“Whatsoever is excellent, whatsoever is noble, whatsoever is worthy, whatsoever is desirable” in the Christian faith, is ascribed to this Spirit, without which it could no more subsist than the outward world without the sun. Hereunto have all true Christians, in all ages, attributed their strength and life. It is by this Spirit that they avouch themselves to have been converted to God, to have been redeemed from the world, to have been strengthened in their weakness, comforted in their afflictions, confirmed in their temptations, emboldened in their sufferings, and triumphed in the midst of all their persecutions. Yea, the writings of all true Christians are full of the great and notable things which they all affirm themselves to have done, by the power, and virtue, and efficacy of the Spirit of God working in them.- Robert Barclay

In this excerpt from the Second Proposition of the Apology,¹ Barclay distinguishes between the Spirit itself and those in whom it is revealed or received. In being given this Spirit’s power and goodness, “true Christians” are thereby enabled to act with “strength and life.” Seventeenth-century Friends saw that the Spirit was a distinct, enabling power that superseded whatever virtues and values they had chosen to adopt for themselves in their reliance upon their natural powers of reason and conscience. Chapter 11 in the Gospel of Mark aims to clarify the difference between the Spirit and the flesh, the flesh being all that figures into natural human capacity in and of itself: including thinking, feeling, and sensing.  

The previous chapter in Mark taught that we human beings are prone to assigning life’s meaning to that which is attainable by and through our own fleshly nature, and that this is the error of idolatry and a misuse of the gift of life. In this chapter, Spirit and flesh are metaphorically and repeatedly distinguished one from the other, always with the intent to show the flesh is to be subsidiary and attendant to the quickening Spirit. The function of the flesh is to assist, carry, and house a Spirit distinct from itself: that is, the flesh is to assist, carry, and house the Spirit of God.

The colt

[Y]e shall find a colt tied, whereon never man sat; loose him, and bring him (Mk. 11:2).

At the beginning of chapter 11, we are immediately launched into a metaphor that illustrates the difference between the Spirit of God and fleshly human nature. The donkey, a beast of burden, is commandeered to bear “the Lord [who] hath need of him” (3): just as the human being, in all that comprises his nature, is called to bear the Spirit of God. Human nature is distinct from this Spirit but is to carry and serve it as the donkey is to carry and serve the Lord.

In commentaries on this passage, much is made of the Messianic prophecy in Zechariah 9:9.²   What interests me about the link between the two passages, however, is not that the Mark passage confirms Jesus as the Messiah whom prophets anticipated, but that the lowliness of the animal is emphasized. Not only is the Lord and King’s transport a donkey but even less than a donkey: it is a donkey colt, not even a fully grown animal. This detail suggests that that which carries the Lord is a creature not fully matured, not fully realized, which is to say, in his fleshly nature, unredeemed Man is the not-fully-realized Creation.

Historically, the animal on which a person rode indicated his nature or status. (And this has carried over even into our own day in the type of car one drives!) The emphasis on the lowliness of the animal that transports Jesus – not simply a donkey but a donkey colt – augments the contrast between the creaturely flesh and that which it is called to carry: “thy King” (Zech. 9:9), “the Lord” (Mk. 11:3).

That the donkey is one upon which “never man sat” (2) suggests the newness and forward movement in the human endeavor that Jesus’s ride into Jerusalem signals, sometimes called the “Messianic Age.” Never before has the (fleshly) creature been loosed and brought into the service of the One who commandeers him. Well do onlookers cast their garments and branches – worldly possessions and nature – and shout “Hosanna” to the One “that cometh in the name [power] of the Lord” (8-9). It is a new era in which humanity may now enter into holiness “[b]y the new and living way which he hath consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh” (Heb. 10:20). The “forerunner” (6:20) is to bridle the fleshly nature that he – and thus, by implication, all humankind – may carry and serve the living God.  

The temple and the fig tree (11-21)

The next 11 verses in this chapter weave together two strands of metaphor, each conveying in its own way the distinction between flesh and Spirit. The two metaphors are interlaced as are the two locations in which they occur: Jerusalem and Bethany (the road from Bethany). That the two metaphors are to be considered variations of the same idea is set out in verse 11, which has no substantial content other than to establish there are two locations – and two incidents – where the flesh has failed to serve the Spirit. That there are two incidents to describe this failure rather than the single success shown earlier with the colt suggests failure is prevalent. The two strands of this passage – the defiled temple and the barren fig tree – illustrate this disorder or failure through metaphor.

