Posts Tagged ‘shame’

Being good or being godly – Joseph takes Mary as wife

December 20, 2025

Advent 4 – 2025

Matthew 1:18-25

Marian Free

With Joseph and Mary, and all the prophets and saints, may we never fear responding to the call of God, no matter how difficult, or outrageous the call. Amen.

Some of you may remember that on Advent 1 I said that being a Christian is not about being good, but about being in relationship. At the time no one challenged me so I’m thinking that we are all on the same page – that we understand that following Christ is the centre of our faith and that goodness flows from that relationship not the other way around. Goodness on its own does not build ties of loyalty, develop a depth of spirituality, encourage submission to the Creator of the universe, or create an understanding that even though we can never be good enough, we are loved and treasured just as we are. 

My view is this: being good does not in itself distinguish a Christian from a non-Christian. Anyone can be good in the conventional sense – by not breaking laws of the state or of the church, by being kind and thoughtful to others and by observing cultural norms. However, I would claim that goodness and godliness are two different things and that godliness does not always equate with goodness – in fact just the opposite. There will be times when being godly (allowing our lives to reflect the presence of God) may require us to be anything but good in the conventional sense. In fact, godliness may demand only that we ignore the norms of the society in which we live, but that we challenge and even overthrow those norms. 

For proof of this view, we need look no further than the example of Jesus, but here in the Christmas narrative are the first signs that responding to and following God does not mean following the crowd. In both Matthew and Luke, the Jesus’ story has barely begun when already we are confronted by the fact that through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus God is turning everything upside down. It is no wonder that the ‘good’ people of the day failed to see what was happening and that God was acting in ways that they hadn’t begun to imagine. 

It would appear from the gospels that the leaders of the day had begun to confuse goodness with godliness, observance of rules with relationship. For example, the Pharisees believed that if only they could get the minute details of the law right, they would be put right with God. The priestly class on the other hand appear to have relied on getting the Temple rituals right as a means of getting close to God. Society as a whole seemed to believe that not rocking the boat would enable them to keep on the right side of the Roman oppressors would. 

To be fair – they might have been misguided but they did believe that they had to put themselves right with God and they did it the only way they knew how – obedience to law and proper observance of ritual. The problem was that though they hoped that God would send a Saviour, they believed that it was their actions that would lead God to act, thus demonstrating that they had totally missed the point. Observance of rituals and law were simply evidence that, at least subconsciously, they believed that their own efforts could force God’s hand– that they, not God, were responsible for their own salvation. 

At the heart of John the Baptist’s message is the refrain: “Repent for the Kingdom of God is near”. The Greek word “metanoia” does not mean “to be sorry”, but “to turn.” Both John, then Jesus are calling the people not to be good, but to turn their lives around, to turn towards God, to live lives that demonstrate a relationship with the living God. From the very beginning faith in Jesus was never about being good, but about being godly, about allowing the divine in us to have full reign – which has nothing to do with goodness as it is usually understood.

Take the story of Joseph – whose first reaction is to separate himself from the pregnant Mary. If we forget the sentimentality that presents Joseph as holy and righteous and selfless and take a look at some hard cold facts, we see a different story. 

Joseph is minding his own business when he learns that Mary – his betrothed – is pregnant. He does not know who the father is only that it is not him.  Can you imagine how that news must have hit him? He knows the baby cannot be his, he presumably wonders if he completely misjudged Mary and he almost certainly feels cuckolded. Did Mary tell him or does he know because of the gossip that is swirling around the village? No matter how he responds his reputation has already been ruined. He will have lost face in the eyes of community. Mary’s shame will not only be his shame but will reflect on his whole family. 

Joseph was within his rights to claim compensation, to expose the situation further – even demand the legal consequences – Mary should be stoned to death. He does none of these things but resolves to quietly free Mary of her obligations to him. This will not diminish the shame but will spare Mary the added consequences of her pregnancy. Already Joseph has shown a casual disregard for the law, but when the angel appears his actions become even more radical. In response to God’s call, Joseph ignores his obligations to his church, his community and his family. He agrees to marry Mary and to raise a child who is not his own one consequence of which will be that the child will inherit and Joseph’s line may come to an end. Not only that, his actions mean that he will lose face in the eyes of his community. 

