A sermon preached at King Hill United Presbyterian Church on July 11, 2021.
Mark 6:14-29, Amos 7:7-17
Today’s texts are particularly challenging to me.
After reading them over a couple of times I was troubled by what they were saying to me so I wrote short descriptions of each. For the text from Amos I wrote “speaking truth to power.” For the text from Mark I wrote “consequences of speaking truth to power.”
This was not going in a direction I wanted it to go. Speaking truth to power and the consequences of doing so are a little too current and a lot too controversial for my comfort level.
But it is true that we, as Christians, are called to do exactly that, to take up our crosses and speak the truth of the gospel to those who make laws, write regulations and enforce policy; in fact, that calling hasn’t changed in the past couple of years. We have always been called to speak out on behalf of the outcast and the downcast, to be the voice for those who have no voice, to speak truth to the powers that all too often answer only to those offering financial and political support. If there is a positive about the state of political discourse in our country today it is that the level of involvement has never been higher. People from both ends of the political spectrum are engaged and that’s a good thing. Only time will tell the results of that engagement. But the bottom line is that the higher the level of engagement, the more accurately our leadership will represent the hopes, dreams, and attitudes of our country. So in that regard it is now, more than ever, important for our voices to be heard – bravely speaking the truth of the gospel. Speaking about God’s love for all, regardless of race or class or situation. Speaking about God’s grace, freely offered to anyone, everyone, who will accept it.
So much for the political statement. Now for the gruesome details of John’s demise.
Delving into the background of this story is a bit like trying to summarize a soap opera.
The Herod mentioned here is not the same one who was in power at the time of Jesus’ birth. That was Herod the Great. This is Herod Antipas – Herod “the not so great.” He had forced his brother Herod Philip to divorce his wife (Herodias) so He (Herod Antipas) could marry her.
That’s what Mark is talking about when he says;
“For 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.”
And while we’re filling in the soap opera cast it should be noted that the daughter who did the dancing (Herod’s niece/step-daughter) was, according to first-century historian Josephus named Salome. She ended up marrying, first, another of Herod’s brothers, another Philip – her uncle Philip the Tetrarch and later another second cousin. If you’ll excuse me for a moment I need to go wash my hands before we can continue.
I guess the point is that these people had a lot to answer for and John, in speaking the truth of their transgressions, didn’t have to dig very deep.
So it’s not really surprising that he upset Herodias. And those of us who have been married for any length of time will sympathize with poor Herod when his wife demanded that John be thrown in prison.
But still Herod’s reaction is interesting.
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.
Here we need to pause and wonder at this reaction. Obviously John was speaking enough of the truth that Herodias wanted him dead. Whatever John was saying couldn’t be comfortable for Herod to hear. And yet “…he liked to listen to him.” It makes you wonder what John was saying that was so perplexing on the one hand, engaging on the other hand, and enraging to Herodias on the third hand.
One of the commentaries I read recently referred to Herod as “…a perplexed seeker, a dabbler in the mysteries of God. He believes just enough to keep him awake at night but not enough to change his way of living.”
How many of us does that describe? How many of us know, deep down inside, that things are not really great in our relationship with God; that we are not always honest with ourselves or with God, that there are parts of ourselves that we tend to ignore when we approach God – sweeping them under the carpet as it were? How many of us are really, secretly, hoping that nothing will come along that will force us to change?
We want to be in control. We won’t easily turn control over to someone else, particularly God. So the answer for some of us is to remake God. Author Anne Lamont is quoted as saying; “You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.” We want God to be like us. We want God to approve of us, just as we are. We don’t want to wrestle with the idea that maybe, perhaps God wants us to change rather than being forced to approve of us in our current state.
Herod liked to listen to John – even though John was saying challenging uncomfortable things. What was behind his fascination we will probably never know. What we do know is that Herod would not willingly execute John. But when trapped by his own foolish and excessive promise he had no choice. And he left John’s political movement without a head, as it were.
We hear no more of John or his disciples in Mark’s gospel. In Matthew’s telling of the incident John’s disciples go and tell Jesus what had happened. The news of his cousin’s demise was very troubling to Jesus who immediately retired to a lonely place to be alone and pray – and ended up feeding 5,000 followers. But even in Matthew’s telling John’s disciples deliver the news and then disappear from the pages of history.