In Jerusalem, the defiled temple does not house the activity of prayer but has become a place to buy and sell (15) and a throughway for other concerns (16). The temple is a building where the Spirit is to be housed, just as the creaturely flesh is to house the Spirit. To misappropriate one’s life to secure worldly, fleshly gain is to make the temple of the Lord – to make of oneself – a thief-inhabited den (17).

Secondly, the fig tree’s primary function is to produce fruit, just as human beings when rightly ordered will produce fruits of the Spirit. The tree – or flesh – that produces nothing of value to the Lord – no fruit but only leaves – is cursed to be eternally without true purpose or meaning: “No man eat fruit of thee hereafter for ever” (14). Absent his true purpose and meaning, the human being withers away, as does this fig tree (21).

Faith (22-26)

Up to this point in the chapter, we have been given one illustration of rightly ordered flesh bearing the commanding Spirit (the colt bearing the Lord), as well as two intertwined examples of fleshly failure to house or bear that Spirit (the defiled temple and the barren fig tree): failures that Jesus condemned by violent act and word (14-17). The short sermon that follows these illustrations contains Jesus’s admonition and guidance for making the changeover from the fleshly nature to a Spirit-led state, where the Spirit of God is manifested through the flesh. It is a condition called by many names: “second birth”; “incarnation”; “the kingdom of heaven”; “Christ Within”; “Way”; “Truth”; “Life”; or simply, as in this passage, “faith.”

Have faith in God. For verily I say unto you. That whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea; and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass; he shall have whatsoever he saith. Therefore I say unto you, what things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them (22-24).

A mountain cast into the sea at the behest of one who wholeheartedly believes his words ensure the event will happen is figurative language. It is an imaginative way of saying that through faith we experience our human nature transcended: we enter prayer by calling the mountainous ego to be set aside, having no doubt Christ will appear to replace our now absent self-centeredness with his own commanding presence. Confident expectation, Jesus teaches here, is the right frame of mind for entering into prayerful communion with God.

A literal interpretation of verses 22-24 could arise solely in a fleshly mind, a mind in which Scriptures’ miracles do not recall inward experience but instead are used to violate reason and, consequently, conscience. (Cognitive dissonance goes unchecked in minds not given to truth.) Heavenly gifts of reason and conscience are violated when one compels oneself to believe literally that a mountain could be cast into the sea at one’s behest. (Furthermore, Jesus reminds us elsewhere of the limits to our natural powers [Mt. 5:36].) The reasoning of the flesh is inadequate to interpret miracles in Scripture, which are experientially understood by those who have known the Spirit’s visitation.³ 

What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them (24).

How easily the fleshly mind can make of verse 24 a genie-in-a-lamp situation! One does not petition God for worldly goods or power. When flesh is rightly ordered, we pray to receive God’s Spirit, which is of supreme value beyond all fleshly accommodation. This is the primary lesson that Jesus’s acceptance of the Cross teaches: the mountainous, fleshly nature is settled low or cast aside and the Spirit received, as it is known and believed in.

In the final two verses of this short sermon, Jesus offers us a kind of litmus test to discern whether one is oriented to the flesh or to the Spirit:

And when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have ought against any: that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses. But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses (25-26).

The passage of time can lessen the pain of having been victimized, yet judgment and contempt may linger on, taking their toll upon the soul. Forgiveness is a gift from God that accompanies entry into the inward state where worldly advantage or deprivation do not figure, and we judge not at all: neither self nor others. (Yet, any judgment of self or others given therein is right judgment [Jn. 8:15-16].) In that inward state, one bears no ill will toward those who have trespassed, as our well-being is as inviolate as the One who presides within. It is only when faith has been bestowed upon us that dark resentment for harm done disappears, subsumed in the brightness of his glory. To attempt to forgive without heavenly power is like jumping from the earth and expecting to remain airborne. The gravity of our fallen estate does not allow it.

That both admonitions – to have faith and to forgive – are presented as though it were a person’s choice to have or do either of them functions to direct the person toward these goals. He is to do his utmost to regulate himself that he may be prepared to receive these heavenly gifts. The flesh is to be directed toward virtue and truth, but of itself, can do no more.

