Welcome back, dear ones. I know it's been a while since we've gathered around this particular table, and I've missed you. Tonight (I wrote this yesterday, haha) feels like both a homecoming and a fresh start. We're diving into something I've been eager to share: the Gospel of Mark through an intersectional lens. Yes, the entire gospel, chapter by chapter (but not verse by verse), in your inbox every week. But first, let me pour us some fresh tea and remind ourselves of the theological framework that shapes how we approach these ancient stories.
If you’re new here, I encourage you to go back and read some of my “Spill the Tea” posts. If you’ve been with me for a while, I’m so sorry that I had a hiatus. I needed it but I’m back now.
A Framework Refresher: What We Mean by Intersectional Theology
If you've been with me for a while, you know I'm not particularly fond of rigid theological frameworks that demand tidy answers to messy human experiences. Intersectional theology operates from a fundamentally different premise than the foundationalist approaches that dominate much of contemporary Christianity.
Rather than starting with predetermined theological conclusions and forcing scripture to support them, intersectional theology begins with a simple but radical question: What would marginalized voices tell us about this passage? It amplifies the voices typically drowned out by the dominant patriarchal society of biblical times—and today.
This approach recognizes that people carry multiple, overlapping identities. Race, gender, sexuality, class, ability, citizenship status—these intersecting realities create unique experiences of both oppression and grace. When we read scripture through this lens, we're not trying to make ancient texts say what we hope they say. Instead, we're honestly wrestling with their complexity while centering the experiences of those pushed to society's edges.
Foundationalist approaches often fail to account for the complexities of human experience. When theological systems prioritize explanatory power over compassionate engagement, they risk becoming instruments of harm rather than healing. Intersectional theology chooses a different path—one that embraces ambiguity where appropriate and values questions over premature closure.
This doesn't mean we're wishy-washy about justice or unclear about loving our neighbors. We're recognizing that not everything in scripture has a clear-cut, black-and-white answer. Sometimes the most faithful response is to sit with mystery rather than demand certainty that ends up marginalizing people further.
Mark 1: The Subversive Beginning of Good News
Mark's Gospel opens with what might be the most politically dangerous phrase in the ancient world: "The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God" (Mark 1:1). To modern ears, this sounds like a gentle religious greeting. But in the Roman Empire, "good news" (euangelion) was imperial propaganda—reserved for announcements about Caesar's military victories or divine proclamations.
Mark isn't just borrowing religious language; he's committing literary sedition. He's declaring that the real good news isn't coming from Rome's palaces but from the margins of society, announced by a wilderness preacher and embodied by a Galilean peasant.
The Wilderness Prophet and Institutional Critique
John the Baptist appears "in the wilderness" (Mark 1:4)—not accidentally, but strategically. The wilderness represents the space outside imperial control, beyond the reach of both Roman occupation and Temple collaboration. When Mark describes crowds coming from "the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem" (1:5), he's depicting a mass exodus from centers of power toward the margins.
This resonates deeply with contemporary experiences of marginalized communities finding sanctuary and authentic spiritual practice outside traditional institutional structures. How many LGBTQ+ people have found their deepest encounters with the divine not in hostile church buildings but in alternative sacred spaces? How many Trans Christians have experienced more genuine worship in independent congregations than in predominantly gender normative denominations?
John's baptism represents more than personal spiritual cleansing—it's a ritual of resistance against systems that declare certain bodies unclean or unwelcome. The Jordan River becomes a space where hierarchies dissolve and everyone stands equally in need of transformation.
Jesus's Baptism: Solidarity with the Marginalized
The detail that catches my attention in Jesus's baptism (1:9-11) isn't the heavenly voice or the descending Spirit—it's the simple fact that Jesus shows up. He doesn't need John's baptism for the forgiveness of sins, yet he comes anyway. This is solidarity theology in action: choosing to stand with those seeking transformation rather than maintaining distance from a position of moral superiority.
The heavenly declaration—"You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased"—comes not when Jesus is performing miracles or teaching profound truths, but when he's identifying with ordinary people seeking change in their lives. Divine approval rests on solidarity, not superiority.
