Abstract
It is widely acknowledged that Mark’s abrupt ending (16.8) is best understood as a deliberate narrative device. Despite this ‘new consensus’, a number of scholars continue to assert that this approach is not only problematic but also depends on a postmodern perspective that overemphasizes the reader/audience. This article argues that Mark’s ending has been crafted in order to invoke a predictive inference that encourages the interpreter to imagine events beyond the concluding scene of the narrative. In dialogue with the cognitive sciences, it is argued that the inferential processes that govern this activity have been shaped by evolutionary developments. Although the new consensus has often been articulated in conversation with modern literary theory, there is an underlying, cognitive basis for the approach that has seldom been appreciated by NT scholars.
Despite what some describe as the ‘new consensus’ (Croy 2003: 27) – that is, that Mk 16.8 is the intended conclusion to the second gospel 1 – many scholars continue to assert that the women’s fear and flight cannot be the closing scene of the narrative, at least when the text was originally composed (e.g., Gundry 1993; Strecker 2000; Evans 2001; Witherington 2001; Edwards 2002; France 2002; Croy 2003; Wright 2003; Stein 2008; Oakeshott 2010; Lunn 2014; Hester 2015). 2 Advocates of this perspective often observe that the narrative appears to terminate mid-sentence – both with an awkward grammatical construction (ἐϕοβοῦντο γάρ, 16.8) and without a formal resurrection appearance. This latter point is particularly noteworthy since the text explicitly and repeatedly anticipates Jesus’ resurrection and/or a reunion with the disciples (8.31; 9.9, 31; 10.34; 14.28). To close the narrative in this fashion, it is argued, subverts Mark’s story of good news (cf. 1.1) or, at the very least, leaves it unfilled. The scene is so jolting that it cannot be regarded as ‘literary artistry’ or ‘theological challenge’ as is often assumed (France 2002: 672).
Many of these concerns have been addressed elsewhere; however, some have argued that the new consensus derives from the advent of new methodologies rather than the discovery of new evidence (Croy 2003: 42; Lunn 2014: 3-4). Not infrequently, it is claimed that those adopting this approach must assume that ‘Mark was really a postmodernist’ intent on conveying ‘dark’ mysteries in a ‘puzzling’ fashion (Wright 1998: 136). 3 A consequence of this ‘unacceptably’ (France 2002: 673) postmodern outlook is to treat the narrative as a ‘brooding, inexplicable, existentialist riddle’ (Robinson 2008: 75). 4 Not only does this impose foreign concepts onto the text, it assumes that the reader/audience must complete the narrative by providing information that is not in the text itself. 5 This is particularly problematic, it is argued, since it requires the interpreter ‘to supply what is “missing” on the basis of subjective reflection’ (Robinson 2008: 75). Thus, a persistent and unanswered question concerns the perceived dependency on a ‘sophisticated postmodern viewpoint’ (Robinson 2008: 75) that some deem ‘untenable’ (Jenkins 2001: 80). 6
In view of the textual, literary and historical complexity of the discussion, the limited goal of this article is to consider whether the new consensus is, in fact, determined by a postmodern hermeneutic. 7 More specifically, does the invitation to audience participation, produced by the lacuna in Mark’s ending, require an interpretive strategy that has been anachronistically projected onto the text? To address this question, the study will turn to the cognitive sciences in order to understand the experiential effect of narrative gaps. It will be argued that recent discussion of Mark’s ending is not governed by postmodern hermeneutics but by an intuitive though unstated nod to cognitive processes that have been shaped through evolutionary development. The analysis will begin by considering relevant literary theory that underpins the new consensus, before appealing to the cognitive sciences and a re-evaluation of Mark’s ending.
Iser and the Literary Gap
Among those who argue that Mark’s abrupt ending is intentional, appeal is frequently made to secular literary theory and the influential work of Wolfgang Iser. It is Iser’s assessment of the literary ‘gap’ and, more importantly, his analysis of the reader that often informs contemporary discussion of Mark’s ending. The following therefore provides a brief overview of Iser’s hermeneutical outlook and understanding of literary gaps.
Iser’s phenomenological approach to interpretation is ‘arguably the most influential’ articulation of reader-response criticism that emerged from the 1970s (Bennett 2013: 20). Based on a general theory of art, Iser argued that the interpretation of a literary work ‘must take into account not only the actual text but also, and in equal measure, the actions involved in responding to that text’ (Iser 1972: 279). According to Iser, this involves an appreciation of two ‘poles’: the artistic pole (i.e., the text) and the aesthetic pole (i.e., the reader) (Iser 1980: 106). As both poles contribute to a communication event and the meaning-making process, it follows that meaning is not an entity waiting to be discovered, but a constructed reality that emerges between the text–reader relationship. A literary work is thus never to be considered a finished product since interpretation is a participatory event by which a text is brought to life.
