Posts Tagged ‘Herod’

Holding a dinner party – who to invite, where to seat them

August 30, 2025

Pentecost 12 – 2025

Luke 14:1, 7-14

Marian Free

Loving God, give us a true sense of our worth, that we may never need to build ourselves up at the expense of another. Amen.

If you were invited to a formal wedding breakfast, you would expect to find a diagramme of the table arrangement indicating at which table you were to sit. When you found that table you would look for a place card with your name and you would take your seat – regardless of whether or not you were sitting with someone you knew and liked, and no matter how far from the bridal table you were placed. Most of us absorb the social norms of our own subculture. So, we will understand that the host has gone to an enormous amount of trouble deciding who should sit where – depending on a person’s place in the family and the degree of association the person has with the family. The bride and groom, with their attendants sit at the head table. Parents, grandparents and siblings sit close to the bride and groom (indicating their close relationship) and friends – especially single friends are usually to be found furthest away. A distant cousin would not expect a seat at the front.

At formal events place cards save us the trouble of trying to work out where we fit in the social heirarchy and, even were we to accidently sit in the wrong place, our faux pas would not cause lasting damage to our reputation or to our place in society. 

The situation was vastly different in the first century in which status and rank were closely guarded assets and in which principles of honour and shame governed almost every interaction. Honour was a commodity that could be ascribed (by birth) or acquired through effort. It was acquired by excelling over other people in speech or in battle or by diminishing or putting down another. Honour was a claim to worth and the social acknowledgement of that worth. However, honour was a limited commodity, once lost it was hard to regain, except at someone else’s expense. 

In such a culture it was vital that those of equal position did not compromise their honour, or that of the person with whom they were interacting. It was also essential not to insult a person – whether of higher or lower status – by behaving in a way that did not acknowledge that person’s position in society.  Equally it was important not to become indebted to another or to place them in your debt which would diminish your or their status. In order to maintain one’s place, it was essential not to expose any weakness or vulnerability which would allow another to take advantage of you.

The honour/shame culture explains many of the gospel exchanges and parables. Perhaps the most obvious example is that of Herod’s beheading of John the Baptist. Herod had promised to give his dancing stepdaughter whatever she asked, not for one minute expecting that she would ask for John’s head. However, despite the fact that he “was grieved” he ordered his guards to carry her wishes:, “out of regard for his oaths and for his guests”. Had Herod behaved in any other way, had he gone back on his word he would have been perceived as weak and vacillating. He would have lost face in front of his guests and his ability to command the respect of his peers, and his ability to control the rebellious Galileans would have been seriously compromised.

In an honour/shame culture a dinner invitation and the resulting dinner had serious implications. Invitations were only extended to those who could enhance one’s honour – those of at least equal rank, or those whom one might place in one’s debt.  A person would not accept an invitation immediately but would wait to see who else was invited – and then only accept if the guest list included people of the same or higher status. One’s honour depended on not associating with anyone who could bring them down. (This explains the parable of the wedding banquet and the poor excuses people make for not attending. They haven’t replied, because they wanted first to learn who else was going.)

In our gospel today Jesus is at a dinner party. Obviously, his hosts see him as a person of some consequence, or he would not have received an invitation. But Jesus is an uncomfortable guest. Instead of quietly summing up the room and choosing an appropriate place at the table – one that reflected his status vis a vis the other guests, Jesus chooses to offer a critique of the status-seeking behaviour of the other guests. Interestingly, he didn’t suggest that the guests are of equal status, only that it is not up to them to determine their worth and where they should sit. 

Jesus continues by addressing the host and reflecting on the guest list. He completely overthrowing the cultural norms by suggesting that the host invite people who have nothing to offer – no status and certainly no return invitation. Jesus’ suggestion would have two consequences. It would weaken the host’s place in the world, and it would also put those guests under an obligation which would be a degrading and unacceptable thing to do.  

Jesus is doing here what he does throughout the gospels – he is overturning the social mores of his time and culture and establishing the norms and expectations of the kingdom, a kingdom in which a person is valued according to their love of God and of God’s children, in which humility takes precedence over pride, service over leadership, selflessness over greed. 

Today’s gospel is a reminder that we are called not to measure ourselves according to the standards of the world in which we find ourselves, weighing up our good deeds, our achievements, our possessions and comparing ourselves with others. We are called not to only associate with those who can benefit ourselves but also with those whose friendship will be costly – to our reputation or to our pocket. We are called to see all people through the lens of God’s love, to treat all people as worthy of dignity, and of the basic requirements of life and to understand that nothing that we have, nothing that we value, nothing that we have earned makes God value us more highly than God values us now and certainly does not ensure that God values us any more than other person. 

Not our our watch?

February 16, 2019

Holy Innocents – 2019

Matthew 2:13-18

Marian Free

In the name of God who uses love, not force to ensure obedience and trust. Amen.

Some of you will have seen the recent movie, “Mary, Queen of Scots”. Mary was the legitimate daughter of James the V of Scotland, but more importantly, she was the great, granddaughter of England’s Henry VII, and, after the childless Elizabeth, she was the legitimate claimant to the English throne. Mary who at only 6 days old was declared Queen of Scotland as a consequence of the death of her father, was sent to France for her education. At eighteen Mary, a Roman Catholic, returned to a Scotland that in her absence had embraced Protestantism and did not welcome a papist Queen..

