and the daughter of the same Herodias having come in, and danced, pleased Herod and those that were with [him] at table; and the king said to the damsel, Ask of me whatsoever thou wilt and I will give it thee.
Mark moves from a dance at a royal birthday party to a promise big enough to swallow half a kingdom. One evening of pleasure traps a man into murder, and it raises a question: what is a king's word really worth?
Nothing about the setting is accidental. Every part of the evening served one man's pleasure.
It was Herod's birthday — a day that fastens a man's thoughts on himself and stirs up the desire to please himself. Herod "made a supper to his lords, high captains, and chief men of Galilee." It was a royal party with himself at the centre. What more could the flesh want? It had its fill. And now his eyes were fed too — the beauty of Herodias' daughter, the grace of her movements, the elegance of her dancing. She pleased Herod and those who sat with him. What a circle of delight! Then Herod had to be equal to the occasion. If all this was for his pleasure, he must not act cheaply; he must act like a king... Here is the pride of life: claiming the power to give, like a sovereign, whatever is asked.
The size of the offer tells you what kind of man made it. Excitement carried him past all sense.
Herod, as seen in the Gospels, was a weak-minded, impressionable man... The presence of his lords and captains at his feast excited him. The dancing of the daughter of Herodias before him and his guests carried him away in a whirl of exuberant pleasure. Without any self-control, he uttered the most extravagant promises: "Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it to you," he said, adding no qualifications. And to show that this was not mere Eastern exaggeration, he confirmed his promise with oaths. The man who inherited a fourth of his father's kingdom swore to the girl, "Whatever you ask me, I will give you, up to half of my kingdom." Infatuated and drunken men sometimes speak in this wild, impulsive way. So Ahasuerus more than once promised to give Esther what she asked, up to half of his kingdom (Esther 5:3, 6; 7:2), and Herod may have foolishly thought he was imitating the great world-emperor with this boastful pledge.
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The dance was no happy accident. Writers trace two hands behind it: Herodias' and Satan's.
The right day comes, and Satan's hand is there, urging his instruments on to the final act. Men are blinded and think they are carrying out their own will. They do not see that they are the devil's plaything, and that he is leading them on in war against God... The day is well chosen: it is Herod's birthday, when his power and luxury are on show in a way that satisfies the pride of life... The lust of the eyes enters with the girl and takes possession of the king.
Herodias knew the man she was dealing with.
It would seem that Herodias had plotted for this outcome. She had set a trap for Herod and baited it with her own daughter. Knowing his disposition, she counted on some such promise from the monarch when he had been drinking.
The guests saw a delightful performance. Writers look at the heart behind it.
Note the character of the girl who pleased Herod enough to win such a promise, confirmed by an oath. It is fair to assume that her beauty and graceful movements produced this pleasure. Who could have thought that behind it all was a heart taking positive delight in corruption and violence! Oh world, here is the character of those who seduce you by their charms!
Herod treated his own word as sacred and a man's life as cheap. Yet he was never truly trapped.
The King was very sorry, but not sorry enough to admit that he had made a foolish oath which he could not keep and still do right. His own pride and his fear of men decided him to have John murdered. If she had asked for Herod's head, would he have agreed? Herod did have a way out, if he had had the least sense of responsibility to God. He might have told the girl that John's head was not his to give; but he was proud enough to think that he had title over men's bodies.
Set beside Herod, Christ answers the opposite way when men ask Him for places in His kingdom.
Though Lord of all He took the place of a subject, obedient, dependent man on earth. Instead of making Himself the centre of earth's ministry He came to minister... His poor disciples begged Him, "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you... Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory." His reply was moving: "to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared." He claims no power to give in the kingdom which He will take in obedience to His Father's will.
- Feast — Herod built the birthday supper around himself. A day given to his own pleasure set the stage.
- Dance — pleasure came in through the eyes and took over a weak, excited man with no self-control.
- Oath — carried away, he swore away half a kingdom when he ruled only a quarter. He echoed a world-emperor's old boast to Esther.
