Served
Herod liked John. He knew John was righteous. He heard him gladly. And then he had him killed. This week we also mark 250 years as a nation — and honor the people who made a very different choice. A reflection on Mark 6:14–29.
Mark 6:14–29
Phrases that spoke to me today:
• he was a righteous and holy man
• he heard him gladly
• ask me for whatever you wish
• he was exceedingly sorry
Applying the Word to My Life:
John has been at the center of this whole week — and this reading is where we find out who he actually was. He told Herod the truth about his marriage. He knew what it would cost. He told him anyway.
Herod is a bit more interesting and a lot harder to like. He liked John and knew he was righteous and holy. He protected him. He didn't always like the message but heard him gladly. There was something genuine in the way Herod responded to this man.
Herodias was another matter. She had wanted John dead from the start — he had told Herod their marriage was unlawful, and she had never forgiven him for it. She was not ambivalent. Driven by hate she was cold, calculating and waiting.
Then came the birthday party. In the heat of the moment, Herod made a rash oath, and the request came back: the head of John the Baptist. He didn't want this. But he had made the oath in front of his guests, and he couldn't bear to back down. So he sent the order.
These are two men with two different kinds of love. John told Herod the truth out of love — because it was what Herod needed, regardless of what it cost John. Herod liked John but loved himself. When the moment arrived that would cost him something, he chose his pride over his conscience, his reputation over the man he knew was righteous.
One kind of love faces outward — toward what the other person needs. The other faces inward — toward what protects the self. It would be great if we could just tuck this away as an ancient story and leave it there. But we can't.
This week we mark 250 years as a nation, and the people we honor in that celebration understood the difference. They put themselves between danger and the people they loved at great cost to themselves. They did this so that others, people they didn't even know, wouldn't have to make the sacrifice.
This choice — to love outwardly — sits at the very core of Christianity. John lived it. Jesus did the same for all of us at a cost that goes further than anyone ever has. He showed us where the pattern leads and what it means.
It is easy to look at the world today and become complacent. Our lives aren't ruled by hatred or malice. But the bigger problem is the quiet indifference that makes room for it.
Most of us are not the persecutors, like Herodias, in the Christian story. We are Herod — the man who heard the prophet gladly, protected him when it was easy, and chose himself when it cost something.
When our love turns inward, we clear the way for evil. Christian love stands in the way instead — absorbs the impact and carries it to the cross.
The question John's death leaves on the table is not what it cost him. It is what it would cost us to do what he did. And whether we are willing.
My Response for Today:
Today I will think of the last time I let my love of self stand in the way of helping the person in front of me and ask what I am willing to do differently.