Her troubles in Scotland were one thing, but it was the fact that Mary was a threat to Elizabeth’s reign and and the fact that her presence might be the catalyst for civil war or war between the two nations, that led her to her imprisonment and finally to her execution. As long as Mary was alive, she could be a focal point for dissent in the realm and beyond, and Elizabeth’s grip on power was weakened as a result.

The history of the British monarchy is littered with stories of intrigue – of people seeking favour with the king (or queen) to increase their wealth or to bolster or secure their power; or of competing heirs to the throne who must be destroyed lest they pursue their claim by force or become figureheads for those who want to depose the crown. As a consequence, the queen (or king) learns that no one can be trusted, that power must be maintained by force and that any and all opposition must be eliminated so that they no longer pose a threat.

Given our own history, it should come as no surprise to us that Herod, whose position is entirely dependent on his relationship with Rome and his ability to maintain control over a people who despise and reject him, should be agitated when he learns from the magi that a king has been born and not only a king, but the legitimate king of the Jews. The child presents a double threat – he could become a focal point for the unrest that was always just below the surface or he could raise an army and make a claim for Herod’s throne. From Herod’s point of view there is only one way to avoid conflict and loss of face (not to mention loss of power). The child has to die. The problem, in this instance, is that Herod has no way of knowing when the child was born, so just to be safe, he kills all the boys who were born in Bethlehem in the two years before the magi’s visit.

There is no external historical proof that Herod did in fact slaughter the children of Bethlehem, but history has demonstrated time and time again that despots deal with threats to their power in only one way – by ruling tyrannically and by ruthlessly crushing any hint of opposition. Those who challenge, resist or protest oppressive and unjust regimes are usually arrested, tortured and killed – not only in the distant past but also in our present time.

News reports tell us in Venezuela today – a country in which inflation is out of control, medicines are impossible to source and food is scarce – the military is sent to into the slums to quell unrest, with violence if necessary. Protesters who are arrested simply disappear. In Turkey in 2016, an attempted coup against the government led to the imprisonment – not of students, and rabble rousers, but of lawyers and judges and military personnel. Anyone who was critical of the government or who was perceived to be a threat, was arrested and imprisoned. According to a CNN report, more than 110,000 people have been incarcerated since – a number that includes 200 top Turkish court officials. Many have been taken into custody despite the fact that there is no evidence that they had any involvement in the coup. The President was not and is not taking any risks.

In any time and place leaders who do not have the support of their people use repressive and violent means to suppress and eradicate opposition. Stalin’s Russia, Hitlers Germany, Apartheid South Africa, Pol Pot’s Cambodia, the list goes on and on. Brutal repression of revolt, the silencing of dissidents, and the scapegoating of those who are different is justified by the need to keep law and order and it gains support by the vilification and denigration of those who dare to expose injustice and oppression.

So, is Matthew’s account of the slaughter of the innocents simply a commentary on the abuse of power or – does it have something to say to those of us in twenty first century Australia who have the right to choose who governs us and the freedom to criticise our leaders and to protest decisions that we feel to be unreasonable or unfair?

I suspect that we have to recognise that there is a little bit of Herod in all of us, concern for our own welfare, fear of the unknown and a desire to maintain the status quo and in every age there will be those who abuse their power.

It is important that we do not become complacent. We have to be careful that our silence does not give legitimacy to acts of cruelty and torture, that our need for stability and security does not lead us to shore up unjust systems and oppression governments, that our own need for security and peace does not make us indifferent, or worse, deaf and blind to the legitimate complaints of others and that our desire to protect and preserve what we have does not make us fearful of the claims others might make on us.

In other words, let us be on our guard and let us do all that we can to ensure that the innocent are not slaughtered on our watch.

True honour

July 14, 2018

Pentecost 8 – 2018

Mark 6:14-29

(Notes while on leave)

Marian Free

In the name of God, who sees who we are and not who we pretend to be. Amen.

If you watch enough gangster or James Bond movies, you will know how precarious life can be for the members of a gang or terrorist group. In order to join the group a person must prove themselves by committing a crime or an act of violence. Once admitted, a member cannot afford to show any sign of weakness lest they be despised, humiliated or even abused by the other members of the gang. The position of leader is even more tenuous than that of members and can only be maintained by a continual show of strength and even violence. Any sign of insurrection or lack of discipline within the group must be dealt with immediately – the perpetrator put back into their place or in the worst-case scenario disposed of in order to establish the fact that the leader is the ultimate power within the group.

This is not a modern problem. Any examination of the ruling class in Great Britain will reveal that many of the Kings (or Queens) obtained their power through subterfuge, brutality, war or murder. If they achieved their goal, they were vulnerable to attack by those whom they had deposed or disenfranchised. The only way to maintain their hold on power was by violence and oppression. Because they had achieved their position by force, they had to hold on to it by force. They could never be sure who their friends were and had to always be on high alert because just as he/she had sought power, so he/she could be sure that someone else was waiting to take the power from them at the first opportunity. (The current documentary about Lady Jane Grey illustrates this most clearly.)

The situation was much the same in the first century. Herod Antipater had a reputation for ruthlessness. He was not a legitimate ruler, but had obtained his power by backing the winner in the battle between Pompey and Julius Caesar. The people resented him because he wasn’t a Jew and just as Rome had appointed him, so Rome could depose him if he didn’t keep the peace and if he didn’t ensure that the nation paid its dues to the Emperor. When Herod died, his son, Herod the Great inherited the kingdom and on his death the kingdom was divided among his three sons one of whom, also named Herod, is the Herod of today’s gospel. Like his father and grandfather before him, Herod was not secure in his position but was dependent on Rome and on his ability to subdue any opposition. He ruled by force – crushing any opposition to ensure that Rome saw him as a person of strength and that the people perceived him as a person not to be crossed.