- Trap — Herodias had waited for this night. She baited the trap with her own daughter, knowing what a drinking king would promise.
- Contrast — Herod claimed a power over life that was never his. Christ, asked for places in His kingdom, refused to give what was His Father's to give.
And he swore to her, Whatsoever thou shalt ask me I will give thee, to half of my kingdom.
A birthday feast, a dance, and a king carried away far enough to promise half his kingdom. The words sound generous, even royal. Commentators read them as the peak of one man's self-display, and as the moment a trap set for John the Baptist snaps shut.
The promise has no limits, and Herod did not even rule a whole kingdom. One writer traces how he worked up to the words, and where he got them.
Herod, as seen in the Gospels, was a weak-minded, impressionable man. The straight talk of the prophet impressed him. The dancing of the daughter of Herodias before him and his guests carried him away in a whirl of exuberant pleasure. Having no self-control at all, he made the most extravagant promises: "Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it to you," he said, adding no conditions. And to show this was not mere Eastern exaggeration, he confirmed his promise with oaths. The man who inherited a fourth of his father's kingdom swore to the girl, "Whatever you ask me, I will give you, up to half of my kingdom." Infatuated and drunken men sometimes speak in this wild, headlong way. Ahasuerus more than once promised Esther whatever she asked, up to half of his kingdom. Herod may have foolishly thought he was copying that great world-emperor with this boastful pledge.
Herod had built the whole evening around himself.
It was Herod's birthday, a day which naturally fastens a man's thoughts on himself and makes him want to gratify himself. Herod "gave a banquet for his nobles and military commanders and the leading men of Galilee." It was a royal entertainment with himself at the centre. What more could the flesh want? It was satisfied to the full. His eyes feasted too on the beauty of Herodias' daughter, on the grace of her movements and the elegance of her dancing. She pleased Herod and those who sat with him. Then Herod had to match the occasion. If all this is for his gratification, he must not act meanly, he must act like a king. So he swore to her, "Whatever you ask me, I will give you, up to half of my kingdom." Here is the pride of life. He assumes the power to give, like a sovereign, whatever anyone asks.
Herod's oath looks spontaneous. One writer argues someone had planned for it.
It seems that Herodias had plotted for this outcome. She had set a trap for Herod and baited it with her own daughter. Knowing his character, she counted on some such promise from the ruler when he was well into his drink. The sweetness of revenge meant more to her than half of Galilee, so she told her daughter to ask for the head of John the Baptist.
Herod kept his oath even though keeping it meant murder. One writer asks what he could have done instead.
The king was exceedingly sorry, but not sorry enough to admit that he had made a foolish oath and could not righteously keep it. His own pride and his fear of men decided him to have John murdered. In fact, Herod did have a way out if he had had the least sense of responsibility to God. He might have told the girl that John's head was not his to give; but he was proud enough to think he had title over men's bodies.
One writer sums it up in a single sentence: "It has been well said, 'The devil's promises are better broken than kept.'" Hamilton Smith
Commentators differ on whether Herod was a weak man. One writer sees no weakness in him at all — only an oath his enemies could use against him.
He was by no means a weak man. He would not have killed the Baptist just because Herodias or her daughter wanted it. They trapped him instead through his superstitious regard for his oath. The man is blessed who "swears to his own hurt and does not change"; but Herod kept it to the hurt of another.
Others also asked Christ for whatever they wanted. His reply refused the very power Herod claimed.
Though Lord of all, He took the place of a subject, an obedient, dependent man on earth. Instead of making Himself the centre of earth's ministry, He came to minister... His poor disciples begged Him, "Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory." How moving was His reply: "...to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared." He claims no power to give in that kingdom. He will receive it in obedience to His Father's will.
- Flattered. Excitement, applause and a dance emptied Herod of self-control. He promised with no conditions attached.
- Inflated. Half a kingdom may have been a phrase copied from a far greater ruler. The offer measured Herod's vanity, not his generosity.
- Baited. Herodias knew the man, used her own daughter as bait, and valued revenge above half of Galilee.