Iser maintained that this dialectical interaction, so crucial to the phenomenological experience, is stimulated by the ‘fundamental asymmetry between text and reader’ (Iser 1980: 109). The disjunction derives from the various ‘gaps’ or points of indeterminacy in a literary text and produces a ‘lack of ascertainability and defined intention’ (Iser 1978: 166). Iser argued that these gaps range from ‘unspoken dialogue[s]’ to ‘unwritten aspects of … trivial scenes’ (Iser 1974: 276) and ‘function as a kind of pivot on which the whole text–reader relationship revolves’ (Iser 1978: 169). Rather than hindering communication, these omissions draw the reader into the meaning-making process and encourage the individual ‘to supply what is meant from what is not said’ (Iser 1980: 111). As the gaps come ‘to life in the reader’s imagination’, the text ‘“expands” to take on greater significance’ and meaning (Iser 1980: 111). By projecting the reader’s ideations onto the text, the artistic and aesthetic poles converge, thereby producing a fuller and richer meaning than the text alone (Iser 1978: 169).
Given the importance and uniqueness of readers in the meaning-making process, it follows that texts are open to ‘several different realizations, and no one reading can ever exhaust the full potential’ of a literary work (Iser 1974: 280). This does not mean, at least according to Iser, that the interpretive process is without constraint. Though it may be impossible to quantify interpretive possibilities, the gap-filling process moves on a trajectory that is shaped by the dialectical interaction with the text (Iser 1978: 169). Individual readers impinge upon the interpretive process, but communication is nonetheless ‘regulated … by a mutually restrictive and magnifying interaction between the explicit and the implicit, between revelation and concealment’ (Iser 1980: 111). Stated more succinctly, the gaps of a literary work invite reader participation, but the details of a text offer some interpretive bounds.
Of his many contributions, Iser’s discussion of the literary gap ‘is one of his most widely used’ theories among biblical scholars (Schwáb 2003: 174). 8 More specifically, Iser’s work has had a direct bearing on the discussion of Mark’s ending, which Fowler describes as a ‘narrative gap par excellence’ (Fowler 1996: 154). 9 For advocates of the new consensus, Mark’s narrative concludes with a lack of information – a gap – that must be supplied or filled during the interpretive process. 10 This interpretive approach is predicated on the assumption that the abruptness is not a narratological deficiency, but a creative storytelling technique that elicits audience interaction. 11 Mark’s ending may not provide narrative closure but, as Iser suggests, it ‘initiate[s] an interaction whereby the hollow form of the text is filled out by the mental images’ of the interpreter (Iser 1978: 225).
At least for some, the adoption of Iser’s methodology is problematic since it relies on constructs that are derived from contemporary literary theory. In fact, concepts such as ‘indeterminacy’ and ‘the production of meaning by the reader’ are sometimes viewed as hallmarks of postmodern exegesis (Burnett 1990: 51). The use of this framework has even been described as a ‘gateway for biblical critics … entering postmodern territory’ (Aichele et al. 1995: 13). The perceived overemphasis on the reader and the decidedly (post)modern perspective has, according to some, undermined the historical-critical paradigm and introduced a ‘wild methodological pluralism’ (Bartholomew 2005: 604). For those hesitant to embrace the new consensus, Iser may have supplied the theoretical tools to explain Mark’s ending, but whether a first-century audience would have adopted this perspective remains an open question.
Gaps, Inferences and the Cognitive Sciences
Because Mark’s ending has typically been framed as a literary question, scholars have neglected other fields of inquiry that may inform the conversation. The following, after briefly establishing the ubiquitous nature of gaps, explores how the cognitive sciences might illuminate the discussion. Indeed, it will be argued that gaps and gap-filling are not uniquely postmodern but are endemic to all communication, both ancient and modern.
It is fairly axiomatic to affirm that gaps are an elemental feature of communication. If a gap can be defined as ‘a lack of information about the world – an event, motive, causal link, character trait, plot structure, [or] law of probability’ (Sternberg 1985: 235) then, as Abbott suggests (2002: 83), all communication is ‘riddled with gaps’. Take, for example, the informal, everyday exchanges that take place between people – irrespective of nationality, race, or socio-economic status. Pearce suggests that when this ‘real talk’ is analyzed it is often ‘ungrammatical, awkward … inelegant’, and, most significantly for the present discussion, ‘incomplete’ (Pearce 1989: 34). That everyday speech is defined by its lack of completeness is to affirm that the presence of gaps is not only a constituent feature of oral communication but just as intrinsic to the communication process as language itself.
