Mark 6:14–29
This week’s gospel from Mark, a flashback to the murder of John the Baptist, provides a complex picture of pain wrapped up in death at the hands of political power. The story of the murder of John the Baptist sets John against kings and those that influence kings, and in equal measure, people willing to use manipulation to commit grievous acts. The ultimate killer of John the Baptist is tangled up in layers upon layers of relationship, muddying the water of guilt so much so that guilt touches everyone involved. Years later, as evidenced by the flashback, John the Baptist’s death haunts Herod so much so that the stories of Jesus shame him with the decision he made to kill a prophet.
Ironically, the person in prison – John – is not the person in the story committing murder, an important feature of the story that can call us to remember the “crimes” of those imprisoned versus the criminal actions of those who, on the “outside,” determine their fate. While King Herod fears John, he fears John because John spoke the truth to him. Again, it is John – the imprisoned – who names that King Herod’s actions are not lawful, a voice of truth coming from behind the proverbial bars to incriminate power. The fate of John – death at the hands of a King who pleases the people inside his ear – is not unlike the fate of imprisoned people who, even in speaking truth, are only further incriminated and forbidden the freedom offered to the people on the “outside.” The people of power who hold them captive are often able to engage in criminal activity, because it comes from a place of unjust power that serves to preserve their own freedom.
Aside from the obvious power dynamics at play between King Herod and John, this gospel text also calls to mind the dire decisions that can be made when power concedes to people pleasing and manipulation. King Herod has somewhat of a respect for John, and the gospel notes that he knew “he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him.” However, whatever affection he had for John is rendered useless when Herod feels bound to an oath to Herodias, an oath specifically made out of old grudges that, again, are based only in John’s propensity to tell the truth. Even as King Herod is “deeply grieved” he continues with his action of holding to an oath born out of a grudge, rather than care for the life of a one who he believed was a righteous and holy man. In this specific dynamic of the gospel we are shown with startling clarity the cost to human life and dignity that is paid when power pleases the voice of the people, the voice of the masses, with an oath to preserving the grudges of humans over truth professed by prophets. King Herod serves as a reminder of what happens when politics and the highest givers allow their grudges to become death sentences for the very people who, like John, are left to the fate of kings more occupied with their standing in the public square than to their oath to serve anything resembling the justice of God.
Abolition requires the acknowledgement of these dynamics in our world and a resistance to the ways we might feel called to people please. If we live as King Herod, with the voices of grudges in our heads speaking against human dignity, then we have aligned ourselves with injustice and, in time, we will face the same haunting memories of the ways we silenced prophetic voices in service to our own power.
Erin Jean Warde (she/her/hers) is a priest, writer, spiritual director, and recovery coach in Austin, TX with more writing at www.erinjeanwarde.com.