Authority (27-33)

In the time since Jesus’s disruption of idolatrous activity in the temple (15-16), the scribes and chief priests have been conniving to “destroy” him, for he has amazed the people with his powerful teaching (18). As is typical of these religious leaders, they come to Jesus with prepared trick questions: “By what authority doest thou these things? and who gave thee this authority to do these things?” (29) These questions continue the chapter’s theme of distinguishing between two forces known within – the Spirit which commands and empowers (the authority), and the flesh which assists, carries, or houses that Spirit. The leaders are challenging Jesus to name the Spirit, or authority, that he carries within.  

Any direct response to the leaders’ questions would station that cohort as the authority that must be answered. Furthermore, in answering their questions, Jesus would open the issue to argument and refutation, thus elevating the priests in people’s eyes through Jesus’s willingness to engage them. Jesus neither answers their question directly, nor allows them the opportunity to refute or argue. He instead puts them back on their heels by asking, in turn, an unanswerable question: “The baptism of John, was it from heaven, or of men?” And he caps his authoritative stance with an imperative: “answer me” (30).

Though the question is about John the Baptist, Jesus holds the like esteem of the people as well as the antipathy of the priests, so any answer the priests give regarding John will, to the people, apply equally to Jesus. Thus Jesus turns the tables on the priests by compelling them to answer the same question they have asked and he has refused to answer. This they cannot do and still maintain their authority with the people. Privy to their reasoning, we see that truth figures not one whit; high social position is uppermost in their calculations. This firmly categorizes these leaders as idolators, who corrupt themselves by instrumental use of speech in service to their fleshly will:    

And they reasoned with themselves, saying, If we shall say, From heaven; he will say, Why then did ye not believe him? But if we shall say, Of men, they feared the people: for all men counted John, that he was a prophet indeed (31-32).  

Chapter 11 has taught that flesh and Spirit are two distinct powers and that the flesh is to be subsidiary to the commanding authority of Spirit. In the final passage of this chapter, we saw these two powers -flesh and Spirit – come face to face, contesting which had the upper hand. The religious leaders, in practice, regarded the flesh to be the authority they serve, having made for themselves an idol of their position within society. They have corrupted the right order of Spirit commanding flesh and instead made flesh its own purpose and rule. Jesus refused to give way to the imposition of their corruption: his defiance is evident throughout the exchange. He vanquished these contenders, therein demonstrating the true power and authority of the Spirit of God that he carries within and, through his flesh, has manifested. In Jesus’s final statement, we see the same distinction made that has imbued this chapter from start to finish: the distinction between the subsidiary, manifesting flesh (the “I”) and the animating authority of the Spirit of God. “Neither do I tell you by what authority I do these things” (33).

¹  Robert Barclay, Apology for the True Christian Divinity (Glenside, Pa.: Quaker Heritage Press, 2002), 42-43.

² “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee: he is just, and having salvation; lowly and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass” (Zech. 9:9). The King James Version of the Bible was used throughout this essay.

³ Another common error of the fleshly mind is its denouncing the flesh (usually meaning the body or the intellect) as being opposed to God. The intellect and the body are gifts from God and as such are not evil; it is their idolatrous misuse that is wrong. To understand this fallacy, consider this analogy: a hammer is a tool that is intended for use in construction; that it can also be used destructively as a weapon does not make the hammer in itself evil. The rightly used intellect is likewise a tool that constructively carries, assists, and houses (gives expression to) the Spirit of truth. Wrongly used, the intellect corruptly turns from the authority of the Spirit of truth and instead acts out its rebellion by destructively trafficking in lies and confusion, that its chosen idol might be served. Chapter 11 teaches flesh must be subsidiary to the Spirit, and therein is it of good service to God. Truth (Spirit) manifesting in and through the intellect (flesh) is the prophets’ way of bringing heaven to earth. The “Word made flesh” (Jn. 1:14) is a phrase that tells of the essential, necessary role flesh has to play in God’s Providence.  

⁴ There are two earlier essays on this blog that I wrote on Chapter 11 of Mark. They both focus on a single passage in the chapter and therefore allow for a closer examination than was given to either of them in this essay, which addresses the theme that ran throughout the entire chapter. The first essay (“The Lesson of the Fig Tree”) looks at the failure of the fleshly nature to bear spiritual fruit, and the other (“From Heaven or of Men: An Essay on Discernment”) focuses on our capacity to distinguish between flesh and Spirit. “Fig tree” is based on ministry I gave in a Philadelphia meeting in May 2018 (thanks to Helene Pollack for her assistance in recollecting the ministry), and “From Heaven or of Men” was written sometime before 2010, though not published on this site until June 2016.

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