The Wages of Fear

A sermon preached at the Old South Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Hallowell, Maine, July 16, 2006.

Text: Mark 6:14-29

The Rev. Susan M. Reisert, minister

This morning we have yet another little story from Mark’s summer hit parade. As we have been making our summer journey through the beginning of the Gospel of Mark, re-acquainting ourselves with this, the shortest of the Gospels, we are getting the full treatment of Mark’s stern, unrelenting, uncompromising, yet still mysterious, vision of the significance of Jesus as the Christ, as the Savior of the world.

For twenty-first century dwellers, Mark’s Gospel is harsh—not to mention difficult. Mark offers stories of Jesus’ healing, but these healings are inconsistent. A couple of weeks ago, we heard about a woman who was healed after touching just the cloak that Jesus was wearing. A little girl was saved from death, yet those who were there were charged not to say anything about it. Last week, we found Jesus being rejected by the hometown crowd after he spoke at the local synagogue. Although he spoke with authority and they were all amazed, Mark actually offers no hint as to what Jesus actually taught. What was so controversial? What exactly so astounded them?

Today, we focus on the beheading of John the Baptist, a long story for Mark, but a story that contains only one passing reference to Jesus—at the very beginning of the story, which actually sets up the story by summarizing what happened at the end of the story. Otherwise, this story has essentially nothing to do with Jesus. Mark centers his story entirely on what happens to John the Baptist.

When I think of John the Baptist, my mind often turns to art museums, which we, as a family, like to visit. When we were living in London a couple of years ago, we visited many art museums. I remember being struck by how often this gruesome tale of the beheading of John the Baptist found itself to be the subject of some great artist. It was hard not to take notice of this. We would be in some gallery room looking at lovely landscapes and flowers and portraits, maybe a painting of Mary and Jesus, or Jesus teaching or healing and, then there it would be—some painting featuring the head of John the Baptist on a platter. It was startling. I usually received some kind of warning that one such painting was just beyond my gaze when I would hear one of the children gasp. We had to tell them the story of John the Baptist several times. Somehow, they didn’t ask quite so many questions about most of the other paintings that we saw then or since. The paintings of the beheading of John the Baptist were raw and violent and disturbing, usually highlighting the daughter of Herodias, generally referred to as Salome (although Mark does not call her by that name), holding the platter and presenting it to the assembled guests.

One of the most interesting aspects of my study on this disturbing and grisly telling of the beheading of John the Baptist is that Mark seems to get a lot of the story wrong. Certainly, it seems likely that what happened to John the Baptist had become something of a legend, with various takes on the story that moved and changed as the story was passed along, influenced by the storytellers and their own communities and neighborhoods. A little something like a first century version of the telephone game—you know, when you sit in a circle and one person begins the game by whispering a sentence in their neighbor’s ear and then neighbor whispers the sentence into the next ear and you go around the circle until you at last find out what happened to the sentence as it went around the group.

It is interesting to note that Mark likely relies on a legend for his version of this story. According to The Interpreter’s Bible, Philip was not the brother’s name. The dance of the daughter, whom Mark refers to as Herodias but whose name was Salome, was highly improbable, even in a debased court like that of the Herods. Herod was not king, as Mark refers to him, but tetrarch of Galilee and Perea. It was not his brother Philip’s wife whom he had taken but the wife of another brother, also Herod, by whom she had a daughter Salome.

We know these things because the story of John the Baptist is also contained in secular sources from the time, most notably, the historian named Josephus.

Both Mark and Josephus note that the relationship between John the Baptist and Herod Antipas was complicated. While John freely criticized Herod’s lifestyle and his marrying of a brother’s wife, Herod Antipas seems drawn to John’s message. Herod thought John to be a righteous man, even though John criticized him.

This complicated attitude of one to the other was not shared by Herod’s wife, Herodias, who seems to have held a grudge against John the Baptist and wanted to kill him. After all, in criticizing Herod for his choice, John was also criticizing her.

Herodias harbored a deep grudge and wanted to kill John the Baptist, But she could not, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When Herod heard John, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him.

Herod was strangely drawn to John and John’s message—perhaps, though he was perplexed, the truth that John preached resonated with him somewhere in the deep corners of his soul. Somewhere, somehow, Herod was attracted to the things that John preached—or maybe it had something to do with John’s diet or his choice of clothes. You will remember that John was known for wearing camel’s hair and eating locusts with wild honey.