- Trapped. A foolish oath, not real strength, gave others their handle on him. He kept his word at another man's cost.
- Contrasted. Asked for the highest places, Christ said they were not His to grant. Herod's boast has none of that humility.
And she went out, and said to her mother, What should I ask? And she said, The head of John the baptist.
A king has just sworn a rash oath at his birthday banquet. A young dancer steps out of the hall to ask her mother what to name as her prize. The answer she brings back turns an evening's entertainment into the murder of God's servant.
She had to leave the hall to ask, because her mother was not at the table. She went to the one person who should have guided her — and that is where the tragedy lies.
The promise had no limits. So the girl went out to ask her mother, who by Eastern custom was not present at the banquet. Such consultation was in itself a proper step to take. Sadly, her mother could only counsel her for evil and not for good. It would seem that Herodias had plotted for this outcome. She had set a trap for Herod and baited it with her own daughter. Knowing his disposition, she counted on some such promise from the ruler when he was well into his drink. And now the "convenient" moment had come. Revenge was sweeter to her than half of Galilee, so she told her daughter to ask for the head of John the Baptist.
Herodias could have named money, land, or half of Galilee. She named a man's life, because his preaching had named her sin.
He came in the "way of righteousness" (Matt. 21:32), and he kept to it to the end... He shows his practical righteousness and holiness when he says to the king, "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife." But the testimony of the faithful does not improve the world. It condemns the world, and that is what the world cannot bear... Even when held back, the sinner cannot give up sinning. He goes on in his sin by getting rid of the witness who condemns him.
Mark's account has her step out to check with her mother. But the plan was new to neither of them.
The immoral mother started it. Her heart thirsted for revenge on God's servant. But the daughter entered eagerly into the plan. Matthew tells us that it was all planned beforehand, and that her mother had instructed the daughter. Yet it appears that once she had the king's promise she took it back to Herodias (see Mark's account), and the plan was confirmed.
Compare what the mother said with what the girl then said to the king. The extras were her own.
It seems it was the daughter who wanted the gruesome reward handed to her on a dish, in front of all the guests. She also demanded the hideous gift at once. She feared that the weak-minded king might regret his rash vow and take back his promise.
Set the cost of the request beside what bought it, and the whole system stands exposed.
So the dance of a loose girl cheaply buys the death of the prophet, and the king's oath stays unbroken. What a world it is, from every angle — in its pleasures, its morals, or its underlying passions and hatreds! In such a world, what an honour to be persecuted! What a disgrace to be well thought of!
Was the king trapped by his own oath? One writer says he was not.
The king was very sorry, but not sorry enough to admit he had made a foolish oath that he could not righteously keep. His own pride and his fear of men decided him to have John murdered. If she had asked for Herod's head, would he have agreed? In fact, Herod did have a way out if he had had the least sense of responsibility to God. He might have told the girl that John's head was not his to give.
One rash promise, kept when it should have been broken, pointed to something worse still ahead.
The king, pleased by a dance, makes a rash promise, and rather than break his promise has John killed. It has been well said, "The devil's promises are better broken than kept." The rejection and murder of John, the forerunner of Christ, is a solemn sign. In due time Herod will take his part in the rejection and crucifixion of Christ.
- Asking — Going to her mother for counsel was right in itself. The whole disaster lay in whom she asked. A proper habit is only as safe as the adviser.
- Baiting — Herodias plotted the moment, knew Herod's weakness, and used her own daughter as the bait. Revenge mattered more to her than half of Galilee.
- Bearing — Faithful testimony does not improve the world; it condemns it. John died for that. The sinner who will not drop his sin silences the witness instead.
- Buying — A dance bought a prophet's life. In a world with such prices, persecution is the honour and popularity the disgrace.
- Breaking — Herod could have said John's head was not his to give. He kept a promise he should have broken. That murder marked out the road to the rejection of Christ Himself.
And immediately going in with haste to the king, she asked saying, I desire that thou give me directly upon a dish the head of John the baptist.
