Humor has been described as an ‘inherent characteristic of our species’,Footnote 1 a ‘universal aspect of human experience, occurring in all cultures and virtually all individuals throughout the world’.Footnote 2 Not surprisingly, the subject has been a topic of inquiry in fields ranging from sociology, psychology, and classics to linguistics, memory studies, and artificial intelligence.Footnote 3 Yet despite its disciplinary transcendence, humor has rarely been discussed as a biblical phenomenon. Moreover, when the subject has been addressed, the tendency has been to minimize, if not deny, the very existence of humor in the biblical tradition. Alfred Whitehead, for instance, once claimed that ‘the total absence of humour from the Bible is one of the most singular things in all of literature’.Footnote 4 Ralph Wood concedes that it is ‘not without cause’ that the Bible ‘has been called the world's least amusing book, a sober-minded tome whose black covers convey its essential mood and vision’.Footnote 5 Even more poignantly, John Morreall has argued ‘that the God of the Bible has no sense of humor’ and that ‘if the Scriptures are God's revelation of himself and his will for human beings, humor has no place in God or in his plan for human beings’.Footnote 6
While one might wish to label these remarks ‘extreme’—an isolated denunciation of biblical humor—a similar perspective is adopted in a recent monograph by Stephen Halliwell entitled Greek Laughter.Footnote 7 Most relevant to the present discussion is Halliwell's final chapter—‘Laughter Denied, Laughter Deferred’—in which the author traces the ‘strongly antigelastic current’ in the works of Clement of Alexandria, John Chrysostom, and Basil of Caesarea. Halliwell concludes that, though attitudes varied, laughter in the early church was often regarded as ‘an echo of the voice of the devil’ or, at the very least, ‘a deeply troubling feature of mankind's fallen state’.Footnote 8 In comparison with the wider Greco-Roman world, Halliwell suggests that ‘for many Christians, much of the time, there must have been an awkward discrepany [sic] between condemnations of (most) laughter and the lived actuality of their ordinary social lives’.Footnote 9
On the one hand, Halliwell provides a helpful context for understanding the stigmatization of humor in the developing world of Christianity. On the other, the analysis perpetuates a longstanding view by assuming that the perspective adopted by the Fathers is derived from the NT. Halliwell asserts that ‘the evidence of the New Testament as a whole suggests the activation of a general suspicion of laughter’,Footnote 10 because ‘nowhere in the New Testament is anyone depicted as smiling or laughing benignly’. According to Halliwell, the Fathers deduced from this ‘austere moral outlook’ that humor lacks ‘any worthwhile place’ in the Christian community.Footnote 11 At issue is Halliwell's failure to engage a dimension of ancient media—namely, the aesthetic exchange that takes place between audience and performer. Halliwell evaluates the NT (particularly the Gospels) by asking whether persons within the text are depicted in a state of laughter. This, however, is an entirely different question from asking whether the NT evokes a humorous response. If the former were the standard for verbal humor, much of what we regard as comedy would need re-classification. Though Greek Laughter is an impressive volume that is rich with insight, Halliwell uncritically assumes that the perspective adopted by the Fathers originates in the writings of the NT, without evidencing adequate concern for the performance arena.
This sample of perspectives illustrates what has been consistently documented throughout the annals of history: at best Christianity and humor have been ‘estranged bedfellows’, at worst bitter enemies.Footnote 12 This, of course, is not to imply that biblical scholars have always agreed with this assessment. Various studies have entertained the subject, exploring the use of humor in the Hebrew Bible, or, in the case of the NT, the parables of Jesus.Footnote 13 However, the impact of these studies has been minimal as evidenced by the paucity of references to terms such as humor, laughter, and comedy in the works of biblical scholars. If the omission is at all suggestive, there appears to be a broad but silent consensus that the Bible in general, and the Gospels in particular, are devoid of humor or comedic vision.
