We live in a world where power is sought, lauded, despised or feared. This week, we’ve seen several examples of power. In L’Aquila, Italy, twenty of the most powerful democracies in the world met to discuss global economic and political issues.[1] A second example: Pop icon Michael Jackson died. We witnessed a display of personal and cultural power—not to mention the power of the media. Over 1.6 million people entered a lottery to win tickets to Jackson’s memorial service in Los Angeles, California. As I watched the television coverage, I was stunned to hear one woman say that she and a relative “sold everything in our house to come here.”[2] That’s some kind of power.
A third example of power this week: The General Convention of the Episcopal Church is currently meeting in Anaheim, California. Lay and ordained Church leaders have gathered to worship and to legislate the triennial business of the Episcopal Church. A number of bishops and archbishops from around the world—including the Archbishop of Canterbury—are attending. The hope is that by attending this Convention, Anglican bishops and archbishops will better understand the bicameral, and democratic process by which the Episcopal Church operates. Perhaps there will then be fewer divisions among us in the Anglican Communion.
At least two things are true about power. First, despite our best hopes, power can become an addictive drug rather than as a model of ethical or faithful living. Second, because of power’s potential for both good and ill, it is our responsibility—as global citizens or Christians—to hold each other accountable.
We have two examples in today’s scriptures of power. The book of Amos was written about eight hundred years before the time of John the Baptist and Jesus. During King Jereboam’s reign, Israel and Judah have enjoyed peace. Neither Egypt nor Assyria—world powers—threaten. The old tribal systems of family and land ownership are unraveling, and a more wealthy—and powerful—elite social class rises. With all this power and upward mobility comes a disregard for God’s laws. The rich get richer. The poor get poorer. For many political and religious leaders, power has become an addictive drug, not a spiritual responsibility.
Then Amos appears on the scene. This herdsman, a vinedresser from the countryside, uses a plumb line to show that God’s people have forgotten God’s laws and the right way to live. Amos prophesies that Jereboam’s kingdom will end. Israel’s holy places will eventually lie in ruins. His people will end up as exiles, far from home. Amaziah, the priest of Bethel and the king’s official representative, reacts strongly and swiftly. He tells Amos to take his prophetic message and peddle it elsewhere. Amos refuses. Instead, he holds corrupt religious and political power accountable. Out of faithfulness to God, Amos speaks God’s truth, not the popular truth. Amos does not live to see the accuracy of his prophecy. However, two centuries later, in 586 BC, King Nebuchadnezzar II captures the Jewish people. They end up far from home as captives in Babylon.
Through succeeding centuries, you might think that the people of God would learn their lesson. However, we are sinful human beings. Despite our best efforts, we give in to the love of power, prestige and money.
By the time John the Baptist and Jesus have begun their ministries, religion and politics are corrupt. Once again, truth must speak to power. The background: Marks’ gospel refers to Herod is not a king. Rather, Herod is one of four provincial rulers of the Roman Empire—a puppet ruler controlled by the emperor. (This Herod is not the same one that was ruler when Jesus was born—that was his father, Herod the Great.)
This Herod has a half-brother—Philip—who married a woman named Herodius. Herod and Herodius have an affair, Herod divorces his first wife, then marries his half-brother’s wife. Herodius has a daughter from her marriage to Philip, whose name is Salome—although Mark’s gospel refers to her as Herodius, thus making the story even more confusing. (Are you keeping up? It’s better than a soap opera!)
Enter John the Baptist, who is well known for speaking truth to power. He tells Herod that he has broken God’s laws when he married Herodius. (A side note: “The issue was neither the divorce nor the second marriage in itself; it was that it was a marriage to the wife of his half brother and so broke the biblical laws set out in Leviticus 18:16.”[3]) Herodius is furious at John for his prophetic meddling, but there’s a complication. Her new husband is intrigued by this prophet. Deep down inside, he knows that John is a holy man who lives according to God’s laws. Herod enjoys John’s preaching, yet he is torn between God’s law and his new wife’s desires. So he protects John for a while.
Then Herod throws a big birthday party for himself. All of his courtiers, officers and powerful Galilean leaders are invited. The calculating Herodius has been waiting for a chance to get rid of this meddling prophet. So she sends her good-looking teenage daughter in to dance for Herod and his guests—probably a pretty seductive dance. By this time in the evening, no doubt Herod has had lots of wine with his dinner. This entertainment pleases him so much, he swears to give the girl whatever she wants—even if it is half of his kingdom! Of course Salome is clueless, so she slips out to consult with her mother. Herodius has the answer. “The head of John the Baptist.” This is not what Herod expected, nor is it a request he wants to fulfill. Yet he is caught now in a terrible bin. He is not a strong ruler, even though he wants to look like he is. He is scared of Herodius. He has a banquet hall full of powerful leaders. He will lose face with his guests if he does not keep his vow to the girl. Yet he knows that if he beheads John the Baptist, he will both silence a voice of God’s truth even as he commits a terrible sin against God.
Not one person in that banquet hall protests or holds Herod accountable. And the one person who does hold him acountable is about to die. Herod makes a choice and uses his power poorly. In what must be a grisly scene, John the Baptist’s head is brought into Herod on a platter and given to the teenage girl. In turn, Salome hands the platter to her triumphant mother. This tragic story ends with John’s disciples coming to take his body, to lay it in a tomb—an eerie foreshadowing of the task that will face Jesus’ disciples in a few years.
As Christians, you and I hear the stories of Amos and Amaziah, John the Baptist and Herod. We may think there is little connection with our own lives. Probably not any one of us here today would claim the title of prophet or king, and while there is one priest in the house, she understands that power is best held when it is both accountable and shared. However, all of us must live daily with decisions we make—decisions that will lead us into closer relationship with God or not. Like Herod, we want some “measure of truth by which to guide [our] life choices.”[4] Like Herod, we also often end up in situations that tempt us to compromise ourselves in order to gain power or to make more money or not to rock the boat. The choices we make may sacrifice family time for a career. We may give in to the whims of whiny toddlers or persistent teenagers just because we are too tired to hold a firm disciplinary line we know is right. We may give in to spending money on ourselves rather than to give money to God’s work. We may know of something we individuals could do to hold members of Congress accountable, yet neglect to call them or write them—thus not holding political power accountable. In the Church, we can choose to make safe decisions rather than prophetic ones that speak God’s Truth.
The question is this one: What kind of decisions do we make? Do the decisions that you and I make—whether in the halls of political, corporate or religious power, or in the halls of our homes—pull us inward into our own self-protective world? Or do our decisions push us outward to help reconcile and transform the world into one that looks like God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven? That question is ours to answer today and in the days ahead. Amen.
© The Rev. Sheila N. McJilton
Pictures of Amos and the Beheading of John the Baptist accessed through Google images.
[1] Kumi Naidoo from South Africa, as quoted by Peter Baker and Rachel Donadio, “G-Nations Press Iran on Nuclear Program” in The New York Times, July 9, 2009. Article accessed at www.nytimes.com.
[2] As heard on CNN on July 7, 2009.
[3] William Loader, “Pentecost 6.” Accessed on July 7, 2009 @ http://wwwstaff.murdoch.edu.au/~loader/MkPentecost6.htm through www.textweek.com.
[4] David L. Bartlett & Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 3, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 236.
