This Sunday’s gospel from Mark is the only part of his narrative that does not specifically include Jesus at all!  Instead, we have a grisly little flashback on the death of John the Baptist, at the orders of Herod.  Herod had been manipulated into delivering up the head of John the Baptist on a platter by the seductions of Salome, the machinations of his wife Herodias and his own fear of losing face before the VIPs of his court and the political makers and shakers of the day.

One of the various ways of interpreting this passage – which is sandwiched between the first sending out of the disciples and their return to Jesus to report on the results of their mission in his name – is to focus on the costliness of Christian integrity and faithful discipleship.  By focusing at this point in the narrative on John the Baptist, we are reminded this Gospel opened with John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness to “prepare the way of the Lord” and calling people of all walks of life to repent and refocus their lives in readiness for the coming of Jesus.  We are also reminded that John’s message was so challenging and inspiring that he was influencing many, and as a result Herod feared him.  Because of this fear, Herod had thrown John into prison. Yet in Mark 6:20 we learn that Herod also recognised John as righteous and holy, and that although Herod found John’s words perplexing, he liked to listen to John.

As Mark takes time to look at the purpose of John the Baptist’s life and the relationship between him and Herod, we are shown the twin aspects of faithful prophecy in the service of God: (1) looking forward in heralding the coming of the Kingdom of God, and (2) speaking truth to power now.  Both are challenging, risky, dangerous actions.  Both are a reality we cannot, if we are honest to God, duck (even if we cannot lay claim to the title of prophet).

Where, then, is this power that needs the truth?  Such power might be corrupt or ignorant, or genuinely seeking advice. We might think immediately of how the Church as institution, or ourselves as individual Christians, can offer Christlike example into lobbying of our politicians and government on the causes of poverty, on working out a humane response to issues of immigration or war, or local justice concerns.  Politicians might like to claim that politics does not do Church, but we, surely, must always say Church does politics.  It is not easy – and at its most dangerous we find martyrs like Thomas a Beckett, Thomas More, Oscar Romero … and John the Baptist.

BUT perhaps we need first to look at ourselves as Christians.  History past and present shows us that the Church can be complicit in the policies and actions of nations.  How can we learn from the example of Christian individuals, like Rev Trevor Huddleston standing up to politicians and Church in South Africa in the struggle against apartheid.   How do we come to understand the motivations behind the relationship of Church and State in Russia or Ukraine and how that affects the lives of ordinary, everyday people caught up in war.  What are the questions that could turn our assumptions upside down?

We might look at how our own actions as Church are worked out – or perhaps called out – through the labours of local congregations or national Synod around how the Church should invest for protection of the environment or human dignity. We can challenge ourselves on we model love of God and love of neighbour as we engage in the daily demands of God-thinking and of being Christians in our contexts of home or work or wherever.

I wonder where we find ourselves within this scene in Herod’s palace, inserting itself day by day as a challenging spotlight on our motivations and fears into our striving to be faithful disciples and responsible emissaries for Christ.

Lucy G

Image: The death of John the Baptist by Rubens.  Netherlands Institute for Art History, ID 37886