Proper 10, Year B, Track 2
Amos 7:7-15
Psalm 85:8-13
Ephesians 1:3-14
Mark 6:14-29
"Several years ago I had the opportunity to vacation in Malta for the end of Holy Week. For anyone who might be unfamiliar, Malta is a tiny chain of rocky islands off the coast of Sicily with a fascinating and unique history and culture. For over two hundred years, Malta served as the headquarters for the ancient crusading order the Knights of St. John (better known as the Knights Hospitaller), who were originally organized to provide care and comfort for Christian pilgrims in the Holy Land. One of the famous sites I had come to see was the church built by the Knights in Valletta, the Maltese capital. What is now known as St. John’s Co-Cathedral is a deceptively modest structure on the outside, nothing like you would expect when you think of the great cathedrals of Europe. Inside, however, is a lavish display of Baroque treasures: sculptures, murals, paintings, and other adornments, of which I came to see one in particular, The Beheading of St. John the Baptist, by the brilliant Baroque artist Caravaggio. At 12 feet tall by 17 feet wide, it is a difficult piece to miss. It is often considered Caravaggio’s masterpiece and is by far the largest canvas he ever painted, so large in fact that the people depicted in the scene are almost true to size. At left, Herodias’ daughter stoops to hold the ornate serving dish on which the head of John shall be presented. To her left is Herodias, her face contorted into a look of horror, or possibly regret, as she clutches the sides of her head. A prison guard stands on her left, instructing the executioner who stands over the prone body of John, one hand gripping John’s hair as the other draws a knife from his belt to finish the task. Blood spills from John’s neck and pools on the floor, where Caravaggio signs his work—the only known artwork to which he explicitly ascribed his name. It is a dramatic and violent scene, and Caravaggio would actually paint two more scenes from the same story in his brief career.
This story also captivated the author of Mark. In this notably succinct Gospel, possibly the earliest of the four written, the author devotes more words to the death of John the Baptist than he does to the resurrection of Jesus. But apart from simply being a dramatic story, and apart from foreshadowing Jesus’ own brutal earthly demise, I believe the events surrounding John’s execution can be an important lesson in accountability and good judgment.
First some background. In verses 17-20 of the gospel, we learn why John was in prison in the first place. John had not committed any crime, but he had angered Herod Antipas and his wife Herodias by condemning their marriage. John states that “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” Antipas’ brother Philip was likely alive at this time, as the Jewish historian Josephus later writes “Herodias took upon her to confound the laws of our country, and divorced herself from her husband while he was alive, and was married to Herod Antipas.” This indeed was an illegal act under Jewish law, which was John’s foremost concern. But this marriage would cause Antipas problems for another, temporal reason as well. Before marrying Herodias, Antipas had divorced his first wife Phasaelis, the daughter of the king of Nabatea, a wealthy and powerful state spanning much of the Arabian Peninsula and bordering part of the realm of Antipas. This was an important political marriage, and Antipas made a grave error casting it aside to marry his niece. The reading goes on to say that Antipas “feared John and protected him, knowing him to be a righteous and holy man.” It could not have been more abundantly clear to Antipas that he was in the wrong, but by refusing to acknowledge this he only brought himself more trouble.
We then get to the great feast and the dance of Herodias’ daughter, who remains unnamed in the Bible but who Josephus tells us is named Salome. Now I cannot think of any obscure biblical character with more outsized cultural influence than Salome. This one dancing girl has inspired art, literature, music, and film for centuries. She has been painted by the likes of Titian, starred in a play by Oscar Wilde, and was portrayed on the big screen by Rita Hayworth. Since the Middle Ages, she has been the personification of the femme fatale, the loose woman manipulating men to do their bidding. But significantly less attention is paid to the weak, impulsive, immoral character of Antipas. Ultimately he is the one with the power in this situation. Herodias may scheme, and Salome may dance, but Antipas gives the order. In Matthew 5 Jesus famously states that “if your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.” But he does not speak concerning the object of temptation. From his own temptations in the desert, Christ knows that they can come in many forms, and it is incumbent on each of us to recognize and denounce them. While it may stir the lurid imagination to think what sort of dance might have inspired Antipas to offer this girl up to half his kingdom, is it not more likely that, just as in the case of his marriage to Herodias, he was again simply ignoring good judgment and putting his carnal interests first? God does not accept us deflecting blame; God requires that we acknowledge our fault and repent. Indeed, this was the crux of John’s whole ministry while he lived: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
Herod Antipas never did this, despite carrying a burden of guilt the rest of his life, and he clearly feared the consequences. When the news of Jesus’ ministry first reached his ears, his first thought was that “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised from the dead!” Perhaps he thought this would be his comeuppance somehow. But Antipas’ downfall would result from the very thing for which John has admonished him. Phasaelis, the first wife of Antipas, would soon return home to her understandably angry father following her divorce. Relations between Judea and Nabatea had been strained for some time, but Antipas breaking his marriage to the daughter of the Nabatean king would be the last straw. Tensions devolved into open war, and it would be disastrous for Antipas, who had to plead for aid from Rome. Not long after this, he would be accused of conspiracy against the new Roman emperor Caligula and would be exiled for the rest of his life. This man of grasping ambition would live out his days in disgrace, all because he could not bear to face his own wrongdoing.
How often do we stubbornly look away from our sin? How often do we rationalize it or project blame for it onto others? And how long do we keep to the same faulty course, refusing to accept that the only way to move our lives forward in grace is through contrition and forgiveness? The answer is different for each of us, but we all struggle with these faults once in a while. But the good news is that no matter how often we do, God’s grace is everlasting and given to us freely when we humble ourselves before him and confess the imperfection of our nature. His delight never wanes for the return of his wayward flock because He desires nothing more than for all of us to be one with Him in perfect peace. When it is time for us all to make the hard, correct choices in our lives, let that be what we remember. Amen."