Seventh Sunday after Pentecost 
Mary Holmen

Psalm 85:8-13 Mark 6:14-29

As I was reflecting on today’s readings, I was struck by the contrast between the Psalm and the Gospel passage. Psalm 85 contains some of the most beautiful poetry in the whole Psalter. God speaking peace. Steadfast love and faithfulness meeting. Righteousness and peace kissing. Truth embedded in the earth and springing up like crops growing while righteousness shines down from the sky (although we surely need the skies instead to pour down righteousness right now). Righteousness and peace making a pathway for God. All these characteristics of God are manifest in the goodness of creation and the fruitfulness of the land. It is a vision of restoration, a forward-looking word of hope. All qualities which, to say the least, are lacking in the account of the beheading of John the Baptist.

Instead, we have a story with its own internal set of contrasts. Herod violates the Law of Moses; John holds fast to the Law at the expense of his freedom. Herod feasts in luxury while John languishes in prison. Herod knows John is a holy and righteous man; therefore he fears John. Yet he is strangely drawn to John and likes to listen to him, while Herodias nurses a grudge against John because he speaks truth.

There are so many details in this story that we could spend an entire Bible study on them – but not today. I do, though, want to look at how Mark uses this story, and at the relationship between the mission of John and the mission of Jesus.

Jesus begins his mission only after John’s arrest, which Mark recounts in chapter 1 of his gospel. From then until this story, we hear nothing about John, but we can guess at his end. People who are arrested by puppet kings and tyrants do not usually emerge unscathed from their ordeal.

Last week, we heard about Jesus’s rejection in Nazareth, where he observes, “Prophets are not without honour except in their hometown.” Then he sends out the twelve to expand his mission to the surrounding area. They will return and report back to him everything they do and teach. In between, in another of Mark’s insertions, we have this story of John the Baptist and Herod. This is not an accident or a diversion. John’s story is a commentary on Jesus’s mission. Both John and Jesus are identified as prophets; both suffer rejection. Many of Jesus’s healings include exorcism; the unclean spirits represent the forces of death and destruction that oppress God’s people. John’s execution illustrates what those forces of death and destruction look like in the context of the politics of the day, the challenge of his witness, and Herod’s arrogance and foolishness. John speaks truth and pays the ultimate price. The death of his mentor spells the end of any kind of innocence for Jesus.

The story of John’s death is a flashback – Herod is recalling what he did – but it’s also a flash forward. John’s fate foreshadows what awaits Jesus. Both meet their death – the ultimate rejection – at the hands of weak political figures serving the tyranny of empire, sympathetic but unable to back down after being publicly outmaneuvered. Both die to placate those whom they have offended. The details parallel each other, right down to both their bodies being “laid in a tomb”.

We need to read this story with the understanding that the ancient world was a society based on shame and honour. Herod wants to bestow an honour on Herodias. He swears an oath to show he really means it. She asks him publicly for something he doesn’t want to give. He is put – or he puts himself – in a position where he either has to do what is shameful and break his public oath – which would also be an offence against God – or to do what he knows is wrong. Herod doesn’t have the moral courage to do the right thing. The action that (he thinks) makes him look powerful and honorable is, if you look at it from the right angle, truly horrific. These people are monstrous, serving up the head of John the Baptist as the final course of the birthday feast. Which raises the question: what happens when we honour the wrong people? When we honour someone who is in fact monstrous? What happens when we care too much about our honour and reputation?

It is never easy being a prophet. The gruesome display of the power of tyranny contrasts with the poignancy of John’s disciples coming to get his body and bury it decently. Herod recognizes who John is but chooses a completely different response. His misidentification of Jesus affirms that John is indeed a prophet.

Jesus’s rejection at Nazareth – John’s death – the mission of the twelve – how do we respond to prophets in our midst? Many prophetic voices have been raised in recent years – and by prophecy I don’t mean the mistaken notion of foretelling the future, but the speaking of truth to power. MeToo. Black Lives Matter. Pride – not really recent, but I think increasingly prominent. And, most recently, in light of the uncovering of the truth of unmarked graves at former residential schools, Every Child Matters. How will we respond to these prophets and the message they bring? Some choose to rationalize, to minimize, to deny, to read history selectively, to say, “But what about…?” Are they too concerned with honour and reputation? Maybe. Others are gobsmacked, not knowing what they don’t know. At least there is hope for them. And other voices will be raised alongside those calling for justice, for truth before there can be reconciliation. One such voice is Father Paul Bringleson, the pastor of St. Anne’s Roman Catholic parish in Flin Flon. In a blistering sermon preached last Sunday, he called on the church, and especially its leaders, to listen. “Take off your robes, your shoes, your rings, and your crosses,” he said. “Sit yourself in a chair. And listen. Listen. Listen until it hurts. And keep listening.” (You can find the whole sermon on You Tube and in McLean’s magazine.) That’s a good place to start, both for the church and society. It’s the victims and survivors who get to say when their pain is over, not the other way around. We need to listen so we can begin to understand. With understanding will certainly come hurt and shame. With understanding, we can choose to act. And in action, both survivors and allies can find healing from the hurt and shame.

So, is there good news for us today? Hard to see at first. Perhaps the good news lies in that hope of healing. Perhaps the good news lies in the vision where steadfast love and faithfulness meet, where righteousness and peace kiss each other, where truth springs up from the earth, and where righteousness and peace pave the way for God. Amen.