Mark gives us the specific, though ambivalent, toponym of the desert. The desert is the site of coercion, anxiety, exile, and especially ordeal, hence we have very few positive statements about it. It is a difficult place, a playground for evil spirits and demons, and when we are there we must answer only one question: how to survive? But the desert is a space of silence and peace which is far from the noise of the city and civilization. In the desert there is no wrangling over space, no quibbling as there is in the city, and what is quite important to say, the desert offers a kind of shelter because all social bonds are broken and physical needs are reduced to a minimum. We go to the “desert” when we would like to distance ourselves from the city and its “complex and urban” style of life. Mark warns us that we must adopt the primordial Messianic practice of confessing sin, which begins, paradoxically, in the desert, since the desert is the only privileged place for encountering God. But at the same time the desert is a place to leave in order to confront in terms of ideology the elite in the seats of power who oppress the poor on the margins of society. Mark describes this journey to the seat of power in a lucid and “moderately” deconstructivist way.
In Mark’s case deconstruction should be understood as a specific strategy of reading that brings into doubt every privileged structural taxonomy by introducing a new difference, trace, and supplement to the reading. Deconstruction insists on a marginal irreducible remainder which generates heterogeneity by insisting on digressions, quotes, commentaries, parodies. And finally, deconstruction in this instance should be thought of as a tool that brings into question a reading which claims to be privileged. Understood in this way, deconstruction in Mark’s case can be a form of political strategy.
-Boris Gunjević, God in Pain, 257-258