The Parables We Live
Symbolic Action and the Way of Jesus
The primary way that Jesus teaches throughout the New Testament is through parables. These fictionalized narratives offer more than just entertainment or simple moralism; they reveal deep truths about God, and perhaps even more poignantly, about us. It’s clear this was Jesus’ preferred teaching method. But what's not always as clear is where the line between parable and action actually lies.
Most of what Jesus does in the gospels—the way the stories are told and structured—falls into what we might call "symbolic action." That doesn’t mean these things didn’t happen. Rather, it means the way they're remembered and recorded has been shaped with intention. They have been curated to point beyond themselves—to teach us something about who Jesus is, and about the world he inhabited.
Where Story and Action Meet
This is where the gospels become truly beautiful. The line between story and act is intentionally blurred. In Mark's gospel, for instance, we hear the call: "The kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news." And then, immediately, we're off into a series of healing stories. Scholars often refer to these as symbolic actions.
Now, that term can feel tricky. We hear "symbolic" and our minds jump to "not real" or "just a metaphor." But that misses the point. Symbolic action is not about denying historicity. It's about recognizing that every story chosen for the gospel accounts was chosen with purpose.
Take Mark 1, where Jesus is sent into the wilderness for forty days of temptation. That’s all we get in Mark—just the briefest of summaries. It’s not until Matthew, written decades later, that we hear about the specific temptations and that famous showdown with the accuser.
But here’s the thing: in none of these gospels does Jesus have followers when he heads out to the wilderness. No one was there. So where did the story come from? It must have come from Jesus himself. Told to his friends, perhaps not to detail an event so much as to convey something deeper—to reveal something essential about what kind of Messiah he would be.
What Kind of Kingdom?
Jesus’ wilderness story, as sparse or as detailed as the gospel writers made it, was likely shaped by Jesus for a reason. Perhaps to remind his disciples that he was never chasing the kind of power or acclaim that others might have expected. Maybe it was a way to illustrate the type of kingdom he was offering—a kingdom not of dominance, but of trust and surrender.
Whatever happened out there in the solitude, the version we have is the one Jesus wanted passed on. That’s symbolic action. Not about questioning whether it happened, but asking why this story, told in this way, still speaks today.
Curated for Encounter
The Gospel of John ends with the statement: "Jesus did many other things. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written."
It's a little hyperbolic, sure. But the point is powerful. The gospel writers had more stories than they could use. They made choices. They shaped narratives. They curated a portrait of Jesus, not as a dispassionate historian, but as someone inviting us into the mystery and meaning of encountering the divine.
In other words, the stories of Jesus are not less than historical—they are more. They are symbolic, not in a dismissive way, but in a revelatory way. They are acts of sacred storytelling, full of layers, meant to be wrestled with and pondered.
And maybe that’s the invitation for us, too. Not just to read the stories, but to live into them. To ask, again and again: What is this story teaching me about Jesus? About God? About myself? And what kind of story am I curating with my own life?