Let me just repeat this again and I’m sure you can apply this to today’s landscape.
God saying “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well please” is God acknowledging Jesus while he’s identifying with ordinary people.
Think of it like this. Wouldn’t it be more powerful for God to acknowledge Jesus when he raised Lazarus from the dead? I looks like, at least for the author of Mark, that Jesus’s identification with the masses was a more important detail.
Temptation: Confronting Systemic Power
Mark's account of Jesus's temptation (1:12-13) is spare but loaded with political implications. The Spirit "drove" Jesus into the wilderness to be tempted by Satan. This isn't a private spiritual struggle but a confrontation with the fundamental powers that structure society.
The wilderness setting connects Jesus's temptation to Israel's wandering—a time when they learned to depend on God rather than empire. Being "with the wild beasts" suggests a return to Eden-like harmony, a vision of creation before human hierarchies created divisions between clean and unclean, worthy and unworthy.
Satan represents more than personal moral failure; in Jewish thought, Satan functions as the accuser, the one who maintains systems of condemnation and exclusion. Jesus's victory over temptation represents the possibility of an alternative social order—one not based on scarcity, competition, and the marginalization of the vulnerable.
The Galilean Movement Begins
When Jesus begins his public ministry in Galilee (1:14-15), geography becomes theology. Galilee was "Galilee of the Gentiles"—the mixed region looked down upon by Jerusalem's religious establishment. It was economically exploited, culturally dismissed, and religiously suspect. Jesus doesn't begin his ministry in the Temple or even in respectable Jewish territory. He starts in the margins.
His message is deceptively simple: "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news" (1:15). But notice the subversive elements. The "kingdom of God" directly challenges the kingdoms of this world. "Repent" (metanoia) means a fundamental change of mind—not just personal moral improvement but a complete reorientation of how we understand power, community, and justice.
Calling the Marginalized to Leadership
The calling of the first disciples (1:16-20) reveals Jesus's leadership development strategy: he doesn't recruit from religious institutions or political establishments. He calls fishermen—people with calloused hands and uncertain economic prospects. When he promises to make them "fish for people," he's not just offering a career change but inviting them into a movement that will challenge the very structures that kept them economically vulnerable.
The immediacy of their response ("Immediately they left their nets and followed him") suggests these weren't comfortable people with much to lose. They were ready for an alternative because the current system wasn't working for them.
Contemporary Applications: Who Hears the Good News First?
Mark 1 forces us to confront uncomfortable questions about where good news begins in our contemporary context. If Jesus started his ministry in the margins, where would he begin today?
In my work with Transmission Ministry Collective, I see this pattern repeated. The most profound theological insights often come not from seminary classrooms but, in my context, from trans people wrestling with scripture in community support groups. The deepest understanding of grace emerges from those who've been told they're unwelcome in traditional religious spaces.
This doesn't romanticize marginalization or suggest that suffering automatically produces wisdom. Rather, it recognizes that those who've experienced exclusion often develop a more acute understanding of what genuine inclusion looks like. They're less likely to settle for performative welcome that doesn't address underlying power structures.
Mark's Gospel suggests that the good news isn't just for marginalized people—it begins with them. They're not the objects of ministry but its subjects, not the problem to be solved but the community through which God's alternative vision becomes visible.
Questions for Reflection
As we begin this journey through Mark together, I invite you to sit with these questions:
Where do you see "wilderness" spaces in your own community—places outside institutional control where authentic spiritual seeking happens?
How does Jesus's choice to begin in Galilee challenge assumptions about where religious authority is located?
What would it mean for your faith community to prioritize the leadership and insights of those currently on the margins?
Next week, we'll explore Mark 2 and its radical vision of healing, access, and who gets to approach the divine. Until then, may you find good news beginning in unexpected places.
Love this so much! I developed my appreciation for Mark later in my ministry. https://www.pastorbrendawalker.com/blog/the-easter-sermon-i-never-preached#:~:text=I%20want%20to%20know%20what,the%20resurrection%20and%20the%20life.