Lectionary Commentaries for July 14, 2024
Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

The story of John’s murder is dreadful throughout.

The Bible includes a number of tales that take us inside the courtrooms of immoral, unprincipled, and self-absorbed leaders. There is no Esther or Daniel in this one, however—no one who can serve as a circuit breaker to prevent the ruler’s stupidity from becoming deadly. Nor is there a humorous element that allows the story to function as satire. This is a depiction of noxious people with little impulse control who hold positions of power.

This passage also, as we learn at the end, tells a story of faithful resistance and courageous hope.

Unclean spirits, like those Jesus encounters across Mark 1–5, are hardly the only ones who resist the inbreaking of God’s reign. Herod and Herodias all on their own possess enough depravity to execute a prophet who dares to speak truth to power.

Mark does not disclose how Jesus responds to John’s beheading, but it requires little effort to imagine. Recall that Jesus launches his public ministry in the aftermath of—and perhaps as a direct reaction to—John’s arrest (Mark 1:14). Presumably, John’s demise gives Jesus a glimpse into his own possible future; this is the fate of too many prophetic truth-tellers. John prepares the way of the Lord in death as well as in life (1:3).

If we’re going to take seriously Mark’s acid criticism of the villains in this story, we need to know who they are. This “King Herod” is Herod Antipas, a son of the infamous Herod the Great, who died in 4 BCE. Antipas was a “tetrarch” whom the Romans installed as a ruler over Galilee. His power was close to absolute. As long as he protected Roman interests and did not overly antagonize his subjects, he could treat a low-status prisoner like John however he chose.

Herodias, the tetrarch’s wife, had divorced one of Antipas’s half-brothers. Mark refers to him as Philip, but other ancient sources identify him as Herod. (It was a popular name in that family.) John denounces Antipas, probably publicly, most likely on the basis of Levitical laws (Leviticus 18:16; 20:21). Antipas was not exactly known for his good morals.

According to other sources, Herodias had a daughter from her previous marriage named Salome. That could be who Mark is referencing, perhaps mistakenly, with the name Herodias. It is possible that Mark means a daughter or stepdaughter named Herodias whom we do not know from other ancient literature. More likely, Mark means Salome. It is not clear how old she is or why she dances to entertain Antipas and his elite guests. She may have no choice in the matter.

The daughter and her dance have been interpreted as paradigms of temptation and striptease. The hypersexualized orientalism surrounding the nearly mythical figure of “Salome” and a “dance of the seven veils” in modern art makes it important to disentangle the biblical story from a racist and misogynist reception history. There may be undertones of eroticism in Mark’s account. If so, they are more implicit than explicit. Furthermore, Mark does not present the daughter as utterly innocent, although she is more of a pawn than anything else in the story’s schemes. (Note that she adds to her mother’s demand the macabre detail that John’s head be presented “on a platter.”)

It’s also possible that Herod Antipas is exploiting his stepdaughter’s sexuality to please a roomful of men, and then Herodias exploits her further to compel her husband to execute John. No matter what is at work between the lines, it’s an ugly scene, but the desire of some interpreters to make it as salacious as possible might say more about their own fantasies than it does about the story Mark tells.¹

Even though Antipas fears John, enjoys conversing with him, and is grieved at the prospect of having him beheaded, he is hardly an outwitted dupe in this episode. His idiotic pledge to reward his stepdaughter with up to half of his kingdom reveals him as arrogant and reckless. He uses his power in terrible ways. His unwillingness to risk embarrassment “out of regard for his oaths and for the guests” (Mark 6:26) makes him literally shameless. Nothing matters more to him than nursing his own vanity; he will suppress whatever fear of God remains within him, squelch any spiritual curiosity he might experience, and snuff out the life of a prophet—all to protect his own interests.

Don’t miss the final detail about John’s disciples retrieving his corpse and giving it an honorable burial. Consider the courage required to approach Herod Antipas’s people and request the body, thereby declaring allegiance to John and the movement he led. It’s not the same thing by any stretch, but I’m reminded of the thousands who bravely showed up in March 2024 to pay their respects outside the church and cemetery in Moscow where Alexei Navalny was mourned and laid to rest.²

If there’s a hint of good news surrounding John’s death, it resides in his followers who refuse to be intimidated. John foresaw a different world about to emerge. His disciples advance that vision through their simple yet difficult act of faithfulness. As I wrote in last week’s commentary, concerning Mark 6:1–13, “Opposition to the reign of God takes a toll and has lasting consequences, but it never has the last word.”

