The PN in Luke, Part I

For reasons of space in the title and because of Brown's use of the abbreviation, PN will be used to refer to "the passion narratives."

There are three gospel traditions of Jesus’s suffering and death in what Christians have long called “passion week.” [Footnote 1] I say three because the accounts of Matthew and Mark are so closely aligned that it makes more sense to call them a single tradition. Luke follows the pattern of Matthew and Mark, but makes substantial changes. It is those changes that will be the focus of this series of posts. John has an entirely different perspective, as he often does.

These reflections will be based on the work of Raymond E. Brown, The Death of the Messiah, Volumes 1 and II. All the exegesis and the suppositions are Brown’s. Where I am taking off on my own, I will say so.

I did my best to capture two moments of the passion narrative in the Matthean and Marcan tradition last year. I have attached it here, but it is long and difficult and it is as grim as Mark’s story is. I was hit very hard by the suffering of Jesus in that tradition. It is extreme and violent. The best translation Brown offers for the last sound Jesus makes on the cross is a “death scream.” Jesus is so distant from God in that tradition that he does not, at the end, address Him as “Father,” his normal address, but as “My God."

Luke follows the same sequence, but tells a different story. Let me start with a small detail from Jesus’ prayer. In Mark, Jesus “was falling on the earth” [Footnote 2] in the intensity of his grief. In Matthew, nearly the same, Jesus falls “on his face.” Same position, but less violently. In Luke, Jesus is not prostrate at all, but is kneeling in prayer.

Why this difference? The approach I am taking does not ask “What really happened?” I take it for granted that we cannot know that. I am asking, rather, “What is the story Luke is trying to tell us?” Most exegetes imagine that Luke had a copy of Mark before him (as Matthew did) and made the changes he needed to make to tell his story. That means that the most pointed inquiry can be put in the form of “Why did Luke change Mark’s account in this way particularly?”

Let’s look at another detail. How does Jesus pray that the cup pass from him? Brown summarizes the changes in the synoptic gospels like this. Matthew and Luke soften, in the preface to the prayer, just what the request is. Mark (14:36) has Jesus pray, “Abba, Father, all things are possible to you.” Matthew (26:39) has “My Father, if it is possible...” Luke has (22:42) “Father, if you desire…” It is the introduction of God’s desire (boulesthai) that marks Luke. It carries the tone of a preordained divine decision, somewhat more deliberate than thelein in Mark and Matthew. Thus, the Lucan Jesus is first of all concerned with the direction of the divine planning before he asks whether in the execution of that plan, the cup can be taken from him.”

For me, it is hard to feel the movement from thelein to boulesthai as significant. I can see it, but I can’t feel it. On the other hand, this is the second difference between the traditions we have noted and the difference between “falling prostrate” and “kneeling” moves in the same direction.
We see that same pattern in the response to Jesus’ impassioned prayers. In Mark, there is no response at all. Jesus begins his path to the cross without any notion of the “being in touch with the Father” that has marked his ministry. In Matthew, there is no response either, but Jesus as he leaves Gethsemane says, “Do you think that I am not able to call upon my Father, and He will at once supply me with more than twelve legions of angels?" Clearly, Jesus still feels “in touch;” he has not been abandoned. But in Luke, an angel comes to Jesus to strengthen him. Why?

It is hard for me to say this exactly. Jesus didn’t feel any relief as a result of the angel’s support. The next line, which I will look at in the next post, is “And being in agony, he was praying more earnestly. And his sweat became as if drops of blood falling down to the earth.” This is after the angel appears. There is not the slightest scent of “Thank God, the cavalry is here” about Jesus’ response.

There are two things of interest, nevertheless. The first is the sense of direction, as we saw in the previous examples. The movement from Mark to Matthew to Luke is, again, a straight line movement. The Lucan Jesus does not despair as does the Marcan Jesus. He is not abandoned. He gets help. [Footnote 3] The second is that, in Brown’s phrasing, “an angel from heaven appeared to him.” It made me wonder how to understand “appeared.” Does that mean that the angel was always there and that Jesus’ prayer allowed him to see the angel and receive strength? Does it mean that the angel was not there and then, as a result of Jesus’ prayer, he was there?

I don’t think that mattered to Luke, but it makes me wonder whether God responded to the prayer by allowing Jesus to see the provision He had made for him, where before, he could not see it.

In the next post, I would like to continue by looking at what the angel did for Jesus and how it fits into Luke’s story of what happened.

[Footnote 1] [Footnote 1] You can read a lot of modern English prose without discovering that the verb we use as the root of passion, the Latin pati means “to suffer.”

Footnote 2] That is an awkward translation, to be sure. Brown keeps his translation a little closer to the Greek because he will be relying on very small differences in his analysis.

[Footnote 3] It is worth noticing, however, that it is “help getting through the ordeal” that is offered. It is Jesus’ prayer, “Nevertheless, not my will but yours be done,” that allows him to receive the angel’s ministry as “help.” If Jesus had fixed himself, as I have done in some crucial times, on defining “help” as “getting me out of this mess,” we would have to say that Jesus received no help at all. That is not Luke’s story and if we prayed the way Jesus prayed, it would not be our story either.