Like Herod, we have more urgent, more immediate concerns than faceless strangers half a world away. Unlike Herod, our struggles are much more ordinary. We’re not torn between Rome and Parthia. We negotiate commitments to work, family, faith, and self-care. How do we take enough vacation? Exactly how many activities can our kids participate in before we go insane? Churches don’t help the situation, filling calendars with activities, Bible studies, Sunday schools, small groups, and worship gatherings. Between sports leagues, ever-abundant school activities, and a little homework squeezed between the cracks, families with children feel stretched thinner and thinner—especially single parents, who face a workload that has increased dramatically.12 The outlook isn’t much better for those without kids. Gone are the days of the forty-hour workweek. Adults employed full-time work an average of forty-seven hours per week, with almost four in ten workers logging more than fifty hours weekly.13
Our culture’s solution is balance. As Herod sought to balance the demands of Rome and his Jewish subjects, so we seek a healthy work-life balance. How do we balance family and friends? How do we balance faith and the rest of our lives? We feel like jugglers tossing ball after ball into the air, working desperately to keep them all moving. It’s no surprise that in our increasingly post-Christian culture, church attendance is one of the first balls many choose to drop.14
Thinking like this demonstrates that we’ve commodified the life God has invited us into. We’ve reduced the resurrecting power of the Holy Spirit to an object, a component. Our religion sits on the shelf next to weekends on the lake and kids’ activities and sleeping in one day a week and everything else that competes for our time. No wonder this shallow, privatized religion has nothing to say to bereft mothers across the globe. No wonder our dull, lifeless worship gatherings so often lose out to the life that is waiting everywhere else.
Reducing God to a commodity is idolatry. Balance can’t be the answer to idolatry. As long as we’re trying to balance God with anything, we’ve reduced the Creator of the universe to an object. When we concern ourselves with keeping everyone happy and in balance, the most vulnerable slip through the cracks. When we’re focused on everything, the least get overlooked. Balance can’t be the answer.
Fortunately Jesus doesn’t offer us balance. Rather he offers us an entirely new way to see our lives. In John 12, Jesus reflects on his death with a paradox: “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life” (John 12:25).
Our English translations make Jesus’ words more confounding by translating two different Greek words as “life.” The first two references to life are the Greek word psyche, which is often translated “self.” It’s where we get the word psychology. The last word, the “eternal life,” is zoe. Think of psyche as all the stuff that makes up our lives: our identity, our goals, our ambitions, our struggles and failures and successes, our possessions, our families, etc. Think of zoe as the essence of life, the state of being alive.
Too often we treat religion as psyche. God is one more thing among a bunch of other things we have to shuffle and arrange to make sense of ourselves. But God is the very ground of our existence. God is the creator and sustainer, the source of zoe. When we reduce zoe to psyche, we are left aimless with no one and nothing to order our way, no means to make sense of our world.
Author and pastor Shane Hipps asks us to imagine zoe as a one and all the stuff that makes up our psyche as zeros:
The value of zero and one is determined entirely by their sequence. If you put a zero in front of a one, it does not change the value of the one. If you put three zeros before a one, it does not change the value of the one. You could put a million zeros in front of the one and it does not change the value of the one. The value of the one will stay a one. Likewise, the value of the zero will remain zero in all these instances. However, if you place the one in front of the zero, suddenly you have ten, add three zeros after the one and it’s a thousand. As long as the one is placed first, every zero you add increases the value of the one and the zero. Get the sequence right and the value of both is transformed in powerful ways.15
The stuff that makes up our lives is not worthless. God cares very much about our jobs and our families and our dreams and our hurts and everything else that comprises our psyche. But they are not what gives our lives meaning. The one—the zoe—God is the ground of our lives. When we try to put anything else in God’s place as the origin and source of our lives, we devalue everything.
Our psyche is not our zoe. The stuff of our lives is not life itself. To forget that—to place anything in God’s place—is idolatry, and God promises it leads to death. When we allow God to order our lives, we cannot help but notice the most vulnerable. We notice them because they matter to the one ordering our lives.
GONE BABY GONE (TO MEXICO)
While I was a pastor to young adults, I met Jenn Holden. She and her friend Sarah were college students who frequented the Bridge Café while I worked there. They became fixtures of the café, and we spent many nights having long conversations about life, faith, and the world.
During one of these conversations Gone Baby Gone came up, and Jenn and Sarah expressed interest in watching the movie. Always excited to introduce people to media I love, I arranged a watch party, and on the weekend a small crowd of us gathered to watch the movie. As the film ended, Jenn’s sobs filled the room. She was devastated and left quickly to be alone with her thoughts.
A couple of days later, we sat down to discuss her reaction to the film. She spoke passionately and at length of her love for abused children, her anger at the parents and systems that fail to protect them, and her own feeling of inadequacy in the face of such terrible evils.