You might face parishioners’ questions about why you preached on this passage: “Were you trying to make a political point?” They ought to take it up with the Gospel of Mark instead. You might anticipate and rephrase the question: What is this story, an account of events in which Jesus is not even present, doing here at this juncture in Mark’s Gospel?³ The episode presages Jesus’ execution (see also 3:6; 8:31), but there’s more to it than that.

Appearing after several accounts of Jesus’ stunning power over spiritual oppression, illness, and death (5:1–43) and anticipating passages that illuminate the weight of suffering and want that confronts Jesus (6:30–44, 53–56), this scene emphasizes—for anyone who needs convincing—the cycles of misery and cruelty that ensnare the world. Human society inflicts as much harm as demons and death. Leaders’ actions have widespread consequences.

We don’t always have the power to rein in the destructive potential of self-obsessed rulers, toxic values, and an unwillingness to listen to truth. But Herod Antipas and his household remind us that innocent people will suffer when we don’t use the power available to us. What do faithful resistance and courageous hope look like in your context?

Notes

1. Along those lines, I recommend this study: Janice Capel Anderson, “Feminist Criticism: The Dancing Daughter,” in Mark and Method: New Approaches in Biblical Studies, 2nd ed., ed. Janice Capel Anderson and Stephen D. Moore (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008), 111–43.
2. See https://www.npr.org/2024/03/01/1235121398/kremlin-russia-navalny-funeral.
3. It’s worth noting that at least one other ancient author, the historian Josephus, writes about Herod Antipas’s execution of John (Antiquities 18.5.2). In that account, the tetrarch acts out of his fear that John’s popularity will create political instability.

Amos is a peculiar prophet in a couple of ways. First, he was a Judean who lived in Tekoa, a small village 12 miles south of Jerusalem, but he prophesied in Israel, far to the north. Second, he was not a professional prophet; his vocation was shepherding and tending fruit trees (7:14–15). 

Amos prophesied the downfall of Israel sometime around 850 BCE, and 30 years later the Assyrians conquered Israel and dispersed much of the population. Israel ceased to exist. His message was recorded and passed down through the generations both because his message proved true at the time and because it remained salient for later generations.

It appears that Amos had heard reports about the opulent lifestyle of the ruling class up north and how they enriched themselves by trampling the poor into the dust through dishonest trade, taxes, and bribery. His prophecies focused almost exclusively on the sins of the rich who “oppress the poor and crush the needy” (for example, 2:6–8; 8:4–6)—so exclusively that he is often called “the prophet of social justice.” He denounced the elite class in Samaria and poured scorn on their solemn worship assemblies and sacrifices. He proclaimed that God desires justice and mercy, not extravagant piety and solemn worship (5:18–24; compare to Jesus’ words in Matthew 9:13 and 12:7). 

Righteousness begins with justice, and the elite class’s behavior fell far below God’s standard. Amos was fuming while farming until, one day, he set down his tools and headed north to proclaim God’s judgment. His beautiful and compelling poetry, his vivid images and rhetoric, suggest that he was an unusually well-educated farmer for his time. Developing such powerful and sophisticated oracles would have taken time for reflection, knowledge of covenant law, and considerable literary skill. Where and how Amos acquired these we are not told.

Amos 7:7–15 records the last of three vision oracles found in chapter 7. Each oracle has the same poetic form. A fourth vision oracle at the beginning of chapter 8 has a somewhat different form and stands alone. In the first two visions, the Lord shows Amos terrifying punishments against Israel: a locust invasion devouring essential food at the end of the growing season; and a “shower of fire” that devours both the land and the “great deep” (verse 4)—the mythic source of all water. The threat is famine, and the judgments fit the crime. Amos repeatedly condemns the extravagant consumption of wine and food by the wealthy (2:8; 4:1; 5:11; 6:4–6). It was a zero-sum economy; the surfeit of the rich yielded the suffering of the poor. 

After each of the first two visions, Amos pleads with the Lord to forgive and relent, and twice the Lord relents. But after the third vision, Amos does not intercede for Israel. The third judgment vision is final: “I will never again pass them by,” says the Lord (7:8). Numbering sins and punishments is one of Amos’s rhetorical tools. In the first two chapters of the book, he records the Lord’s judgment: “For three transgressions of [nation] and for four, I will not revoke the punishment.” At some point, the Lord’s patience runs out.

The exact nature of the threat in the third vision report is uncertain. Traditionally, the Hebrew word )ǎnāk has been translated “plumb line,” a builder’s device for judging if a wall stands true. With this translation the image is clear: Amos sees the Lord testing a wall with a plumb line. The wall stands for Israel, and the plumb line represents the Lord’s standard of judgment. The line reveals that Israel is not plumb; it is crooked, unjust, unrighteous, corrupt. 