In view of this lacuna, the objective of this article is to explore a single but suggestive text that demonstrates how the Gospel of Mark was crafted for comedic effect. By focusing on the use of humor in Mark's third sea crossing (8.14–21), it will be shown that humor was embraced and utilized by the earliest followers of Jesus. Unlike previous discussions, this study attempts to avoid what one leading theorist terms the chief ‘sin’ by advancing the discussion in conversation with established theories of humor. In addition, whereas others have been content to identify particular instances of humor, the aim of this study is to discern not only if humor is present in Mark, but how it functions within the oral and performative milieu in which the Gospel circulated.
1. Mark and the General Theory of Verbal Humor (GTVH)
Assessing whether Mark's portrayal of the disciples is intended to evoke a comedic response may seem like a daunting task. A joke that one person considers funny may be dull or childish to another. Moreover, beyond the vagaries of individual preference, scholars have long observed that humor is shaped and/or determined by socio-cultural factors.Footnote 14 For the interpreter of the NT, these issues are only exacerbated by historical distance. Nearly two millennia removed from the first performances of Mark, some might question whether it is even possible to discern the participatory cues from a fossilized text.
Although it is important to acknowledge these complexities, the issues are not insurmountable. First, though attitudes towards laughter varied across Greco-Roman culture, the Jesus traditions emerged in an ethos that generally encouraged the use of humor, often in unusual ways. In a paraphrase of Theophrastus's On Comedy, Athenaeus (Deipn. 6.261d–e), for instance, describes how the Tirynthians suffered from an excessive addiction to laughter that interfered with normal societal activities.Footnote 15 Even more striking is that humor was often encouraged in religious settings. Halliwell argues that ‘laughter not only arises inside a context of religious [ceremonies]…but appears to be invited and expected at certain junctures’.Footnote 16 Though foreign to modern interpreters, ritual laughter was an ‘undeniable’ and acceptable practice in Greco-Roman worship during the period in which Mark's Gospel emerged.Footnote 17 This is not to suggest a one-to-one correspondence between Greco-Roman worship practices and the community or communities that were influenced by the Second Gospel. It does indicate, however, that laughter was a constituent element of the social world that enveloped the composition, transmission, and performance of Mark's Gospel.
Second, while it is impossible to predict an individual's response to a comedic event, such a conclusion does not rule out the possibility of identifying comedic intent in Mark's Gospel. Over the last twenty-five years Victor Raskin and Salvatore Attardo have established themselves as leading scholars in the discussion of humor and, together, are responsible for articulating the General Theory of Verbal Humor (GTVH).Footnote 18 Stated succinctly, the primary objective of the GTVH is to identify ‘the necessary and sufficient linguistic conditions for [a]…text to be funny’.Footnote 19 Based upon ‘a variety of literatures, media, situations, and historical periods’, the methodological approach adopted by Raskin and Attardo allows for the application of the theory across a wide array of contexts, irrespective of social location.Footnote 20 In this respect, the GTVH is particularly well suited for identifying potential traces of humor in any number of textual artifacts, including the narrative framework of Mark's Gospel. While there is much work to be done in the field of humor studies, the GTVH offers a working model that delineates the salient features of humorous texts and provides a theoretical basis for assessing Mark's portrayal of the disciples.