It is easy to read this as a sentimental story about an honourable man protecting his fiancé, but in the cold, hard light of a first century day, Joseph is both defying the law by not allowing Mary to be stoned to death and breaking convention through his decision to marry her regardless of the shame. But, and here’s the point, Joseph is being obedient to God even though obedience to God means disobedience to religious law, cultural norms and familial obligations.

Joseph chooses fidelity to God over observance of human law; he chooses godliness over goodness, so should we no matter the cost or the shame. 

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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. 

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Taking a risk of faith

June 26, 2021

Pentecost 5 -2021
Mark 5:21-43
Marian Free

In the name of God who calls us to step out in faith into a future that is yet unknown. Amen.

Richard Scott William Hutchinson was not expected to survive. He was born five months prematurely, weighing less than 500 grams. This week he celebrated his first birthday. No one can deny that medical science has made enormous advances during our lifetimes and that not only has life-expectancy been increased but also the quality of life for a great many people has been significantly enhanced. At the beginning of last century, a broken hip would have been a death sentence. Now hip replacements are readily available and those with new hips, new knees or other new parts can continue to live full lives – often for decades. Who would have thought in the 1950s that it would have been possible to give a chronically ill person a new heart and that the recipients would go on to lead long and productive lives or that someone would invent dialysis which would substantially extend the life of someone with kidney failure?

That said, medical intervention – whether in the form of drugs, surgery, radiation treatment or some other – carries with it a degree of risk. Medication is usually packaged with a brochure outlining the possible side-effects so that the recipient can assess whether the benefits outweigh the potential costs. Before a doctor performs surgery, he or she will ensure that the patient understands the potential risks (however small) that are associated with the operation so that they can make an educated choice to go ahead (or not). Anybody undergoing treatment for cancer will be given an estimate as to how successful the treatment will be and sometimes, how long the treatment will add to their life to enable them to decide if the treatment is worth it.

Sadly though, the ability to extend a person’s life is not always associated with an improvement in their quality of life. Life-saving drugs may leave a person constantly feeling nauseous and occasionally surgical intervention leaves a person worse off in terms of mobility or the experience of pain. Mostly though the risk is worth it as it brings the hope of a better future.

Today’s gospel tells the tale of the raising of Jairus’ daughter and the healing of the woman with a hemorrhage. Mark combines the two stories using a technique called intercalation or sandwiching. In this way he allows the two accounts of healing to speak to and to interpret each other. As Mark recounts the events, we notice a number of interesting things. Perhaps what stands out most is that Jairus has asked Jesus to come to his daughter as a matter of urgency and yet Jesus takes the time to stop and engage the older woman in conversation. Then there are the parallels between the stories. The child is twelve years old, and the woman has suffered for all that time. The girl is on the verge of her child-bearing years and the woman by virtue of her bleeding is unable to have children. The girl is surrounded by a loving family who are comfortably well off and who have status in the community. The woman appears to be alone, has used all her resources and, due to the bleeding, is considered unclean and thus is excluded from society. The child is at the point of death and the woman, as a result of her condition, might as well be dead.

It seems to me that risk-taking is at the heart of these healing stories. Neither Jairus nor the woman know whether or not they will be better off as a result of their approach to Jesus. Jairus’ daughter may live, but her quality of life may have already been seriously compromised. The woman’s flow of blood may stop but the underlying cause may remain. As the leader of the synagogue, Jairus risks ridicule and shame by approaching this strange travelling teacher. He is a man of status. If Jesus cannot heal his child, he may well lose the respect of his community. (Indeed, the laughter of the crowd indicates that his honour is already being questioned.) As a woman with a flow of blood, the woman is unclean. Her presence among the crowd will taint everyone there. No one will be able to visit the Temple for seven days if they have come into contact with her. She risks censure, even anger – how dare she break social and religious convention, how dare she threaten the people’s state of religious purity!

None-the-less, both Jairus and the woman feel that the risk is worth it and, as we see, their courage is rewarded. The woman is healed and the child (who has died) is raised to newness of life. Both are restored – one to her family, the other to her place in the community. Better still, as the Greek suggests, their healing not just a short-term fix or a prolongation of life at any cost. They are made well now and will have life (not mere existence) going forward.

Of course, Jairus and the woman were already transformed by their act of faith. Even before they had approached Jesus, they had made a decision that it was worth gambling their reputation and their life or that of their daughter. They had had the courage to believe that Jesus could work change in their lives and that any potential cost was well worth risk.