Written communication is no less susceptible to the issue. Though it remains a theoretical possibility to edit-out the naturally occurring gaps that typify everyday speech, thereby avoiding the omissions associated with oral communication, codified texts are nonetheless selective and limited. Even with sustained reflection during the compositional process, Chatman (1978: 29) suggests that written texts contain ‘a fixed number of statements’ that ‘can never be totally “complete” … since the number of plausible intermediate actions or properties is virtually infinite’. In practice, both the speaker and writer face a similar predicament. Gaps are an inevitable characteristic of all communication and no communicator – regardless of media type – can imagine and transmit the totality of a narrative event. In the end, as Leitch concludes, ‘[e]very story ever told omits certain details’ (Leitch 2017: 54). 12
If gaps are inherent to all communication, at issue is how interpreters actually deal with incomplete communication experiences. Significant work has been done in the cognitive sciences to address this question, and research suggests that individuals often respond by filling gaps or, more technically, generating inferences. Broadly speaking, inferences encompass a range of cognitive activities and, simply defined, involve using ‘existing information to generate new information’ (Chater, Heit and Oaksford 2005: 297). 13 Constructing inferences is a frequent and often necessary activity as individuals encounter incomplete and/or uncertain situations. For example, a financial advisor projects that a stock will rise after reviewing a company’s recent earnings statement; a teacher ponders whether a student is having problems at home after noting a sustained decline in classroom performance; or a medical professional recommends a series of tests after meeting with a patient about a recent illness. Though the scenarios differ, each describes an inference that is drawn (through logic, reason or intuition) from explicit and available information that may suggest, but does not assure, a particular conclusion or course of action. Thus, just as readers fill literary gaps, so financial advisors, teachers and medical professionals generate inferences to make sense of their experiential contexts.
The pervasiveness of this activity across all facets of life is due to the fact that inferencing is, to some degree, an innate form of informational processing. 14 Indeed, it has even been suggested that the human brain evolved to optimize inference making. Koscik and Tranel (2012: 394-401) argue that in the course of human development there has been a shift from perceptual to inferential processing. Referred to as the Inferential Brain Hypothesis, Koscik and Tranel maintain that, while early ancestors were adept at evaluating sensory data, over time the human brain evolved to make inferential computations. This ability to project information ‘from stimuli [that are] independent of the intrinsic properties of the stimuli’ likely occurred at an early stage of development and ultimately laid the groundwork for other ‘critical transitions’ in human evolution (e.g., the use of symbolic language) (Koscik and Tranel 2012: 395). 15
The notion that inferencing is a native informational processing strategy finds further support in the study of infants. In one experiment, for example, researchers examined whether infants could infer ‘which of two populations is most likely to yield’ a preferred object through an intuitive use of probabilities (Denison and Xu 2014: 337). To conduct the study, researchers used pink and black lollipops along with various jars containing different proportions of the objects to explore whether infants could select a desired outcome. 16 Interestingly, the study found that 75% of the infants were able to choose the preferred object, indicating ‘that infants below 12 month[s] of age are capable of rudimentary probabilistic inference’ (Denison and Xu 2014: 344). 17 This remarkable conclusion suggests that even preverbal infants have the capacity to engage in inferential activity. Moreover, the study further suggests that the ability to determine ‘the probability of uncertain future events’ likely reflects an ‘innate sensitivity’ that has developed over millions of years and has been hard-wired into the human brain (Denison and Xu 2014: 344, 346). 18
While the scientific evidence is compelling, a quick glance at the Synoptics seems to confirm these findings. Gospel scholars have long considered how the evangelists edited their sources. Such discussions are often couched in literary terminology due in large part to rise and influence of redaction criticism. However, these same relationships can also be analyzed via the cognitive sciences. When viewed from this perspective, many of the editorial changes appear to be inferences necessitated by the gaps in Mark’s narrative (assuming Markan priority). As a case in point, consider two scenes in Mk 3. In the first episode (3.1-6), Jesus enters a synagogue on the sabbath and heals a man with a withered hand, prompting the Pharisees and Herodians to begin plotting how they might put him to death. In the second (3.7-12), Jesus withdraws to the sea where he heals a multitude of people from the surrounding regions. The question, at least in Mark’s account, is whether the audience is to infer a causal relationship between the two episodes (Fowler 2008: 71). Is the journey to the sea precipitated by the events in the synagogue? Do the plans of the Pharisees and Herodians somehow affect Jesus’ departure from the area? While the gap is left unresolved in Mark’s story, Matthew attempts to clarify the matter by adding a single participle to draw out the connection. Unlike Mark, Matthew notes that Jesus ‘knew’ (γνούς; Mt. 12.15) about the plot (Mt. 12.14) and therefore withdrew to the sea.