Given the constraints of this study, the following will focus on one aspect of Raskin and Attardo's theory.Footnote 21 The centerpiece of the GTVH is the notion of script opposition, which entails two elements that ‘any humorous text will present’.Footnote 22 First, a humorous text must be compatible with two overlapping scripts. From a technical standpoint a script is a ‘complex of information about some entity’ such as an object, event, action, quality, etc., or at a more basic level the lexical meaning associated with a word.Footnote 23 This is not the trigger or ‘cause’ of the humorous event since multiple scripts are endemic to metaphors, allegories, allusions, and a host of other devices, which are not necessarily humorous. That a text is ‘compatible, fully or in part, with two different scripts’ is an indispensible component of verbal humor.Footnote 24 Second, a humorous text must not only contain overlapping scripts, the two scripts must also be oppositional or conflicting since it is out of this incongruity that the comedic effect is generated.Footnote 25 Although jokes and humorous literature often cluster around particular themes and ideas, Raskin and Attardo make no attempt to define the content that typifies comedic material, since humor is a culture-specific phenomenon. Instead, the GTVH outlines the general classes of scripts in a broadly conceived fashion. According to Raskin, script opposition typically falls into one of three relational categories, including actual vs. non-actual, normal vs. abnormal, and possible vs. impossible.Footnote 26 Though particular instantiations of humor vary from culture to culture, the classes of script oppositions are fairly universal and, as Attardo argues, ‘it is unlikely that any culture would present a different list of [the] three types’.Footnote 27
Mark's third and final sea crossing (8.14–21) begins with a statement that conjures up multiple and opposing scripts and is intended to inspire spontaneous laughter in performance. The scene begins with the narrator's aside that the disciples ‘had forgotten to take bread [ἄρτος] and did not have more than one loaf in the boat with them’. Taken in isolation, the assertion might appear to be an innocuous piece of background information that sets up the ensuing dialogue. But a careful analysis reveals that the statement is a humorous jab line that exposes the disciples' paradoxical misunderstanding.Footnote 28
Crucial to the comedic value of the scene is recognizing that the lexeme ἄρτος functions to activate two overlapping and competing scripts both of which operate as underlying oppositions in the bread section (chs. 6–8), as well as the larger narrative. The competing scripts of understanding and misunderstanding are developed at length throughout Mark's Gospel and are consistently associated with the development of the bread motif. For instance, during the first feeding (6.31–44), the disciples rightly demonstrate concern for the hungry crowds, petitioning Jesus to send the people away. At the same time, however, they exhibit profound confusion about their participation in satisfying the crowd's need. Although the concepts of understanding and misunderstanding are not made explicit from a lexical perspective, they are nonetheless inferred through the actions of the disciples and Jesus' stated expectations (‘You give them something to eat’, 6.37). Perhaps more significantly, what reinforces this interpretation is that the scripts are explicitly evoked in the subsequent scene when the disciples are commanded to go to the other side of the sea (6.45). After the disciples struggle to make headway, a water-walking Jesus enters the boat and quells the winds—at which point the narrator informs the audience that the disciples had ‘not understood about the loaves’ (οὐ γὰρ συνῆκαν ἐπὶ τοῖς ἄρτοις, 6.51). Along with the second feeding episode (8.1–9), similar confusion punctuates the discussion of bread when the topic arises in relation to the Pharisees and scribes, who question Jesus about eating with unwashed hands (7.1–13). Through Jesus' teaching on defilement (7.14–23) and the symbolic healing of the deaf man (7.31–37), the language and imagery of comprehension lingers across the section and reinforces the notion that, despite the particular topic of inquiry or conflict, the scripts function as an important undercurrent of the narrative. In theoretical terms, each occurrence of the ἄρτος script invariably activates two opposing scripts. These ‘main scripts’ are not only instantiated through the explicit reference to bread in 8.14, but are operative throughout much of the narrative, and may be inferred without recourse to particular lexematic handles.Footnote 29 By the third sea crossing, the ἄρτος script is already well established through the miraculous feedings (6.31–44; 8.1–9), as well as through the story of the Syrophoenician woman (7.24–30).
