“A Cautionary Tale”
Psalm 85:8-13
Mark 6:14-29
I’m quite sure I’ve never before preached on this story from the Gospel of Mark—because it’s gruesome and should probably come with a trigger warning.
And yet this story is part of the Jesus story. This story is a glimpse into the kinds of things that can happen when empires of human politics, economics, and military might are threatened by the realm of God, the empire of love. And when it comes to complex characters, human pride and cowardice, family drama, political corruption, and gratuitous violence, few stories from modern literature, movies, or television have anything on this story or many other Bible stories.
And, like the best literature, this story has something to teach us about how—and how not—to live. Like the very best stories, no matter how old, this story has—I think—lessons for us in how—and how not—to live now.
But before we get into all that, let’s get clear on the back-story:
The King Herod in this story is not the same King Herod of Judea who, according to the gospels of Matthew and Luke, was Rome’s puppet king at the time of Jesus’s birth. That Herod, according to Matthew, had an encounter with the magi who followed a star across deserts and rivers and empires to worship a baby king. That Herod was so power-hungry, corrupt, and vicious that when the magi didn’t tell him where Jesus was, he ordered a massacre of children.
All of which is to say that the Hebrew prophets, John the Baptist, Jesus, his disciples, and the earliest followers of The Way all lived—just like us—during uncertain times in a dangerous world. They, like us, had God’s faithfulness, strong communities of faith, and clear moral guidelines, but the challenging circumstances of their lives were unsettling and often scary.
The King Herod in today’s story is the son of the Herod from the accounts of Jesus’s birth. Like his father, this king is little more than Rome’s
puppet, and yet his figurehead position has separated him from his people. He cares more about his standing in the eyes of Rome and other gentiles than the welfare of the Jewish people. He uses his privilege to enhance his reputation and satisfy his appetites; he pays attention to what’s happening among his Jewish subjects so he can keep a lid on any potential uprisings and maintain good relations with Rome.
Another thing to consider about this horrible story is why Mark is telling it. The passage before this story has Jesus sending out his disciples two by two to teach and heal. The passage after this story has the popular Jesus feeding five thousand peasants with just a few loaves and fishes. By the time people are reading Mark’s Gospel, Jesus has been crucified and raised, the church is growing like wildfire, and Jesus followers are beginning to face persecution.
Their faith, their confidence, and their character are being tested. How will they respond?
And how will we respond when we’re faced with difficult choices? What we we do when the circumstances of our lives—personally, politically, economically, and environmentally—call for courageous action? What will we do when our desire to be successful or popular or gainfully employed demands that we do something we know is wrong or—more likely—just keep quiet or don’t get involved?
Will our concerns for self-preservation, status, self-respect, or self-care outweigh our courage, as they did for Herod?
It’s not that Herod didn’t like John the Baptist; apparently, he was fascinated—or at least entertained—by the wild prophet and his teachings. He may have even had John thrown in jail as a way of protecting him. But in an effort to impress the elites, please his wife, and further elevate his social and political standing, Herod sells his soul—and then blames it on the women in his life.
By the time Jesus of Nazareth has begun to attract a large following, King Herod is haunted by guilt over what he has done and wracked with regret. Surely, he thinks, Jesus is John the Baptist come back from the dead to make his life difficult.
Again, I wonder: Why is Mark telling first-century Christians this story? And why is he taking pains to portray Herod as a complex person instead of simply pointing out all the evil Herod and his father had done? This Herod, after all, didn’t order the crucifixion of Jesus—he passed the Jesus buck to
Pontius Pilate—but he didn’t stand up for him, either. Herod could have defended Jesus, but he didn’t.
I wonder if Mark didn’t want his readers to consider the costs of cowardice. I wonder if Mark didn’t want us to recognize a recipe for regret: two parts, sell your soul to the highest bidder; one part, be too scared to take a stand; one part, blame your actions on others; one part, pretend that your actions don’t bother you—until you start jumping in fear and paranoia at the sight of your own shadow.
It is a cautionary, if gruesome, tale.
I seriously doubt that any of us would ever be tempted to kill someone outright.
But what if we kill—with rejection, separation, or disrepect—those who speak hard truths to us? What if our inaction allows injustices to continue? What if our fear about the price we might pay for speaking out means nothing will change? What if we are so overwhelmed by the demands of life that we forget all about the loving ways of Jesus and the power of Spirit? What if we allow ourselves to get so discouraged by the challenges of climate change, Christian nationalism, white supremacy, anti-women and -queer policies, and economic inequality that we stop working for what we know to be right?
Those are the exact circumstances into which Jesus of Nazareth was born. The people of Israel had been oppressed by one power or another for so long that even their religious leaders had adopted a go-along-to-get-along strategy. They were simply trying to survive.
But then Jesus showed up, saying the realm of God was at hand. Then Jesus started hanging out with the people even religion had rejected. Then Jesus began blessing the poor, healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and honoring the despised. With little or no concern for self-preservation, Jesus loved the lost and lifted up the lowly. Jesus gave people hope.
And that changed everything.
Jesus teaches us that it is never too late to do the right thing—to take action for peace and justice, to make amends, to seek or offer forgiveness, to build community, to make a better choice.
By the love and grace of God, Jesus says, there is always a way out. By the power of the Spirit, no one has to be stuck. Every bad cycle can be
broken. Healing can happen. We can acknowledge where things are headed and choose to live differently. Something as painful as regret can pave the way for resolve.
Surely, Jesus’s life tells us, God’s deliverance is at hand; God’s realm is here if we will only partner with God in bringing it to life.
By God’s grace and with our active consent, steadfast love and faithfulness will meet. Righteousness and peace will kiss each other.
Let’s do all that we can to hasten that day. Let’s begin by recommitting ourselves to follow the loving and courageous ways of Jesus.