As it is so often with Mark, we don’t have much at all to go on in trying to figure out what exactly John’s message was. We know that he preached repentance and the about the coming of the Messiah. Just before Jesus came to be baptized himself, John could be heard preaching the word of the prophets: “The voice of one crying in the wilderness, prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” At the very beginning of Mark’s gospel, John is preaching to the people, “After me comes he who is mightier than I, the thong of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie.”

Whether it was this or some other aspect of his teaching was both perplexing and intriguing to Herod Antipas, we don’t know. Mark is good at not answering many of our questions.

But, though he was drawn to John and recognized him as a holy man, something stopped Herod from really engaging with John’s message. And that something was fear.

And, it is on the subject of fear that we will spend a moment or two this morning.

Aside from the central figures in today’s scripture lesson, the dominating character is actually fear. As I have been thinking a lot about fear through the past few days and talking about it a little around the house, I have been “treated” by a certain Star Wars fan in my house to a quotation from Yoda: “I sense much fear in you. Fear is the path to the dark Side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”

Herod Antipas feared John and for awhile that actually kept John alive, even though John was preaching and teaching and baptizing many and openly criticizing the local leadership. John’s activity had been quieted by his imprisonment, but there seemed to be no plans for his execution. But, it also seems that Herod feared his wife, his stepdaughter and even his assembled guests. Presumably, Herod knew that Salome’s request was completely influenced by her mother. As soon as he heard that request for the head of John the Baptist, he also likely knew that he had been played, so to speak.

But, he does not speak up. Although he is in charge, he is ruler of Galilee, he does not protest the request or speak up against it. He is in a tough spot, in front of his stepdaughter and his guests. He is full of fear and he grants her request. He calls for the head of John the Baptist, which is then presented to them.

I brought with me today a book that contains two paintings of the beheading of John the Baptist, both with different interpretations of the event. One is a serial narration, presenting several aspects of the story in one painting and the other focusing on the reaction of Herodias herself as the head is presented to the table by a young Salome. Herodias has one hand on her stomach as if she is suddenly not feeling so well. These are in the vestry for you to take a look at after the service, if you wish.

Neither one of these paintings illuminates well the fear of Herod, but that is what Mark does in his telling of this story. Fear is a dangerous thing and leads to troublesome places. Fear does lead to anger and hatred and certainly to suffering.

Herod was attracted to the message of John the Baptist. Herod liked to listen to him and recognized him as a holy man. Yet, he feared him as well. There was no way to reconcile his lifestyle and the message that John preached. So, he lived in fear and that fear led his wife to take advantage of the situation and to find just the right moment to manipulated Herod into killing John the Baptist.

It seems unlikely that this cured Herod of his fearfulness.

In so many places throughout the gospels, we hear the familiar statement that Jesus himself made time and time again, “Do not be afraid.” In the story of the storm on the sea of Galilee when Jesus is finally stirred from his sleep because the disciples are so afraid, Jesus calms the sea and then immediately turns to them to ask why they are so fearful.

Fear is a dangerous thing. As we have heard from the wise master Yoda, fear leads to anger, hatred and suffering. Fear also leads to death.

Last week, as we took up the subject of Jesus raising controversial issues among the hometown crowd and finding himself rejected, we also reviewed some of the history of our tradition—of the Congregational Church and subsequently, the United Church of Christ. We, too, have been involved in taking the lead in controversial issues, when we have felt so strongly moved by the Holy Spirit to do so—in the anti-slavery movement, in the ordination of women, in civil rights.

We continue to be involved in controversial issues.

One of these that makes controversial issues controversial is fear—fear of the issue itself and fear even of talking about difficult subjects.

I asked you last week, and I continued the theme in the News and Notes this past Wednesday, and I will from, from time to time, follow-up on this theme of pondering and praying about how we can talk about difficult issues in church. I have heard from one person already who has some interesting resources that might be helpful.

Today, I ask you to think about, ponder and pray about fear. Being honest about fear is the first thing and recognizing the harm that fear can do is also important.

So many times, Jesus looked into the eyes and hearts of his closest followers and either asked them why they were afraid or he declared to them, “Do not be afraid.”

Jesus wasn’t there to make such a declaration to Herod, but it seems safe to say that when the guards went down to the prison to gather John the Baptist to behead him, John was not afraid. Even in the face of death, John would not have been afraid. He knew who was really in charge. He knew the salvation that awaited him, despite the horror of the end of his earthly life.

Though we face difficult times, though we face uncertainty, though we face troubles, though we face things in this life that we do not understand, we have no reason to fear. For we are not so perplexed by the lessons.

We know the Jesus is in the boat with us. We know.

Thanks be to God. Amen.