Herod... had given orders to have John arrested, and he had him bound and put in prison. He did this because of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, whom he had married. For John had been saying to Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” So Herodias nursed a grudge against John and wanted to kill him. But she was not able to, because Herod feared John and protected him, knowing him to be a righteous and holy man. When Herod heard John, he was greatly puzzled; yet he liked to listen to him. Mark 6:17-21
Have you come across the word “conflicted”? It seems to be getting more and more common.
It means to be in two minds about something; in effect, to be confused and unsure. When Crystal Palace (my team) plays Liverpool (my wife’s team), I am conflicted about who I want to win (sadly, I can’t say the same for my wife...). You may feel thoroughly conflicted over the Brexit debate. You may have strong anti-abortion views - until you hear about a teenage girl who is pregnant through rape.
I reckon all of us are conflicted, more or less seriously, over all sorts of issues that crop up in our lives.
Well, Herod Antipas, the ruler of Galilee and Perea in the days of Jesus, was a conflicted man if ever there was one. And it was all to do with the firebrand preacher John the Baptist.
John had the guts to confront Herod over his marriage to his sister-in-law Herodias, which was illegal under Jewish law. Herod had John imprisoned, but that wasn’t enough for Herodias; she wanted him killed. (Which is exactly what happened in the end - read the whole passage, Mark 6:14-29).
What makes this sorry story fascinating is that Herod, tyrant though he was, clearly had a strong respect and even a liking for John. He “feared John and protected him” (perhaps putting him in prison was in fact a means of keeping him safe?). He “knew him to be a righteous and holy man”. When he heard John “he was greatly puzzled; yet he liked to listen to him”.
Conflicted indeed! - he obviously felt a sense of loyalty to his wife, yet he couldn’t escape the fact that John really got through to him. He seems to have been somewhat in awe of him, and when Herodias insisted on his death he was “greatly distressed”.
Herod was a morally feeble man, a man of little principle, the man to whom Jesus referred as “that fox” (Luke 13:32). Yet it’s hard not to feel slightly sorry for him. Deep down he knew that John the Baptist was a man of stature and integrity. Yet he connived at his death, feeling himself to be backed into a corner (pretty much like Pontius Pilate, who enters the story much later, and who we know far better).
The relationship between Herod and John has much to teach us. Above all, it suggests that the man or woman who, through a life-long practice of prayer, worship and sincere commitment to God, is bold in upholding the truth - that that person can have a significant impact even on people who couldn’t care less about God.
The days in which Herod lived were deeply superstitious - all sorts of religious beliefs were on the go. And likewise with us today.
We are often told that religion is a dying force in modern society, and there is truth in that, if by religion we mean organised, established, traditional practices. Yet surveys suggest that most people still pray in some way or other, especially, of course, in times of crisis. Most people expect that death will be marked by some kind of religious ceremony. New-born babies are routinely taken to a place of worship, Christian or otherwise, to mark their arrival in the world.
It’s easy to dismiss such residual religiosity - and, of course, it’s a million miles from pure Christianity. But it’s not nothing! And it can be a wide-open entry-point for honest and humble witness for Christ.
How often do we hear people describe the time of their conversion as being sparked by an ordinary Christian in their circle of acquaintances?... “I didn’t really understand what made her tick,” they say about someone in their work-place, “but somehow I sensed that she had something I didn’t have - and I began to see that it was something I needed and wanted...” Or: “At first, to be honest, I thought he was a bit of a nutter, but over time he somehow got through to me and it started to make sense...”
It’s true that we never read of Herod Antipas undergoing any kind of “conversion” experience. But who knows what might have gone on in his heart, especially a few years later (AD 39, to be precise), when, after being dumped out of office, he was thrust into exile by the emperor? By that time he will have known the full story of Jesus, never mind John the Baptist...
Herod saw that John was “righteous and holy.” He just couldn't help it. He was “greatly puzzled by him”; yet he “liked to listen to him” He couldn’t resist his appeal.
May something of the mysterious, magnetic beauty of Jesus be seen even in us. Who knows what wonderful changes it might lead to in somebody’s life?