It is against this background and against the background of a culture of honour and shame that the death of John the Baptist must be understood. (For a brief description of the honour/shame culture see last week’s offering.)

In the context of the time, hosting a feast was a means to reveal one’s wealth and to test the loyalty of one’s constituents. It was also a way to ensure that the guests were in one’s debt. Herod will have observed all the proper protocols in order to ensure that a) his guests would attend, b) that their honour was appropriately recognized and c) so that they would recognize their dependence on him. Seating arrangements would also have been organized to give to each person the respect due to their position relative to everyone else. The food will have been of an appropriate standard and entertainment will have been provided.

It is very unlikely in such a context that the daughter of his Herod’s wife would have danced for the guests. We have to see this as artistic license on the part of the author (or the tradition). (In fact for a member of Herod’s family to have danced before the guests would have been shameful – it would imply that Herod had no self respect and was not able to manage his family.) Even had the daughter danced, the kingdom clearly was not Herod’s to give away.

Taking the account at face value (as Mark would have us do) we have to understand that Herod cannot afford to lose face or to show weakness in front of his guests. To do so would jeopardize not only his status but his grip on power. He must fulfill his promise however reluctant he is.

We live in a world that is vastly different from that of the first century Mediterranean but most of us are still concerned with how others might see us and some of us compromise our values and ideals so as not to be derided or excluded.

Jesus had no such scruples. Jesus was absolutely confident in his own self-identity. He did not hesitate to cause offense or to be considered disreputable. Jesus, though strong enough to take on the authorities in verbal jousts, was not afraid to appear to be weak and vulnerable -both in public and in private. At the last he faced with courage and confidence the humiliation of arrest and crucifixion rather than compromise his values.

Jesus demonstrated that authority and honour did not lie in externals and that it was not dependent on the good opinion of others. He showed us that true honour lies in self assurance, integrity, loyalty and faithfulness and that the only opinion that ultimately matters is that of God.

May we have the courage to do and be likewise.

The child who terrified a king

December 31, 2016

Epiphany – 2017

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God, whose Son proclaims a kingdom that threatens to shake and disturb the world as it is so that it might become the world as it is meant to be. Amen.

In July 2016 a massive 41,000 people were arrested in Turkey – 41,000. These included police officers, members of the armed forces and public service as well as a number of members of the judiciary. Their crime? – suspected involvement in the failed coup against President Recep Erdogan. The response to the attempted coup was swift. Any real or imagined opposition was quickly silenced and any future unrest deterred by the speedy and thorough suppression of real or potential opponents. Those who were arrested face anywhere from fifteen years to life in prison, though who knows how or when the legal system will manage such a huge number of trials.

The situation is Turkey is far from unique. The so-called Arab Spring has come at a huge cost to many and in most cases there is little to show for a movement that began with so much hope and idealism. In Egypt for example, a change in government has not really achieved the dreams of those who risked their lives for a better state of affairs. Unrest in Syria five long years ago was brutally suppressed and the reaction of the government then has led to the nightmare that is Syria today. In nations that are divided by race or class, or in nations where power is maintained by force rather than popular choice, any dissension that threatens the relative stability of the nation and is often rapidly and effectively crushed. Such action has the effect of exposing the insecurity and the paranoia of the leaders and making others think twice before they take similar action.

Gaining and maintaining power by force and by the suppression or destruction of any opposition are not new phenomena. In our own tradition, the Book of Kings recounts the story of Jehu, a commander of Ahab’s army, who not only deposed his king but who also slaughtered all seventy of Ahab’s sons to ensure that there were no legitimate claimants to the throne and no one to challenge his power. Rule that is not popular or legitimate lays itself open to resentment and opposition and is forced to use violence to maintain control.

“When King Herod heard this he was frightened and all Jerusalem with him”, so writes Matthew in today’s gospel. Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great, was a tetrarch appointed by the Emperor. His father had made some good political choices and as a result was given the title of King and responsibility for Judea but you only have to see the fortress at Masada to understand that Herod the Great did not feel at all secure in his role. He needed to bolster his power by force and to protect himself from any who might seek to take his throne. His son, Herod Antipas was even less secure. He was utterly dependent on Rome for his position and was resented by the Jews because he was not one of them.

It is no surprise then that Herod and all Jerusalem trembled when the magi enquired: “where is the child who has been born King of the Jews”? Herod was the King of the Jews. A competing (and perhaps legitimate) King would deepen the resentment towards Herod and had the potential to lead to an uprising against him. A King of the Jews would be able to gather support not only from those who longed to liberate the land from Roman rule, but also from pious Jews who were hoping that one day God would provide an heir to King David to rule over them.

Herod had every reason to fear and he did what many before and since have done – he sought to destroy the child who posed a threat to his grasp on power.

The story of the magi, coming as it does on the heels of Christmas brings us up with a shock. It is hard to hold on to sentimental images of mother and child, of peace and joy when we are confronted by the harsh political reality of this birth. In order to hold on to his power and position Herod has to destroy Jesus – an innocent child who, we might think, is no threat at all. Jesus is God’s son, sent by God for the salvation of all. This infant is not a political or military threat. There is no political party or group of agitators who have been holding out for a figurehead to consolidate their followers or to lead their cause. Besides, any discontent is easily crushed by the superior might of Rome.

