The Head of John the Baptist

Ordinary Time XV; July 16, 2006

Mark 6:14-29

The first time in the Gospel of Mark that we see the head of John the Baptist it is a vehicle for his voice, the voice that cries in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” He cries out to people to repent of their sins, he urges them to be baptized as a sign of their repentance, and he announces that someone else is coming, someone greater than he, whose sandals he is not worthy to untie (1:7).

That voice gets him landed in jail. Here is what happened: Herod Antipas, Tetrarch of Galilee (although the Gospels call him “King”) went to visit his brother Philip in Rome; he and Philip’s wife Herodias fell in love and had an affair. Then Herodias left her husband to run off with Herod Antipas, who divorced his wife to get married to her. John reproached Herod, who responded by throwing John in prison.

Ultimately John’s voice gets his head severed from the body, because he dares to tell the powerful they have broken the law of God. At the end of the story for today, that head gets handed around, passed off like a baton in a relay race, or perhaps a hot potato. From soldier to daughter to mother: the head of John the Baptist starts the Gospel as the vehicle for the voice of a prophet, and ends up as a trophy for an angry woman.

What of the soldier who actually did the deed, who swung the sword that severed the head of John? What was he thinking? “Just another execution at the King’s order.” I wonder if the soldier had ever heard John preach, if he knew anything about the man whose head he took. This soldier had probably not gone down to the Jordan River to see the holy man, to hear the impassioned call to repent, and to have water poured on his head as a sign of his penitence. Just another political prisoner whose life was to be ended at the King’s order. When he told a scullery maid to go fetch a platter, did he tell her what it was for? The platter that had earlier in the evening held a roast, or perhaps a variety of breads, was to be quickly cleaned and readied to bear a prophet’s head to a princess.

And such a princess! Some of the old manuscripts of Mark say that it was Herod’s daughter Herodias – as far as we know, Herod Antipas didn’t have a daughter named Herodias – and other manuscripts of Mark say that it was the daughter of Herodias, whose name was Salome. Most believers have figured there’s simply a mistake in the ancient manuscripts and have followed the Gospel of Matthew and good sense to go with this alternate reading, that the dancer was Salome, the daughter of Herodias. Now, I tried to figure out Salome’s relationship to Herod Antipas. Of course, she was his niece, since she is the daughter of his brother Philip. She is also his step-daughter, since her mother got divorced from Philip to marry him. But since her mother was also Herod’s niece, that means Salome was not only his niece but also his great-niece. But Salome’s grandmother was Herod’s first cousin, so that makes her Herod’s first cousin, twice removed. Anyway, after reading about this family, I told my secretary that I felt as though I needed to go home and take a bath.

The sources say that this sort of dance she does for the Court is usually performed by slave-girls or court harlots, not by a royal princess. Be that as it may, she’s certainly eager enough to throw away her great opportunity in order to gratify her mother’s need for revenge. Given the opportunity to ask for anything you want, up to half the kingdom, what would you ask for? Cancellation of your debts? A better job? Something expensive and sparkly or, if you prefer, containing a mind-boggling number of electronic components? Well, the girl has imagination. Herodias says, “Ask for the head of John” and Salome turns to the King, “I want you to give me at once the head of John on a platter.” The platter is her idea, and the “at once” is too, probably to prevent the King from finding a way to weasel out of the deal.

Anyway, Salome is a piece of work, and when the soldier delivers her John’s head, she passes it off to her mother real fast, no doubt to free herself to seek some new and salacious adventure.

Herodias has her sweet revenge, at last: the platter with John’s head before her at her table. She can taunt him all she likes. I see her taking one of the after-dinner sweets – something small and dainty – passing it in front of his glassy eyes, waving it under his nose, saying, “Wouldn’t you like some of this? Much nicer than locusts and wild honey! Ah, too bad, I guess you’re not hungry. I’ll have to eat it myself.” This tongue that had raised such a stir across the country-side, this tongue that had drawn such popularity, this tongue that had announced that someone greater was coming and that had dared to tell the man she loved that he had no business marrying her: at last that tongue was stilled, its mouth quiet before her where she could gloat – until she had it tossed into the garbage or whatever she did with it. Perhaps she had it put on a pike outside the palace entrance, or stuffed and mounted as a warning to anyone who would dare to question her husband’s right to do whatever he pleased.

