The catacombs of Rome are part of the “romantic historiography” of early Christianity. Filled as are the annals of Republican Rome with splendid and valorous deeds, they possess none greater and more inspiring than those which belong to this underground city. The new spirit which animated these Roman Christians manifested itself in new examples of courage and devotion, which shone from them into all the world.
“Your obedience is come abroad unto all men,” wrote St. Paul to the first Christians of Rome. And the evidence of that obedience is to be found in the catacombs. Descending into that vast maze of “obscure galleries” one may behold and enter into the genius of the first followers of the Apostle to the Gentiles.
There in those narrow underground passages, one may see in the flickering light range upon range of tombs, which now and then open into small chambers. In these are found the paintings which give to the catacombs an especial value and importance in the history of art. As the light falls on each, so also emerges the character and emotions of the early Christians. These are the objects of their contemplation, the subjects that inspired them and gave them courage to endure in their times of mortal danger.
Heroes of faith from both Old and New Testament stories remain fixed upon the crumbling walls: Adam and Eve, Abraham and Isaac, Moses, Daniel in the lions’ den, Jonah and the whale, Noah in his ark, and the three holy Children praising in the midst of the fire. And, over some tombs, the rough scratching of a palm-branch, the sign that the martyr who lay within had conquered – the sign of suffering and triumph.
The figure of Orpheus
The early Christians were also able to draw from well-established Greco-Roman artistic styles and images. Orpheus was a figure from Greek mythology, known as a musician, poet, and prophet; the major stories about him are centered on his ability to charm all living things with his exquisite music, and his attempt to bring back his wife, Eurydice, from Hades.
The early Christian artists thought they saw echoes of the tale of Orpheus in the story of Jesus, and the figure of the gentle singer was appropriated as an image of the Good Shepherd, gathering and protecting the sheep with his song. By His redemptive death, early Christians also thought of Jesus as leading righteous souls out of the dark underworld to the celestial glory of heaven.
In the Domatilla catacomb is found such a mural, showing Orpheus enchanting the wild animals with his music; the animals surrounding him are tamed and hushed to listen while he plays. The representation would have a special meaning to those sheltering there, in whose ears had perhaps rung the dreaded cry, “The Christians to the lions.” It is generally agreed that its subject is really Jesus.
One might interject a question here: What images are we painting on the crumbling walls of our 21st century society today? And are they able to inspire and give hope to so many beleaguered individuals in our world today? Yet the thousands of paintings in the catacombs stand as quiet testimony to the faith and the eternal truths that sustained an imperilled people. If nothing else, they served to show forth to persecuted Christians in succeeding ages that, although their lives might be brief, their witness would be eternal.