Perceiving that the cross is God’s good news is not a matter of word studies on the use of the evangel*-words, but a matter of the narrative taken as a whole. The “punchline” of Mark’s Gospel, if you will, is the crucifixion— which of course would be meaningless, just another tragic story of a good man crushed by the Empire, had it not been for the resurrection. But Mark is pointing us to the crucifixion, and to its meaning, because that’s where the problem comes to a head.
That narrative understanding is what I think is missing from most of our preaching and theologizing— we imagine that, well, yes, Jesus (and we) had to go through the cross to get to the resurrection (and to the “kingdom”), but that was/is just an unfortunate detour, the career of the gospel in this evil world, but if we accept him into our hearts we’ll live prosperous lives in the present and finally dwell forever in Neverneverland or rather “the kingdom of heaven”, by and by.
That glorious existence was exactly what the Jews wanted at the time of Jesus— except that God’s reign was to be on earth and not just in heaven— and it was what the rebels wanted at the time of the Jewish Revolts. That Jesus didn’t deliver it is why the Jews rejected him, and why their children rejected the Christian message at the time of the Revolt. And ya know what? It’s what we in fact all keep thinking we’re gonna get when Jesus comes to rapture us to the sky.
And this is precisely the thinking that Jesus rejects.
Jesus announced that “God’s regime has arrived (ἤγγικεν)” (Mk 1.14-15), and he demonstrated it powerfully in word and in deed— but he invited others to participate in it precisely by picking up their cross, denying themselves, and following after him (Mk 8.34). He was vested, crowned, saluted, and enthroned as King precisely on the cross, having been lifted up and acclaimed there as King for everyone to see. The cross is the Messiah’s triumph, in the strange, backward logic of the gospel story. It is precisely to the cross— not to any “second coming” that Jesus refers in his answer to the high priest:
Mk 14.62 “You will see ‘the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power’ and ‘coming with the clouds of heaven.’”
In Mark, that the cross is the climax and even punchline of the story is clear if you follow the story closely, but we seldom do that today, because we don’t often read the whole story all at once, preferring instead to chop it up into little fragments that we can then moralize about, and we mix all the gospels together into one general “story of Jesus” that isn’t so much apostolic as it’s just the one in our heads. But notice what Matthew and Luke do with Jesus’ words at that point— how they sharpen them, presumably because they found they needed a little sharpening for their own audiences. Mark’s Jesus had said—
Mk 14.62 “You will see ‘the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power’ and ‘coming with the clouds of heaven.’”
—but Matthew and Luke have him say,
Mt 26.64 “From this point on (ἀπ᾿ ἄρτι)— you will see ‘the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power’ and ‘coming on the clouds of heaven.’”
Lk 22.69 “From now on (ἀπὸ τοῦ νῦν)— ‘the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the power of God’.”
What happens “from now on” in all three stories is precisely the torture and crucifixion of the Son of Man. That is the exaltation of the Son of Man.
In John the part of the trial relating to Jesus’ kingship is moved from Caiaphas’ offices to Pilate’s court, and in the end, Pilate very explicitly moves to “crucify your king” (Jn 19.15). It is then precisely on the cross that Jesus the King says “it is finished (τετέλεσται)”— that is, it’s complete— and it is from the cross that Jesus first “handed over (παρέδωκεν)” the promised Spirit (Jn 19.30). In all four Gospels, the cross is the throne from which the King of Glory reigns.
And of course you remember that astonishing exchange where Jesus announces that the Son of Man will be killed and rise— and then James and John ask to sit, “one at your right and one at your left (εἷς σου ἐκ δεξιῶν καὶ εἷς ἐξ ἀριστερῶν) in your glory”. Throughout this whole section of Mark’s Gospel, the disciples seem to have the almost the same idea that we do— that suffering was/is just an unfortunate fact, possibly the career of those who live by the gospel in this evil world (but possibly avoidable?)— but as Jesus’ followers, we’ll get to dwell forever in the glory of God’s reign by and by— the only difference between them and us being that, as Jews, they all thought that reign would be here on earth, whereas we all think we’re going to “heaven”.
Well, and Jesus asks, Are you ready for my baptism and cup? and they say, We’re ready! and Jesus says, You’ll share!— and then adds, “but to sit at my right hand or at my left (ἐκ δεξιῶν μου ἢ ἐξ εὐωνύμων) is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared” (10.40).
