SERMONS

By Rev. Angela Miksovsky, Guest Preacher
Texts: Mark 6:14-29, Ephesians 1:3-14
July 12, 2009

Talk about Biblical rubbernecking. This is one of those stories that appears in the Bible and you go, “huh?!?” It’s gross. It’s immoral. It just makes you say, “Ick!” and at the same time you can’t help but be fascinated—kind of like reading the tabloids.

Think about it. From what we know in our passage, Herod married his brother’s wife. And when we go to outside sources, we find out how: Herod Antipas went to visit his half-brother Philip. On that trip, he fell in love with Herodias—his sister-in-law and niece!—then, he proposed—even though he was married to another woman! Herodias presumably also fell in love, definitely with the position and quite possibly the man, and agreed to marry. Even though she was already married! But she made one condition: Antipas must divorce his first wife. She might sleep with her brother in law, but she won’t be a bigamist.

Now, in American 21st century society, if two married people, not married to each other, fall in love and decide to marry, we aren’t THAT judgmental. It happens. People move on, and we don’t condemn it. It’s sad –even tragic—for their spouses and any children involved, but Americans value the happiness of the individual higher than the good of the community and perhaps even higher than following God. But this isn’t the case in 1st century Israel. Antipas was politically in charge, being a Tetrarch—one of Herod the Great’s 4 sons who had co-inherited Herod the Great’s power. (You might remember that Herod the Great was the Herod in charge when Jesus was born.) So THIS Herod is THAT Herod’s son, Antipas. And Antipas was well aware that he, like his father and brothers, as not that popular. That he and his nominally Jewish family were too Greek. Antipas and Herodias didn’t want to be reminded of being too Greek—they wanted to think that they were Jewish enough for the people, who don’t value individual happiness the way we do. So, for Antipas and Herodias, having someone revered and popular like John the Baptist denounce their marriage, was religiously and politically dangerous. But it was also dangerous to kill him, since he was so popular. In wishy-washy fashion, Antipas decided to imprison him, despite Herodias’ nagging to just get it over with and kill him.

This is the background for our passage today. And in the story proper, what happens?

Antipas, emulating the Roman emperor, decides to hold a huge birthday feast. He invites many influential guests—think of George Bush holding a dinner for all his most important political contributors. People Antipas wants to thank but also impress. As per the custom of the day, the men and women ate separately, in different rooms. And during the feast, there was entertainment. Music and conversation. Dancing girls for the men. In particular, Antipas’ step-daughter, who we know from the 1st century historian Josephus is named Salome. Her dance is so impressive (read suggestive) that Antipas offers to grant any request, up to half his kingdom—a sweeping gesture, bringing to mind Xerxes’ offer to Esther in that OT book. But there is one hook: Antipas isn’t actually a king, though he’d like to be. Mark, ironically, call him “king” but remember, he’s just a tetrarch. That means he doesn’t actually have the power to give away half his kingdom. But he makes this gesture anyway, impulsively, grandly, pretending to more than he has.

And Salome, dutiful daughter, leaves the men’s area to ask her mother what she should request. We know how Herodias answers. But Salome adds her own gruesome twist: make John the Baptist’s head part of the banquet feast. Put it on a platter.

Herod and presumably his guests are horrified. Herod is caught between the Scylla and Charybdis: if he acts to save John the Baptist, his guests will snicker and think he’s weak. If he beheads John, not only will he miss his favorite philosopher (our text tells us Herod liked puzzling over his statements), Herod’s people might also riot.

At this point, we can look at this story and say, “Well, DUH. Don’t make promises you can’t keep!” or, to put it Biblically, “Do not swear at all, either by heaven… or earth.”[1] We could even say, “Be careful of who you fall for/marry!” Or even, if we focus on John the Baptist, “Be careful about how you tell the truth !” But these aren’t the points Mark is trying to make.

To figure out what Mark is trying to say about Jesus here, we have to read a little of what comes before and what comes after. On the one hand, our selection today seems to be a comment on who Jesus is. It’s rather early in the gospel, so people still don’t know. His message seems a lot like John’s. So, is he John the Baptist, resurrected? He casts out demons and heals miraculously. So, is he Elijah? No one considers the possibility that Jesus just might be the Messiah, not even Jesus’ disciples. That doesn’t come for another 2 chapters.

