The crucifixion of Cleomenes III and his snake that converts the onlookers has been ignored by commenters in large part because a date for Mark has been assigned from the war due to Jesus’s supposed prediction (66-74; probably 70). This seems to be mostly apologetics because it establishes the earliness boundary, not the lateness one. We are very familiar with apocalypses from antiquity that are post the event they describe by a very long time, and so the date of the event doesn’t imply it happened near the fake prediction. As I said, Paul made the claim that despite the power of the crucifixion, if Christ is not raised your faith is futile and you are still in your sins (1 Cor 15:17). An initial question here is how is substitutionary atonement in play if the cross doesn’t deal with sin? In previous posts I’ve tried to argue for a moral influence cross rather than a substitutionary atonement cross. For example, as Prof James McGrath insightfully notes, when Jesus teaches the Lord’s Prayer it is not thanksgiving for sin debt being paid but rather a petition to God to forgive our sins and a reminder for us to forgive the sins done to us: Debt payment is not the same as forgiveness. For my purposes here, the conversion of the soldier by the crucifixion of Jesus is going to be seen through different lenses depending on if the author is Mark (Truly this is God’s Son), Matthew (Truly this is God’s son), and Luke (Truly this is an innocent man) – and this solves a hermeneutic puzzle. Critical scholars have long thought the ending to Mark is shorter than the one handed down to us and lacks resurrection appearances. The oddity is that Mark also seems to be doing exegetical work on Paul’s letters, which means he is familiar with the resurrection appearance claims in Paul. It seems impossible that Mark would not have included resurrection appearances, but that is what we have.

When we see the connection to Cleomenes III in Plutarch, the confusion is cleared up. Prof Ataie notes (time 2:42:47-2:44:15):

In fact, the converting power of the cross may be what (from a literary point of view) converted a member of the Jewish high council Joseph of Arimathea so Joseph could begin to make proper burial possible rather than the fate of a normal crucifixion victim. The whole point of a crucifixion is a long-drawn-out death, and so God apparently was seen as releasing Jesus from this fate with a quick death on the cross: a point that amazed Pilate (Mark 15:44) – Matthew would later add the detail that Joseph buried Jesus in his wealthy tomb to fulfill scripture. Price notes:

Joseph is surely a combination of King Priam, who courageously comes to Achilles’ camp to beg the body of his son Hector (MacDonald, p. 159) and the Patriarch Joseph who asked Pharaoh’s permission to bury the body of Jacob in the cave-tomb Jacob had hewn for himself back beyond the Jordan (Genesis 50:4-5) (Miller, p. 373). Whence Joseph’s epithet “of Arimathea”? Richard C. Carrier has shown that the apparent place name is wholly a pun (no historical “Arimathea” has ever been identified), meaning “Best (
ari[stoV]} Disciple (maqh[thV]) Town.” Thus “the Arimathean” is equivalent to “the Beloved Disciple.” He is, accordingly, an ideal, fictive figure.

The Joseph of Arimathea episode may have been Mark’s invention to begin the process of giving Jesus a proper burial, since as Ehrman argues the Romans probably would have left Jesus’ body on the cross. As Ehrman notes, while the Jesus of the gospels may have received a proper burial, the historical Jesus would not:

To sum it up, not only during war but also in times of (relative) peace the Romans publicly humiliated and tortured to death enemies of state precisely in order to keep the peace.  [The historical] Jesus was condemned not for blasphemy, not for cleansing the temple, not for irritating the Sadducees, not for bad-mouthing the Pharisees, not for … well, not for anything but one thing.  He was crucified for calling himself the King of the Jews.  Only Romans could appoint the King.  If Jesus thought he himself was going to be the King, for the Romans this would have been a declaration of war (since he would have to usurp their power and authority to have himself installed as king) (I’m talking about how Romans would have interpreted Jesus’ claim to be king, not what he himself may have meant by it).  They may have found it astounding, if not pathetic, that this unknown peasant from the rural hinterlands would be imagining that he could overthrow Roman rule in Judea.  But Romans didn’t much care if someone was a megalomaniac, a feasible charismatic preacher, or a bona-fide soldier in arms.  If the person declared “war” on Rome – which a claim to being the King amounted to – the Romans knew how to deal with him.  He would be publicly tortured and humiliated, left to rot on a cross so everyone could see what happens to someone who thinks he can cross the power of Rome.  There was no mercy and no reprieve.  And there was no decent burial, precisely because there was no mercy or reprieve in cases such as this.  After the point was made – after time, the elements, and the scavengers had done their work – the body could be dumped into some kind of pit or common grave.   But not until the humiliation and the punishment were complete.  Yes, it’s true that in Jesus’ day, the country was not in armed rebellion against Rome.  There was a general peace.  But this is the very reason *why* there was peace.   Would-be offenders – insurrectionists, political enemies, guerilla warriors, rival kings, enemies of the state – were brought face to face with the power of Rome in a very gruesome way, and most people, who for as a rule preferred very much not to be food for the birds and dogs, stayed in line as a result. In sum, even if Josephus is stating a general practice [of burying crucified criminals] among Jews (I’m not sure we can trust that he is.  But even if he is), it is not a practice that applied to times of war or threats of war.  As we have seen repeatedly in the past three weeks, it did not apply to enemies of the state.  Jesus was an enemy of the state, crucified for calling himself King of the Jews.

