The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost (Mother Marisa)

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. 

King Herod heard of Jesus and his disciples, for Jesus’ name had become known; and like everyone else in Jerusalem and Galilee and all of Israel, Herod had to decide who this man was. For him, though, there was only one answer: “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”

What a change of pace we experience in our Gospel text today. Normally, we expect to hear the words of Jesus. We expect to be encouraged, convicted, or questioned by Christ himself. But this morning is different. Instead of the usual, we hear the grisly conclusion of the life of the Forerunner, St. John the Baptist. Just a short time ago, just a few pages in the course of the narrative, John wandered in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming a baptism of repentance in preparation for the advent of the Lord. “One more powerful than I am is coming after me; I am not worthy to bend down and untie the strap of his sandals. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” The Kingdom of God was at hand. “Repent and be baptized, you brood of vipers!”

John the Baptist was never one to mince words. It didn’t matter if you were a Pharisee or a fisherman, a Roman soldier or a king — John had something to say to you about what must change in light of the coming Messiah. And, in the case of Herod, his message was uncompromisingly personal. Herod had married his brother’s wife, which was forbidden by Jewish law in the strongest of terms — and Herod knew that, and John knew that. John told Herod the truth, so of course he threw John in prison, though for what end we don’t immediately know. Herod admired John. He liked to listen to John even as he was perplexed by him. Still, the pronouncement of the Forerunner rankled, especially with Herod’s wife, who made good use of her circumstances to accomplish her end. “Give me the head of John the baptizer on a plate,” and it was done.

The Gospel of the Lord? 

What gospel is there in that story? What triumph? What resurrection? On the face of it, not much. Another innocent man declared guilty. Another prophet killed. Another ruler doing something terribly wrong and getting away with it. In Herod’s court, the world goes on as it always has — or so it can seem. And yet the Truth is different. 

If we were to flip back a few pages or cast our minds to the Gospel lesson from a few weeks ago, we would see a study in opposites. Immediately preceding the story of John’s death, we hear Jesus telling his disciples about the true nature of God’s kingdom. God’s kingdom is not like this world, he says. In God’s kingdom, the poor are treasured, the sick are healed, and wrong is made right — because God’s rule is one of love, of self-sacrificial love, a love that will not tire or rest or stop loving until everyone has encountered Him. That is the kingdom Christ proclaims, the kingdom he sent his disciples to announce on his behalf. 

What a contrast between God’s reign and Herod’s. Side-by-side they stand, one seemingly poor and powerless, the other dominant and in demand. But to the one who knows, who has seen and heard, the rightful king and his righteous kingdom are impossible to miss. 

They call to the heart. 

They call to everyone’s heart. Even Herod liked to listen to John and his message of repentance because some part of him knew it was true. Some part of him recognized and resonated with the restorative breeze that accompanies the Spirit as he blows down the crumbling facades and crooked altars we build inside of us. Repentance can be painful; but it is the path to freedom.

We know that, just like we know that we shouldn’t eat three cheeseburgers for dinner every day or check our phone in the middle of the night. But just because we know doesn’t mean we’ll always listen. We’re so often so happy in our sin that letting it go or turning around seems impossible. Like Herod, the idea of repentance may be attractive. We might catch a glimpse of the wide-open space on the other side, but then we decide to stay right where we shouldn’t be. Which is what Herod did. Herod hardened his heart. He surrounded himself with so much luxury and pleasure, that when the moment to choose repentance came, Herod felt like he had no choice at all — and the results were disastrous. “Who is this Jesus of Nazareth but the man I killed, returned from the grave to punish me?” 

Of course he would think that. In Herod’s world, in our world, that is precisely what happens. Bloodshed and vengeance. The nightmare of guilt and the multiplicity of sorrow that follows. 

But that is a story written according to an older testament; we live in the light of a New. And in that light, what do we know to be true? What did John know to be true? What did Jesus do? God came into this world not to condemn it, but to save it — to die saving it — which has been his glory all along.

When we were citizens of this world, dead in our sins, enslaved to our own desires, God came down to save us. He saw how weak we were and how lost, and he said, “I will never again pass them by.”

He will never again pass us by because he is right here. God is with us. Christ Jesus is with us, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God as a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, humbling himself even to the point of death on a cross that we might be saved. 

For God loves us, each of us. And he abides with us: no matter how often we misunderstand him or misrepresent him, no matter whether our hearts are more akin to the ascetic of the desert or the king in his court, God longs for us. He longs to pour out his blessings upon us, longs to show us his salvation, so that we might be free to enjoy him, this God who made each of us for his very own.

This is the God we worship. This is the God who reigns. This is the God who holds all that is in his hand — who holds even John, even Herod, even us in his hand — and who will lose nothing of what he has made but bring everything into his Kingdom, where righteousness and peace kiss each other. Where every wrong is made right. Where we are made holy and whole through the blood of the Lamb. AMEN.

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