This deliberate modification, though seemingly insignificant, provides implicit witness to a first-century interpretive experience. Matthew, prompted by the ambiguity in Mark’s narrative, filled the gap in order to clarify the relationship between the two scenes. 19 Or expressed in the language of the cognitive sciences, Matthew made an inference – generating new information by using explicit information available in Mark’s gospel. Not only is this tendency unremarkable, but, as Fowler (2008: 72) suggests, it is ‘exactly what any reader must do’ when interpreting a narrative like Mark’s gospel. Far from illustrating a postmodern hermeneutic, the example demonstrates what readers and audiences have always done, even if such insights have not always been appreciated.
Inferences in Narrative Engagement
Although gaps are pervasive in all communication and inferences are an instinctive form of information processing, it would be erroneous to suggest that all gaps and inferences are the same, as has sometimes been assumed. 20 There are a host of inferential activities that may occur as a reader or audience interacts with a narrative. Due to the scope of this study, four inference types will be discussed below: anaphoric, causal-bridging, elaborative, and predictive inferences. This brief overview is intended to contextualize the discussion before turning to a more detailed examination of predictive inferences—the unstated yet necessary activity required by the new consensus. 21
Anaphoric, Causal-Bridging, Elaborative and Predictive Inferences
The first and perhaps most frequently occurring inference type is an anaphoric inference, which relates a noun, pronoun, demonstrative or phrase to previously encountered material (O’Brien, Raney, Albrecht and Rayner 1997: 1-4). Antecedents and their referents may occur within the same written or spoken sentence or they may be separated by some distance (whether textual or temporal). The degree of separation influences the relative strength or weakness of the link (McKoon, Ward, Ratcliff and Sproat 1993), but equally as important is the amount of elaboration given to the antecedent, as well as the feature overlap between the two elements in the narrative context (Cook and O’Brien 2015: 21). Generally speaking, determining the appropriate relationship between a referent and its anaphor is necessary for the comprehension of a narrative. 22
The second type of inference is a causal-bridging inference. Similar to anaphoric, causal-bridging inferences are retrospectively oriented and connect two or more elements within a narrative. The difference, however, is that causal-bridging inferences posit an explanatory relationship between events (Cook and O’Brien 2019: 241). 23 As a classic example, consider a narrative that depicts a hero in a dangerous situation. If the scene is followed immediately by a small gathering of people standing before an open grave, the arrangement will inevitably lead to a causal-bridging inference. 24 Even if the narrative refrains from portraying the immediate effect of the threatening situation, a reader or audience will presume that the initial scene has resulted in the character’s death. This type of inference is influenced in no small measure by a reader’s or audience’s general world knowledge (i.e., dangerous situations may lead to death) as well as by the fact that interpreters ‘actively seek casual explanations for consequent events’ (O’Brien and Cook 2015: 221).
Elaborative inferences represent a third type of inferential activity. Whereas anaphoric and causal inferences are often necessary to maintain interpretive coherence, elaborative inferences are often unnecessary and generally not a deliberate effect of the narrative (Singer and Lea 2012: 94). 25 Instead, elaborative inferences ‘expand on or further define explicitly stated information’ in a narrative (O’Brien, Shank, Myers and Rayner 1988: 410). 26 For example, in one experiment McKoon and Ratcliff (1981) demonstrated that when readers encountered the statement ‘Bobby pounded the boards’, many respondents inferred the concept ‘hammer’. This was true even though the specific tool was not identified in the narrative description. Elaborative inferences are rich and varied and are not restricted to questions of instrumentality. Indeed, ancient and modern literature is replete with texts that were inspired, in whole or in part, by elaborative inferences. 27
The fourth and final inference type is a predictive inference, which involves the anticipation of future events that are not depicted in the story world of the narrative. Such inferences are less frequent than anaphoric or causal-bridging inferences but are well documented in the research (Lassonde and O’Brien 2009; Peracchi and O’Brien 2004; McKoon and Ratcliff 1986). 28 Though predictive inferences are not always necessary, in certain contexts they may be essential to narrative understanding (Tan and Diteweg 2009). 29 To demonstrate the validity of predictive inferences, participants in one study were given a brief narrative describing a waitress who was ‘fed up with her job’ (Murray, Klin and Myers 1993). The description offered various reasons for her frustration, including issues with the chef, manager, and customers. The ‘last straw’ came when the waitress encountered a particularly loud and belligerent customer who complained about the cold spaghetti. After describing the situation, the narrative then terminated on the abrupt note that the waitress ‘picked up the plate of spaghetti and raised it above the rude man’s head’ (Murray, Klin and Myers 1993: 467). Interestingly, while the portrayal finished without a formal conclusion or sense of closure, the truncated account did not deter participants from envisioning events beyond the narrative description. Without any prompting, respondents inferred that the waitress dumped the spaghetti on the rude man’s head, therefore demonstrating the potential of predictive inferencing either during or after the interpretive event. 30
While the classification of inference types is a seemingly pedantic matter, the discussion is significant for Mark’s ending and pushes the conversation in a new and helpful direction. Biblical scholars often refer to the concept of gaps – including the one found at the end of Mark’s gospel – yet the language is inherently vague as the term is used to describe a range of narratival situations. 31 Although proponents of the new consensus have adopted this terminology, it can now be affirmed that Mark’s conclusion more specifically invites a predictive inference that encourages the interpreter to forecast events beyond the conclusion of the narrative. Not only does this classification more accurately describe the interpretive dynamics articulated by the new consensus, but as the discussion will show, it allows us to draw from additional insights gleaned by the cognitive sciences. In particular, research has shown that there are several narrative and cognitive conditions generally associated with predictive inferences.