I listened for a long time and then challenged her to consider that her passion may in fact be a sign of God’s calling on her life. Over the next three years, Jenn continued to grow in her faith and education. When she graduated, she took an internship in Monterrey, Mexico, with Back2Back Ministries, an organization that supports orphanages and works to provide educational opportunities for orphans as they age out of the system. To no one’s surprise, Jenn stayed on full time after her internship, living in Monterrey for several years. She still works for Back2Back today.
Jenn is an example of what it looks like when our zoe orders our psyche. She is an example of what it looks like to attend to the most vulnerable. When facing impossible odds, she chooses to be present. She can’t fix the problems of every orphan in the world—none of us can. But she heard the voice of God calling her to come and be. To live with the children who broke her heart. To let the love that flowed out of her brokenness become a fountain of living water in a dry, loveless desert.
The crisis of orphan care in our world is an impossible problem. None of us can solve this worldwide epidemic. But like Jenn Holden in Monterrey, we can be present. We can refuse to ignore the most vulnerable among us. Faithful presence, not balance, is the answer. Whether we’re in a cubicle or a coffee shop or cheering on the sidelines at a Little League game, or even in a church pew, God calls us to notice and be present with the most vulnerable.
How might the Christmas story look different if Herod had trusted God rather than Rome? Might our nativity scenes include a grizzled old king kneeling next to those magicians? In the most detailed carvings, perhaps we could make out the tension on his face—the fear of Rome’s power battling his fledgling hope in Yahweh’s promised Messiah? His future is uncertain, but his present is decided. He has come to a manger in a poor backwater town to meet a family of traveling peasants. He is surrounded by the stench of animals and shepherds. And here he encounters the very God of the universe, who makes sense of all his anxiety and uncertainty. How beautiful would that nativity scene have been?
Faithful presence is what God asks of us in impossible situations. When we find life in God, when we put the source of zoe first and allow God to order our psyche, God transforms us into fountains of life.
In a world of difficult choices, God does not demand that we have all the right answers. Rather we follow the example of Jesus by wading into the midst of the mess and waiting for God. We face our neighbors with love and joy and peace. We trust the Spirit to create in us patience, kindness, and generosity. We practice faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. God’s life flows through us into the world around us. To do otherwise puts us on the wrong side of the Christmas story.
9
Herodias
An opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. When his daughter [Salome] came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” [Herodias] replied, “The head of John the baptizer.” Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”
MARK 6:21-25
Herodias descended the dank stairwell, careful not to touch the walls. In the dim light of her torch, her eyes scanned the steps, alert for loose rock on which she might turn an ankle. She walked slowly to ensure the slave following her could see as well. He mustn’t drop the meal.
As she reached the dungeon, she saw the prophet, his hunched form against the far wall. The form shifted at the sound of her approaching footsteps. The flame of her torch danced in the black pools of his eyes as he tried to discern the identity of his visitor.
Herodias secured the torch to a sconce on the back wall and settled onto the crude stool outside the cell. The slave stood behind her, holding an elaborate gold platter covered with a matching domed lid.
Herodias saw the prophet’s eyes narrow as they adjusted to the light. Something flickered in them—not recognition, though he doubtless had discerned who she was. How many women had access to the prison? Perhaps it was contempt. Or indignation. No matter. She offered the prisoner a cold smile and said, “I thought it was time we met, John, son of Zechariah, called the Baptizer. I am Herodias, your queen.”
The Baptizer watched her for a long moment. “Forgive me, Highness.” His gravelly voice was thick with irony. “I am unschooled in the ways of the nobility. I was unaware the wife of a prince is still called a queen.”
Herodias’s grin didn’t slip. “They say you’re fearless, Baptizer. I am glad to see you live up to your reputation. It is, in fact, my marriage I came to discuss with you today. I am quite sure we can reach an understanding between the two of us that will see you back drowning people in the river in no time.”
The Baptizer shifted. “Have you come to repent, to make ready the path of the Lord?” He made a show of searching the dungeon. “I am somewhat short on water, but if Her Majesty will summon a bath, we can make do.”
Herodias arched her eyebrows. “And what will your followers think when they hear you asked to bathe with a queen?”
The prophet sputtered, trying for a retort, but Herodias laughed melodically. “John, no one wants you in this cell. It looks bad for Antipas to arrest a prophet of the Lord—almost as bad as having that prophet traipsing about his land, announcing to anyone who will listen that his marriage is an abomination.”
She withdrew a key from the folds of her cloak, and her tone hardened. “You can walk out of here right now. Simply give me your word that no one—not Antipas nor I nor any of your acolytes—and not even the weeds in that desert you call home—will hear another word about our marriage from your lips.”
The prophet did not move from his slouched position against the wall, but his voice was strong and clear. “The day of the Lord is at hand, Your Highness.” He had turned her title into a barb. “His great wrath will fall upon all who are unfaithful—even his own chosen people. Now is the time to repent.”
Herodias rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, Baptizer. You’re anxious to get back to preparing the Lord’s way. So do we have a deal?”
