The Deadly Dinner Party (Proper 10B)

The Deadly Dinner Party

Proper 10B
15 July 2012; 8:00 a.m. Said Mass and 10:00 a.m. Sung Mass

Homily Delivered at Trinity Episcopal Church

Ashland, Oregon

Amos 7:7-15; Psalm 85:8-13; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29

God, take away our hearts of stone, and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.

I am never completely happy when I have to preach a text from the New Testament where someone named “Herod” shows up.  It’s because there are just too many Herods for most people to keep straight. 

There’s King Herod the Great, named “King of the Jews” by the Roman Senate when he cast in his lot with the rising super power, who orders the massacre of the Innocents in Matthew 2.  For him, there can only be one “King of Jews” and it’s him. 

There’s his son Herod II, who actually never sat on the throne.  He had the Greek name Phillip, and is sometimes called Herod Phillip I or just Herod II.  Here, I’ll just call him Junior.  Herod the Great named him heir after executing two of his older sons by a royal Hasmonean princess he had married on the way to the throne. They had plotted to succeed dear old dad a bit earlier that he intended.  Herod tries to shore up Junior’s claim to the throne by marrying him off to the underage orphaned daughter of one of the sons he had just killed.  You see, she is of Hasmonean royal blood through her mother.  The excuted elder son, in an apparently ultimately unsuccessful effort to curry favor with THE Herod, had even named her after Herod, calling her Herodias. We will be seeing this granddaughter of Herod again today.

Then there’s the other sons.   When the old man actually dies, the Romans send Junior off into early retirement and then split up his kingdom.  “Divide and conquer,” remember?  They give various parts of Herod’s kingdom to his younger sons without calling them kings.

There’s Herod Archelaus who runs Judea.  He is the “other Herod” who takes his father’s place in Jerusalem and about whom the angels warn Joseph and Mary when they come back from Egypt.  Archelaus rules for only a few years until the Romans declare him incompetent, exile him to the South of France, and then turn Judea into a province with a Roman governor. 

There’s Archelaus’ half brother Phillip  the Tetrarch or ruler of a quarter (another Phillip!), sometimes also called Herod, who ruled in what is now Jordan. 

And finally, there is the Herod who appears in today’s Gospel reading.  He is Herod Antipater, ruler of Galilee and Perea from 4 B.C.E. to 29 C.E.

Also called Antipas, he is one of the more interesting historical figures in the New Testament.  For me, he is one of the most “modern” of the characters of the Bible.

Pragmatic, practical, and goal-driven, Antipas makes all of his decisions on the basis on one principle “how does this enhance my enjoyment and get me ahead in the world?”  He follows clearly some tenets of Epicureanism, which said that pursuit of pleasure, rightly understood and properly limited from excess, was the highest good in life.

Antipas early on was low in the line of possible heirs to Herod.  But he did all he could to enhance his royal prospects—he married a Nabatean princess.  Maybe he wouldn’t follow his father as “King of the Jews,” but he could end up as “King of the Nabateans” next door if he played his cards right. 

But then the older brothers are executed and he is closer to that title “King of the Jews.”   That is the real reason he seduces his brother’s wife Herodias.  She is beautiful and desirable, but more important, she is Hasmonean royalty, having the blood of Judas Macchabeus in her veins through her mother.  Working seduction herself, Herodias insists that Antipas first divorce his Nabatean wife.  For Herodias the marriage with Antipas is a step back onto the fast track of the social escalator.  Herod Junior was already out to pasture with no prospects; Antipas was still a man with a future.

Again, Antipas’ and Herodias’ marriage reflects their values: a pragmatic enhancement of their political power and prospects, and pleasurable at the same time.  What harm is there in that? 

But the prophet John the Baptist objects.  He is preaching and baptizing in Perea, the smaller of Antipas’ fiefs.   John says the marriage violates Torah commandments against corrupting family relationships by having sexual relations with the spouse of a living sibling.  It is incest, and John calls it this.  Like Amos, John holds up a plumb line and says what is straight and what is crooked.

Josephus says that Antipas feared the Baptist because he had grown to have too much popular support, and thus posed a threat to Antipas’ political power.  A popular prophet is always inconvenient, always a political threat. Antipas has John locked up to separate him from his audiences, and then after while executes him. 

We read in Josephus’s Jewish history that Antipas’ ex-wife returns humiliated and shamed to her father’s palace in Nabatea.  A war ensues, and Antipas loses.  He would have lost his rule as well, but the Romans intervene.   Josephus says that the war was Antipas’ punishment for executing John.

Mark tells the story a little differently.  His story is probably based on popular rumor and speculation not unlike tabloid celebrity fever today.  The tale of the hootchy-cootchy dance, the drunken promise and the beheading of John does not give the political reasons for the execution that historian Josephus tells.  Mark’s tale here has, unfortunately, a bit of a cherchez la femme edge to it--Antipas is weak, Herodias is strong, and ultimately her jealous conniving forces Antipas to murder John. Tabloid stuff indeed. 

But Mark also adds the telling detail that Antipas did not want to execute John because “he enjoyed listening to him.”   This fits elements of Antipas’ character that we see elsewhere in the Gospels. 