Characteristics of Predictive Inferences
Every reader or auditor is unique, and determining the likelihood of a predictive inference can only be couched in the language of probabilities – even if such inferences are the desired effect of the narrative. This, however, is not to suggest that predictive inferences are random, interpretive phenomena. Various studies have identified four criteria or characteristics that typically converge in the activation of predictive inferences.
First, predictive inferences – as are most inferences – are predicated on the notion of coherence (Cain 2010: 58-59). 32 Because narratives inevitably contain omissions, readers and auditors consciously and unconsciously make inferences ‘to fill in details that are only implicit’ in a narrative (Currie and Cain 2015: 58). This involves linking elements, inferring causality and forecasting events that may not be explicit in the narrative itself. When coherence is disrupted, an individual engages in inferential activity to restore coherence. These inferential processes are a constituent feature of the narrative experience and are crucial to maintaining both local (the immediate context) and global (the macrostructure of the narrative) coherence (Matravers 2014: 81). Although individual standards of coherence may vary from individual to individual, coherence is nonetheless a catalyst for most inferential activity (van den Broek, Beker and Oudega 2015: 98).
Second, in addition to coherence, the likelihood of a predictive inference is dependent upon contextual support (Guéraud, Tapiero and O’Brien 2008). Here, contextual support is defined by the inference-producing sentence, the immediately preceding context and the wider narrative frame (Cook and O’Brien 2015: 28-29). When both the near and far context anticipate the narration of something that is not identified in the narrative itself, there is a greater probability that the narrative will evoke a predictive inference (Zipin, Tompkins and Kasper 2000). The level of granularity associated with these contextual features also influences the degree of specificity associated with predictive inferences (Lassonde and O’Brien 2009: 427-28).
Third, predictive inferences are also contingent upon characteristics associated with the individual reader or audience member. 33 In particular, the ability to produce a predictive inference is dependent upon working-memory capacity and general world knowledge. Individuals with a higher working-memory capacity have a greater ability to ascertain global themes, to integrate contextual information and to decipher main ideas (Linderholm 2002: 260). Because these skills are relevant for narrative comprehension, working memory capacity has a direct bearing on the inferential process (Yeari 2017). While forecasting future events is not reserved for the mnemonically gifted, it does underscore that working memory – and the various factors that affect it – are important in assessing the likelihood of a predictive inference (Linderholm 2002: 277). Likewise, predictive inferences are also affected by an individual’s general world knowledge (Schmalhofer, McDaniel and Keefe 2002). An individual’s understanding of the world and the means by which it works are essential for various inferential activities, including those that require the interpreter to anticipate events in a given narrative setting (Cook and Guéraud 2005).
Fourth, the probability of a predictive inference is further influenced by the narrative situation, that is, the reader’s or audience’s goal or purpose in interacting with a narrative, as well as any goal or purpose imposed by an outside agent (Virtue and Motyka Joss 2017; McCrudden, Magliano and Schraw 2010). Although the notion of goals and objectives may connote abstract ideas, they exert ‘powerful top-down effects’ on a reader’s or audience’s ‘inferential processes’ and may even affect the volume and type of inferences that are generated (van den Broek, Lorch, Linderholm and Gustafson 2002: 1086). 34
Collectively, these characteristics represent the primary factors that influence the likelihood of a predictive inference. Though they cannot assure that an inference is made, they offer a meaningful guide derived from evidence-based research. In addition, the characteristics offer a practical means to assess whether Mark’s ending is likely to prompt a predictive inference.
Mark’s Ending as a Predictive Inference
Having shown that inferences are a constituent element of all communication, it appears that the underlying premise of the new consensus – theoretically speaking – is not a postmodern concept. What remains to be explored is the intersection between Mark’s ending and the features outlined above. The final section will argue that the characteristics typically associated with predictive inferences can be reasonably affirmed in both the textual and receptive conditions involving an experience of Mark’s gospel.