The Baptizer’s eyes lit with fanatical zeal. He continued as though she had not spoken. “But how can the people repent when their shepherds persist in sin? When a man steals his brother’s wife, it is an abomination, whether that man is common or a king—or even a tetrarch.” He threw the title at Herodias like a dagger.
Herodias sighed. “I suspected you would prove unwilling to see reason. Compromise has always been difficult for your kind. But I am not unreasonable. I trust some time as our guest will help you see that we need not be enemies.” Herodias snapped her fingers, and the slave set the platter just outside the bars of the cell, then retreated to retrieve the torch.
Herodias stood. “Compliments of Antipas’s personal cook. Possibly more enjoyable than your usual fare.” With that, she turned and left the dungeon, abandoning the Baptizer to darkness.
Herodias descended the dank stairwell more quickly alone. She placed the torch back in the sconce and again sat on the crude stool. She noted the serving dish, still covered. She frowned. “Was the food not to your liking?”
The Baptizer had shifted toward her but now settled back against the wall. He held her gaze, but said nothing. Herodias sighed. “I had hoped you would branch out a bit. I’ll see about getting something that meets your approval. You are, after all, a prophet of the Lord. So let us speak, you and I. Let us come to an agreement with which we can both live.”
John glared at her. “We will not speak. You are unaccompanied. You do not even wear a veil. I am a man of God.”
A surprised laugh escaped Herodias’s lips. “You fear I’ll tempt you, Baptizer?” She ran her hands suggestively over her body and laughed again. “Perhaps I’ll steal you from God the way I stole Antipas from his Nabatean wife?” She spit on the ground. “I am no whore. You’d do well to remember that when you are freed.”
The Baptizer remained silent. Was it only the torchlight, or did hope flicker in his eyes?
“I was not completely honest before, Baptizer.” She made her tone warm with a trace of vulnerability. “I am not here for myself. I am here for my daughter, Salome.” She looked away for a moment, and when she held his gaze again, her eyes glistened. “You don’t have children, do you? No time to marry while you play the Lord’s mistress.” Her wry tone stole the barb from the jest. “Perhaps you don’t understand. But if you do not trust me, then trust Solomon. Was it not he who said, ‘Sons are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward’? Salome is my heritage, my reward from the Lord. I will do anything to give her happiness and peace.”
Pride swelled in Herodias’s chest. “My daughter is beautiful—more beautiful even than I was. And she inherited her father’s lack of guile. I have tried to impart to her even a scrap of cunning, but Salome simply does not have the mind for politics. Were her father a person of any note, it wouldn’t matter. But he is a forgotten prince of a speck of land that matters only because it’s between two empires. Even with Augustus’s influence, the best she could hope for is to be given to the lackey of some client king.
“I will have better than that for my daughter. At least she could remain among her own people. But her only hope was Antipas, who was already married, and Philip. And neither gained anything from marrying the daughter of Herod II, Herod the Great’s forgotten son.”
The prophet’s dark form remained unmoved.
“Do you know what it is to be a Herodian, Baptizer? To be a pawn shuffled about at the whims of a grandfather who doted on you even as he executed your father? To be made the princess of Israel, only to have it stripped away?”
Herodias became almost wistful as she thought about her former husband. “You’ve not met Herod II, Baptizer, but you would love him. He is earnest and simple. Doubtless if he had been named tetrarch of the Galilee, or even king of the Jews as he once was promised, he would have named you high prophet of the royal court by now.”
Herodias’s eyes,
seeing distant memories, suddenly focused again on John. “His kindness is his daughter’s undoing. He did not know how to provide a suitable marriage for Salome. But I can. I will not see my daughter shuffled about at the whims of foreign kings. She will have better than I did. Antipas will ensure she is married to Philip. She will live among her own people.”
The Baptizer remained silent, though his eyes never left Herodias’s. She searched his eyes for a sign of compassion but found only righteous condemnation. So she shifted her tactics. “Give me your word that you will no longer mention our marriage, and Antipas and I will receive your baptism.”
Shock registered on John’s face as he straightened. “What?”
“At your word, I will release you. Antipas and I will accompany you to the Jordan. We will submit to your baptism of repentance. And you will return to your ministry, the whole country knowing you have the ear of Antipas. Perhaps Philip will even follow suit. You get a nation that is returning to God, and my daughter marries Philip.”
A long silence followed, and John finally spoke. “Fools think their own way is right, but the wise listen to advice.”
Herodias barked a short laugh and said in disbelief, “You quote Solomon to lecture me on marriage? Who is the fool here, Baptizer?” Her voice was an iron dagger. “I will have your silence. Marrying Antipas was difficult enough without you telling anyone who would listen we were incurring the Lord’s wrath. I tried everything to get him to shut your mouth. Begging. Threatening. Asking very nicely. Finally shaming worked. ‘You’re the ruler of the Galilee. The son of Herod the Great. This worm cannot speak of you so!’ Even then, he would not kill you. Only arrest you, throw you in here.”
Empathy for the Devil Page 10