We aren’t told if they joined the disciples of Jesus. I would certainly hope that was the case. They had been through so much, faithfully following John even to his imprisonment and death. They needed someone to lead them, someone to believe in.
How like them are we? Perhaps we don’t follow a person, but the human tendency is to hold to ideas, beliefs, attitudes. We make them part of our identity, key parts of who we are. And what do we do when those are shown to be wrong or incomplete or, well, (to quote the writer of Ecclesiastes) nothing but smoke? We react, sometimes lashing out, sometimes withdrawing, sometimes grieving; always, like John’s movement, without a head, a stabilizing force, the assurance that things will be OK, even though our world has been up-ended.
It’s at such times that we find hope and help, stability and assurance in turning – Just as John’s disciples did – to Jesus.
Marge – the diagnosis
Marge was stunned. She stared, unblinking at the Doctor as if by force of will she could change his pronouncement. That was not to be. The diagnosis was confirmed. She was numb through the hospital admission process. Once in her room, in bed, in one of those horrible hospital gowns, the reality of the situation hit her. Then she cried. Sometime later there was a knock on her door and the hospital chaplain quietly entered. Marge dried her tears but still sobbed occasionally as they talked. But the visit did calm her. Her fears were still there. Nothing could remove the fears. But her fears no longer ruled her emotions. Before the chaplain left they prayed and Marge at last felt a small measure of peace, not much, but enough to face the next day, the next steps.
Bill – pastor found in adultery
Bill had been the pastor at Central Presbyterian Church for well over two decades. He was well loved by just about everyone in the congregation and his commitments to mission, education, and congregational life had resulted in good steady growth through the years. He was well loved. He used to be well loved. Perhaps not so much any more. His extra-marital relationship had come to light when he abruptly resigned, left his wife, left the state, left the ministry. How could he betray their trust, their support, their love? The church board held an emergency meeting. Representatives from the Presbytery’s Committee on Ministry were there and they brought along a counselor who specialized in grief counseling. She explained how Central Pres would go through a grieving process. She gave them signs to look for, indications of how individuals and the congregation as a whole was dealing with the situation. She reminded them that they were, after all, the church and while they needed to accept that their relationship with Bob was over, they also needed to find a way to forgive him for his betrayal of their trust. And for the immediate future that work, finding a way to forgive, was the most important work for Central Presbyterian to do.
Mike – Laid off
Mike sat and stared at the half-empty beer glass in his hand. If he were being responsible this would be the last beer he would drink until the nightmare was over. Beer cost money. Water was cheaper. But water wouldn’t help him forget – or if not forget, at least comes to terms with the pink piece of paper in his pocket. He had given the best years of his life to the plant. He’d been proud of the work they did, the product they produced, the innovations in manufacturing that they had implemented. Then those same innovations had led to the staff reductions. He had survived the first and second waves, cautiously thankful for the paycheck that kept coming in, all the while knowing that the reprieve was only temporary. And now the time had come. He had accepted their offer of assistance in his job search, even though he’d heard from those in the earlier rounds that there wasn’t much hope. Hope. His laugh sounded more like a cough. Where was the hope for people like him, situations like his? For the third time that afternoon he pulled the small card from his pocket. A friend had handed it to him as they walked out of the plant. One of the local churches was hosting a support group for laid-off factory workers, no cost and the coffee was free too. At least it was cheaper than beer. Maybe he’d give it a try.
The hospital chaplain, the laid-off factory workers’ support group, the congregation of Central Presbyterian. These are but a few of the ways our head, Jesus, is present in our world, working through us to bring the Kingdom of Heaven more fully into reality. The work is not always easy. It is not always glamorous. The accomplishments may not seem large or earth changing, but through Christ those accomplishments are blessed and are a blessing.
Recently I came across the following quote by Oswald Chambers. He was commenting on the 23rd Psalm but the message here applies to much of our lives.
Oswald Chambers
We are not made for the mountains, for sunrises, or for the other beautiful attractions in life — those are simply intended to be moments of inspiration. We are made for the valley and the ordinary things of life, and that is where we have to prove our stamina and strength.
To that I would add that it is in the valley of shadow and the ordinary things of life where we look to our head, our Lord and Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, for comfort, for courage, for hope; to lead us thru the valley and into the glory of God’s kingdom.
Amen.