The Sixth Sunday After Pentecost

Proper 10

2009

Sunday, 12 July 2009
The Rev’d Lloyd Prator

New York City

At this time of the year, the church is exploring, in the lectionary, some of the characters whom we have not heard from for many years. The story today tells of Herod and John the Baptist and his daughter, whom we know, from other sources as Salome. The new lectionary gives us these stories which we haven’t heard for awhile.

Herod is part of a large, unpleasant family who ruled at various times over Israel during the decades around the time of Jesus. Josephus the contemporary Jewish historian also records the account of the death of John the Baptist, today’s gospel, but the gospel story is more elaborate. The gospel tells the story of the dance of Salome, whose mother was named Herodias. Guess Herod and Herodias made such a nice couple that someone decided they should adopt similar names. Or, perhaps this was a first century version of the modern custom of women taking their husbands’ names. Anyway, Herod and Herodias lived with Salome, Salome was Herodias daughter by her first husband, who was Herod’s brother. Stepdaughter and niece; a lot of steps in that family.

And that was the problem; it seems, between John the Baptist and Herod’s family. Actually Herod’s decision to walk off with his brother’s wife was pretty small beer when it came to offensive acts. But it was against the law, and John the Baptist was a stickler for rules and laws. I think he pretty much said that Herodias was a slut and Herod was a womanizer, and that probably did not endear him to the family. Herodias urged her husband to make short work of him. Herod was not to sure how to do this, because actually John was popular and he always wanted to keep the domestic peace.

One day, Herod threw himself a birthday party. No surprise there, as unpleasant as he was and as self –centered as he was, there was probably no one else who would give him a party at all. A wake, maybe, but not a birthday party. Now, Salome was there, and being both his stepdaughter and his niece, it was not surprising that she had a major role in the festival. All this stuff about the seven veils is later editions by people like Cecil B DeMille and Billy Wilder, but we know that she was quite a whiz at the dance. And it was probably not a chaste little minuet either. So, she did this amazing dance.

And Herod was so—shall we say—delighted, that he promised to give Salome anything from his kingdom that she wanted. Up to and including half the realm. Now Salome already had pretty much everything a girl could want, and she did not have political ambitions, so she declined the share in the kingdom and asked her mother what she should ask for.

Herodias did not take more than a new York minute to make up her mind. Here was a way of getting rid of John the Baptist and his litany of accusations against the royal family. And this was it. “Ask for the head of John” Herodias urged her daughter. And she did. And it was delivered to her.

The gospel reports that Salome immediately gave the head to her mother—well, wouldn’t you? What else? Send it out to be mounted? And, at that point the girl Salome disappears from the story and she probably reminded herself later that she should be very careful about the audience for that particular dance. And she should be wary of asking her mother advice in the future. And she should be skeptical about following advice that seems too simple to solve a complex problem.

Now, this is one of the little folk stories of the gospel, probably inserted into the story because it is interesting and compelling, and probably helped to solidify hatred against the unpleasant Herodians. But why is it really there?

The story ends with John being buried. But John’s burial is not told of anywhere else in tradition or scripture. And when it comes to listing the martyrs, the heroes of the faith, we notice a peculiar thing: John the Baptist is commemorated not on the day he died bu t on the day of his nativity.

This little chapter of the prehistory of the incarnation is treated differently than the martyrology of any of the other saints. John is commemorated on his birth, not his death. What do you suppose that means? Consider this: He certainly had a colorful death—but in a way, it was shut up and not talked about. His death was not talked about because his life and his challenge to us is more important than his death. We remember his birth, and what he had to say about the immorality of those in public life.

Maybe, just maybe, that is a reminder that our vocation is still to be like John, not losing our heads to the whim of spoiled teenagers. But being forthright about speaking words of judgment to those in political power. And never have such words been more needed than now. The corruption, laziness, scandals, and petty dishonesty of those in government is, I think, at an all time high. I think that I am right here: that the public esteem for politicians has sunk even lower than that for journalists, and, dare I say it, for clergy?

Those who serve our government are meant to be stewards of our authority and our resources, not pillagers thereof. Perhaps we remember the nativity of John the Baptist because his message still needs to be born anew among us. For those who accept his mantle and seek to tell the truth in the realm of politics and government, we give thanks and bless God as we seek to build a world based upon honesty and integrity. May those gifts continually be born in us as they were borne in John the Baptist and as he was borne in the human community.