Hearing the Word, the Execution of John, and the Attack on 45
Mark 6:14-29
For Herod himself had given orders to have John arrested, and he had him bound and put in prison. He did this because of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, whom he had married. For John had been saying to Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” Mark 6:17-18
On the eve of the 8th Sunday after Pentecost, an assassination attempt was made on the 45th president of the United States.
All the preceding week, the lectionary for the upcoming Sunday had me dwelling in the account of John the Baptist’s execution, arguably the grimmest scene in the Gospels short of Jesus’ crucifixion. And what was John’s crime? He preached the message of the kingdom to the most powerful man in the land.
Herod Antipas, the tetrarch who absconded with and married his brother’s wife, did not elude John the Baptist’s sharp rebuke: It was not lawful for Herod to have his brother’s wife. John, I believe, appealed to Hebrew law—the law of God and not of Rome—to make this case. Here’s Leviticus:
18:16 “Do not have sexual relations with your brother’s wife. That would dishonor your brother.”
20:21 “‘If a man marries his brother’s wife, it is an act of impurity; he has dishonored his brother.
Did Herod care about the law of Moses? I doubt it. But when you’re God’s prophet, you say things you’d rather not to people who’d rather you not. John pointed Herod to the Levitical law because that law reveals what is universal about how God intends human beings to function in relationships. Spoiler alert, if you haven’t read all of Leviticus: God intends us to honor and to live justly toward our neighbor (not to mention our brother). God intends us not to take advantage of each other, let alone sleep with other people’s spouses.
However, Herod couldn’t appreciate the divine wisdom in this law, a particular bit of wisdom falling under the general-audience admonition to “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near”— a kingdom in which all the Hebrew law and prophets ought to be interpreted through the two most important commandments of 1) loving God with 100% of our capacity and 2) loving our neighbors as we love ourselves.1
Despite his rejection of John’s message, we’re told Herod revered John, knowing him to be “a righteous and holy man.” But I wonder if Herod’s reverence was like the reverence of a groomsman who dropped the F-bomb in front of me right before realizing I was the pastor/wedding officiant. He looked horrified for approximately one second, hung his head in apology, and probably dropped F-bombs happily and out of my hearing for the rest of the day. Yes, Herod “liked to listen to John.” John’s words teased some existentially hungry part of Herod, but the message of the kingdom couldn’t take root in the cluttered soil of Herod’s heart where thorny desires for worldly things (acclaim, respect, his brother’s wife) ultimately choked out Herod’s appetite for the kingdom.
Only a few chapters earlier, our Gospel writer recorded Jesus’ master class on listening and hearing the the kingdom message. It can bear kingdom fruit only in the lives of those who truly hear it, receive it, cling to it, and trust it.
On his birthday, Herod’s appetite for worldly gain got the best of him. Herodias’ daughter danced for Herod’s all-male dinner guests. Idiotically, Herod vowed in their hearing to give the girl whatever she wanted—up to half his kingdom—as a thank-you gift for dancing. The girl pleased her mother by asking for John’s head on a platter, and Herod caved to his desire for public esteem. John was executed that night.
The Kingdom message will always pit us against worldly cravings for power, control, esteem, fame, and fleeting pleasure, and we will live in the tensions of those cravings until we die. Ironically, Herod and John were no different than you and I in this regard. Each heard the message of the kingdom and chose how they would receive it and allow it to bear fruit (or not) in their lives. John heard it and let it shape his love-of-neighbor, including the most narcissistic of them all. Love of God and neighbor drove John to Herod’s palace, compelling him to utter the life-giving rebuke he knew could end in a prison sentence if not death.
John’s disciples—quieter heroes in this passage—lived with the same tensions as Herod and John. Yet, the message of the kingdom bore fruit, seen in their devotion and honor of John. Upon hearing of his death, they followed John’s footsteps to the prison—probably the most dangerous place they could visit that week—and requested his decapitated body so that they might honor him with a proper burial.
This week, a headline stated that “investigators search for clues around the motive” of the attempted assassination on the 45th president (a man who, at one point, also seemed to make a habit of sleeping with women he was not married to). The investigators can investigate, sure, but is anyone truly mystified? The shooter’s actions are, to me, just another case in point of the broken ways humanity responds to its desire to control the narrative. Herod couldn’t tolerate the loss of esteem from his dinner guests. What was it the shooter could not tolerate? Abortion restrictions? A staunch immigration policy? Unregulated gun rights? (What irony that would be.) Honestly, who knows? What we know about the shooter, as of this date, is confounding at best. Whatever he thought was needed, he opted for violence against an image bearer to get it.
And that’s one way to manage our feelings of powerlessness—a method as old as time (or Genesis 4). It’s a method that appeals indiscriminately to both the powerful and the weak, the anonymous and the famous, the rich and the destitute, the elephant and the donkey. Caving to this method necessarily results in the dishonor of our neighbor.
But keeping your enemy alive, hoping and praying that the image-bearer will start acting like one, and speaking words of rebuke for the sake of his salvation while he carries on foolishly and keeps an executioner on staff?
That takes more courage than ordering a beheading or firing a weapon. That’s the narrow way, the John the Baptist way, the way of those who hear the message of the Kingdom and trust it with all their hearts.
Thanks for reading! I’m a book-obsessed pastor, seminarian, podcaster, author, and life and leadership coach. For essays and podcasts that come straight to your inbox, subscribe to this Dear Exiles newsletter in the subscription box above. Fun fact: I’m also the author of Dear Boy:, An Epistolary Memoir and the host of the Your Pastor Reads Books podcast.
Matt 22:36-40