Once, people in Galilee warn Jesus that “Herod is plotting to kill him” (Luke 13:31).  Jesus replies bitingly, giving the only personal insult about an individual recorded on the lips of Jesus.  “Go tell that female fox,” he says, “that I’m safe, because prophets seem to be killed only in Jerusalem.”   Jesus thus condemns the very things which drive Antipas—having pleasure and getting ahead.  That fox!   Jesus thus dismisses Antipas’ pragmatism, wits, manipulation, and desire to be amused, to have a good time. 

Later, on Good Friday, Pontius Pilate realizes that Jesus is from Galilee and thinks he might spread the blame of condemning Jesus by sending him to Antipas, who after all is ruler of Galilee.  Luke 23 tells us that Antipas was pleased to meet Jesus, “because he had long desired to see him, because he had heard about him, and he was hoping to see some sign done by him.”  Antipas is still all about having a good time.   Where the Galilean peasantry had sought Jesus and his miracles for healing, for food, and for hope, Antipas sought Jesus and his miracles for amusement. 

 

Jesus, for his part, refuses to even speak even one word to Antipas.  Finally, in order to not have Jesus’ sullenness spoil the party, Antipas has a great idea.  He orders his soldiers to dress Jesus up in what Luke calls “a gorgeous gown” as kind of ironic spoof of this forbidding prophetic figure. They probably use make up on him as well.   And that is how they send Jesus back to Pilate.  Pilate apparently appreciates a good joke as well, for Luke ends the story with “and from that day on, Pilate and Herod remained friends.”  

Antipas’ desire to be titillated is also coupled with a bit of superstition. At the beginning of today’s text, when Antipas first hears of Jesus’ miracles, he’s troubled, because he’s certain that Jesus is “John the Baptist, whom I murdered, come back to life again.” 

So what does this sad and ugly story mean for us?

Mark often makes his point by juxtaposing stories.  He starts here with the story of Antipas’ deadly dinner party, but immediately follows this with the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000.

The party is exclusive:  elite guests, the finest delicacies, amusements and enjoyments, possibly a chance for face time with Antipas, friend of Caesar and aspirant to the title “King of the Jews.”  But Antipas has too much to drink. It ends badly, very badly.  Herod is tricked into making a promise he’d rather not keep.  But he must maintain his image, he must not be put to shame in front of the guests.  To show them just how much in charge he is, how much a party animal he really is, what a good sport he is, he says the word, and the platter with John’s head on it is presented to Herodias in the presence of all.  All shrink back in horror.  He probably thinks, “Now here is a party favor that will be remembered for the ages!”  

The very next story Mark tells is of a different dinner party, one offered by Jesus.  It is not exclusive.  It is in the open, and all are invited.  They go to a desert place, and the crowds follow.  “It’s late, we must send them away for them to buy their dinner,” say the disciples.  Jesus is not interested in sending people away.  He is also not afraid of what the guests might think of him if he does not deliver.  “How many fish and loves do we have?” he asks, “Not many,” they reply.  But then he proceeds to feed all.  No deadly dinner party this.  Just life and love overflowing, inclusive, supporting, and nourishing.   

But those who came to Jesus’ dinner party of life had to abandon what they were doing previously in order to be there.  They also had to provide what little food they had brought and share it for Jesus to work his miracle.  


Antipas was all about self, and all about pleasure and control. His philosophy, his religion, and his power were all tools for pleasure for him. 

What did Jesus find so distasteful in “that fox” Antipas?  Clearly, the fact that he murdered his mentor John the Baptist is key in Jesus' dislike of Antipas.  But he also clearly disapproves of how the man thinks, feels, and relates to others. 

A hint of the core issue is found in Mohandas Gandhi’s succinct description of what he called the seven deadly social sins: 

• Wealth without Work
• Pleasure without Conscience
• Science without Humanity
• Knowledge without Character
• Politics without Principle
• Commerce without Morality
• Worship without Sacrifice

Antipas was the ultimate practitioner of “Boutique Religion,” of choosing a little here that suits you and a little there that strikes your fancy.   His pathological abuse of others is just an extension of this narcissism.   It all is rooted in fear of not gaining power, and the enjoyment of pleasure that power provides, or of losing power and enjoyment once gained. 

The Baptist and Jesus were about sacrifice, and restraint of self.   They wanted true religion, religion of helping the poor, the widowed, the orphaned.  No boutique marketplace of religious fads for them. 

Ultimately, Antipas too fell from Caesar’s grace.  His estranged nephew, another Herod named Agrippa who appears in the book of Acts, was best friends with the Roman Emperor Caligula when he ascended to power.   Agrippa was the only one of the five "other" Herods to actually receive the Roman title "King of the Jews."  He made sure Antipas was relieved of his duties and banished, so Agrippa could reclaim control of Galilee and Perea.  Antipas was also retired, appropriately for such a sabaritic, to the south of France.  Herodias, promised continuing royal perks if she abandoned him, surprisingly choses to accompany him in exile. 

In the coming week, please reflect on where in your life you resemble Antipas.  What sacrifice is God calling you to that you are resisting?  When does your will, your pleasure, your desire for control and security trump the needs of others?    Is status, pleasure, or security inordinate in your life? 

What forms of “boutique religion” do you practice? 

When you come to a greater clarity on this, and you will come to a greater clarity on this if you reflect on it, then pray to have this burden of self lifted, that you be relieved of the fears that beset you.   And then start on the hard work of following Jesus into the desert for his abundant feast for all.  And walk away, just walk away, from the deadly dinner party. 

In the name of Christ, Amen.