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18 The disciples of John and of the Pharisees were fasting. Then they came and said to Him, “Why do the disciples of John and of the Pharisees fast, but Your disciples do not fast?” 19 And Jesus said to them, “Can the friends of the bridegroom fast while the bridegroom is with them? As long as they have the bridegroom with them they cannot fast. 20 But the days will come when the bridegroom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast in those days. 21 No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; or else the new piece pulls away from the old, and the tear is made worse. 22 And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; or else the new wine bursts the wineskins, the wine is spilled, and the wineskins are ruined. But new wine must be put into new wineskins.” (Mark 2:18-22 NKJV)
Mark 2:18
Two points are noteworthy about the opening of this story. The first is the awareness of who is and is not fasting. Christ condemns this type of performative fasting for the praise of men in Matthew 6:16-8:
“Moreover, when you fast, do not be like the hypocrites, with a sad countenance. For they disfigure their faces that they may appear to men to be fasting. Assuredly, I say to you, they have their reward. But you, when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you do not appear to men to be fasting, but to your Father who is in the secret place; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly.”
Now, were the Pharisees the only group mentioned, then we might rightly presume that the question is antagonistic, these already proving themselves to be resistant to Christ. But this brings us to the second point of note, namely, that Mark mentions the disciples of John. This mixed company raises the possibility that the question is not accusatory — or at least, such was not the intent of all who inquired. Some may well have asked in good faith, while others asked because they were scandalized.
Notice that the question is not about Christ refusing to fast but about his disciples. This omission could indicate that Christ was indeed refraining from food. — This is not to suggest, of course, that Christ did not eat or drink. He certainly did (e.g., Matt 11:19; Lk 7:34). But it may be that in this case he was not eating, while his Disciples were. — But notice the contrast between the fasting of the Saints and the fasting of Christ. As Cyril of Alexandria points out, the Saints fast to exhaust the body and quell its passions, making them easier to subdue. But Christ had no such need “for the perfecting of virtue, because, as being God, He was free from all passion” (Hom. 21, Lk.). And yet, Christ did fast — in the wilderness, for example. Why?
Two explanations present themselves. The first is one of example. Cyril notes that Christ prepared himself with the armor of fasting as the Devil drew near to tempt him. And in this way, he offers an example for the Saints who are to imitate him. Much like the way in which Christ lays bare the pattern we must follow — taking up our cross and following him, forsaking our lives for his sake rather than saving it — so it is with his example in fasting as the Devil draws near.
The second concerns something we see in the First Adam. Notice that Christ speaks of food of which his Disciples know not, namely, doing the will of his Father (Jn 4:31-4). In the case of Adam and Eve, the Eastern fathers see something similar. Basil of Caesarea understands our First Parents’ obliviousness to their own nakedness to indicate that they fed upon divine vision, beholding the uncreated light of God — his energies — and thus had neither awareness of nor care for the lower needs of the flesh. When this divine vision fell away, only then did they become aware of the needs of the body. In the case of Christ, the Second Adam, we can presume something similar. His abstention from food was not to weaken the flesh that he might put to death sinful passions, as the Saints do, but rather a feeding upon the will of his Father, as did the First Adam.
Mark 2:19-20
This mixed company with mixed motives may explain Christ’s gentleness in reply. He does not rebuke them for the question because some ask from a desire to learn. Yet, Chrysostom sees something else in this gentle reply. When the Scribes reprimand Christ for dining with sinners and tax collectors, he rebukes them harshly, but here gently. Why? Because in the former case, Christ is defending another. The hypocrites are here striving to hinder the salvation of a lost soul, so Christ rebukes them harshly for obstructing the prodigal’s return home. But in the case of the present reproof, the question is about his own piety, which Christ is far less zealous to defend. Hence, he simply offers a metaphor to explain the suitability of his Disciples’ actions. (Hom. 30, Matt.)
Christ’s gentle answer goes to a fundamental incompatibility between joy and gladness, on the one hand, and fasting on the other. His bridegroom metaphor calls to mind a celebratory event — the arrival of a bridegroom at a wedding — and asks whether one might fast in this situation. Christ’s claim is stronger than saying fasting would be inappropriate. Rather, Christ claims that the friends of the bridegroom cannot fast while he is with them — or more literally, they have not power to fast (μὴ δύνανται). Why? Because, as Chrysostom observes, when joy and gladness are present, fasting cannot be.
This juxtaposition between joy and fasting illuminates several truths. The first concerns the nature of the Disciples’ eating. Christ does not here advocate indulging the passion of gluttony, for he is not an advocate of sin — Heaven forbid! Rather, he defends their actions as suitable: Being filled with joy because the Messiah has come, they suitably eat with gladness.
The second concerns the hypocrites. Because of their hardness of heart, which blinds them to Christ, they cannot enter into this joy; for they do not recognize the bridegroom. And this is why they do not abstain from fasting.
The third concerns a practice of the Saints. Within a number of stories, we find monastics who set aside their fasting for the sake of hospitality. When asked why, the answer echoes what we find here: They can always fast, but they cannot always celebrate you. Such is the reason why the Orthodox Church allows concessions during great fasts — for national holidays, such as Thanksgiving, for example.
Now, concerning the bridegroom metaphor, Chrysostom observes that this was first introduced by John the Baptist. Mark, of course, does not record these words, but we find them in John’s gospel: “He who has the bride is the bridegroom; but the friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore this joy of mine is fulfilled” (Jn 3:29). No doubt these words would be known to John’s disciples who were amongst those Christ is answering.
