Search

When situating the Gospel of Mark within a Jewish context, incongruities concerning both Jesus's character and the collective character of Jesus's disciples become apparent. The Markan Christ, for one thing, is a non-Christ. He does not defeat the powers that be (rather, the powers that be defeat him), nor does he inaugurate a messianic age. His disciples, additionally, are generally clueless, and do not understand who Jesus is or what his theologies are. This essay puts into conversation the Markan narrative with Crazy Ex-Girlfriend to consider whether humour might be part of Mark's Gospel. More specifically, it unpacks the self-disparaging humour of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (e.g. what it is; where it is; how it functions), and question intertextually if or to what extent Mark's Gospel might be implementing a similar self-disparagement as a way to open up space for critical reflection and critique—a self-disparagement that, when held up by humour, does not leave readers falling down an existential hole. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]

We catch glimpses of a culture's memories of trauma and the survival of these memories in an array of discursive formations, including narrative. By naming, shaping, and giving words to traumatic experience, storytelling becomes an act of processing--an act that seeks to make sense of and survive the many haunting associations and dissociations, which, paradoxically, signify events that exceed categorized signification. Though typically not utilizing trauma theory, scholars indirectly describe the book of Esther as taking part in this process. As Timothy Beal writes, Esther is a book "about living beyond the end," often doing so by utilizing humour to lampoon the powers that be. However, rather than simply undermine the enemy via subversive jest, the Jews in the book of Esther eventually turn the tables completely as they call for a mass annihilation of Jewish foes. As such, the creation of a new Jewish identity--one that appropriates Amalekite power and force--becomes another glimpse of the culture's attempt to process, survive, and counter trauma. These tactics become even clearer, however, when cross-read intertextually with the celebration of Purim throughout the Shoah, followed by the solidification of the Israeli Sabra image after World War II. Whereas the celebration of Purim functioned more regularly as hidden resistance, the establishment of the Israeli Sabra created space for both revenge fantasy and revenge reality against any and all lingering "Amaleks." Though differing in strategy, context, and, arguably, productivity, these responses nevertheless illustrate a range of survival strategies employed in the face of communal suffering. Reading the book of Esther alongside these examples of counter-trauma exposes Esther's use of humour and appropriation of enemy ideology as articulations of post-traumatic wish-fulfillment. In short, by reading Esther as haunted by the Holocaust and the creation of the post-Shoah Sabra, we may better recognize the range of survival tactics employed in the text. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]