According to the New Testament, specifically the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, after Jesus was crucified, his body was taken down from the cross. Joseph of Arimathea, described as a rich man and a disciple of Jesus, requested and was granted permission by Pontius Pilate to take the body. In Matthew, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth and placed it in his own new tomb which was cut out of rock (Matthew 27:57-60, Mark 15:43-46, Luke 23:50-53, John 19:38-42). Nicodemus also helped by bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes to prepare the body (John 19:39). This account suggests a burial that, while rushed due to the impending Sabbath, still adhered to Jewish burial customs to some extent. In first-century Jewish practice, bodies were typically washed, anointed with spices or oils, and wrapped in linen before being buried in a tomb, often one designed for a family. The body would be placed in a niche or on a shelf within the tomb. After decomposition, bones might be collected and placed in an ossuary. The Gospels’ depiction aligns with these practices, though the preparation seems abbreviated due to the Sabbath restrictions.

Archaeologists have found numerous tombs from the period around Jerusalem, some of which resemble what might be described in the Gospels. However, the specifics of Jesus’ burial cannot be directly verified through archaeology. Critics argue that crucifixion victims were often left on the cross or thrown into common graves. Some scholars and historians argue that the Gospel narratives might have been influenced by theological motives, aiming to fulfill Old Testament prophecies or to legitimize early Christian beliefs. They suggest that the burial might have been less ceremonial or that the body might have been disposed of in a manner not recorded.

Now, some scholars propose that Mark might have used an existing passion narrative as a core around which he built his Gospel. This idea suggests that the basic structure of the passion story (the events leading up to Jesus’ death and burial) was already in circulation before Mark wrote his Gospel. This is supported by the observation that the passion narrative in Mark has a different style or focus compared to the rest of the Gospel, which might indicate Mark’s use of an earlier source

Literary studies of Mark show a deliberate progression towards the passion narrative, with thematic and structural elements that seem to point towards the crucifixion as the climax of the narrative. The use of Greek grammar, vocabulary, and foreshadowing in Mark’s Gospel is often noted as driving the narrative towards this conclusion, which might imply an initial focus on the passion story. However, not all scholars agree with the pre-Markan passion narrative hypothesis. Critics argue that the stylistic and thematic consistencies throughout Mark’s Gospel suggest a more unified composition by a single author rather than an accretion of different sources. Mark’s use of Greek, including frequent use of the conjunction “και” (and), is seen by some as characteristic of his writing style across the entire Gospel, not just the passion narrative.

In any case, I think what we can claim is the crucifixion is the central focal point in Mark, but the oddity for a Pauline Mark text is that the resurrection is only there as an afterthought, and mainly seems to be indicating that God vindicated Jesus and his followers from charges of criminality by Rome and the Jewish high council (the young man in the tomb, who was seen by society naked and as guilty as the naked Adam at the arrest, shows up in the tomb as purely dressed). Why? It seems that the climax was the crucifixion and conversion of the soldier at the cross.

In ancient literature, one theme we often see that is also in modern writing is misdirection, thinking the climax will be one thing when it actually turns out to be something else. There are many examples both ancient and modern.

For example, Oedipus Rex by Sophocles is often cited as a classic example of Greek tragedy, the climax might be seen as the moment when Oedipus discovers his true identity (that he has killed his father and married his mother). However, the traditional climax in terms of narrative tension might be considered the point where Oedipus blinds himself, an act not typically anticipated by the audience. The revelation of his actions is surprising, and rather than a physical confrontation, the climax centers on a psychological and moral one.

For another example, in the Iliad by Homer while the Iliad is full of battles, the moment where one might expect a climactic battle to resolve the central conflict does not occur. Instead, a significant emotional climax is when Hector says goodbye to his wife Andromache and son Astyanax, knowing he might not return from battle. This scene, laden with foreboding and pathos, subverts expectations by focusing on personal tragedy rather than the outcome of the war itself.

As I said, despite the power of the cross, for Paul you are saved through the resurrection. This is reiterated in Roman’s 10:9, “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” The above examples illustrate how ancient literature often used climaxes not just for plot resolution but to delve deeper into themes of fate, morality, and human emotion, which can sometimes lead to climaxes that are less about action and more about revelation or emotional impact. The climax in Mark is not the cross and resurrection, but the cross and conversion of the soldier. Mark thus notes the focal point should not be the resurrection. As Ehrman notes, Mark starts his gospel by Jesus calling people to repent and proclaiming the Kingdom is imminent – not his death and resurrection. Jesus calls people to metanoia, which is a Greek word that means “repent and believe”. It’s a call to change one’s mind and way of life, and to be transformed by Christ. In Mark 1:15, Jesus says, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom (commonwealth) of God has come near, repent (metanoeite), and believe in [this] good news”. Metanoia is a lifelong process of conversion and transformation. Metanoia is a call to think and act in a new way, and to shift loyalty from the current social and political establishment to God’s new reality. Lactantius (250-325) thus noted:

“…For he who repents of what he has done understands his former error; and for this reason the Greeks better and more significantly use the word metanoia than we can express in Latin with resipiscentia. For one who is grieved for his error returns to his right mind, as if recovering it from madness; he reproves himself for his foolishness, and strengthens his mind to live more rightly: and then, he is especially careful not to fall again into the same snares. (Div. Inst., lib. 6, cap. 24, 6)”

Moreover, the story of the rich young man shows he will be saved by following the law and giving all his money to the poor, not Jesus’ death and resurrection. We see something similar with the story of the sheep and goats in Matthew. Gethsemane shows Jesus did not think he needed to die to fulfill God’s plan. What we seem to have in Mark is a window into the historical Jesus amidst Mark’s Pauline influence; or in other words, in Plutarch’s language, the “Parallel Lives” of (i) Paul’s Jesus and by contrast (ii) The Historical Jesus. Mark thus presents a Pauline Jesus while leaving traces of a “twin Jesus” that works against the Pauline paradigm of the resurrection.

In other words, it’s irony and maybe even satire. We see this figurative “twinning” of Jesus or Jesus having a twin in certain later apocryphal and Gnostic texts. In the diverse early Christian landscape, with its numerous sects and beliefs, the concept of Jesus having a twin could also be seen as part of the cultural storytelling where figures often had counterparts or reflections, much like in other mythologies where gods or heroes have twins. This might not be intended to be taken literally but as a part of the broader narrative or theological discourse. “Thomas Didymus” in the Gospel of John does indeed mean “twin.” The name “Thomas” comes from the Aramaic word te’oma, which means “twin.” Similarly, “Didymus” is the Greek word for “twin.” Hence, “Thomas Didymus” literally translates to “Thomas the Twin” or “Twin Twin.” This is explicitly noted in John 11:16, 20:24, and 21:2 where Thomas is introduced as “Thomas called the Twin” or “Thomas called Didymus.” He could represent the Apostle Paul, Thomas, also known as “Doubting Thomas” because of his initial disbelief in Jesus’s resurrection (John 20:24-29), just as Christian persecutor Paul/Saul initially didn’t believe the resurrection.

The original ending of Mark is abrupt, with a “Pauline-like” caricature of women fleeing from the tomb in fear and silence, which some scholars interpret as a satirical or ironic commentary on human response to divine revelation – perhaps suggesting disbelief or the irony of humans missing the point of Jesus’ resurrection. Mark uses irony, hyperbole, and other rhetorical strategies which might align with satirical techniques and serve to convey theological truths or critique societal norms

For just a few examples, the frequent use of irony in the passion narrative, particularly during Jesus’ trial and crucifixion, might be seen as a form of satire. For instance, the mocking of Jesus as “King of the Jews” by Roman soldiers (Mark 15:16-20) juxtaposes their derision with the Christian belief in Jesus’ true kingship, highlighting the ignorance and irony of their actions. This could be interpreted as a critique of Roman power and the Jewish leadership’s betrayal.

Mark portrays the religious leaders (scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees) in a way that often highlights their hypocrisy or misunderstanding of the law and scripture. Jesus’ confrontations with these figures, like in Mark 7:1-23 where he criticizes their adherence to tradition over the actual teachings of the Torah, could be seen as a satirical critique of religious hypocrisy. As I’ve discussed previously, Jesus’ corrupt trial by the Jewish high council on Passover eve, like Jesus’ tantrum at the huge, highly guarded temple, scream satire.

Some of Jesus’ parables in Mark could be read with a satirical tone, especially when critiquing the social or religious norms of the time. For example, the Parable of the Vineyard (Mark 12:1-12) where the tenants kill the owner’s son, can be seen as a pointed critique of the religious leaders who reject Jesus, the son in the parable.

Regarding a relationship between Mark and themes in Plutarch like crucified Cleomenes III and the snake, this can be broadened to the point that there are similarities in style and structure between the works of Plutarch and the Gospel literature, particularly in how they both focus on the character and moral lessons rather than strictly historical narratives. For instance, Plutarch, known for his “Parallel Lives,” where he compares Greek and Roman figures, wrote biographies intended to highlight moral and ethical lessons. Similarly, the Gospels aim to convey the life and teachings of Jesus with an emphasis on moral and spiritual guidance rather than comprehensive historical detail.

An analysis by scholars often points to the biographical style of the second century, where the focus was less on citing sources and more on the moral character and deeds of the subjects, a style that can be seen in both Plutarch’s works and the Gospels. This is discussed in contexts where scholars compare the narrative techniques of ancient biographers like Plutarch to those of the New Testament authors, suggesting that the Gospel writers followed a similar biographical convention of focusing on character and moral lessons over detailed historical citation. The methodological similarities in how both Plutarch and the Gospel writers approached their subjects indicate a shared cultural and literary tradition of biography in antiquity.

FOR MY INDEX OF RECENT HISTORICAL JESUS POSTS, SEE “The Next Quest for the Historical Jesus (2024)” Anthology by James Crossley (Editor), Chris Keith (Editor) – FINAL Updated Blogging Index