Her marriage to Herod Antipas was not merely a moral quagmire, but a political one as well. He had to divorce his first wife, the daughter of the King of Petra, who took revenge by going to war against Herod, a war in which Herod fared badly. Herodias pushed Herod to ask Emperor Caligula for more power, to the point that the Emperor removed him from such power he had and banished him to Gaul. Well, Herodias at least stood by her man; she went with him into exile.

This would not, of course, be the last time that a ruler fell in love, with disastrous consequences. I often think that Mary, Queen of Scots, could have governed Scotland effectively and brought it religious tolerance and peace if she had been able to control herself around men, as her cousin Elizabeth of England did. Presidents and members of Congress have had their careers compromised and the well-being of the nation’s government challenged by their sexual escapades. Fortunately, in a republic, no one person should be able to do the sort of damage that Herod did, egged on by Herodias. Yet we are familiar with the syndrome.

It fascinates me that the King stays out of the loop in the handling of John’s head. He sends a soldier to fetch it, and has it delivered directly to Salome. No wonder: somewhere inside he seems to know John is right, and although it troubles his conscience, he has enjoyed listening to John. Perhaps Herod does not want to be face to face with John, even dead. But don’t you wish John had been able to get through to him?

“It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” When a prophet speaks to the rulers about abuses of power, how do the rulers respond? Ahab bears the reputation of one of the worst tyrants in the Old Testament, but when Elijah told Ahab and Jezebel they were wrong for having murdered Naboth in order to add his vineyard to the palace gardens, and that God would bring disaster upon them, even evil old Ahab tore his clothes and wore signs of penitence. He was contrite for having offended God. King David, you surely remember, was confronted by Nathan for the murder of Uriah and adultery with Uriah’s wife; David’s reply was, “I have sinned against the Lord.” In neither case did they act against the prophet of God.

But Herod Antipas: he put John in jail. If the prophet rightly speaks against the government, a godly government looks to itself and says, “I have sinned against the Lord,” or at least, “I have done wrong.” Tyrants say, “Be quiet or I’ll have you arrested.” It happens from age to age and it doesn’t matter what party is in power: when people dare to stand up and say, “It is not lawful…” then those who govern may repent, may do an act of contrition, or may say, “You should not say such things.” The godly repent; tyrants threaten or exact revenge.

The disastrous war with Petra and exile to Gaul were consequences of having married his brother’s wife. I wish Herod Antipas had listened to John; he would have spared himself and his people much grief. I wish that not only had John’s moral convictions got through to Herod, but also the part about “Someone is coming who is greater than I am.” As you can tell from the story (v. 16), Herod senses there is something special about this Jesus, because of the stir his disciples are making. But he doesn’t get Jesus; in his mind, Jesus is simply the man who had tormented him so deliciously, now come back to life.

If John were still around – the tongue not silenced – he would have said, “No, that cannot be, for I am not worthy to untie his sandals. Prepare the way of the Lord.” Herod, Herodias and Salome may have disposed of John’s head, but they could not silence his voice. “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife” or any of the other messages the prophets continue to present to the powerful. This particular message persists, and will persist until the world’s end: “Prepare the way of the Lord; one is coming who is greater than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to untie.”

God of the prophets: you sent your servant John as the forerunner of our Savior, and to speak the truth to the powerful. Keep us in the truth, and give us the spirit of Christ, so we will respond to the truth with penitence and faith. In Jesus Christ our Lord; amen.

Robert A. Keefer

Westminster and Trinity Presbyterian Churches

Clarinda, Iowa