One of the remarkable points of agreement among Markan scholars – regardless of their interpretive stance – is that 16.7-8 creates an ‘incoherent, fragmentary narrative’ (Aichele 1996: 53) that undermines closure. This ‘truncated’ (Cole 2008: 81) or ‘suspended’ ending (Lyons-Pardue 2020: 76) has even been described as ‘the greatest of all literary mysteries’ (Nineham 1969: 439). As Magness (1986: 2) observes, it is difficult to ‘exhaust the rhetoric of incredulity’ or to overstate the disconnect between the angelic command in 16.7 and the ‘disquieting silence’ (Juel 1994: 107) in 16.8. 35 The juxtaposition of these ‘jarring’ verses (Whitenton 2016: 286) closes the gospel with the story of Jesus and the fate of the disciples uncertain. As van Iersel (1998: 500) rightly concludes, ‘the ending turns everything upside down … and threatens to blow up the book’, leaving the audience ‘as bewildered as the women’.
There thus appears to be sufficient tension in the final verses of Mark’s gospel to produce the narrative incoherency necessary to generate a predicative inference. This disjunction, palpable though it may be, is only exacerbated by the wider narrative context which deepens and extends the experiential impact of Mark’s ending. This broader interpretive context is explicitly evoked in 16.7 when the messenger informs the women that ‘He [Jesus] is going before you to Galilee just as he told you’ (16.7). The analeptic reference ‘just as he told you’ recalls a previous scene in which Jesus instructs the disciples that, after their desertion, they will be reunited with him in Galilee (14.27-28). Beyond its immediate function in the narrative context, the statement is important because it raises the expectation of a near-future gathering after Jesus has been raised.
Additional features in the narrative reinforce the forward-looking trajectory and envision events that are implicitly linked to this anticipated regathering. In the Olivet Discourse, for example, Jesus offers a glimpse of the disciples’ future ministry. During this period, the followers of Jesus will face opposition and hardship in the context of service: they will be handed over to local councils to be flogged (13.9); they will be arrested and brought to trial (13.11); they will be hated on account of their relationship to Jesus (13.13); they will become witnesses before governors and kings (13.9, 11); and they will participate in spreading the gospel to all nations (13.10). 36
While this is not to suggest that every proleptic event must be brought to expression within the narrative, these references create interpretive expectations that are carried forward to the penultimate verse of Mark’s gospel. Thus, when the women are given the angelic command (16.7), their participation and obedience appear necessary for the logic of the narrative. Since they are the only characters still following Jesus, they stand as pivotal figures to bring news of the resurrection to the disciples. But it is precisely at this moment that expectations are jeopardized, if not dashed, for in the final verse the women fail to communicate the angelic message (16.8), seemingly disrupting a sequence of interrelated, future happenings that are contingent on the reunion in Galilee.
Creating even further interpretive dissonance is the relation between the angelic command and the character of Jesus. 37 As the central protagonist of the narrative, the Markan Jesus is portrayed as a figure who possesses ‘authority’ (1.22, 27) and to whom others are commanded to ‘listen’ (9.7). As evidence that Jesus’ word ‘will not pass away’ (13.31), the narrative repeatedly depicts the fulfillment of his predictions within the story world of the gospel. The Markan Jesus, for instance, accurately foretells the location of a colt that will be used for his entry into Jerusalem (11.2-7), the individual carrying a pitcher of water with whom the disciples are to make arrangements for the Passover (14.13-16), Judas’ betrayal (14.18-21, 43-45), Peter’s denials (14.30, 66-72) and his own death and resurrection (8.31; 9.31; 10.32-34). Although the crucial scene in 14.27-28 – referenced in 16.7 – looks forward to a reunion with the disciples, it likewise predicts the scattering of the disciples which is fulfilled in 14.50. Taken together, these scenes paint a decisive picture that informs the interpreter’s understanding of the Markan Jesus, creating further expectations about the previously forecast reunion. 38 As Blount (2005: 19) summarizes, ‘[i]f Jesus could successfully predict the circumstances surrounding his own death and simultaneously divine the fact and timing of his revival from it, surely something as pedestrian as a promise to parley with his disciples could be just as reliable’.
These various contextual features in Mark’s gospel heighten the incongruity between the angelic command and the women’s response. Although the experience of Mark’s ending is ‘incomplete and troubling’ (Boring 2006: 448), particularly given its conclusion to a narrative of ‘good news’ (1.1), ironically it is this dismantling of coherency that generates the condition necessary for a predictive inference. Given the importance of coherence and the role it plays in the inferential process, it is the unsettledness of Mark’s ending and the ‘crisis of interpretation’ (Danove 1993: 208) that spurs the inferential process and the pursuit to envision events beyond the narrative sequence.
