NOTES for Mar 6:14-29

The preaching of Jesus Himself and His apostles led to His name becoming known throughout Galilee, eventually reaching even its ruler, Herod (v. 14). Herod was not, of course, an independent ruler—he was a vassal of the Roman emperor, for in Gospel times Galilee, like all Palestine, was part of the Roman Empire. Meanwhile, all kinds of rumors about Jesus circulated among the people. Some regarded Him as a prophet like one of the ancient prophets whose preaching became part of the prophetic books of the Old Testament, which were well known to all believing Jews and regularly read in synagogues during worship. To others He was Elijah returned from heaven (v. 15); the Old Testament says that Elijah did not die but was taken alive into heaven (2 Kings 2:11–12). This book was well known, as were the other three Books of Kings, the Book of Joshua, and the Book of Judges: in Judaism they are counted among the prophetic books and are called the “Former Prophets.” Believing Jews of that age held that shortly before the coming of the Messiah-Christ, Elijah would return from heaven to earth to remind people of His imminent appearance.

Herod, however, took Jesus for John the Baptist risen from the dead, whom he had had executed not long before (v. 14). The execution had been preceded by John's arrest after he denounced Herod for marrying his own brother's wife in defiance of the Law (vv. 17–18). It should be noted that the king generally paid little attention to religious and moral norms and was also marked by immoderate sensuality. Yet he did not dare execute the prophet at once: despite his moral corruption, Herod still respected him (v. 20). It is not surprising that Herodias, formerly the wife of Herod's brother Philip, hated John more than Herod himself did (v. 19).

At last a suitable moment for the reprisal came: during a ceremonial banquet, Herodias's daughter performed an inflaming Eastern dance before Herod and his guests, perhaps something like the belly dance still well known in the East today (vv. 21–22). Inflamed by wine and lust, he solemnly swore to grant the girl any wish. At her mother's prompting, she seized the opportunity to be rid of John (vv. 22–25). Herod evidently did not want John to die at all, but driven by vanity and unwilling to lose face before those around him or break his own solemn oath, he nevertheless ordered the execution, which naturally became known at once to many people, including the apostles (vv. 26–29).

When King Herod heard about Jesus, he immediately remembered John the Baptist. It seems to him that the great prophet has "risen from the dead" and is again walking through Judea, preaching repentance. What Herod learned about Jesus' identity somehow touched his hardened heart. Evidently there was something in the Lord's words that was addressed personally to him, something that forced him to look again at the crime he had once committed.

The evangelist Mark notes especially that while John the Baptist was alive, Herod "did many things, listening to him, and heard him gladly." Therefore the execution of John became for the king a departure from the ideals he had formerly held; it was a kind of apostasy.

When we open the Gospel, we often encounter words of the Lord that are addressed precisely to us. Behind two lines an entire life situation rises before us, sometimes a very painful one for us. And just as Herod did, we have a choice between correcting it, rethinking our life in God, or going farther down the path of apostasy.

The figure of Herod the Tetrarch, mentioned in the Gospel, would not have appeared sympathetic either to historians or to his contemporaries. He was a petty, cruel, and suspicious tyrant with fairly pronounced sadistic tendencies, a typical representative of a degenerating dynasty. In spite of all this, he retained the formal status of a Roman ally, which he had inherited from his father. For this reason Rome, despite numerous complaints from local residents and reports from the procurators of Judea, could not fully deprive him of power, leaving him Galilee, for which the Roman authorities apparently felt less concern than for Judea.

All this did not prevent Herod from having his own peculiar notions of what he considered and called honor. He was boastful, but once he had sworn an oath in the presence of witnesses, he considered it humiliating not to keep it. Herodias took advantage of this. Judging by the Gospel account, she hated John far more than Herod himself did. Herod was content for John to be silent, or at least for his accusations not to be voiced publicly. Herodias wanted nothing less than to get rid of the prophet, to have him executed. She knew her husband well: the trick with her daughter's dance worked exactly as intended. Lust and boasting can be an utterly deadly combination, and Herod reluctantly does what he had not intended to do.

He was, however, if not religious, then at least superstitious. When he heard about Jesus, he decided that Heaven was punishing him for the murder of a man of God. Herod lived in constant fear and among many fears, so it is no wonder that he became superstitious to the point of absurdity. When a personality falls apart, even the most absurd and impossible things can appear completely real. So it was with Herod: he hated and feared John while John was alive, while at the same time involuntarily respecting him; and after executing the prophet, he began to fear his shadow.

In every age and among every people, an oath bound the person who had to fulfill it, otherwise consequences would fall on his head that he would have cause to regret. It is no accident that the ancients, including adherents of Yahwism, swore by the names of their gods. In Yahwism too it was customary to swear by the name of God, the name of Yahweh. In this way a person called as witnesses and guarantors of what had been promised those whom it was either simply impossible, or at least mortally dangerous, to deceive.

At the same time, however, a natural question arose: did every promise please those who, according to the intention of the one swearing, were supposed to guarantee its fulfillment? Take Herod's oath, for example. Most likely, he too swore by the name of Yahweh, in whom perhaps he did not truly believe. But does this mean that Yahweh really became the guarantor of Herod's oath? The question is rhetorical: an oath by the name of any god, not to mention the One God, presupposed involvement in deep relations with the one by whose name you swear. This cannot be said of Herod and Yahweh: their relations were the most superficial kind, if they existed at all.

But there was something else: false pride, which at times makes a person, out of a desire to appear "tough," do something he will most likely regret deeply afterward. That is what happened with Herod. He hated and feared John, and at the same time involuntarily respected him, so much that, while holding him in prison for especially dangerous criminals, Herod nevertheless came more than once to speak with him. He hardly wanted John's death. He only wanted John to be silent, so that his denunciations of Herod's sins and crimes would not sound publicly.

Things happened differently, however: a rash oath and the unwillingness to "lose face" in the eyes of those around him made Herod a murderer. Of course, this murder was not the first in his life and not the last, but here it was the murder of a prophet, a man of God, whom Herod moreover had not wanted to kill. So pride and false ideas of honor take a person captive, forcing him to do what otherwise he would never have done. It is a terrible case, but for the fallen world, alas, entirely characteristic.