Thus in 8.14, when the storyteller informs the audience that the disciples had not taken any bread for the journey, the listener is already cognizant of the associated scripts. As suggested by the GTVH, the activation of multiple scripts is a signature component of the comedic event. The humorous response emerges from the striking and seemingly irreconcilable bifurcation between the disciples' actions and experience. Despite a privileged relationship, despite being chosen to be ‘with him’ (μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ, 3.14), despite witnessing and even participating in miraculous works, despite being given the ‘mysteries of the kingdom’ (4.11), the disciples remain uncertain about Jesus' identity, as well as the benefits of their unique relationship.Footnote 30 Indeed, it is not unusual for commentators to label the disciples ‘dull’,Footnote 31 ‘impenetrable’,Footnote 32 ‘ignorant’,Footnote 33 ‘clue[less]’,Footnote 34 ‘oblivious’,Footnote 35 or ‘dim-witted’.Footnote 36 What is unusual, in view of these titular descriptions, is the failure to recognize the humorous effect. Not only does the scene evidence the necessary script opposition, but the characterization of the disciples follows an ancient practice identified in the Tractatus Coislinianus, a Greek text generally regarded to be in the Aristotelian tradition (possibly even a summary of Aristotle's lost treatise on comedy).Footnote 37 In particular, the Tractatus Coislinianus defines comedy as ‘an imitation of an action that is ludicrous and imperfect’ and, though it takes many forms, often arises from characters who are impostors, self-deprecators, or buffoons. Although brief, the description provides a fitting assessment of the Markan disciples, whom scholars have long regarded as ‘simpletons’ or ‘buffoons’.Footnote 38 As many theorists have observed, the exaggerated depiction of these character types accentuates the incongruities of the narrative and is a staple of comedic material.Footnote 39
That Mark intends to elicit a humorous response is further reinforced by the ensuing dialogue. Jesus' warning to the disciples—to watch out for the leaven of the Pharisees and Herod (v. 15)—sparks a reply from the Twelve that is completely off the mark and is difficult to regard as anything but a humorous jab line (v. 16).Footnote 40 Similar to the episode involving the Syrophoenician woman (7.24–30), Jesus' use of bread-related terminology cannot refer to physical bread. But, unlike the Syrophoenician woman who correctly understands the parabolic language, the disciples interpret the remark in a literal fashion. So perplexed are the disciples that they must ‘discuss…[the] matter in some detail’ (διαλογίζομαι, v. 16)Footnote 41 only to conclude that they had ‘no bread’ (ἄρτους οὐκ ἔχουσιν, v. 16). The scene is so absurd and the response so preposterous that some commentators have posited a complete disconnect between Jesus' warning in v. 15 and the disciples' reaction in v. 16. The assumption is that the disciples simply ‘ignore Jesus’ words in the previous verse'Footnote 42 or because of ‘their concern for bread…failed to hear Jesus’ question about the leaven'.Footnote 43 The problem, however, is that this interpretation explains away the primary thrust of the scene by legitimizing the disciples' absurd behavior, when, in fact, the point is to accentuate the absurdity. Beyond the blatant confusion, Mark's account is doubly humorous because the disciples fail to realize that they did possess a single loaf (v. 14), despite having concluded that they ‘had no bread’!Footnote 44 The textured web of perplexity and confusion is palpable and once again the humor emerges out of the gap between what the disciples should have understood and what they actually perceived. Nonetheless, it is through this interpretive void that the comedic seeds take root.
The use of humor in Mark's Gospel is distinguished by the overlapping and conflicting scripts in conjunction with the repeated portrayal of the disciples, but the overall effect is enhanced by the medium of performance. Research has shown that individuals are thirty times more likely to laugh in a social context than by themselves.Footnote 45 Because of the dynamic, aesthetic exchange that takes place between audience and performer, Triezenberg has argued that oral discourse ‘sets up a general disposition to laugh at and enjoy almost anything, including a great many things that would be practically unrecognizable as humor’.Footnote 46 Thus, if the literary remains of Mark 8.14–21 reflect a humorous foundation, as they appear to, the likelihood of an affiliative audience response is multiplied in performance. Considering the appreciation of humor in the ancient world, the underlying script oppositions, the exaggerated characterization of the disciples, and the implications of performance, it is not difficult to imagine a humorous response to Mark's third sea crossing. The disciples may have been adrift at various junctures of the narrative, but their depiction appears to have been strategically orchestrated for comedic enjoyment.
2. The Function(s) of Humor in Mark 8.14–21
Among commentators, the third sea crossing is rarely described as a humorous affair.Footnote 47 More frequently, scholars focus on the ironic tension in the narrative. For example, Stephen Smith, in his narrative commentary on the Second Gospel, argues that 8.14–21 represents a form of dramatic irony that ‘arises when the audience (or reader) shares with the author a knowledge of a situation of which one or more of the characters in the story-world is ignorant’.Footnote 48 Likewise, in the most extensive discussion of irony in Mark's Gospel, Jerry Camery-Hoggatt describes the scene in a similar fashion: ‘How ironic it is that the disciples—possessors of the mystery of the kingdom—should fail even to understand the warning against blindness!… The failure of the disciples even to understand the warning considerably sharpens the irony here.’Footnote 49
While these interpretations identify the basic incongruities of the narrative, they potentially confuse the intended rhetorical effect. Assessing the characterization of the disciples is an important feature of the communicative exchange that takes place in the performative arena. But to describe the scene as ironic, without further explanation, oversimplifies the dynamics of participatory response, as well as the means through which the narrative shapes audience perspective.Footnote 50 Unfortunately, most who classify the sea crossing as ‘ironic’ do so without any mention of the comedic elements, reinforcing an all-too-frequent conclusion about the NT and potentially distorting the scene's rhetorical function, as well as the affect laughter has upon the reception of the narrative.