Herod's birthday feast has just produced a reckless oath. The girl who danced has stepped out to ask her mother what to name as her prize. She comes back with a demand that turns a banquet hall into a place of execution. Commentators fix on two things: how fast she asks, and the dish she asks it on.
She hurried in and wanted it done at once. Writers say the rush was hers, not her mother's — she feared the king might come to his senses.
Herodias's depraved instincts appear in the daughter too. She hurried back to the king and delivered her mother's message with additions of her own. Compare the mother's words with the girl's. It seems the daughter was the one who wanted the gruesome reward handed to her on a dish, in front of all the guests. She also demanded the hideous gift at once. She feared the weak-minded king might regret his rash vow and take back his promise.
What was the platter she asked for? A dictionary entry sums it up: an everyday serving dish.
Dish. Num. 7:13-85; Matt. 14:8, 11; Mark 6:25, 28. In Ezra 1:9 it is basin or bowl. In the New Testament it is πίναξ, probably a wooden platter.
That detail is not decoration. The dish tells you what kind of hunger was at that table.
The immoral mother, with a heart thirsting for revenge on God's servant, was the instigator. But the daughter clearly entered eagerly into the plan… What but a heart thoroughly used to wickedness could have made her hurry in and ask, in front of the king and all his guests, to hold the severed head of God's honoured servant in her own hands? She would have it in a dish, as if to show that this alone was the food that would satisfy their hunger for revenge.
The girl who had just delighted a room full of nobles now asks for a killing. Commentators read that gap as a warning about how the world draws people in.
It is fair to assume that the pleasure she gave Herod came from her beauty and the grace of her movements. Who could have thought that behind all this was a heart taking positive delight in corruption and violence! Oh world, world! Here is the character of those who seduce you by their charms.
Commentators take the scene as a portrait of the world itself.
The world is the place where a man makes himself the object and the centre. He chases his pleasure, feeds his lust, and lifts himself up in pride. It is the place where seductions abound: they have natural beauty and grace, but inside they are full of corruption and violence, deceit and blood. And it is the place where Satan uses these things to wipe out, as far as he can, every trace of God's testimony.
Everyone in the room believes they are doing as they please. Commentators say otherwise: another hand is moving them, and this request is the last spring he touches.
A "convenient day" arrives. Satan's hand is there, urging on his instruments to the final act. Men are blinded and think they are carrying out their own will. They do not see that they are the devil's plaything, and that he is leading them into war against God. Only one or two more secret springs in man's heart need a touch, and the crime will follow… Urged on by her mother, this thoughtless girl asks eagerly for the head of John the Baptist — "at once." She has no conscience, and she is used to having her whims obeyed.
Why does anyone want this man's head? Writers trace it back to a rebuke — and to a promise the king would not break.
Herod had formed a guilty marriage with his brother's wife, and John the Baptist had rebuked him for his sin. This rebuke stirred up the hatred of Herodias, the guilty adulteress. She would have killed John but could find no way to do it, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a just and holy man… The king, pleased by a dance, makes a rash promise, and rather than break his promise has John killed. It has been well said, "The devil's promises are better broken than kept."
Another writer notes that the king still had a way out.
Even then there was still a way out, for what she asked did not belong to him. On the contrary, he held authority in order to do justice and judgment, and he ought to protect the life of the innocent.
- Asked in haste — the girl adds her own urgency, "at once," because she fears the king may sober up and withdraw his word.
- Asked on a dish — a plain serving platter, as though revenge were the next course at the feast.
- Asked by charm — her beauty and grace won the promise. Behind them was a heart at home with corruption and violence.
- Asked by prompting — mother, daughter and king all think they are choosing freely. Satan is moving them against God.
- Asked and granted — John had rebuked the king's sin, and a rash oath now cost him his life. Yet that life was never the king's to give.
And the king, [while] made very sorry, on account of the oaths and those lying at table with [him] would not break his word with her.