Jesus is only a child, a child who, we are led to believe, will show the people how to reconnect with God. He will challenge them to turn from their sin so that they are ready to enter the kingdom of heaven. Matthew’s telling of the story undermines this irenic idea and confronts us with the bald truth of the situation. However innocent the child, however noble Jesus’ purpose, it is clear that he has come to initiate change and to question the status quo. He has come to announce an alternative rule, an alternative kingdom – the kingdom of heaven. It is of no consequence to Herod that this is a spiritual rather than a political kingdom or that Jesus wants to turn the hearts of the people to God rather than turn them against Herod. Any change, any person that draws power and attention from Herod could be considered dangerous and threatening. Any person that implicitly or otherwise challenges loyalty to himself or to the Empire could be perceived to be a danger to Herod’s tenuous hold on power. Potential for trouble must be nipped in the bud before it is allowed to get out of control. Herod cannot risk the people seeing in Jesus an alternative to his role or using the infant to form a movement against him. Herod has no option but to seek to destroy his competition.

Here at the very start of Jesus’ life Matthew makes it quite clear that Jesus is a threat to the status quo and that as a result his life is at risk. As the story continues, we will witness Jesus’ supporting and encouraging those who are alienated and disenfranchised. At the same time we will see him offending and putting off-side those in positions of power.

Herod was mistaken in one sense. Jesus did not come to seize political power, nor did he come to liberate Israel from the grip of Rome. He did come, in the words of Psalm 72: “to deliver the needy when they call, the poor and those who have no helper.  To have pity on the weak and the needy, and to save the lives of the needy. To redeem their lives from oppression and violence.” (12-14) In any time and place this is a subversive mission, one that implies that the state of the world and its institutions are not as God would wish it to be.

Matthew is right to warn us. This is no innocent baby, but a child who will shake up and challenge the world’s institutions, who will bring to light things that some would like to remain hidden and who will expose violence, injustice and oppression.

Herod was right to be terrified. If we are not willing to change and grow, if we are not prepared to get on board with Jesus’ social and political agenda, perhaps we should be terrified too.

 

The bitter agony of God

February 27, 2016

 Lent 3 – 2016
 Luke 13:31-35

                                                                                                                                                     Marian Free

In the name of God who longs to gather us in, if only we would allow ourselves to be so loved. Amen.

Today is the last Sunday in four weeks of Long Service Leave – which explains for any who have been paying attention –why last week’s sermon used the gospel for this week and vice versa. In the no man’s land of leave, it was easier to believe that the lectionary would follow the order of the gospel not vice versa! In retrospect there is something liberating in being logical rather than rigidly following the Lectionary. If Luke thinks that the lament comes after the cursing of the fig tree, it makes sense to keep it there. But enough with explanations. Today’s gospel is even more confusing than last week’s unless it is read with the background in mind.

Chapter 13 falls almost in the middle of what has been called Luke’s Travel Narrative (9:51-19:58). In line with Matthew and Mark, Luke organises his gospel geographically – Jesus’ time in and around Galilee, the journey to Jerusalem and Jerusalem. Scholars argue that the author of Luke uses the journey to Jerusalem to teach the disciples and it is true that much of the material that Matthew uses elsewhere is placed here by Luke. It is also true that there are a number of references to the journey in this section (9:51; 13:22; 17:11; 19:11,28). However there is no actual narrative, nothing that looks like a travelogue. What is more, this long section of Luke’s Gospel appears to have very little internal order, there is very little that holds it together. In this repect Luke is very different from Matthew who organises much of the same material into five (or six) distinct blocks or sermons.

As Luke tells it, the journey from Galilee to Jerusalem is slow and not particularly logical. In 9:51 we are informed that Jesus “set his face” towards Jerusalem yet here, four chapters later Jesus is still in Galilee (Herod’s jurisdiction) and verse 33 suggests that the journey has not even begun. Later, in chapter 17, Jesus has apparently only just reached the area between Galilee and Samaria – that is, he has not yet entered Samaria and Jerusalem is still some way off. (This despite the fact that as early as 9:52 Jesus is supposed to have entered a village of Samaritans.) All of which is a reminder that Luke, as the other gospel writers, is not trying to provide an accurate chronological record of Jesus and that we should not believe that the events are recorded “as they happened”.

That the journey is filled with trepidation is indicated from the very start. “Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem.”Jesus didn’t “decide” to go or think that it might be a good idea to go. The language “set his face” suggests a degree of determination to do something that he knows ahead of time will be difficult and unpleasant. It makes it clear that Jesus is not going to Jerusalem for a social visit or a holiday. Going to Jerusalem, is something that must be done not something that Jesus wants to do, a sentiment that is picked up in verse 33 which reveals what lies ahead. “It is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside Jerusalem.” Jesus knows that going to Jerusalem means certain death. He knows too that there is no escaping this fate.

So the setting for today’s reading is Jesus’ slow (meandering?) journey to Jerusalem, behind which lurks the threat of execution. The verses don’t make a lot of sense. It appears that Luke has joined together two quite separate traditions (the warning about Herod and the lament over Jerusalem) with a sentence explaining why Jesus must go to Jerusalem.

The first two verses are unique to Luke and provide a more flattering view of the Pharisees than we are used to. In this instance the Pharisees are warning, not challenging Jesus. They are afraid for his safety if he stays in Galilee! From Luke’s point of view this exchange serves to keep Herod in the picture . Herod is very much part of Luke’s story. He has beheaded John the Baptist, expressed concern that Jesus is John risen from the dead and he will appear again when Pilate sends Jesus to him.