Lord God, I know that of myself I am nothing. But I do desire to follow Jesus, and I know that your Holy Spirit is in me. I pray that in some wonderful way others may see in me something that I don’t even see in myself. Amen.
Have you come across the word “conflicted”? It seems to be getting more and more common.
It means to be in two minds about something; in effect, to be confused and unsure. When Crystal Palace (my team) plays Liverpool (my wife’s team), I am conflicted about who I want to win (sadly, I can’t say the same for my wife...). You may feel thoroughly conflicted over the Brexit debate. You may have strong anti-abortion views - until you hear about a teenage girl who is pregnant through rape.
I reckon all of us are conflicted, more or less seriously, over all sorts of issues that crop up in our lives.
Well, Herod Antipas, the ruler of Galilee and Perea in the days of Jesus, was a conflicted man if ever there was one. And it was all to do with the firebrand preacher John the Baptist.
John had the guts to confront Herod over his marriage to his sister-in-law Herodias, which was illegal under Jewish law. Herod had John imprisoned, but that wasn’t enough for Herodias; she wanted him killed. (Which is exactly what happened in the end - read the whole passage, Mark 6:14-29).
What makes this sorry story fascinating is that Herod, tyrant though he was, clearly had a strong respect and even a liking for John. He “feared John and protected him” (perhaps putting him in prison was in fact a means of keeping him safe?). He “knew him to be a righteous and holy man”. When he heard John “he was greatly puzzled; yet he liked to listen to him”.
Conflicted indeed! - he obviously felt a sense of loyalty to his wife, yet he couldn’t escape the fact that John really got through to him. He seems to have been somewhat in awe of him, and when Herodias insisted on his death he was “greatly distressed”.
Herod was a morally feeble man, a man of little principle, the man to whom Jesus referred as “that fox” (Luke 13:32). Yet it’s hard not to feel slightly sorry for him. Deep down he knew that John the Baptist was a man of stature and integrity. Yet he connived at his death, feeling himself to be backed into a corner (pretty much like Pontius Pilate, who enters the story much later, and who we know far better).
The relationship between Herod and John has much to teach us. Above all, it suggests that the man or woman who, through a life-long practice of prayer, worship and sincere commitment to God, is bold in upholding the truth - that that person can have a significant impact even on people who couldn’t care less about God.
The days in which Herod lived were deeply superstitious - all sorts of religious beliefs were on the go. And likewise with us today.
We are often told that religion is a dying force in modern society, and there is truth in that, if by religion we mean organised, established, traditional practices. Yet surveys suggest that most people still pray in some way or other, especially, of course, in times of crisis. Most people expect that death will be marked by some kind of religious ceremony. New-born babies are routinely taken to a place of worship, Christian or otherwise, to mark their arrival in the world.
It’s easy to dismiss such residual religiosity - and, of course, it’s a million miles from pure Christianity. But it’s not nothing! And it can be a wide-open entry-point for honest and humble witness for Christ.
How often do we hear people describe the time of their conversion as being sparked by an ordinary Christian in their circle of acquaintances?... “I didn’t really understand what made her tick,” they say about someone in their work-place, “but somehow I sensed that she had something I didn’t have - and I began to see that it was something I needed and wanted...” Or: “At first, to be honest, I thought he was a bit of a nutter, but over time he somehow got through to me and it started to make sense...”
It’s true that we never read of Herod Antipas undergoing any kind of “conversion” experience. But who knows what might have gone on in his heart, especially a few years later (AD 39, to be precise), when, after being dumped out of office, he was thrust into exile by the emperor? By that time he will have known the full story of Jesus, never mind John the Baptist...
Herod saw that John was “righteous and holy.” He just couldn't help it. He was “greatly puzzled by him”; yet he “liked to listen to him” He couldn’t resist his appeal.
May something of the mysterious, magnetic beauty of Jesus be seen even in us. Who knows what wonderful changes it might lead to in somebody’s life?
Lord God, I know that of myself I am nothing. But I do desire to follow Jesus, and I know that your Holy Spirit is in me. I pray that in some wonderful way others may see in me something that I don’t even see in myself. Amen.
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