In this metaphor, Cyril of Alexandria sees not only Christ but the Incarnation itself. That is to say, Christ spiritually united himself with our nature, making humanity his bride. This is the new thing that has come, and all of the children of this union are called to feast. But, Cyril continues, the Pharisees have no part in this feast because they prefer the shadows of the Law over the substance that casts them, namely, Christ himself (Hom. 21, Lk.).
Notice that Christ begins to hint here at things to come of which his Disciples are unaware, namely, his impending suffering a death. He hints at this by noting there will come a time when he will be taken from them and they will fast. But the glimpse is fleeting, making no mention of his Resurrection, only the fact that he will be taken from them.
The fact that Christ does not heap this burden on his Disciples from the start, says Chrysostom, shows his condescension to their weakness — withholding more challenging teachings and realities until they are more capable of bearing it. Such condescension is evident in the wineskins and garment metaphors themselves: Christ does not pour his fresh teachings into men with the goal of bursting them but introduces them in a manner they can bear.
We see this same wisdom in the Desert Fathers. In a story about St. Antony, for example, a hunter came to see the renown desert monk, and he was scandalized to find the other monks enjoying leisure. Antony told the hunter to take out his bow and pull it back to the brink and release. The hunter did. Antony asked him to do it again. And again, he did. He asked a third time, and the hunter warned that if he continued to push the bow to the brink it would break. And Antony replied, so it is with the monks. As radical as the Saints were in their ascetical pursuit of God, they were also attuned to the weakness of men and strove to aid them without breaking them. And so it is with the Church herself, who patiently cares for would-be converts, allowing them a season as catechumens to learn the rhythms of the life of faith and prepare themselves before entering the Church, or slowly introducing a prayer rule and fasting practices, rather than heaping on the penitent rigors suitable to only monks. The Church and her Saints have always resisted the type of rigorism that cares more for the practice than for the man these practices were designed to aid.
Mark 2:21-22
Christ’s metaphor of new wine in new wineskins and unshrunk cloth and old garments illustrates that his new teachings require pliable vessels to receive them, since the rigidity of the old system cannot accept the new and any attempt to merge the two would destroy both — a fact increasingly proved by the inability of the Scribes and Pharisees to embrace Christ. Evident enough within the metaphor is that both the wineskins and the patch represent something new — these being new skins and new cloth. This is not the first mention of something new in Mark’s gospel. As discussed in reference to Mark 1:1-15, St. John the Forerunner was preparing the way for something new, offering a preparatory baptism, one meant to prepare the people for Christ and the baptism he would offer to the world. And Christ’s ministry commences with fresh or new teachings. Notice that Mark uses the same word here, in reference to the skins and the cloth, that he does when the people refer to Christ’s teachings as new (see Mark 1:21-8). Both are referred to as new in the qualitative sense of “fresh” (καινη), not new in the chronological sense (νέος).1 So, the parallel is no doubt intentional.
As mentioned previously, Mark is precise about the order of his stories, the succession often providing interpretive help to one another. For this reason, the end of the previous story anticipates the teaching about new wineskins. For the previous story ends with the declaration, We have never known anything like this! (Mark 2:6-12) The declaration is not only true but is an exclamation of something new, something never before seen.
With this dawn of something new, there is a break with things past, with preparatory things, because the substance — the thing prepared for — has now arrived. Such is Christ’s image of the bridegroom. Having arrived, the time of fasting (in preparation) is over. His departure will follow, and this will give way to a season of fasting once again, but of a different kind. Such fasting will not be preparatory, his friends awaiting his arrival. Rather, the fasting that will follow when the bridegroom is taken from them, and this fasting will be in service to the substance that is now here. Just as John’s baptism was in preparation for the gifts that would come through the baptism of Christ, so the preparatory fasting under the Old Testament Law would pass away, being replaced with a new type of fasting — one aimed at putting to death the deeds of the flesh with the help of the Holy Spirit in service to virtue and salvation (Rom 8:11-3; Titus 2:11-2). Or as Cyril of Alexandria more concisely puts it, fasting aimed at virtue.
Cyril observes that this manner of fasting — in service to the formation of virtue — is one foreign to the Pharisees. The fact is painfully evident in their disapproval of Christ’s love for sinners and their repentance. Instead, their fasting was of the kind condemned in Isaiah 58:3-4:
“‘Why have we fasted, and you see it not? Why have we humbled ourselves, and you take no knowledge of it?’ Behold, in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure, and oppress all your workers. Behold, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to hit with a wicked fist. Fasting like yours this day will not make your voice to be heard on high.”
As Cryil explains, this type of fasting is of no benefit. Had the Pharisees may have received some benefit had they fasted “by humbling themselves in the eyes of God, and imposing upon themselves as it were a voluntary sentence of labour and abstinence, that they may obtain forgiveness of their offences, or win some fresh spiritual gift, or even to mortify the law of sin that is in their fleshly members. But this mode of fasting thou art ignorant of, O Pharisee!” (Hom. 21, Lk.). Chrysostom, refers to such false piety as a disease, which Christ sought to eradicate with his teachings, foreknowing the evils that spring from it.
The new cloth is καινον, the neuter form of καινός, and the new wineskins are καινους, the accusative masculine plural of καινός. The new wine that is placed in the fresh wineskins, however, is new in the chronological sense (νεον, the neuter form of νέος). I take the choice to use νέος in the second instance as a means of highlighting the parrallel between Christ’s teachings and the new vessels required for them, since both are labeled “new” in the sense of καινός.