But scholars are generally agreed that )ǎnāk denotes tin rather than lead. The intended image is less clear in this case. Interpreters are not certain how to understand the function of tin. One common guess is that Amos sees the Lord standing on (not beside) a tin wall with tin in hand. The Lord will set tin in the midst of Israel. Tin was commonly used in making shielding and weapons. A tin wall would be protective, but the Lord wields a tin weapon upon the wall and will destroy their tin wall and set weapons upon them. 

Tin is a far less compelling image than a lead plumb line. For one thing, tin connotes something cheap and flimsy to us. Tin evokes neither protection nor threat. For another, the tin imagery is confusing. The Lord stands on a tin wall holding tin and then puts tin among the people of Israel? This requires a lot of ingenious and tedious explanation that is unsatisfying in the end. And in the context of worship based on the commonly used translations, it is a plumb line, not tin, that has been introduced. 

Explaining translation issues, especially when the result creates rather than resolves confusion, is a weak rhetorical move. So, even if the English translations are wrong—and this is not absolutely certain—the most effective move is to preach the plumb line image (ignoring the tsking of your seminary professor). In any case, nothing theological is at stake. The point is divine judgment whether we choose tin or lead.

The Lord’s judgment falls specifically on Israel’s worship centers and on the royal house of Jeroboam. These will be laid waste. The royal house has failed to protect the weak and promote justice, and the worship centers have failed to teach the justice the Lord requires and have engendered the false security that assumes that praise and proper worship earn God’s protection (2:8; 4:4–5; 5:21–24). This was a perennial failure of God’s people (Isaiah 1:10–17; Jeremiah 7:1–15). It still is. What God requires is that we “let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (5:24).

Amos’s words were more than “the land” could bear (7:10). Amaziah, the priest at Bethel, reported Amos’s words to the king and told Amos to flee back home to Judah and prophesy there. Amos was undeterred. The Lord had called him, and he must speak: “The lion has roared; who will not fear? The Lord GOD has spoken; who can but prophesy?” (3:8). The high status of the audience and place did not intimidate him, as Amaziah suggested it should. 

Several messages stand clear in the book of Amos and in this specific passage. First, God can be persuaded to relent, but divine patience is not limitless. God’s plumb line reveals the true state of things that we have ceased to notice. 

Second, God’s first requirement for us is justice and mercy, protection of the poor and vulnerable. God has little interest in our pious displays when the poor are suffering. As St. John Chrysostom says, “If you cannot find Christ in the beggar at the church door, you will not find Him in the chalice.” Those responsible for maintaining justice and providing moral leadership, the royal house and the worship centers, will go down first in the ensuing judgment (7:9). 

Third, when God commissions, you must speak, no matter who you are. A farm worker from another country may be the bearer of the truth we need to hear. And perhaps it is this third point that offers a path to preaching Amos that avoids the self-righteous tone so hard to avoid in social justice sermons from comfortable clergy. Where from outside our worship walls do we hear the voice of Amos in our time? Criticism of the church for its obvious failings is common today. How will we respond to outsiders who say we are failing in our core mission to love our neighbors and care for the oppressed? How can we make a clear and effective connection between worship and justice, prayer and service? Where does the church stand in these deadly times?

A joyful celebration of the transfer of the ark

Celebrations are important opportunities for communities to praise God for good things that God has bestowed on them. A mindful community celebrates their shared identity in such moments.¹ The people of Judah define themselves as those gathered around “the LORD of hosts who is enthroned on the cherubim” (2 Samuel 6:2). This is one of the fundamental characteristics of the community that celebrates the ark’s move to the temple mountain in the face of their God. So too, our Christian services that work consciously to bring us close to God, and to one another, in body, mind, and soul connect us to these services of our Jewish forebears.

The ark as war palladium and token of accompaniment

Still, the preacher may point out that it would be a problematic appropriation to silently imply the function of the ark as a symbol of God’s wars. The ark is the palladium holding the commands that are tokens of the covenant between Israel and their God. It is a symbol of God’s presence throughout Israel’s history.

While narratives such as 1 Samuel 4 and Numbers 10 point to the ark’s purpose of guiding the people in war, the narratives of the crossing of the Jordan and of the conquest of Jericho in Joshua 3 and 6 represent specifically a priestly understanding of the ark’s function. They evoke ritual processions of priests. The return of the ark in 2 Samuel 6 is not simply a procession. The bovine draft animals also symbolize how God guides them and the procession toward the chosen resting place for the ark.