Herod settles on John, and just as earlier in Mark’s Gospel, where John’s ministry precedes and presages Jesus’, here John’s death also precedes and presages Jesus’. Both are condemned, not at the will of the nominal political head but by outside forces. Both ultimately die at the hands of those political heads who fear and hence feel a need to heed the opinions of those watching. So from these literary parallels, we see that Mark is warning us of what will ultimately happen to Jesus.

But Mark wants to say more. Let’s turn to Mark 6:7–

He (Jesus) called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. 8 He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; 9 but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 10 He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 11 If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” 12 So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. 13 They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

And dropping down to Mark 6:30–  The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught.

In the first passage, starting at 6:7, the disciples were sent out, by two’s, to proclaim repentance, cast out demons, and heal the sick. And in Mark 6:30, the disciples report back to Jesus on the success of their little mini-missions trip.

There’s a topical sandwich, with John’s beheading in the middle.

This isn’t the first time Mark uses this literary device. So we must pay attention. And when we notice this sandwich, then we can see that Mark is actually commenting, if in a rather roundabout way to our 21st century minds, about discipleship. What it means to follow Jesus. What it means to follow God. And it isn’t always a pretty sight.

Because, you see, the apostles were sent out on their own—something no other 1st century rabbi had ever done. Can you imagine being one of those 12? To be entrusted in such a manner? And to see that they, too, could do the same things that Jesus was doing? How joyful they must have been! How proud! How tempted to think it’s because of them and not because of…God. And so Mark inserts this warning:

See what happened to John? It could happen to you!

If you follow God, watch out. It’s not going to be all popularity and power! You might just very well find yourself at odds with the powers of the world. You might just very well find yourself imprisoned, made ineffective, trotted out just for entertainment. You might just very well find yourself—ignobly, expediently, politically, literally—beheaded. Ultimately, Mark is giving us fair warning: see how much discipleship can cost you.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I am a coward. I like living the comfortable life. I like ensuring the safety & comfort of those I love. I am “sore afraid” of living out the convicted lifestyle and the sacrifices it demands not just of me but also of the ones I love. And when I read passages like this one in Mark, I can’t help but wonder: Why? Why did John the Baptist live this way? Why did these apostles? Didn’t they know what could happen? And as someone who calls herself “Christian,” doesn’t God make similar demands on my life? Can I live up to them? Do I want to?

I am warned, and I question myself, my convictions, my call, my courage. Because if we focus JUST on the warnings, we would flee, just as these same apostles did on Good Friday. No sane person willingly chooses this.

One of the challenges of allowing the lectionary to pick our sermon passages means we need to look hard at difficult parts of the Bible, such as the one we are wrestling with today. It would be so much easier to skip over it, not dwell on John’s beheading, and just preach those parts that focus on victory. But just as life is not full of only victories, the Bible also contains scary, gory, crazy sections. Life is messy—watch out! Following God is dangerous—be prepared!

And so, today’s gospel selection challenges us to consider the cost of following Jesus. But, today’s epistle reading includes words of comfort! Turn with me, if you will, to Ephesians 1:3. I’m not going to reread it to you, but what do you notice? What words, what ideas, what feelings?

Do you see what I see? Of the 12 verses, 11 ½ focus on what God has done, is doing, and is promising us. ½ a verse, and then only in passing, on what we are to do for God. That’s over 95% affirming. Paul tells us that we are blessed by God, given every spiritual blessing. We are holy, we are blameless. We are chosen, we are destined, we are adopted, we are God’s children. We are redeemed, forgiven, lavished upon. We know God. And God is pleased with us. We are given all these things, and God has picked us—even before we were born.

Crazy.

Transformative.

Because with this reminder, with these words, we look at Mark’s warning, and say, “So what?” If this is what God wants me to do, I can. If this is what God calls me to, I will. For if my life is truly given over to God, who cares? I’ve already lost my head. For if God loves me so much, surely I can love God back. Crazily.

Let’s pray.

Lord, you first loved us, even before we knew you. You first died for us before we were born. Your crazy gift of grace, we don’t deserve. Help us to love you, by following you, no matter the cost.

Amen.

BENEDICTION
May the Lord who loves us crazily
Bless you with every spiritual blessing
Lavishing you with the riches of God’s grace
This day & every day.