This conclusion is further supported by the probable general world knowledge and narrative situation of Mark’s early interpreters. The perceived level of background knowledge is important since, in addition to relevant contextual information, interpreters often rely on prior understanding when making predictive inferences. Mark’s gospel may conclude without a reunion or resurrection appearance, but many, if not most, were cognizant that something had transpired after the final scene of the gospel. By the time Mark was written around 70 ce, the story of Jesus’ resurrection and subsequent appearances had been in circulation for well over a decade (1 Cor. 15). These traditions (both written and oral) were passed along by individual tradents and believing communities that had been formed in various parts of the empire (Marcus 2009: 1095-96). Even in the remote possibility that the Markan community was somehow insulated from these traditions, ‘the very existence of the [Markan] story tells the reader that what Jesus said would happen [i.e., a reunion with the disciples], did happen’ (Moloney 2002: 351, emphasis original).
The validity of this assumption only gains credibility the further we project out from the initial composition of Mark. As the text of Mark was copied, alternative endings codified (Metzger 1994: 102-7) and other gospels written it is even more probable that additional resurrection and post-resurrection traditions became available to the interpreters of Mark. This background knowledge undoubtedly contributed to the ‘scandal’ (Kermode 1979: 67) of Mark’s ending, creating an even sharper disconnect between the narrative depiction and the reader’s or audience’s prior understanding. While knowledge of these traditions further contributed to the disruption of coherency, they also provided the informational resources and impetus to form predictive inferences. Moreover, given that many early interpreters were part of believing communities that revered the Markan gospel, the ending likely promoted a narrative situation that demanded inferential activity. In this experiential matrix, the unsettledness of Mark’s ending likely encouraged strategic processes to facilitate the reconciliation of Mark’s narrative with other early Christian traditions. 39
While there appears to be evidence to suggest that the narrative context, general world knowledge and narrative situation are conducive to predictive inferencing, it is equally important to consider the subject of working memory. Cognitively speaking, predictive inferences depend on an interpreter’s ability to reflect on the content of a narrative (near and far) while simultaneously imagining future events. Working memory, the place where this ‘present conscious cognitive processing’ (Griggs 2009: 158) occurs, is a vital component of the inferential process. However, working memory is a limited capacity store – both in terms of its volume and storage duration – and most information that passes through working memory is quickly discarded. Therefore, the twofold challenge of postulating a predictive inference rests on the premise that an interpreter (1) has sufficient time to engage in the inferential exercise and (2) has retained and can access the relevant narrative information and/or traditions necessary to prime the inference.
Although questions pertaining to individual working memory must deal in the realm of probabilities, there are two aspects of the narrative that facilitate a predictive inference. First, the location of the scene at the end of Mark’s gospel presents an ideal opportunity for the reader or audience to engage in inferential activity. More specifically, after the inference-evoking event in 16.7-8, the narrative is silent. There are no more interactions between characters or statements by the narrator to compete for valuable working-memory resources or to distract the interpreter from the oddity of the ending. The location of the inference-evoking scene provides the reader or audience with the space to entertain the cognitive juggling that is necessary for the inferential process. In view of the ‘delay’ required to construct a predictive inference, it appears that the narrative has been designed to provide the temporal occasion to work out the enigma of Mark’s ending. 40
Second, if the location of the abrupt ending facilitates a predictive inference, it can be further argued that that scene offers a mnemonic device to promote this activity. It has already been suggested that the angelic command (καθὼς εἶπεν ὑμῖν, 16.7) references a previous episode in the narrative that links the gathering of the disciples to the word of Jesus (14.27-28). But it should also be observed that the anaphoric reference has important mnemonic implications that influence the act of remembering. Memory studies often differentiate between two general types of data retrieval: recall and recognition (Hasselmo 2012: 1-30). Although both forms refer to a kind of reactivation, recall occurs when an individual attempts to access data apart from external cuing (e.g., a fill-in-the-blank test question), while recognition is triggered by a mnemonic aid that assists in the identification of a previously stored memory (e.g., a multiple-choice test question). 41 Of the two types of data retrieval, it is widely acknowledged that ‘recall is a more difficult task than recognition’ (Chiaravalloti, O’Brien and DeLuca 2007: 298) and ‘requires a separate higher order process of recollection’ (Pauly-Takacs, Souchay, Smith and Moulin 2019: 388), primarily because recall does not offer a means of mnemonic assistance. In fact, studies have shown that individuals ‘who cannot recall anything’ from a ‘list presented to them a few minutes ago can reliably pick out’ the same items when ‘presented to them again in a recognition test’ (Pauly-Takacs, Souchay, Smith and Moulin 2019: 388).