The ark symbolizes God’s accompaniment through Israel’s success in battles and in situations of hardship. To modern readers, the war palladium of the ark as an element of a conquest narrative likely triggers ambivalent reactions. The sayings about the ark relate it to God’s presence, from which he rises up (Numbers 10:35–36) to march ahead of Israel’s troops in battle. In a narrower sense it is part of the strategic inventory of a combat mission, yet in the wider framework of God’s powerful presence, it bears the hope that God’s threat will befall the enemies and that God’s reign prevails and that God will reestablish God’s good world and creation.

A postcolonial reading must point out that this is the historiographic tradition of a small-scale state that had for most of its existence been a subordinate vassal. What’s more, while the ark in 1 Samuel 4 is an important part of the fight against the Philistines, and while it functions as a token of a warrior god rushing to help and rescue Israel, the traditions about the ark also warn that God’s presence is never granted automatically. Sending off the ark to the battlefield was an unsuccessful “Hail Mary” measure that ultimately led to defeat and the tragic loss of the ark in 1 Samuel 4.

The ark as a token of God’s presence in Israel thus invites the preacher to reflect on topics such as God’s presence among us today in battles in which we find ourselves entangled. It also invites us to think about our need for God’s blessings for any strategic venture, beyond military wars in the narrow sense. The ark also reminds us that ancient Israel was well aware of God’s free grace and forgiveness. The ark symbolizes God’s presence for Israel in a variety of ways. When David transfers the ark to Jerusalem, he affirms God’s presence in his new capital.

Transferring the ark to the temple renews and broadens the ark’s meaning for the community gathering in the temple (1 Kings 8:1–2). It is an epitome of a future resting place according to 1 Kings 8:6–7, in a context in which the cherubim on its lid become more prominent as a feature than the ark as such (Exodus 25). As a repository of the testimony, though, the Priestly writer refers to it as the “ark of the testimony,” not as the ark of the commandments (Exodus 31:18; 25:22; 26:33–34). For the Priestly writer, the ark symbolizes God’s fundamental engagement and Israel’s corresponding self-obligation (Exodus 31:18).

The preacher may point out the difference between claiming the reassuring function of symbols of God’s support in distress in one’s own faith tradition and the problematic misuse of symbols of superiority over other cultures or other faith traditions.

Challenging norms of royal behavior, negotiating concepts of masculinity and femininity

David’s joyful dance in front of the ark lends itself to non-moralistic ways of challenging royal etiquette and gender-specific behavioral norms. Dancing and leaping for joy in front of the Lord, in this procession David embodies the freedom to publicly act in ways he perceives as adequate.

Michal despises him for his behavior. In the perception of modern readers, in the larger context of patriarchy, this brief note has insulting overtones from other discourses about women in the Bible. Audiences may perceive Michal’s rejection in the wider context of a misconceptualization of women as arrogant or evil, and this may illustrate the flipside of the objectification of women. Also, they may perceive this side note on Michal as congruent with a frequent stereotype of arrogant women in royal positions. The princess’s childlessness may be seen as a form of punishment of the haughty royal spouse.

David’s freedom of dancing in front of the ark and Michal’s portrait as a compassionless, haughty royal offer an opportunity to consider the freedom of religious performance, as well as ways of questioning the norms of masculinity and behavioral stereotypes. This can invite a sideways look at “Barbie Land” and the real world of patriarchy, at “Kenergy” as the male posture of confidence and openness in support of women. Michal and David in 2 Samuel 6 present an opportunity to address patriarchy, gender-bending, and the journeys of women toward setting aside doubts and insecurities so women and men can emerge as multidimensional characters with distinct strengths and weaknesses.

Notes

1. The author thanks the Rev. Dr. Kim Beckmann for commenting on earlier versions of this commentary.

The lection consists of what are clearly the most familiar, beautiful, and beloved verses of Psalm 85, but it is helpful to look briefly at verses 1–7 in order to set the context.

Ancient origin and context

The most obvious thing about verses 1–7 is that restoration is proclaimed and celebrated (verses 1–3), and prayed for at the same time (verses 4–7). Since “restored the fortunes” (verse 1) is frequently used for the return from exile (see Jeremiah 30:3, 18; 31:23; 33:7, 11; Ezekiel 39:25), and since Deutero-Isaiah links forgiveness with the return from exile (see Isaiah 40:1–2), it makes sense to understand Psalm 85 in the context of the early postexilic period when circumstances proved far more difficult than Isaiah 40–55 had envisioned.

