First Friday Reflection

Friday, Jan. 27, 2017

The Gospel reading for Feb. 3, the first Friday of February, is Mark 6:14-29, a dramatic telling of the death of John the Baptist.

Like all good stories, this one drops us right in the middle of the action: Herod has imprisoned John because the prophet had the temerity to tell the king that his marriage to Herodias was not lawful (both the king and his sister-in-law had divorced their respective spouses so they could marry, which went against the tenets of Mosaic law). 

Despite Herod’s treatment of John, he knew the prophet was a righteous man and liked to listen to him, the Gospel tells us.

Herodias, on the other hand, wanted to kill the prophet. The Gospel doesn’t tell us exactly why – perhaps she resented being told that she had sinned by marrying her husband’s brother, or maybe she felt threatened by the fact that her husband continued to listen to John. After all, if Herod decided to act on what John was saying, Herodias’ pampered lifestyle – if not her life itself – would be in jeopardy, for the king was not a tolerant man.

The drama told in the Gospel reading comes to a climax on the king’s birthday, when Herodias’ daughter dances for the king, and he is so pleased that he offers her anything, up to half his kingdom. The girl (the Gospel doesn’t name her, but the Jewish historian Josephus identifies her as Salomé) runs to her mother, wanting to know what she should ask for, and Herodias says to demand the head of John the Baptist.

I’ve heard this story dozens of times, and seen numerous depictions of the seductress Salomé, but it never before occurred to me to wonder why Salomé went to Herodias for advice, or why she did as she was told, because John’s head on a platter certainly didn’t benefit her.

Today, though, I did ponder the question, and an Internet search came up with a disturbing answer. According to a Word on Fire blog, the Greek word used to describe Salomé translates as “little girl,” not “young woman.”

Now the fact that she sought out her mother makes sense. Any intelligent little girl, offered such a fantastic choice, would seek out a trusted adult for counsel before making the decision.

That Herodias used the gift that should have benefited her daughter to wreak revenge on an innocent man shows just how vindictive she was.

Deeper reflection on the reading led me to realize that I could identify with each of the characters in the story. Like Herod I have at times heard God’s word and refused to heed it. As Salomé was, I have been manipulated by those I thought had my best interests in mind. I also, much as I am ashamed to admit it, have at least once caused the demise of a hated opponent. (Not a literal extermination, of course, but we each of us cause a thousand tiny deaths through our gossip and spite and indifference.)

On the other hand, I have occasionally told the truth like John the Baptist and suffered for it, although I do still have my head.

It’s interesting that although this story is about him, he makes no appearance and says not a word. Perhaps that is fitting, for he had completed his task: He had testified to the light and revealed to the world Christ, the one who forgives us our sins and teaches us to love rather than kill one another, and leads us on the path to life in the heavenly kingdom with him forever and ever. Amen.