Monday, August 14, 2023

Nicholas Perrin on "Abiathar" in Mark 2:26 being Deliberate on the Behalf of Mark

  

. . .[firstly] co-regency among Israel’s high priests was not unheard of (in which case Abiathar may be appropriately named as high priest instead of his father); and, second, that Mary deliberately named Abiathar rather than Ahimelech on account of the former’s dubious distinction as high priest. This merits some review. Abiathar was the son of Ahimelech, who was the son of Ahitub, who in turn was of the line of Phinehas, who in turn, once again, was the son of Eli. For the reader of 1 Samuel, Abiathar’s descent from Eli cannot be detached from the divine word of judgment issued against the priestly forebear, who, neglecting to reprimand his sons in his own day (1 Samuel 1-2), had been informed that his priestly lineage would one day be terminated. That termination is finally set into motion when, in the course of Adonijah’s rebellion against the heir apparent Solomon, Abiathar throws in his lot with the upstart pretender to the throne. Responding to the coup, David orders that Solomon be crowned in a coronation ceremony involving the ascendant ruler riding on a donkey. As a direct result of what may be deemed the biblical canon’s ‘first triumphal entry’, the rebellion collapses, leaving Solomon to replace the rebel priest Abiathar with Zadok—‘thus fulfilling the word of the LORD that he had spoken concerning the house of Eli in Shiloh’. (1 Kings 2.27) Failing to back the right horse (or donkey), the disgraced Abithar would go down in the pages of Hebrew history as the only priest to be deposed. (1 Kgs 2.27. In Jewish antiquity Abiathar’s fall from grace was no obscure historical dream, at least judging by Josephus’s elaboration of the same [Ant. 8.1.3 §10-12])

 

With this backstory in mind we see the pieces falling into place. Dropping the name ‘Abiathar’ instead of the expected ‘Ahimelech’ at Mark 2.26, Mark’s Jesus sets up a veiled analogy between the rebellious, ill-fated priest and his priestly opponents. Jesus’ subtle comparison functions not only as a clue to his disputants’ doom, but also as a map on which his subsequent actions in the narrative may be plotted. Just as Abiathar’s fate is all but sealed through Solomon’s donkey-style coronation, Mark seems to be saying, so it will be the case in its own mysterious way for the Jerusalem-based priests of the Jerusalem temple as they witness Jesus entering Jerusalem in Solomonic fashion. Of course when Solomon mounts his donkey, it is with more than the intention of pre-empting illegitimate authority (Adonijah) and illegitimate priestly (Abiathar) claims; the political deck-clearing would only be the means towards the much more momentous occasion of his consecrating a newly built temple, where he would serve as a royal priest. On the same pattern, even if Jesus’ triumphal entry turns out to be only the first instalment of a series of acts and words of judgement against Israel’s leaders (11.11-12.37), these scenes are themselves stepping stones to the culminating events: his enthronement through the cross and the building of the temple through resurrection (14.1-16.8). Mark’s unexpected inclusion of ‘Abiathar’—seemingly gratuitously and off the cuff—reflects his conviction that even as David’s struggle had already been recapitulated in the experience of Jesus so too would his aspirations for a new temple. Anticipating the triumphal entry (11.1-10), the confrontation with Caiphas (14.53-65), the rending of the temple veil (15.38), and the resurrection of the temple of the temple ‘not made by human hands’ (14.58; 15.29) (my translation), the grainfield incident is the first skirmish of a protracted conflict; this conflict itself is patterned after a well-known earlier struggle which began with David’s anointing and came to a close with the consecration of the temple by the Son of David. (Nicholas Perrin, Jesus the Priest [Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker, 2018], 198-99)