bible-study

Mark 6:14-29

This is one of many stories in the Bible that make you wonder whether the folks who insist that the Bible be taught to school children have read the Bible.

The passage begins with people wondering who this Jesus is. His fame is spreading. Some speculate that he is John the Baptist returned from the dead. But what happened; why is John dead? Because Herod had John executed, and the story of how that came about is the rest of the passage.

The Herod in this story is Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great and one of eight Herods in the Herodian dynasty. He has married Herodias, the former wife of his younger brother, yet another Herod. Like George Foreman, I guess Herod the Great figured there wasn’t a better name than his own to pass on to both (all?) his sons.

John the Baptist wasn’t the only person to criticize Herod for marrying his sister-in-law. We don’t know if he was the only person punished for it. John was well-known and respected; maybe that made it especially important to muzzle him. But Herod fears John; he knows John is “a righteous and holy man,” so while he sends John to prison, he doesn’t have him killed, not at first.

The story continues with Herod’s stepdaughter Herodias (yes, the same name as her mother, the sister-in-law that Herod scandalously married) dancing for guests at a party. We don’t know how old Herodias is at this point. The Greek calls her a κορασίῳ, korasion, which could be young girl or maiden. Is she a child who has made her stepdad proud? Is she an attractive young woman? We also don’t know anything about the dance. Was it as chaste as Judy Garland tapdancing with Mickey Rooney? Or was it provocative, which would make this story truly creepy? All we know is that it must have been some dance. Herod is in such high spirits that he makes a rash promise, so rash that although the text says nothing about it, I wonder if Herod wasn’t drunk as well as impressed. He promises Herodias anything she wants, even half his kingdom, the kind of fairytale promise that you know is going to backfire. The girl asks her mother, who has no warm feelings for John at all, and the mother tells her to ask for John the Baptist’s head on a platter. The king apparently made an oath to keep his promise and so John is executed in prison, and grizzly paintings ever since remind us how brutal this wish was, and that power really can corrupt.

What is the moral of this story? What’s the lesson? I quote David Lose: “The rich and powerful are used to getting what they want; are willing to do most anything to keep or advance what they have; and those who stand up to them, advocate for the oppressed, or dare to inspire people to imagine that life can be different usually get trampled.”

Is this a lesson we want to teach our children? I doubt that those arguing that the Bible should be taught in schools would think so. But maybe that’s exactly what we should be teaching people in today’s political climate. It’s certainly a good reminder for adults, if we include along with it the lesson that God still stands with the oppressed, and whatever the cost, so should we. Isn’t that what Jesus did?

Resources:
David Lose, https://www.davidlose.net/2012/06/mark-614-29/

John 2:13-22

The story we call “the cleansing of the temple” appears in all four gospels. That’s a pretty good clue that it actually happened. But while Matthew, Mark, and Luke put it at the end of Jesus’ ministry, just before the arrest that leads to his crucifixion, John puts it up front, soon after Jesus’ miracle at the wedding at Cana. As one commentator puts it, John uses the words of the other three gospels but never the tune.

It was at the wedding at Cana that Jesus turned water into wine. John gives us an important detail: the water was in stone jars, which meant it was used for the rites of purification. By the time of Jesus, there was an elaborate system of purification. Some things were considered pure or clean, and others impure or unclean. Women were unclean seven days after the birth of a son, 14 days after the birth of a daughter. Dead bodies were unclean; certain foods were unclean; the list had grown very, very long. The system created a world with sharp social boundaries between pure and impure, righteous and sinner, whole and not whole, male and female, rich and poor, Jew and Gentile. Changing this water into wine was symbolic of breaking down these barriers.

The Temple was the heart of the purity system. The animals being sold there were required for sacrifice. Moneychangers were an essential part of the system because it was idolatrous to use Roman coins stamped with the emperor’s image to buy your sacrifice. The moneychangers were giving pure tokens in exchange for impure money. When you added up the temple tax required of every Jewish male, the cost of animals for required sacrifices, the fee for the money changers, and the travel costs associated with coming to Jerusalem at least once a year, the whole thing added up to big business. It also meant the poorer you were, and the less able you were, the less access you had to a good relationship with God.

Jesus was not the first to cry out against this system. Centuries before Jesus, the prophet Micah asked, “Will God be pleased with thousands of rams, with 10,000 rivers of oil? …. God has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” The prophet Amos raised a similar cry, “Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them,” says God, “but let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.” But the system persisted, so Jesus lost his temper. He drove the moneychangers and the animals out of the Temple and overturned their tables.

I’m very careful with this passage. Anyone who has ever lived with a person who explodes knows that the last thing that people with bad tempers need is biblical approval of their temper tantrums. I think we need a bit more humility than Jesus when it comes to a situation like this. As much as I affirm that we’re all to be more Christ-like, perhaps this is one of those times when we should ask, “What did Jesus mean?” instead of “What would Jesus do?”

There are several layers of interpretation possible here. Some commentators see a prophetic prediction of the destruction of the temple that occurred in 70 AD. Others understand the story as a restoration of the temple to its sacred purpose, as a place of prayer for all people, without exploitation. A third approach suggests that Jesus fulfills all the functions of the temple building as the place to meet God.

All these interpretations are compelling, but we also see that Jesus disrupts things. He challenged the rules that named things and people pure or impure in almost everything he did. Debie Thomas writes, “Jesus is not about ‘business as usual.’ Jesus is not a protector of the status quo. Jesus has no interest in propping up institutions of faith that elevate comfort and complacency over holiness and justice.”

That leaves us with a handful of questions. What are we passionate about when it comes to our faith? Have we settled for a way of being Christian that is more safe, casual, and comfortable than it is disorienting, challenging, and transformative? One of my heroes is Janie Spahr, the tireless evangelist for LGBTQ+ rights in the church. Janie says, “If you ever have the chance to get in trouble for the sake of Jesus — Do it.”

Are you willing to get in trouble for Jesus? Am I? These are terrific Lenten questions.

Resources:
Debie Thomas, “Not in God’s House,” https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2937-not-in-god-s-house
Marcus Borg, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time (New York: HarperColins, 1994)

Solvitur Ambulando

Putting one foot in front of the other on the path of faith

A Rash Promise

The Disruptive Jesus