These distinctions are important, for the abrupt ending not only evokes a predictive inference but provides a mnemonic tool to facilitate the process. Though a reader’s or audience’s degree of familiarity with the tradition influences recollection, an interpreter is not dependent on recall alone – the more challenging means of mnemonic access. Instead, Mark provides a simple but effective cue that fosters the cognitive connections that might inform a predictive inference. The recognition device, which consists of three simple words (καθὼς εἶπεν ὑμῖν, 16.7), points the interpreter backwards (14.27-28) and ensures that the scene must not be reintroduced through the often-unreliable process of mnemonic recall. How much of the narrative will be remembered is contingent upon a number of factors that are unique to the individual. However, even a person largely unfamiliar with the narrative is likely to be struck by three interrelated features: (1) the angelic command to inform the disciples that Jesus will meet them in Galilee, (2) the women’s departure and failure to relay the angelic instruction and (3) the affirmation that the expected reunion is dependent on a promise made by the Markan Jesus.
How these issues are to be reconciled is not spelled out, even if it seems apparent that the scene has been implicitly crafted with a view towards the cognitive demands of the inferential process. For some, this ambiguity strengthens the argument that the new consensus is determined by a ‘20th-century existentialism that revels in paradox and dislikes “naïve happy-ever-after endings”’ (Stein 2008: 93; cf. Lunn 2014: 6). Yet this perspective fails to appreciate how individuals produce inferences in real-world contexts. Rather than assuming that inferential activity always leads to a singular conclusion, Cook and O’Brien (2015: 20) have shown that the processes which guide inferential activity are ‘unrestricted and dumb’. This is not to imply that individuals go about making inferences in an unintelligent fashion, but rather that any information which resonates with the interpreter’s perception of the narrative (e.g., contextual information from the narrative or general world knowledge) may be activated in the inferential process. Since no one hermeneutical principle can determine how a particular reader or audience might rectify the incongruency of Mark’s ending, it is unsurprising that scholars have posited a variety of interpretive solutions. This study has identified several of the data points that might inform a predictive inference, but there has been no attempt to identify a ‘correct’ interpretation, though perhaps it can be affirmed that most views typically point to the centrality and continuation of God’s kingdom in light of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection.
That this kind of inferential activity is the effect of the narrative is further suggested by the manuscript tradition. Though it has already been argued that the various endings to the narrative, as well as the other gospels, may have influenced the experience of Mark, it should also be noted that the same traditions provide material evidence of the inferential process. In fact, Mark’s inference-provoking potential is nowhere more evident than in the textual tradition. While some propose that the variants underscore ‘massive [scribal] dissatisfaction’ (Gundry 1993: 1012), such pronouncements overlook the explicit evidence in the manuscripts themselves. In the vast majority of manuscripts, scribes extended Mark’s gospel by providing details that assuage the difficulty of 16.8. Regardless of their motivation, the evidence indicates that scribes engaged in the kind of predictive inferencing suggested above. This scribal response, codified in the manuscript tradition, is the same activity that has frequently been dismissed as ‘postmodern’ by many who oppose the new consensus.
In sum, the characteristics typically associated with predictive inferences can be readily discerned in Mark’s ending and the contextual situation in which it was likely received. This includes an inference-evoking scene designed to disrupt coherency, relevant contextual information (both in the narrative and beyond) to resource imaginative activity, as well as a mnemonic cue to facilitate the cognitive tasks required for the inferential process. Though individuals may interpret the conclusion in unique ways, Mark’s ending is stylized in order to trigger a predictive inference and the envisioning of events beyond the narrative world.
Conclusion
Over the years, many have argued that the abrupt ending is intelligible only when analyzed through a postmodern lens. Though this assessment is partially warranted since the new consensus has often relied on contemporary literary theory, the cognitive sciences provide an empirically based approach that has been neglected in the discussion of Mark. Recent research suggests that inferencing is a ubiquitous and necessary form of informational processing that is innate to the species. Because these processes are as ancient as they are universal, to argue that the new consensus is dependent on a postmodern hermeneutic seemingly ignores important evolutionary developments. Indeed, it would be far more postmodern to suggest that Mark is a dystopian narrative that concludes on a terminal note of silence.
In view of these findings, it can now be affirmed that the lacuna in Mark’s ending is a structural device intended to generate a predictive inference. Whether this entails extending the story via the characters in the narrative or through the interpreter’s own participation is largely irrelevant. Each requires the interpreter to establish coherence through the inferential process. While Mark’s ending will continue to ‘fascinate interpreters’ (Telford 2009: 34), new evidence supports the claim that readers and audiences must ‘complete the story’ by forecasting events beyond the narrative of Mark’s gospel.