The question for consideration in this final section is why Mark uses humor in the third sea crossing. If the characterization of the disciples has been scripted in order to provoke laughter, what purpose does this serve, particularly in a narrative imbued with conflict and drama? To this point, the discussion has focused on lexical and semantic theories in order to identify the characteristics of humor in the textual remains of the Gospel. What follows will consider the social and psychological implications of humor for an audience of listeners, experiencing the Gospel as an aural performance.Footnote 51
Two widely established theories in the literature understand humor as an expression of superiority or relief. The superiority theory dates as far back as Plato and Aristotle and represents one of the oldest perspectives on the subject. Though occasionally self-directed, the superiority theory maintains that humor is typically derived at another's expense.Footnote 52 Often arising from a perceived arrogance or elevated status, laughter exposes the inadequacies of another individual, based upon the accepted standards of a society or group. Thomas Hobbes, a later proponent of the theory, observed that ‘the passion of laughter is nothing else but sudden glory arising from some sudden conception of some eminency in ourselves, by comparison with the infirmity of others’ (Human Nature 9.13).
In comparison to the superiority theory, the relief theory offers a different focal point for the analysis of humor. Rather than emphasizing the social implications of humor, the relief theory singles out the physical mechanics and psychological benefits of laughter. As the name indicates, the relief theory proposes that laughter has a cathartic function, allowing the individual to discharge excess and often negative emotional energy.Footnote 53 Through the rush of the vocal apparatus, the body is able to dissipate emotional strain resulting in a heightened sense of relaxation and enjoyment. In this respect, laughter has a therapeutic value and, understandably, has been a popular subject among those in the fields of medicine and psychology.Footnote 54
Historically, the superiority and relief theories have often been regarded as antithetical, but scholars have begun to recognize that no single theory provides an adequate model. As Raskin observes, ‘while the history of humor research has been marked by a great deal of fighting, with loud claims and counterclaims, examples and counter-examples’, the theories ‘are not at all incompatible’ and may even ‘supplement each other quite nicely’.Footnote 55 Interestingly, both theories appear to be operative in Mark's depiction of the third sea crossing.
Beyond signaling a ‘climactic summary’Footnote 56 in the broader narrative, humor facilitates the storyteller's underlying objective by functioning as a bridge between vv. 14–16 and vv. 17–21. The emotional shift is sharp, for what begins as comedy and the glaring foibles of the disciples concludes with a barrage of stern, rhetorical questions. Many commentators have noted that the latter is particularly harsh and echoes various passages in the Hebrew Bible that describe rebellious Israel (e.g., Ps 95.8; Isa 6.9–10; 63.17; Jer 5.21), as well as the intra-textual references associating the disciples' hardened hearts with those of the religious leaders (cf. 3.5; 6.52). Coupled with Mark's frequently negative portrayal of the disciples, many have argued that the evangelist is engaged in a polemical strategy to drive audience sympathy away from, if not against, the disciples. Of the more radical approaches, Weeden, Kelber, and Crossan have each argued that Mark makes a concerted effort to undermine the disciples. For example, Weeden suggests that Mark has constructed a ‘carefully formulated’ polemic in order ‘to disgrace and debunk the disciples’.Footnote 57 Others have advanced a more nuanced approach, suggesting, for instance, that Mark's treatment of the disciples makes it ‘increasingly difficult for the reader to identify with the disciples’.Footnote 58 Regardless of the particulars, these (disassociation) theories confuse the rhetoric and fail to recognize that Mark's depiction of the disciples has the opposite effect. The episode begins by targeting the disciples, but the scene concludes by fully associating the audience with the disciples.
