The Gospel You Can't Refuse: Mark 6:14-29 - Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Kilmainham Gaol, Dublin (Stairwell) by LenDog 64.  Creative Commons image on flickr.

¹⁴King Herod heard of it, for Jesus' name had become known. Some were saying, "John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him."  ¹⁵But others said, "It is Elijah." And others said, "It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old."  ¹⁶But when Herod heard of it, he said, "John, whom I beheaded, has been raised."

             ¹⁷For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip's wife, because Herod had married her.  ¹⁸For John had been telling Herod, "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife."  ¹⁹And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not,  ²⁰for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him.  ²¹But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee.  ²²When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, "Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it."  ²³And he solemnly swore to her, "Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom."  ²⁴She went out and said to her mother, "What should I ask for?" She replied, "The head of John the baptizer."  ²⁵Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, "I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter."  ²⁶The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her.  ²⁷Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John's head. He went and beheaded him in the prison,  ²⁸brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother.  ²⁹When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb. (NRSV)

Back in 1979, when the Lutheran Book of Worship, or “green hymnal” was published, there was a man who took great offense to the book—specifically, the Brief Order of Confession and Forgiveness, which reads:

“We confess that we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves.”

In his heart and mind, this was untrue.  In fact, he stood up before the annual synod assembly and boldly declared before a thousand of his fellow Lutherans: “I am not a sinner.”  But that’s not the worst of it…  With a black felt-tip marker, he went through all the hymnals in his church and blacked out those sentences.

Obviously, this was a truth about himself that he couldn’t bear to swallow.  It makes me wonder how that compared to being forced to pay for 150 new copies of the hymnal to replace the ones he’d mangled…

                                            

While we find amusement in the hubris of someone who should’ve known better, there’s nothing to laugh about in the Soap Opera of Buffoonery that comes to us in today’s Gospel.

Today, Mark takes us straight into the halls of power in Judea.  John the Baptizer is in prison for insulting the honor of King Herod Antipas and his wife Herodias. 

It came to pass when Herod coveted—wooed, and ultimately married his brother’s wife.  I should also point out that the House of Herod was such a mess that Herodias was also his niece. 

John the Baptist spoke out publicly against Herod for his blatant violation of the sixth and ninth commandments—and since there was no First Amendment in those days, John’s words landed him in prison. 

However, Herod had taken quite a liking to John.  He listened to John.  He protected John—because he believed John to be genuine a man of God.

Then one day, Herod threw a birthday party for himself, and invited all the who’s who of his kingdom.  Then came Herodias Salome—Herod’s grand-niece and now his step-daughter.  She dances before the king, pleasing him so much that he foolishly swears an oath to give her whatever she wants, up to half his kingdom.

Not knowing how to respond to his lavish offer, the girl goes to her mother—who sees her husband’s dim-witted oath as her golden opportunity to get back at John for having insulted her honor.  So Herodias takes her mother’s request back to her step-father.  The king was deeply grieved, yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he does not refuse her.  The rest of the story will be written by the blood of a righteous man. 

We could truthfully say that the moral of this story is that absolute power corrupts absolutely, and go on our way through the remainder of the liturgy.  But there’s so much more to it than that.

Sometimes God speaks truths that we don’t want to hear.  Today’s Gospel exposes the deepest, darkest truth of who we are: it declares that we are all sinners—and that it is our nature to deny this.

Most of us are comfortable admitting that we’re not perfect and that we make mistakes—but that’s usually about as far as it goes.  In our minds, sinners are the people most unlike ourselves: they live in the rough parts of town; and/or, they walk the halls of power and privilege.  They’re the ones who kill, lie, cheat, steal, and do things we’d never think of doing.  They have no conscience.

As far as you and I are concerned, it’s an insult to our honor to suggest that we’re unrighteous. “Don’t tell me I’m sinning when I set my priorities and spend my money.” “Don’t tell me my lifestyle is ruining the planet and contributing to human suffering.”  “Don’t question my beliefs, my lifestyle, my attitudes, or my sincerity.”  “Don’t tell me I have to give up the things I cling to for my happiness and security.”  “Don’t tell me that I need repentance.”

If we say we have no sin—and believe that to be truth—we, too, are calling out the guards, sending them to crucify Jesus for daring to speak such a thing about you. 

But the good news of this dark story is the light of God’s love, shining into the deepest darkness of our sinful hearts.  God’s answer to our sin is the crucified and living Christ.  Contrary to how we may feel, God is not out to destroy us for our unrighteousness.  God wants to give us the gift of repentance—a death through which God gives new life.  You can ignore the Gospel, but you can’t silence it.  Nothing can stop God’s Kingdom that comes, not with terror— but with mercy, compassion, and forgiveness. 

Don’t think for a second that Herod and Herodias were happy, secure, and in control.  They were in a hell of paranoia and fear as they desperately held onto their privilege and honor.  God doesn’t want that for you. 

Make no mistake—repentance comes at a great cost.  For starters, you must embrace the fact that you have no righteousness of your own to claim before God.  You’re letting go lives and lifestyles you’ve always known; letting go of your need to be happy, secure, and in control. At the same time, you’re embracing new urgencies; new attitudes; new ways of thinking and doing. 

So challenge yourself today: before you come to the table, ask yourself: “Am I a sinner?  Do I need God to reveal my sins?  Do I need forgiveness?  And—do I trust God to change who I am and how I live to bring me to something better?

The truth of our sin is a truth that sets us free—because God is mercy, compassion, and love.  This may not be the Gospel we want or the Jesus we want—but it is Gospel we can’t refuse.

New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989, Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.