Jesus is not at all concerned about “that fox”, for he is already on his way to Jerusalem which is outside Herod’s sphere of influence and which, to his mind is far more threatening.

The reference to Jerusalem provides the cue for Jesus’ lament which Matthew places on Jesus’ lips after his attack on the Pharisees. The lament expresses not only Jesus’ foreknowledge with regard to his own faith, but his deep grief that those whom he came to save will not allow themselves to be gathered under his wings. Not only will those at the centre of Judaism stand apart from Jesus and his message, but they will also, they will be the source of his destruction.

There is not much OT evidence for the death of the prophets, but it does appear to be a tradition by the first century when there has been no prophet in Israel since the exile. Whether or no Jerusalem has killed the prophets, Jesus’ lament is one that echoes through the OT from Deuteronomy to Hosea. It a lament of longing, of God who, knowing that we are safest and happiest when we are under the shelter of God’s wings, sighs in despair that we will not consent to be loved, enveloped, protected. It reflects a grief so deep that will will do anything, give anything, sacrifice everything to open our eyes and to help us to see where we truly belong. It is a sorrow so profound, that it will take Jesus to the cross.

Has anything really changed? Is it not true that the world of the twenty first century is as self absorbed, self interested and as determined to go its own way as first century Palestine? We hope God is there when we really need support and comfort, but do we rely on God all day every day? Do we allow ourselves to be gathered in or do we, like toddlers, assert our independence and try to prove that we can go it alone?

Jesus’ lament is the expression of the anguish of God, the anguish of God who knows the solution to the world’s pain and heartache, but will not impose it on us but wait in torment until we are ready to accept it.

Ceding control to gain control

January 2, 2016

Epiphany – 2016

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

 In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier. Amen.

In many churches the figures of the magi (often accompanied by camels) have been slowly making their way through the church, or across the sanctuary until at last, today, they have finally taken their place in the Nativity Scene. It is traditional on this day to focus on the almost miraculous visit of the magi to the infant Christ or on the inclusion of the Gentiles into the ancient faith of the Hebrews. These are important themes, but there is more to the story – not least Herod’s tenuous grasp on power and his determination to hold on to that power at all costs.

The magi (astrologers or magicians), having discovered a new star in the sky have discerned that it means the birth of a Jewish king. They set out in faith, armed with gifts following the star from their homes in the east to the land of Judea and to Jerusalem where they presume that they will find the king. Instead they find King Herod. They assume that as the reigning monarch, he will know where the infant king is to be found. However they discover that Herod has no idea where a king of the Jews might be born.

The birth of a king is not good news for Herod, We are told that Herod and all Jerusalem are troubled. Herod is not a legitimate king of the Jews. He is an Idumean who has achieved his position by cunning and by stealth. His hold on power is tenuous and entirely dependent on his retaining the favour of the current Roman Emperor. The precarious nature of his position is not helped by the fact that the Jewish people resent him. Not only is he not one of their own but he has placed himself firmly on the side of the Roman oppressors.

Like many before and since, Herod’s kingship relied on the use of force to subdue resistance or to eradicate opposition. Even his own father-in-law, whose daughter he married in order to cement his position was not safe but was killed before he could become a threat. A genuine Jewish king had the potential to be a a real danger to Herod’s hold on power. Even a child could provide a focal point for those who resented the current situation focal point for those who resented the current situation. A child allowed to grow to adulthood could rally the disaffected and the disempowered and depose Herod – either through a popular uprising or by military force. It was no wonder then that not only Herod, but all Jerusalem was troubled by the news of the birth. For those who had made an accommodation with Rome any hint of a legitimate king would have been a source of great anxiety – a threat to their present position and wealth.

Herod’s position is so insecure that he cannot afford any suggestion that there is an alternative to his rule. Using the pretext that he wishes to kneel before the new king, he asks the magi to let him know when the star appears. His intention however, is anything but benign. As the story unfolds we discover that Herod’s purpose in discovering more about Jesus is to provide an opportunity for him to destroy Jesus at the earliest possibility. (We are told that he kills all the children two years old and younger in order to ensure that any potential competitor for the throne has been destroyed.)

Herod’s insecurity and hunger for power is in stark contrast to the self-assuredness of the magi. We know very little about the magi but we can assume (from their education and ability to travel and purchase expensive gifts) that they are people of wealth and wisdom. They may not have formal power, but they appear to have an authority that does not rely on external trappings or on the exertion of force. Their influence does not require protection or support but is something that is inherent to them. It is a part of who they are. As a result they need not be concerned that anyone will take that power from them – not even a new and unexpected king. Because they are secure in themselves and in their place in the world, they are able – not only to share in the joy of Jesus’ birth – but to offer him homage and respect. His presence will not disturb their place in the world. It will enrich it. Authority sits so lightly on their shoulders that, in bowing before the infant Jesus, they lose nothing of themselves or of their authority and influence. If anything their humility increases their stature in the eyes of those who observe them. Because what authority they have in inherent to them, but not something bestowed by or usurped from others, they do not have to cling on to it, but can let it go. They know that they lose nothing in the process of acknowledging and worshipping another.