To appreciate the accomplishment of this audience-participating technique it is necessary to consider how performance alters the way the narrative is experienced. Scholars working in the Gospels have traditionally relied upon hermeneutical methods derived from literary theories whose conception of the interpretive process is based upon the practice of silent reading. In this schematization, the characters and narrator represent voices inside the reader's head, distilled through chirographic representations on the printed page. In a first-century performance, however, it was not uncommon for the storyteller to embody the characters, presenting the dialogue as one of the participants in the narrative.Footnote 59 Through such performances, often quite bombastic and evocative by contemporary standards, the characters in the narrative actually came to life, albeit through the flesh and blood of the performer.
Of the many potential implications of this observation, it is important to note that the dynamics of performance make it possible for the performer to engage in direct audience address. Unlike the act of silent reading where a narrator must intrude upon the story to ‘let the reader understand’ (13.14), it is unnecessary for a storyteller to rely upon these techniques in order to communicate explicitly with the audience.Footnote 60 Merely by adjusting the storyteller's visual orientation, it is possible to change the identity of the audience and to engage in direct address. Rather than adopting an on-stage focus as though the primary dialogue were between characters on a performative stage, at times the storyteller may adopt an off-stage focus, thereby directly involving the audience in the unfolding narrative.Footnote 61 Thus, as Boomershine explains, ‘when the storyteller “becomes” a character, often Jesus, and addresses another character in the story…the audience is in turn invited to “become” that other character listening to and interacting with Jesus for the duration of that address’.Footnote 62
The latter portion of Mark's third sea crossing provides a natural opportunity for audience address since the episode corresponds with numerous instances in the narrative where the storyteller, as Jesus, speaks directly to the audience, as the disciples.Footnote 63 In addition, the scene (vv. 17–21) represents a ‘period’ in the Greek text (a segment of two or more sentences) and therefore provides sufficient time for the audience to ‘take on’ the role of the disciples.Footnote 64
On the surface, it might appear that Jesus' rebuke of the disciples is in conflict with the response generated by the script opposition. In vv. 14–16, the target of Mark's humor is the disciples and, according to the superiority theory, the audience enjoys the comedic situation by possessing a vantage point above, beyond, and in many respects distinct from the Twelve. Because the audience understands the absurdity of the situation and the disciples' repeated propensity to misunderstand, they are able to enjoy the depiction by engaging in laughter at the expense of the Twelve. But if humor emerges out of the audience's distinction from the disciples in vv. 14–16, does this not contradict the notion that Jesus addresses the audience as the disciples in vv. 17–21? Though it might appear that the situation creates an interpretive conundrum, it is out of this paradox that the rhetorical power of the episode is exploited.
In the context of 8.14–21, laughter is the mechanism that at once places the audience in a position beyond the disciples yet simultaneously prepares for the direct address in the following verses. The rapid vacillation, both in emotional tone and audience identity, is facilitated by the gelastic response evoked through the portrayal of the disciples. While the audience enjoys Mark's jocular probing of the disciples, the act of laughing guides audience perspective. Indeed, Mark has deliberately narrated the episode in order to bait the audience into temporarily disassociating from the disciples. The irresistibly silly depiction of the Twelve, debating what is readily discernible to the audience, forces the observer to stand apart from the Twelve. But at the very moment when the audience might be prone to exalt themselves over and against the disciples, Mark orchestrates a reversal that forces the audience to recognize their fidelity with the Twelve.
Immediately after the storyteller lures the audience into the comedic interlude, Mark turns the tables in dramatic fashion. Lest the audience assume that they are beyond the miscues of the disciples, the storyteller shifts to an off-stage focus, launching an array of rhetorical questions intended to address any would-be feelings of audience superiority. Issued in the character of Jesus, the rebuke of the Twelve becomes a direct rebuke of the audience (who have taken on the role of the disciples in the closing verses of the scene [vv. 17–21]). Although the words of Jesus correspond to the unfolding narrative, the drama of the performance allows the storyteller to collapse the narrative and contemporary worlds, thereby blurring the interpretive boundaries of the story.Footnote 65 The generalized tone of Jesus' reply (as well as the second person verbs) is idyllic for the narrative of direct address: ‘Do you not yet perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Having eyes do you not see, and having ears do you not hear?’
