There are six people mentioned in the New Testament who were known as “Herod” (yes, really), but the good news is that for once a stereotype does work, and only the very keen need worry about sorting out the varied members of this rather unappealing family.1 So yes, Herod does mean a wicked king, generally speaking. Just for the record though, this is Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great (the latter being the Christmas story one). The fact that the names of this family tended to be reused does lead to confusion and impacts this story a little more though, on which see below.
This account of the fate of John the Baptist is the only episode of this length in Mark’s Gospel about anyone other than Jesus. Mark’s sparse and urgent narrative is not prone to anecdotalism or colorful renditions of people or events just for their own sake. The Roman Catholic lectionary on which the RCL is based (and the older Episcopal version in the 1979 book) simply leaves it out. Generally the framers of the Revised Common Lectionary however want us to read more of the text, and we should take this as an opportunity to think with Mark not just about John the Baptist, but about the nature of kingship, of just conduct, and of Jesus’ mission and identity.
The episode is also unusual as a flashback, occasioned by Herod’s response to reports of Jesus’ ministry, and seems to serve a couple of related purposes in Mark’s scheme. First, it is a sort of pause in the narrative that allows some (apparent) time to elapse after Jesus has sent out the twelve and before they return (next week, in the lectionary’s terms), so there can be something to report on. Second, that juxtaposition of the mission of the twelve with this scene, and other contrasts between the dubious banquet and the general tone of the Gospel, allow this story to serve as a sort of counterpoint to the picture of Jesus’ and the disciples’ work and of the sort of community he creates.
The account of Herod’s court with his retainers, and the trappings of the feast, as well as its bloody aftermath, has been compared to the story in the Book of Esther (chapter 1), where another king attempts to use a banquet to impress his followers, but manages largely to shame himself and reveal his lack of substance. If the level of detail is unusual for Mark it is fitting for such a “court legend,” and serves to illustrate a sort of rule, society, and leadership, in contrast with what we have been seeing when Jesus proclaims and acts on God’s own “kingdom.”
A different version of the background to John the Baptist’s death is told by the Jewish historian Josephus, who nevertheless also links it (more obliquely) with Herod’s marital arrangements.2 Josephus is explicit that John was a political threat to Herod, and was feared as potential leader of a revolt. This more political dimension is worth bearing in mind, whether we are thinking of John’s threat to Herod, or of course of Jesus’ own threat to Herod and to the power of Rome itself, which will play a central role in what is to follow. Josephus also reports that Herod’s setting aside of his first wife, the Nabatean princess Phasaelis, led to war with her father Aretas, and that this destabilized Herod’s rule so as to underline the importance of John’s threat.
So when we read that Herod regards the news of Jesus’ ministry as a form of John’s return, something quite specific may be implied. Jesus is a threat to Herod. We already know of course there is a connection between John’s ministry and Jesus’ work, but the story emphasizes how those who wield false power respond to the reign of God and how this affects its messengers. The story of the disastrous banquet is then not so much a “reason” for John’s death as an occasion for it; and it adds color and movement to this picture of the corrupt king and the subversive prophet.
The names of this decadent family tended to repeat themselves, as we have already noted with “Herod.” Similarly Alexander, Antipater, Philip, and others were found across generations and branches of the family, sometimes in combination. Women called Salome, Berenice, Mariamne, and Herodias recur too, making it it difficult at times to follow who’s who. Mark though is not trying to educate us about the family tree of the Herods but to illustrate their fitness to rule (or lack thereof). So when in this story we have the curiosity that “Herodias” is used both for the name of the wife for whom John had criticized Herod and (in the NRSV at least; some other translations try to neaten it) of the daughter, we should not scruple too much about the lack of clarity. We get the idea.
None of the biblical accounts however mention a “Salome,” whose name has been attached to this dancing figure in traditional retellings in art and music. This particular name arises because Josephus (again) records it as the name of a daughter of the unhappy couple, Herod Antipas and Herodias, and so many interpreters have in effect inserted Josephus’ information into the confusing text. Of course Mark is not really interested in these niceties but it is also possible the girl, like others of her house, had multiple names. For us however, this is all a bit like “Herod” as discussed above—the point is that this is a group whose wealth and status only serve to illustrate their corruption and violence.
While the account of the famous dance is fairly restrained—there are no “seven veils” here—it is remarkable that a noble young woman should be acting this way in any setting, even or especially a grand occasion. Dancing at such meals was seen as the preserve of hired entertainers, musicians and dancers whose social status was low and moral status dubious—granted of course that the power relationships in such a situation reflect hypocrisy as well as patriarchy. The dance does not have to have been salacious in our terms for it to have been scandalous. Given the dancer is described here as a young girl, the harsh light of the scandal shines fully on the parents.
Herod’s response is where his pomposity and immorality seem to collide, with John as the victim. There is a hint of sympathy for Herod, in that he has been tricked and had somehow enjoyed John’s intellectual companionship, but all this just serves to underline his vanity and weakness. It is not only the treatment of John that condemns the upstart reign of Herod; we can note, with Adela Collins, that the term “young girl” used for the hapless dancing princess (6: 22) is the same as that for the twelve year old Jesus had healed just in chapter 5.3 These two kings offer children very different rewards.
But why all this? As already noted, this scene is an illustrated counter-example to the reign of God which is the true subject of the Gospel. We had just heard last week the catering and accommodation arrangements for the apostles—no provisions, no extra clothing, dependence on whomever welcomes you. This extravagant feast contrasts with it, and as its details unfold we are perhaps meant to have “no bread, no bag, no money,” as well as the call to repent which is the disciples’ message, ringing in our ears. We know the one who is clearly Israel’s true king, and whose dealings with his people are simple, loving, and just.
As well as contrasting the two kings and their reigns, the episode compares the two prophets. Herod has already made the comparison too, and John’s death at the hands of a corrupt ruler anticipates what will happen to Jesus. Mark is perhaps clearer about the moral character of this elite clique than he can be later about aspects of the Roman rule that will kill Jesus, given that the readers of the Gospel still lived under it, and may have been cautious about explicitly condemning its authority. Herod’s lurid actions nevertheless offer some color that can be borne in mind as we go on to read the later story of how the authorities of two kingdoms will clash, and how the nature of God’s reign will be made clear in the paradoxical triumph of the Cross.
If you’re very keen, see https://www.bibleodyssey.org/dictionary/herod/
In Antiquities of the Jews 18.109-119
Adela Yarbro Collins, Mark: A Commentary. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2007, 308.
Though I doubt Mark knew about it, it is worth pointing out that the Herod/Salome situation somewhat parallels that of Emperor Domician. He had his niece's husband killed, had an affair with her, but when she got pregnant, he forced her to have an abortion that killed her. The callousness of the powerful willing to use/abuse their children stands in contrast with what Jesus show God as a Father/Mother desires for God's children.