It is probably not coincidental that Haggai, who was active in the early postexilic period, identified the following discouraging realities in the restoration community: God’s “glory” was absent (Haggai 2:7, 9; New Revised Standard Version “splendor”); the land was not productive (Haggai 1:10); and there was no peace (Haggai 2:9; New Revised Standard Version “prosperity”). Note that these deficiencies are addressed specifically in Psalm 85:8–10, 12.

Psalm 85:1–7 may well have originated as a prayer for the discouraged restoration community, accompanied by an expression of hope that the prayer would be answered (verses 8–13). Note that “salvation” frames the section of requests (verses 4–7), and it will recur in verse 9. The word hesed, “steadfast love,” also occurs in the final line of the requests, and it will recur in verse 10.

Verses 8–13: Beyond the ancient context

While it makes good sense to construe verses 8–13 as the anticipated answer to the requests of verses 4–7 (see especially verse 8, which says “God the LORD will speak”), it is not necessary nor desirable to restrict the significance of verses 8–13 to their ancient setting. As James L. Mays suggests, “The psalm therefore is a judgment on any easy satisfaction with life under the conditions created by human character and a summons to look for and pray for the time and life created by the character of God.”¹

In other words, Psalm 85, especially verses 8–13, is a portrayal of the abundant life that God wills for all humankind in all times and in all places. So, not only does it summon us “to look for and pray for” the abundant life that God wills, as Mays suggests, but it also challenges us to work toward that abundant life for all.

To appreciate the summons and the challenge, it is helpful to realize that “salvation” (verses 4, 7, 9), biblically speaking, is the creation and/or restoration of conditions that make life possible in all its fullness for all people. At this point, “salvation” is virtually synonymous with shalom (verses 8, 10), which is usually translated “peace.” This is not a bad translation, but it is not expansive enough.

Although it may sound awkward as a translation, shalom means “comprehensive well-being.” Shalom exists when all people are attended to and provided for in such a way that they will be able not only to survive, but also to thrive. Such conditions could also be called “righteousness” (verses 10, 11, 13)—that is, when things are right for the flourishing of everyone. Together these three words are an impressive summary of the will of God for humankind (see Isaiah 32:16–18 for a similar portrayal of the divine will; this text features the words “righteousness,” shalom, and mishpat, “justice,” which is lacking in Psalm 85).

Why does God will “salvation,” shalom, and a world set right for everyone? Because God is steadfastly loving and faithful—that is, it is God’s fundamental character to love! Just as “salvation,” shalom, and “righteousness” are an admirable summary of the purposes of God for the world, so “steadfast love and faithfulness” (verse 10; see also verses 7, 11) are a summary of God’s character. God had revealed Godself to Moses with these terms, and they are paired frequently throughout the Bible (see Exodus 34:6; Psalms 100:5; 117:2; this word-pair also almost certainly underlies “grace and truth” in John 1:14, where Jesus incarnates the very character of God).

“Salvation,” shalom, and righteousness as food for all

One of the most compelling interpretations of Psalm 85 is the colorful print (or seriagraph) titled “Psalm 85” by John August Swanson.² Swanson has created an agricultural scene in which people are plowing, sowing seeds, feeding animals, and sharing food. Inscribed into the sky and soil are the poetic lines that comprise verses 10–11. Swanson does not include verse 12, but he doesn’t need to. The whole scene depicts a land yielding its increase; thus, Swanson’s work has a way of inviting attention to verse 12, the one verse in Psalm 85:8–13 that does not contain one of the highly significant words discussed above—“salvation,” shalom, “righteousness,” hesed, and “faithfulness.”

As a result, verse 12 is much more prosaic, affirming straightforwardly that the “good” that God gives is the produce of the land—that is, food. Food is the tangible expression of “salvation,” shalom, and “righteousness.” They exist when everyone is fed. Not coincidentally, the job of the Judean king was to feed his people—so, he was to be “like rain that falls on the mown grass, like showers that water the earth” (Psalm 72:6). Showers make grain grow so that “there will be an abundance of grain in the land” (Psalm 72:16). Psalm 72 describes this royal role in verses 1–7, which, like Psalm 85, features the words “righteousness” (verses 1–3, 7) and shalom (verse 3, New Revised Standard Version “prosperity”; and verse 7).

In terms of the summons and challenge mentioned above, a basic challenge is to shape a world where everyone is fed. There is food enough to feed everyone, yet 10 percent of the world’s population is daily plagued by hunger. The first of the United Nations Millennium Development Goals is to end poverty and hunger, and Psalm 85:8–13 summons us to do precisely that.

Notes

1. James L. Mays, Psalms, Interpretation (Louisville, KY: John Knox, 1994), 277–78.
2. https://johnaugustswanson.com/catalog/psalm-85/

Commentary for this text is forthcoming.