Today’s readings can be seen as a study of power – legitimate and illegitimate power, power that needs no external recognition or agrandisement, and power that is grasped hold of and requires constant reinforcement and assurance. The magi have all that they need and therefore can give all that they have. Herod will never be satisfied that his place in the world is secure and as a consequence he will continue to take because nothing will give him the peace that he needs. The magi do not need to destroy to retain their position, so they are able to affirm and build up others. For Herod, everyone is a threat who must be put down or subdued.

It is natural for us to want to find our place in the world, to move from being a powerless infant to someone who has some power and control over our destiny. This, as Richard Rohr tells us, is the task of the first half of life – finding out who we are and creating order and control. In the process we will find ourselves competing with others and asserting our own wants and needs. The task of the second half of life is, having discovered who we are being secure and at peace with ourselves such that our lives do not impact on others as we seek to satisfy ourselves. Instead, in the second half of life, we will be sufficiently self-assured that we will be able build others up rather than depend on others for our own sense of well-being.

Clearly Herod is stuck in the first half of life, but the magi in their wisdom have entered the second half. The magi demonstrate that it is possible for humans being to relinquish the need for security and to cede the desire for control. It is only when we ourselves reach this stage of life that we are truly able to think more of others than we do of ourselves. It is only when we reach the second stage of life that we are truly able to let go and to allow our lives to be led by the presence of God that is within us. Only then, will all our longing cease and our searching will reach its true end – before the child who renounced his divinity so that we might at last discover ours.

 

A matter of moral fibre

July 11, 2015

Pentecost 7

Mark 6:14-29

Marian Free

In the name of God who transcends both time and place and yet is ever present. Amen.

John the Baptist is something of an enigma. He provides an introduction and a foil for Jesus. He precedes the latter and prefigures Jesus. Yet despite his obvious importance, Jesus says that the least in the kingdom of God is greater than John (Luke 7:28, Matt 11:11). As I have said on previous occasions, John appears to have been a source of embarrassment for the early Jesus’ followers who are keen to diminish his significance. Luke carefully crafts the introduction to the third gospel to suggest that John’s role is to point towards Jesus and that while the births of both men have supernatural overtones, Jesus is clearly the superior of the two. This emphasis is continued in the narratives of Jesus’ baptism – John doesn’t mention it at all, Luke almost skips over it and Matthew suggests that it only happened at all because Jesus insisted (Matt 3:13-15).

That John was an historical figure seems to be without doubt and that he had followers at the time of Jesus and beyond is unquestionable. Not only does John have to be accounted for by the gospel writers, but the Jewish historian mentions his death in Jewish Antiquities 18:116-19). By all accounts John was an uncomfortable figure. His style of life and his preaching were confronting. His style of dress, choice of lifestyle were hardly conventional and John’s practice of baptism directly critiqued the sacrificial tradition of the Temple in Jerusalem implying as it did that forgiveness could be obtained outside the Temple cult[1].

John was a threat, not only to the religious traditions of the time, but also to the political stability of the nation. Herod had a number of reasons to be alarmed by John’s presence and preaching that had nothing to do with Herod’s personal life. According to Crossan: “what is most explosive about John’s (baptismal) rite is that people cross over into the desert and are baptised in the Jordan as they return to the promised land” (231). Whether or not this was a deliberate inference on the part of John, it certainly had parallels to other movements that “invoked the desert and the Jordan to imagine a new and transcendental conquest of the Promised Land” (op cit 232). In what was already a politically volatile situation, Herod had every reason to be anxious about a man considered to be a prophet, who drew large crowds to him and who played on the imagery of the desert and the Jordan.

Josephus record of John’s death is very different from that of today’s reading. “Eloquence that had so great an effect on mankind (sic) might lead to some form of sedition, for it looked as if they would be guided by John in everything that they did. Herod decided therefore that it would be much better to strike first and be rid of him before his work led to an uprising, than to await an upheaval, get involved in a difficult situation and to see his mistake. He was brought in chains to Machaerus [2] …… and there put to death” (Jewish Antiquities, 18:116-119).

In contrast, the Gospel tradition of John’s death not surprisingly places the emphasis on Herod’s immorality rather than his political anxiety. Though all the gospels record John’s death and the Synoptics all mention Herodias as a factor only Mark and Matthew provide the detail of the dinner, the daughter’s dance and Herod’s rash promise to give her whatever she desires.

We know then that Herod put John to death, but the actual circumstances surrounding that death cannot be determined with any degree of certainty.

Josephus emphasises the political threat to Herod’s hold on power. The gospels stress not only Herod’s insecurity, but also his immorality and his weakness. It was “because of his oath and his guests” that Herod acceded to his “daughter’s” request. In a culture that was governed by principles of honour and shame, Herod could not afford to lose face. So, whether or not he himself had qualms about the execution, he was honour bound to keep his promise. To have not done so would have been to lose both credibility and status, something that he could not afford either socially or politically.

The desire to gain and to hold on to power can often lead to the abandonment of moral principles and the adoption of violence towards any threat or opposition. History has shown over and over again that Herod was not unique. Despotic or insecure rulers can be ruthless, cruel, oppressive and unjust in their efforts to maintain their position of strength. (In very recent times we have witnessed the violent suppression of popular movements – especially in the Middle East.)

In the gospels, John’s unwarranted death at the hands of Herod sets the scene for Jesus’ crucifixion – an innocent man will be executed by a representative of Rome; Jesus, like John, will be seen as a threat to the Empire and especially to Pilate’s hold on power: Pilate will be swayed by the crowds just as Herod’s actions were influenced by the presence of his guests.

