As Herod, Our Story - Pentecost VI—Year B--July 12, 2009 - The Reverend David R Williams

Mighty God, strong, loving, and wise, help us to depend upon your goodness and to place our trust in you.  Amen

My apologies this morning.  The lectionary scripture lessons are not the most family-friendly stories in the Bible. However, on this sixth Sunday of Pentecost, “Year B,” our designated readings greet us with the Gospel good news of a beheading – the decapitation of John the Baptist-- and, in the Old Testament, a scene of the New Kindly David making an absolute fool of himself in front of the people of God. 

What is this world coming to?

Out of his own human frailty, Roman Tetrarch Herod Antipas has painted himself in a corner as he reluctantly calls for the execution of John the Baptist. This is Good News?

And the newly-crowned King David of the Old Testament relishes in a military and religious victory by bringing home – back to Jerusalem from exile in Philistine lands--the Ark of God. “David danced before the Lord with all his might.” Where is his dignity?  After all, he is a king and should act like a king!

New York Times columnists David Brooks commented this past week on the demise of a code of dignity established in the era of George Washington.  “Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation” is George Washington’s book of manners.   Some of the rules in the list pertain to the niceties of going to a dinner party or meeting someone on the street.  There is a list of 110 rules such as “Lean not upon anyone.”  “Read no letter, books, or papers in company.” (Maybe we today could add “No cell phones in polite company, and especially no reading of iPhones and Blackberrys in church.”) As well, Washington stipulates, “If anyone comes to speak to you while you are sitting, stand up.”

Codes of Dignity, all.

What do we make of this king dancing with all his might in the streets of the city??!

In the New Testament, Herod orders the execution of John, a person with whom he is truly intrigued. We would assume Herod could show a smidgen of…respect?

The Governor of South Carolina stands before the microphones and confesses to his constituents and the world his deception not only to his wife and children, but also to his public. And he tells…and he tells…and he tells…..

Codes of Dignity?

Another governor stands before microphones and says, she has had enough of being a governor.  In a rambling, unscripted monologue she resigns her position and goes fishing.  

King David’s wife watches the proceedings on the street.  Michal is appalled.  At one time, David had been the love of her life.  “Michal, daughter of Saul, looks out of the window, and sees King David leaping and dancing before the Lord; and she despises David in her heart.”

We have lived with the name Michael at the top of the news for almost two weeks. This Michael, a talented singer and dancer admired for his innovative music by a worldwide audience, unexpectedly dies in his sleep. We surmise a misuse of prescription drugs. 

“Here was a guy who was apparently untouched by any pressure to live according to the rules and restraints of adulthood,” David Brooks writes.

Codes of Dignity? 

These are all tragic figures – personalities from Biblical times, people of today – who seem to have strayed from various understood codes of civility.

Obviously, Mark’s story of Herod and John the Baptist is not as much about the “fallen” characters in the story as about the foreshadowing of Jesus the Christ, cousin of John. 

As one commentator says, “Certainly the stench of death that covers this passage foreshadows the latter passages of Mark revealing a violence of grace in the passion of Jesus.” 

It seems as if the only way we can get to that grace and passion--renewed civility--is through these stories of fallen humanity. 

The hard part is to understand that we are these stories.  We are the Herods, the King Davids, the wayward governors, the silenced, talented entertainer.

Let’s look at Herod for a moment.  Herod Antipas is the son of the legendary King Herod.  King Herod was the tyrant of a ruler who drove Mary, Joseph and the infant Jesus to Egypt with that horrific royal order to kill all male babies born at the time of Jesus’ birth. 

King Herod’s son Antipas was more humane, less tyrannical.  Seduced by his brother’s wife, Herod Antipas ends up marrying this woman known as Herodias.  The marriage is frowned upon by both Jewish and Roman citizens.  John the Baptist derides Herod and Herodias, citing Hebrew Testament laws.  Herod is intrigued by John.  Herodias despises John and looks for any way to have John eliminated. 

Having put John in jail, Herod has found John’s words, his preaching to be engaging and interesting. Herodias’ opportunity to have John executed comes one evening when the community is celebrating Herod’s birthday.  Lots of alcohol and food, as well as dancing and singing, are part of the festivities. Herodias’ daughter, Salome, dances a solo and Herod in his drunken state tells Salome she can have anything from him.  He is the king. He is the most powerful in the land.

Young Salome goes to her mother, Herodias.  Herodias now has her opening for vengeance. “Tell the King you want the head of John the Baptist.” 

In one quick moment, Herod is sobered, finding himself in a choice between life and death, a choice to be soft of heart or strong ruler of the land, to be powerless or powerful. The politically-expedient option wins. Innocence loses to evil.

We’ve been here. Imagine the parent taking the tired and fussy two-year old through the grocery store – the defiant “no” and full-fledged temper tantrum on aisle six. That feeling of profound frustration and powerlessness even while I know that I, as the parent, am supposed to be the model of deft negotiation and grace in such matters…

A corporate executive wonders how her announcement of a long-awaited pregnancy will affect her employee’s perceptions of her as an effective boss. 

Teenagers experience the angst of competing for acceptance in desirable social cliques, of serial broken hearts in the complex world of adolescent dating, of familial tensions over privileges and responsibilities.

We become Herod, and many times we falter, choosing the way of the earthly kingdom rather than the way of the Kingdom of God. 

Herod knows.  The story begins there.  Herod knows the voice of John the Baptist is not silenced.  The new one now known as Jesus, in a haunting sort of way, carries the voice of John and lives on. 

The story of Herod and John the Baptist foreshadow Jesus, the Christ, who becomes the Easter Jesus, the One who restores dignity, civility, grace--and life for all humanity. 

Amen.