🌿 The Gospel of Mark
A Franciscan Clarean Commentary — by Sister Abigail Hester, OFC
💫 The Wild Beginning
Mark’s Gospel doesn’t start with cozy Christmas nostalgia. There’s no manger, no angels cooing over a baby. It starts in the wilderness — with a wild prophet, wearing camel hair, shouting about repentance.
That’s classic Franciscan energy right there: God showing up in the margins, barefoot and untamed. The wilderness is where illusions fall away and simplicity becomes holy clarity. Mark’s Jesus bursts onto the scene not from a palace or temple, but from the desert. The message: God begins again on the edge of everything.
🔥 The Urgency of Love
Modern scholars call Mark’s writing “immediate.” Everything happens right now.
From a Franciscan Clarean lens, this isn’t anxiety — it’s holy immediacy.
The Gospel of Mark is breathless because love is urgent. The world is suffering, and compassion can’t wait until we’ve got our theology perfectly sorted.
Francis and Clare understood that same pulse: mend what’s broken today. Feed the hungry now. Reconcile before the sun sets. Mark’s “immediately” is a heartbeat of divine action.
💔 The Suffering Christ
Mark’s Jesus bleeds early and often. He’s misunderstood, exhausted, betrayed, and finally screams in forsaken agony on the cross. Scholars see this as Mark’s theology of the Suffering Messiah — God revealed in pain, not power.
We, too, know that mystery.
The Franciscan Clarean path doesn’t chase prestige; it sits with the broken. It whispers that holiness often looks like vulnerability, like compassion that costs something.
Mark’s Gospel turns empire’s logic upside down: greatness is service; glory is love poured out.
🕊️ The Disciples and the Dance of Misunderstanding
Let’s be honest — the disciples in Mark are a bit of a mess. They misunderstand nearly everything. They argue about greatness right after Jesus predicts his death.
But Mark isn’t mocking them; he’s revealing us.
Discipleship isn’t a test of IQ — it’s a willingness to keep walking, keep trying, keep saying yes even when you don’t get it.
That’s the way of Clare: simple, stubborn faith that keeps loving even in the dark.
That’s the way of Francis: joyfully failing forward in the company of Christ.
🪞 The Messianic Secret
Jesus tells people to keep quiet about his miracles. Why?
Modern scholars call this the Messianic Secret. Mark’s Jesus refuses to be turned into a political slogan or celebrity. He wants hearts transformed, not crowds manipulated.
For Franciscan Clareans, that’s spiritual humility in action — the quiet revolution of love without ego.
Holiness doesn’t need to shout. It just is.
🌍 The Politics of Compassion
Mark’s story unfolds under Rome’s shadow. Power, greed, and violence define the world Jesus walks through. When he heals, eats with sinners, or touches lepers, he’s not just being “nice.” He’s resisting empire with compassion.
Modern liberation and narrative scholars like Ched Myers and Amy-Jill Levine help us see that Mark’s Jesus is confronting systems — unbinding the “strong man” of domination.
Francis and Clare did the same in their own century: they defied empire and Church wealth by living voluntary poverty and unarmed love. The Gospel of Mark is their manual for holy rebellion — the art of sacred disobedience.
✝️ The Silence at the Tomb
The earliest ending — Mark 16:8 — leaves us hanging:
“They fled from the tomb, trembling and bewildered… and said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
That’s the punchline of the Gospel. No resurrection appearances. No tidy closure. Just silence and fear — and an invitation.
Mark ends with a cliffhanger because the story isn’t finished.
It’s our turn to proclaim resurrection — through mercy, through courage, through joy.
Franciscan Clareans pick up that unfinished sentence every day.
Our life is the continuation of the Gospel.
Our compassion is its new chapter.
🌈 Reflection
Mark’s Gospel is not a book about belief — it’s a summons to transformation.
It’s wild, fast, apocalyptic, and full of holy surprise.
In a world obsessed with control and comfort, Mark calls us to holy poverty, fearless love, and radical hope.