It is not just those in power who sometimes feel a need to do whatever it takes to hold on to that power, or to retain the respect of their supporters. Many of us are guilty at some time or another of behaving in ways that protect the image of ourselves that we wish to present to the world. It can be embarrassing to admit that we have made a mistake and humiliating to have our position at work, (in the community) undermined. So we cover up our errors or lay the blame elsewhere. We behave in such a way that will ensure the regard of others – sometimes at the expense of someone else.

Today’s gospel does not come with an obvious message, but read in this way, it challenges us to consider our own behaviour and calls us to examine our own integrity. As followers of Jesus, we are called to see weakness as strength, to put ourselves last, to be indifferent to societal measures of status and power and to seek the values of the kingdom rather than the values of this world.

[1] Crossan, John, Dominic. The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant. San Francisco: Harper Collins Publishing, 1991, 235.

[2] The Franciscan Archeological Institute has details of the fortress on its website: http://www.christusrex.org/www1/ofm/fai/FAImachr.html

Alarm bells

January 3, 2015

Epiphany – 2015

Matthew 2:1-12

Marian Free

In the name of God who is always the same and yet always challenging (alarming) those who are open to God’s presence. Amen.[1]

In a recent edition of The Christian Century I read the following story. A parish in the United States was in the habit of presenting a “live nativity pageant” – real people and real animals spread out over the expansive front lawn. It was the practice on these occasions for the magi to appear from elsewhere and to this end, those playing the role of magi put on their costumes in the hall of the local Catholic Church. One year, the enterprising participants decided to add to the mystery and drama by arriving in a cloud of incense. They borrowed a Thurible from the Catholics and set off towards their own Church having first made sure that the coals were well alight and that the incense was smoking. As they made their way to their destination, they were perturbed to hear the sirens of the fire trucks. Unbeknownst to them, they had triggered the smoke alarm in the hall and this had sent a signal to the local fire department. When the firemen finally tracked down the cause of the problem, one was heard to say: “You %#@& wise men are setting off alarms all over town!”

Our passive nativity scenes do not adequately capture the extraordinary nature of the visit of the magi – who must have seemed exotic, different and disturbing at the time. Indeed we know that not only Herod, but also all Jerusalem trembled at their presence. Over time, the magi have been stripped of their mystery and their power to disrupt our comfortable lives. Subsequent generations of believers have domesticated these magicians/astrologers. They no longer appear as figures who are strange and disquieting. These days they are more often referred to as kings or as wise men rather than as magicians. Their number has been determined and history has given them names and nationalities – even to the point of guessing the colour of their skin.

The text however is clear. These men – whose origin, nationality and number are unknown to us – were men who studied the sky and interpreted the movements of the stars and the planets. (Today we – good Christians that we are – might shun them as proponents of astrology, people who believe that they not God can look into the future.) Yet it is heir study of the sky is the reason that they (and apparently no one else) have noticed the star and guessed at its meaning. Even Herod, the chief priests and the scribes appear not to have noticed this phenomenon or, if they had, they had not realised its significance. No wonder the presence of the magi set alarm bells ringing.

What was the cause for alarm? First century Jerusalem was a cosmopolitan city. Successive invasions would have ensured that many cultures were represented in the city. The Pax Romana ensured that roads were safe to travel and merchants and others were, as a consequence, quite mobile. Apart from this people (not only Jews) from all over the Empire would have come to worship at the Temple. The city would not have been without its fortune-tellers, healers and miracle workers. From this vantage point, the magi might have looked like any other visitors to the city. Added to this, Matthew implies that their presence should not have been unexpected. The Old Testament bears witness in many places to an expectation that when God restored the fortunes of Israel, “all the nations” would stream to Jerusalem to worship God.

The thing that makes these particular visitors so disturbing is that it is they, not the leaders of Israel have understood the importance of the star and of the birth of the child. Unlike the Israelites who are shown to be ignorant of and then indifferent to the presence of Jesus among them, the magi recognise what is going on and have come from a distance to worship the child.

From this vantage point, their presence is disturbing – indeed alarming. Their part in the story of Jesus’ birth indicates that God is doing something radically different and unexpected. That is, God is giving the Gentiles a prominent place in the unfolding story of the people of God. The identification by the magi of Jesus as the Christ implies that from now on everything is going to be different – as indeed it turns out to be. As Paul’s letters reveal, one of the most confronting and difficult issues for the emerging church was this: “what is the place of the Gentiles and how much should our traditions and practices change so that they can be included?”

For us, the magi provide a romantic element to the accounts of Jesus’ nativity, but “King Herod was troubled and all Jerusalem with him.” Not only did the birth of the King of the Jews threaten Herod’s position and the peace and stability of Jerusalem, but it also shattered the expectations about how God would act and threw open previously unthought-of possibilities with regard to God and God’s relationship with the world.

In life, but more particularly in faith, most of us become comfortable with the way things are. We tend to think that because God has acted in a particular way in the past, God will continue to behave in that way in the future. In so doing, we make God a servant of our expectations; we place boundaries on the way that we think God will act and we blind ourselves to God’s intervention in our lives and in the world. God is not and cannot be a slave to our expectations.

Matthew’s account of the magi raises important questions: Do we want to keep things the same or are we willing to allow our world-view to be shaken and tossed upside down by God’s once more breaking through our complacency and entering into our world. When the alarm bells ring – do we look to immediately extinguish the flames or do we ask ourselves whether God is saying something new and radical, challenging us to move in new directions and to open our eyes to new possibilities? And do we have the courage to accept the change that that involves?