At Herod's birthday feast a rash promise meets a terrible request. The king who once enjoyed listening to John is now deeply sorry — and he orders the murder anyway.
Herod's sorrow was not mild. The verse calls him exceedingly sorry. Yet deep feeling and real repentance are not the same thing:
Herod was a man of extreme but superficial feeling. He heard John gladly, even though the prophet condemned the sin he was guilty of. We also read that he was sorry — "exceedingly sorry." He had realised what a cruel outrage he had committed himself to. The rich young ruler was sorry too when he refused the call of Jesus. But in neither man did the sorrow produce repentance. When Pilate sent Jesus to Herod he was glad, "exceedingly glad," to see Him. But the only result of that meeting was to show the hard cruelty of his nature. With all his sorrow, Herod killed the servant in Galilee. With all his gladness he mocked the Master at Jerusalem.
Herod built the trap himself, one word at a time, in front of his guests:
Herod, as seen in the Gospels, was a weak-minded, impressionable man. So the plain speaking of the prophet impressed him. The presence of his lords and captains at his feast excited him. The dancing of the daughter of Herodias before him and his guests carried him away in a whirl of pleasure. He had no self-control at all. He made the most extravagant promises. "Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it to you," he said, adding no conditions. And to show this was not mere exaggeration, he backed his promise with oaths.
One writer sums up the whole scene in a single line:
The king, pleased by a dance, makes a rash promise, and rather than break his promise has John killed. It has been well said, "The devil's promises are better broken than kept."
Commentators differ on whether Herod was weak. Another writer sees the oath itself as the hook that caught him, and names who paid for it:
He was by no means a weak man. He would not have killed the Baptist just because Herodias or her daughter wanted it. But they trapped him through his superstitious regard for his oath. The man is blessed who "keeps his oath to his own hurt"; but Herod kept his to the hurt of another.
A door was still open. John's life was not the king's to give, and saying no would have cost Herod only his standing in the room:
The king was sorry. He had been trapped and brought to a point he had never meant to reach. Even now there was a chance to escape, because what she asked for did not belong to him. On the contrary, he was put in authority to do justice, and he should have protected the life of the innocent. But he had already committed himself to an unjust course. He had imprisoned John and kept him there. In the end his pride decided the matter. He had sworn to give, in front of all his noble guests. Rather than lose his assumed place of sovereign power, he would give away what belonged to God.
Herod's conscience was awake. That is what makes the verse so serious. A conscience can feel what is right and still refuse to bow to it — and then it can be led anywhere:
Here conscience is shown in a man who felt what was right and heard the word gladly for a time. But there was no repentance. He never submitted his soul to the conviction that passed for a moment through his mind — the conviction of what was true, just, and of God. So the enemy arranged the circumstances, and God allowed it, and Herod showed how worthless natural conscience is. He showed it towards the very person he had acknowledged as a prophet. Now everything was lost. One guilty hour at a banquet did it: the wish to please someone as bad or worse than himself trapped his weakness and tied his word. That is where natural conscience ends. Herod orders what he would never have thought it possible for him to do.
- Sorry — Herod's grief was real, but it produced no repentance. Sorrow that changes nothing leaves a man where he was.
- Trapped — His guests excited him and the dancing carried him away. He promised anything she asked, with no conditions, and sealed it with oaths.
- Bound — His regard for that oath caught him. He kept his word at another man's cost. Promises that come from the enemy are better broken than kept.
- Proud — A way out remained: John's life was never his to give. But rather than lose face before his guests, he gave away what belonged to God.
- Ruined — A conscience that feels the truth but never bows to it can be led into a crime the man himself would have called unthinkable. That is where natural conscience ends.
And immediately the king, having sent one of the guard, ordered his head to be brought. And he went out and beheaded him in the prison,
Mark moves straight from a banquet hall to a prison cell, where a guard takes John's life. Why does a faithful servant die at the word of a weak king, and why does God not step in?
The word for the man Herod sent has a history in the Old Testament. One reference work traces it and ends at this scene.
