14 July 2024 Pentecost 8
Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19 Psalm 24 Ephesians 1:1-14 Mark 6:14-29
Mark is very ‘un-mark’ in this retelling of the beheading of John the Baptist. Mark’s stories are usually ‘brief and to the point’, Mark’s favourite word in his gospels is ‘immediately’, yet in this passage he seems to take an inordinate amount of time to retell a gruesome and disturbing story. Not only that, this is the only story that Mark tells where Jesus does not make ‘an appearance’. And the story is not even told in ‘real time’, it is a ‘flashback’ and this is the only time Mark uses this literary device. But despite all that, another question begs to be asked, what is this passage doing here, at this point in Mark’s Gospel. Up to this point, Mark has given us several accounts of Jesus’ power over spiritual oppression, illness and death, and in the coming weeks we will see passages that illuminate the weight of want and suffering that confronts Jesus, yet in this passage we see the cycles of misery and cruelty that bind the world emphasised. It shows us that human society can inflict as much suffering and harm as demons and death.
And if there is any ‘good news’ in this passage it is the courage shown by John’s followers when they came to ask for John’s body so they could give him an honourable burial. By doing this they risked declaring their allegiance to John and the movement he led. We have recently seen similar acts of bravery when thousands braved the authorities and gathered to pay their respects outside the church and cemetery in Moscow where Alexei Navalny was mourned and laid to rest, to name just one.
John’s followers refused to be intimidated, John foresaw a different world about to emerge, and his disciples continued to live that vision through this simple, yet difficult act of faithfulness. It is not always in our power to ‘rein in’ the harmful potential of self-obsessed leaders, toxic values, and the unwillingness of others to listen to truth. But Herod Antipas and his household remind us that innocent people will suffer when we do not use what power we have available to us. As we saw last week, opposition to the reign of God takes a toll and has lasting consequences, but it will never have the last word. So what does faithful resistance and courageous hope look like for you.
Mark tells us that Herod ‘enjoyed listening’ to John the Baptist, even if he was ‘greatly perplexed’ by him. He appears to have often ‘sat and listened’ to this man who called him an adulterer, he considered John a ‘holy and righteous man’. Why? Maybe because the truth – hard-edged and costly as it is – compels us, it draws us in. In a world overrun by ‘fake images’, bombarded by ‘modified’ headlines, exaggerated claims and blatant lies, truth is precious. It draws our attention and pricks our ears. It suggests that we don’t have to live in disharmony, where our words, actions, and desires are permanently in conflict. We hunger for truth, we may fear it, but we also know we need it.
We might imagine Herod sitting near John’s prison cell, listening to the truth that cuts in order to heal. Stuck between a rock and hard place, lustful for power but also dissatisfied with what power has done to him, he asks questions, he digs, he seeks, he wonders, he hopes, he fears. He learns about Jesus, he may have asked about God, forgiveness, salvation. He may compare the clear authenticity of John’s mission and message to his own compromised, convoluted life. And maybe – maybe – he yearns.
But then, the rubber hits the road, and he finds himself having to decide. Does he choose right over wrong, humility or power, integrity or compromise, truth or lies. Does he save a life, or save face. Can he move from a perplexed fascination with truth to a faithful stewardship of truth. Herod finds his birthday party is the testing of his character, his loyalties, his mind, his heart, the testing of his commitment to something costlier than the status quo. But when push comes to shove, he caves, his casual fascination with the truth isn’t enough to transform him. He remains a hearer of the good news, not a doer.
When we read our Scriptures, we usually look for the ‘good news’ or look for ‘hope’, for ‘joy’ or ‘salvation’. And even when we are confronted by ‘difficult’ texts we often try to put a ‘noble meaning’ on it. But this passage does not allow us to do that. And maybe all we can learn from this is the negative example Herod gives us. Herod shows us what can happen when we treat the incarnate truth too casually, too neutrally; what happens when we approach Jesus with curiosity, perplexity and even fascination – but then stop, and fail to cross over from spectator to disciple.
It is tempting for us to sit back and say, yes, but I’m nothing like Herod. I’ve never put anyone to death or sacrificed someone just to hang on to power or committed murder to save face. But there are subtler questions we need to ask ourselves in the light of this story. Do I care too much about what people think of me. Am I more concerned about my popularity, my status, my reputation than the truth. Am I so fiercely ‘conflict averse’ that I harm people by being passive. Do I prefer stability and safety more than transformation. Is my inner life and my outer life misaligned, one always covering for the other.
These are personal questions. But they are also public ones. If I choose silence for the sake of convenience, whose life becomes expendable. Who suffers when I decide justice is too costly, messy, or chaotic, to pursue. Whose vulnerability do I depend on and benefit from in order to keep my comforts intact.
These are not good news questions, if we see ‘good news’ as something that leaves me feeling ‘good’. But these are gospel questions. They may well be questions John might have asked, or Jesus might have asked, and they are questions both of them died for asking.
Herod began in the right place – with curiosity, with perplexity, with desire. And starting there is great – as a listener, intrigued but uncommitted. But the danger is when we stay there. The danger is deciding that disinterested fascination with Jesus enough. The danger is when we silence the truth that never stops trying to save us.