new wineskins!"Mark
Following the premise that Mark’s Gospel was written first and referred to by Matthew and Luke, let’s begin by examining a few literary features of this book of the Bible. Scholars have long noticed that Jesus hits the ground running in Mark’s Gospel. One of the evangelist’s favorite words is “immediately,” which he uses to narrate Jesus’ movements and actions in rapid fire sequence. As a reader, I barely have time to catch my breath until, boom, Jesus is doing something different again! Some interpreters have understood this tendency as evidence that Mark was a sloppy story-teller or that he was juvenile, flailing out facts like a newborn’s startle reflex. But such conclusions miss the rhetorical point of his style.
While Mark narrates this good news in a breathless, almost frantic pace, his Gospel is not unsophisticated. It is composed like a series of front page headlines: “Extra, extra! Read all about it!” Jesus begins his ministry by announcing that the time has been fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near (Mark 1:14–15). From Mark 1:21 through 2:12, the healings and exorcisms that he performs witness to the power that God has unleashed on the world–boom! In Jesus, God is doing something fantastic, something new. This is especially relevant because our parable is prompted by a question about the traditional practice of fasting.
The in-breaking of God’s kingdom in the person of Jesus Christ affects everything in the world, including religious rituals and practices. As Pheme Perkins puts it, “Conventional rules do not apply.”1 In the Old Testament, the practice of fasting has a rich history as an example of both communal and personal devotion to God. The Law required fasting only on the Day of Atonement (Lev 16:1–34; 23:26–32; Num 29:7–11); however, there were other fast days added later in history (Ezra 8:21–23; Neh 9:1; Zech 8:19). We also find record of impromptu fasts observed by large numbers of people because of a national emergency (Esth 4:16; Isa 58:3–6; Jonah 3:5). Other texts record fasts as personal expressions of supplication, mourning, repentance (1 Sam 1:7–8; Neh 1:4; Dan 9:3). Therefore it makes sense that the disciples of the Pharisees and of John the Baptist observe fasts and question Jesus about the seeming negligence of his disciples (Mark 2:18). Why aren’t they likewise following this important and sacred tradition?
Jesus responds to this question with figurative language, which might catch modern readers off-guard. His interlocutors asked about fasting; why is he discussing wedding banquets? The key is that we understand the symbolism. By the time of Jesus, the coming of God’s kingdom in the new age was imagined as a great banquet or wedding feast.2 The “new” aspect to Mark’s theology is that this reality has already begun in the person of Jesus the Messiah. Accordingly, Perkins believes that the wedding banquet image “symbolizes the presence of salvation.”3 What’s more, “The fasting episode signifies that, because they are with Jesus, the disciples act as though the kingdom of God is present.”4
In Mark, Jesus’ response to the question of fasting does not imply a critique of the spiritual discipline, but rather of the specific timing. This interpretation implies a sharp rebuke: if guests are fasting during the wedding, then they are disapproving of the marriage and insulting the host.5 The Pharisees and John’s disciples were correct in noting the differences between their communities and the one forming around Jesus; according to Mark, however, they are the ones who are at fault, even though they believe they are following a traditional practice of devotion to God.
Mark employs the parables about new cloth and new wine to play on this irony. An “old garment” is ruined by the patch, not repaired. The contrast between “new and old” pieces of clothing is explicit (Mark 2:21). Likewise new wine “bursts” and destroys old wineskins because the new wine ferments and gives off gases that break the brittle fabric of the containers (Mark 2:22).
In his explosive style of writing, Mark uses these parables to lay down the boom! Even cherished expressions of piety and traditional religious practices must be questioned in light of the reality of God’s reign in the person of Jesus Christ. The old guard is more than put off-guard by this new, bombastic understanding: they are threatened. Within the first three chapters of this Gospel, the religious leaders move from questioning Jesus about the habits of his disciples to conspiring with their political officials in order to kill him (Mark 3:6). Extra, extra! Read all about it!
Luke
Luke’s version shares many similarities with Mark’s account. Both Gospels narrate the same events in roughly the same sequence that lead up to Jesus’ statements about the new and old: the call of the first disciples (Mark 1:16; Luke 5:1), the cleansing of a leper (Mark 1:40; Luke 5:12), the healing of a paralytic (Mark 2:1; Luke 5:17), and the call of Levi (Mark 2:13; Luke 5:27). By building on the narrative framework in Mark, Luke ratchets up the contrast between old and new.
In Luke, the hypothetical situation involves first tearing up a new garment in order to produce a patch for an old one. This idea is obviously ridiculous: surely no one would do such a thing (Luke 5:36). In addition, the language that Mark used to describe the patch of cloth as “unshrunk” or unwashed is replaced by the notion that the old clothing does not “match” or compliment the new (Mark 2:21; Luke 5:36). According to Luke, the two types of cloth have a fundamental difference that cannot be changed or fixed. Furthermore Luke emphasizes that the new wine “must be put” it new wineskins (Luke 5:38; emphasis mine). The effect of these subtle changes to Mark’s version makes even sharper distinctions: apparently Luke is not at all interested in patching up the old garment or preserving the old wineskins. Alan Culpepper states emphatically that, in this version of the parable, Luke allows “no accommodation between the old and the new. The new will supersede and displace the old.”6
Culpepper also points to the significance of a verse that is completely unique to Luke: “And after drinking old wine, no one wants new, for he says, ‘The old is good’” (Luke 5:39). This statement may seem as innocuous as a glass of red wine with dinner, but Culpepper insists, “[This is] one of the Gospel’s most piercing judgments. As Christians in a privileged society, have we cultivated such a taste for the old wine that we despise the new?”7 In other words, have we become too comfortable with our traditions? Have we developed such a preference for the finer, more expensive things in life that we are missing out on the dramatically new thing God is doing? In Luke’s hands, I am reminded of Isaiah’s prophetic announcement, “Behold, I am doing a new thing! Do you not perceive it?” (Isa 43:19).
Matthew
While likewise building upon Mark’s Gospel, Matthew’s version serves as a counterpoint to Luke’s emphasis. Like wine connoisseurs, careful readers of this Gospel will detect subtle variations in flavor. The root of such distinctions can primarily be understood by differences in their original audiences. There is consensus among scholars that the