I don’t claim to know how healing works and why it works for some and not for others, but I do know that if, like Jairus and the woman, we have the courage to step out in faith, to take a risk with God and to place our lives in Jesus’ hands, then, whatever our life situation we can be confident that God will give us what we need and will enable us to live life to its fullest.

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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.

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Living with the promise of the future not the guilt of the past

April 22, 2017

Easter 2 – 2017

John 20:19-31

Marian Free

 In the name of God who sets us free from sin and death and who raises us to newness of life with and in and through Jesus Christ. Amen.

It should be obvious by now that I don’t believe that shame and guilt are characteristics of a Christian life. As I have repeated throughout Lent, I firmly believe that God loves us unconditionally and that in itself makes us people of worth.

Having said that let me be quite clear about two things. Firstly if we have wronged someone or done something that we should not have done, we must take responsibility for our actions and at that point feeling ashamed and/or guilty is absolutely justified (if not essential). Shame and guilt can become a problem if, having apologized to the offended person and to God we continue to feel bad about what we have done. A second proviso is this, if we have been treated in such a way that leads us to feel polluted, weak or shameful we must not add to those feelings a sense of guilt about not being able to shake such feelings. As we have belatedly learnt, victims of abuse may need more than a lifetime to overcome feelings of shame, despite the fact that they are not/were not at fault. To impose on such people an insistence not to feel guilty is to perpetuate the abuse.

In saying that shame and guilt are not characteristics of a Christian life I mean that we are not intended to carry around our wrongdoings or a sense of worthlessness, because God has already accepted and overlooked our faults. If we are weighed down by actions in our past we may not able to move forward and to get on with living the life that God intends for us.

Jesus’ resurrection assures us that we can leave the past behind and begin again. Knowing the power of the resurrection in our lives enables us to experience the life, joy and freedom that Jesus’ death and resurrection makes possible.

The message of the resurrection is twofold. Jesus’ resurrection opens for us the way to eternal life. What is more important in the present is that the resurrection of Jesus models for all believers the power of dying to our old life and rising to the possibility of a new beginning. As followers of the risen Christ we are encouraged to continually let go of the past – past behaviours, past sins, past sorrows – and to step into a new way of being, a new way of behaving, a new way of living.

If Jesus resurrection were not enough to convince us to leave the past behind and to move into the future, surely Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances confirm Jesus’ loving, forgiving nature and his willingness to overlook past mistakes and to look future possibilities. I don’t need to remind you that all the disciples failed Jesus and failed Jesus badly – betrayal, denial, abandonment. To make matters worse all, with the exception of Judas, had promised to remain true and even to die with Jesus. When it came to the point however, Peter who had assured Jesus that he would never deny him, did so three times. The disciples who had promised to remain even till death disappeared at the first sign of trouble. Jesus died alone, without the comfort of the twelve men who were closest to him.

Yet when Jesus appears to the disciples, he doesn’t mention their failures to support him nor does he express disappointment that they fled when the soldiers came and that even though they know he has been raised from the dead, they are still cowering in terror. Jesus does not hold the disciples to account, nor does he try to make them feel responsible. He does not reprimand them for failing to be true to their word. Jesus does not behave in a way that would cause them to squirm or speak to them in such a way as to humiliate or mortify them.

From Jesus’ point of view it is as though nothing untoward had ever happened, as if everything were as it was before his arrest. When Jesus appears to the disciples, his forgiveness and grace are expressed in four ways: he does not bring up the past; he offers the disciples peace; he commissions them to do his own work and he gives them the Holy Spirit! In other words, even though the disciples have demonstrated that they are completely and utterly untrustworthy, Jesus not only expresses his continued trust in them and in their abilities but he trust them and empowers them to continue the work that the Father sent him to do.In other words, Jesus makes this unlikely, unsuitable group of disciples his agents in the world because Jesus looks not to the past but to the future, Jesus sees not the disciples’ flaws but their potential.

As that old collect says: God who created us, knows of what it is we are made. God knows that we are weak and foolish and timid. God understands that we are likely to fail – not once, but over and over again and, not once, but over and over again God puts us back on our feet and allows us to start over.

This is what it is like with God. Once we have honestly faced up to what we have done, once we have admitted our fault to ourselves and to God, it is as if it never happened. We begin with a completely new slate, restored, whole and at peace with the world and with ourselves.

We owe it to God, we owe it to ourselves to try to accept the peace of the risen Christ and to aim to live each day with the promise of the future, not the guilt of the past.

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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

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