What prepares for this rapid transition is Mark's deliberate use of humor. As indicated by the relief theory, laughter has a disarming effect that establishes the conditions for a more authentic experience of the narrative. According to Quintilian, laughter ‘often turns the scale in very important matters’ and ‘frequently dispels’ negative emotions (Inst. 6.3.9).Footnote 66 Though humor often results in laughter, it is not the sole function of the comedic event. In a carefully constructed performance, laughter may help to purge the listener of unhelpful attitudes in order to focus attention on non-humorous material. When juxtaposed with serious discourse, humor encourages a disposition that inclines the laugher to consider matters of a more significant nature. In this respect, the power of humor lies in its ability to facilitate audience engagement. Instructively, some have suggested that humor and laughter have a preconditioning function that allows one to more readily engage matters of significance, or in a religious context, ‘truth’.Footnote 67
In Mark, it is all too easy to laugh at the Twelve. Because the audience stands on the other side of the narrative and are readily aware of Jesus' true identity, the Twelve frequently come across as foolish. However, though the scene begins at a critical distance from the disciples, the storyteller encourages the audience, as the disciples, to reflect upon their own frailty. Burdened by the strain of living in an agrarian society, and faced with the uncertainties between the Christ-event and parousia, where much of the narrative remains unknown, Mark recognizes that all disciples—at some point—‘have forgotten to take bread’. Just as it was for the first disciples, the journey of faith is fraught with obstacles and hardships for all disciples. To resist becoming encumbered by the ‘cares of this world’ (4.19), Mark challenges the audience with a provocative series of questions, culminating with an elegantly simple but understated query: ‘Do you not yet understand’? The scene concludes with such intensity that, while the questions about the leftover pieces (vv. 19b and 20b) may be additional jab lines, it is also possible that the identification with the disciples is so intertwined that the storyteller elicits the response directly from the audience.
The stylization of Mark's third sea crossing is brilliant, evoking a powerful response that rapidly shifts from carefree laughter to silent contemplation. The centerpiece of the episode is Mark's skillful use of humor, which not only channels audience perspective, and enlightens the introductory tone of the scene, but also preconditions the audience for the remainder of the episode. The use of humor disarms the audience of any harmful emotions and facilitates the storyteller in addressing one of the central themes of the Gospel. Through the use of humor the audience is at one moment able to participate in the storyteller's wit; in the next, they are forced to accept that the laughter derived at the disciples' expense is, ultimately, a joke on them.
3. Conclusion
Throughout history, many have argued that the Bible is a non-humorous book. Indeed, the perspective is so well ingrained that some have argued for ‘an a priori incompatibility’ between the two.Footnote 68 While the view cannot be explained by appeal to an all-encompassing rationale, it may be that the perspective is rooted in scholarly presuppositions regarding the essence of biblical literature. The assumption is that because the Bible engages matters of life and faith, a concomitant seriousness must pervade its message. As Charles Baudelaire once affirmed, ‘Holy books never laugh, to whatever nations they belong’.Footnote 69 However, not only is this conclusion reductionistic, it is erroneous to assume that humor is antithetical to the spirit of the sacred page or at odds with material that is somber in tone. Such a perspective fails to consider how the use of humor contributes to the rhetorical purposes of the biblical authors.
It is certainly not the case that the biblical texts are humorous through and through, or that comedy is a primary motivation for every writer, but this article has endeavored to show that humor plays a vital role in Mark's account of the third sea crossing. For Mark, humor is not a means to elicit a cheap laugh at the expense of another. Rather, humor is a rhetorical and redemptive tool, intertwined with the theological underpinnings of the narrative and intended to evoke a dynamic audience response. If the Second Gospel is any indication, the earliest followers of Jesus were comfortable with the humorous incongruities and paradoxes of life, and—for the sake of a greater purpose—were even willing to poke fun at those who were pillars in the church. Christianity may have evolved in non-humorous trajectories, but the Gospel of Mark suggests it certainly did not begin this way.