[1] (With thanks to Thomas Long (Christian Century) Blogging Towards Sunday, Epiphany, 2015, 2014.

Despite evidence to the contrary – good will prevail

December 28, 2013

Christmas 1 – 2013

Matthew 2:13-23 (Holy Innocents) 

Marian Free

In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. Amen.

 If we are honest, we have to admit that the world is an ugly place in which to live. On Christmas Eve 2013, a three year-old Palestinian child was killed in an Israeli strike on Gaza in retaliation for the killing of an Israeli civilian. The ABC website carried a photo of the dead girl, Hala, being cradled by her uncle. She looked beautiful almost doll-like – a lovely round face framed by dark, wavy hair. Now she will never grow up. Her family will not know her loves and hates, will not have the pleasure of seeing her mature and take her place in the world. Imagine if she were your child, your niece, your grandchild. It is estimated that since September 2000, 1,519 Palestinian children have died in the conflict as well as 129 Israeli children – so many parents whose children will remain children forever.

Sadly, that situation is far from unique. In Syria an estimated 11,000 children have died as a result of the war – one million more now live in refugee camps, their future uncertain. Here in Hamilton, a wealthy suburb in one of the richer countries in the world – a country that has largely known peace – it is almost impossible to grasp the fact that, on a daily basis, millions of children around the world have their innocence stolen from them, millions never have an opportunity simply to live and millions endure such hardship, cruelty, poverty and disease as is impossible for us to imagine.

The statistics for children who are trafficked, children who are forced into the sex industry, used in pornography or compelled to fight in adult wars are nothing less than horrific. When we celebrate the birth of a child, we can have some degree of certainty that we will be able to protect them from harm, that we will be able to access health care in a timely manner, provide them with a home and with education. In this country we can allow ourselves to imagine a happy future for our children. To be sure, as many of you know, we cannot protect our children against every calamity. It is impossible to prevent accidents and our medical advances cannot cure every disease. However, the chances that our children will be sold into slavery are small, our labour laws will ensure that they will not be made to work in appalling and dangerous conditions, our relative wealth means that they will not starve and the stability of our government means that civil war and its associated costs and horrors will not be part of their experience.

All this, I know, is depressing material for a Sunday morning – or any other time for that matter. The figures are incomprehensible and the degree and scale of suffering are beyond our ability to grasp – especially when they relate to children. That said, today’s gospel is disturbing and, among other things, it compels us to come to terms with the consequences of human greed and the lust for power.

According to Matthew’s Gospel, Herod, afraid that the child sought by the Magi might prove to be a threat to his hold on the throne, orders that all children in Bethlehem who are under the age of two be slaughtered. Can you imagine the anguish of the parents, their despair at not being able to protect their children and their confusion at such a random, unexpected and irrational act? What a violent contrast to the account of Jesus’ birth. There are no angels to celebrate these children, no angels to protect them and no angels warn their parents to flee from Herod’s soldiers. Instead, there is a sudden and wanton destruction of the innocent, the slaying of children caught up in a power struggle that has nothing to do with them.

You may be relieved to know that there is no historical record to back up this part of Matthew’s account. The author of this gospel appears to be exercising poetic license in his attempt to show Old Testament prophecy was brought to fulfillment in Jesus – a dominant theme in these first few chapters of the gospel. The fact remains however, that horrendous things do happen and the Bible does not provide a cocoon of innocence that allows us to shut ourselves away from the world and to pretend that all is well. Within its pages, we are constantly faced with the harsh realities of existence, the cruelty of human nature and the indifference of creation. Our scriptures provide us with accounts of the worst of human nature – murder, adultery, genocide, fratricide, infanticide, incest, rape, political intrigue and execution. They remind us, through stories of flood and famine, that the world is not a benign place in which to reside. As Christians, we cannot escape the knowledge that life is precarious, that people are selfish and avaricious and that faith does not provide assurance that we (or the innocent) will be protected from harm.

The child who held the hopes of the world on his shoulders was, ultimately, unable to save us from ourselves. In his own time, not only was his message ignored, it was considered sufficiently disruptive that the messenger, Jesus, had to be destroyed. Worse than that, in the last 2000 years since Jesus coming, the world has not changed significantly as a result of his presence. In the face of such an unpromising beginning and such a lack of progress in the present, why do so many of us continue to hold the faith?

You will have your reasons – these are some of mine.

I believe that the innocence and promise of the Christ-child invites our love and time and again draws us into a relationship with him and therefore with God. The baby in the manger provides us with promise, fills us with hope and encourages us to believe that the world can be a better place. The selflessness, generosity and compassion of Jesus inspire us to model our lives on his – to work for justice and peace in the world and to confront oppression, cruelty and greed. Through his death Jesus shows that there is no price too high to pay for the salvation of the world and the power of the resurrection gives us the confidence that in time good will prevail and evil will be utterly destroyed.

While children and adults alike are exploited, denigrated, threatened and abused in this world, we who believe are confronted with the baser side of humanity and we are reminded that it is a baseness that we all share. Jesus, through his life demonstrates that humanity is capable of so much more and he shows us through his life how we can be the people God created us to be. Jesus’ example challenges us to recognise and to respect the dignity and worth of all people, to see others as who and what they really are – children of God.

As we wonder yet again at the innocence of the Christ-child, may we remember how much still remains to be done to bring salvation to world and may we commit ourselves to do all that is in our power to be part of the solution and not the problem.