The night before he’s betrayed, Jesus then duly shares the promised cup— “my blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many”, at the Messianic Banquet (Mk 14.23-24). This would be a foretaste of the cup of suffering that the Father did not withdraw (14.36). But Mark doesn’t leave the thread about sitting at the “right and left hands” dangling. After notifying us that “the superscription of his accusation [was] superscribed, THE KING OF THE JEWS” (15.26), he goes on to say,
“And with him they crucify two guerrillas, one on his right and one on his left (ἕνα ἐκ δεξιῶν καὶ ἕνα ἐξ εὐωνύμων αὐτοῦ)” (15.27).
—And if you read Greek, please note how carefully Mark uses the fact that Greek has two words for “left” to tie the crucifixion to Jesus’ response to James and John (he says εὐωνύμων), but not to the wording of their question (they say ἀριστερῶν).
The cross is when the Son of Man “came in his glory”, exactly as he said to the high priest (Mk 14.62). For as he explained to the disciples right before James and John asked their foolish question, “the Son of Man came . . . . to give his life as a ransom for many” (10.45). He did not come to “rule over the nations” in the sense of “lording it over them” (10.42).
The cross is Christ’s good news. Pick it up, deny yourself, and hang on it, and you will participate in God’s reign (or better, in his “regime”) (βασιλεία) forever (Mk 8.34-38); but be ashamed of the cross— and “of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he comes in glory” (Mk 8.38). Yet indeed, “some of those who are standing here will not taste of death, until they’ve seen that God’s regime has come with power” (Mk 9.1, translating ἐληλυθυῖαν as the perfect participle it is).
When will it have “come in power”? Jesus explains that to the high priest: “You will see ‘the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power’ and ‘coming with the clouds of heaven.’” We avoid the implications of the gospel by imagining here that Jesus is referring to a “second coming”— especially one that “failed to arrive”, as the usual scholarly story goes, within the first generation. Such an idea assumes that the Church started out as a Jehovah’s Witness type of millennialist organization, which then wised up and institutionalized in order to control the masses, or some such. No, but from the beginning, the apostles were very clear about what this apocalyptic language meant on Jesus’ lips. The fulfillment of Daniel 7— the vindication of Israel in the exaltation of the Son of Man to power and dominion over all nations— took place on the cross!
The gospel is all about the cross! The eschaton had dawned where it was least expected! “The stone which the builders rejected has become the head of the corner: This was the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes”! (Mk 12.10-11).
In fact all religion is about suffering. The uniqueness of the Christian message is that when we suffer in trust, aligning ourselves with what God is doing in his Messiah, then we actually participate with the Messiah in his universal reign.
When Jesus first began his career, he “came into Galilee, proclaiming God’s good news, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and God’s regime is at hand (ἤγγικεν); repent and put your trust in the good news” (Mk 1.14-15). When he said “is at hand (ἤγγικεν)”, did he mean that God’s regime is “somewhere nearby but not really here”, as we usually think? No, because the perfect refers to a present condition that has come about as a result of some an action in that past. We clearly see what’s going on when Mark uses the exact form later on—
“See, my betrayer is at hand (ἤγγικεν). And immediately while he was still speaking (εὐθὺς ἔτι αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος), Judas, one of the Twelve, was alongside (παραγίνεται)” (Mk 14.42-43). Judas was not “on his way”. He was stepping out of the bushes.
So it’s better to translate Jesus’ first announcement in Mk 1.14-15 as, “God’s regime “has arrived!” But how has it arrived? It has arrived— Mark’s whole story is that it has arrived on the cross. And it’s the same in all the New Testament.
Well, as far as I’m concerned, crucifixion is not any good news at all. In fact as “good news”, this “gospel” is not even believable— except for the resurrection. That’s why Paul says, “if the Messiah has not been raised, then empty is our proclamation; empty, too, your trust” (1Co 15.14). In the resurrection, God vindicated his Messiah, or as St Paul puts it, “established him as Son of God in power” (Rm 1.4).
But the resurrection does not abrogate the cross! No, “God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world is crucified to me, and I to the world” (Ga 6.14). In fact the cross is the very heart of Paul’s “gospel”, and of the apostolic proclamation generally: “I determined to know nothing among you, save Jesus the Messiah, and him crucified” (1Co 2.2).