This word does not occur in the Old Testament except in the margin. In three places the text calls certain men "captain of the guard," and the margin calls them "chief of the executioners or slaughtermen" (Genesis 37:36; Jeremiah 39:9; Daniel 2:14)... In Mark 6:27 Herod Antipas called an executioner, or one of his guard, to behead John the Baptist.
Herod was not trapped. He held the authority that should have protected John, and he had every opening to refuse.
The king was sorry. He had been ensnared and brought to a point he had never meant to reach. Even then there was a way out, because what was asked was not his to give. On the contrary, he had been placed in authority to do justice and judgment, and he should have protected the life of an innocent man. But he had already committed himself to injustice by imprisoning John and keeping him there, and his pride settled the matter. In front of all his noble guests he had sworn to give, and rather than surrender his assumed place of sovereign power he gave away what belonged to God.
Herod treated his oath as the one thing he could not break. Another writer weighs that kind of promise.
The king, pleased by a dance, makes a rash promise, and rather than break his promise has John killed. It has been well said, "The devil's promises are better broken than kept."
Herod had listened to John and liked listening. At the decisive moment it made no difference.
Here we see conscience in a man who felt what was right and heard the word gladly for a time. But there was no repentance, no submission of his soul to the conviction that passed for a moment through his mind of what was true, just, and of God. As a result, the enemy managed the circumstances and God permitted them, so that Herod should show the worthlessness of natural conscience. He showed it toward the very person he had acknowledged as a prophet... There is the end of natural conscience. Herod orders what he would never have thought himself capable of doing.
Scripture gives the execution one short clause and no drama.
What a moment it must have been when the messenger entered John's dungeon and his life was taken. "He went and beheaded him in the prison." This is all the Spirit of God tells us about it. No doubt John met the messenger in the triumph of faith.
John did not get the peaceful old age a godly life seems to promise. One writer sets his death beside Elijah's.
The crown of martyrdom was for John, not the grey head, the earthly crown of glory, for he did not live out half his days... Like Elijah, in whose spirit and power he came, John too was hated by a Jezebel. Elisha saw Elijah disappear in a blaze of surpassing glory. But John's disciples had to rescue the bleeding and headless body of their master from the vultures and the dogs. These facts seem to contradict each other. The truth that explains them is this: God was not vindicating the righteous on the earth at that time, as He will yet do.
John went ahead of his Master in death as well as in ministry. One writer points to where Mark places the story.
The end of the faithful forerunner is recorded at this point, in the middle of the account of our Lord's rejection. Surely He too, in a little while, must drink the cup — but for Him mixed with wrath — that His faithful servant was tasting.
- Conscience. Herod felt the truth and enjoyed hearing it, but never bowed to it — and a conscience that is only stirred will collapse under pressure.
- Compromise. He had already begun with injustice by jailing John; the murder was the next step on a road he was walking, not a sudden fall.
- Command. Pride before his guests, not conviction, moved his lips — he gave away a life that was never his to give.
- Cost. Herod sent a guard, and John died unseen in a cell — Scripture tells it in one short clause.
- Crown. God was not settling accounts on earth that day. John received a martyr's crown instead of an old man's, one step ahead of the Master who would soon drink a deeper cup.
and brought his head upon a dish, and gave it to the damsel, and the damsel gave it to her mother.
John the Baptist's ministry ends as the last course of a king's banquet. What kind of world does this scene expose, and why did God allow His faithful messenger to end this way?
The word behind "platter" points to an ordinary piece of tableware.
Dish. Mark 6:25, 28. In the New Testament it is πίναξ, probably a wooden plate.
The dish itself seems to have been the daughter's own idea.
Compare the words of the mother with those of the daughter. It seems the daughter was the one who wanted the gruesome reward handed to her on a dish in front of all the guests. She also demanded the hideous gift at once. She was afraid the weak-minded king might regret his rash vow and take back his promise... In front of the whole gathering of rank and nobility, the shameless girl received her chosen reward. She carried the trophy of blood on the dish to her mother as her share of the feast.
One writer reads Herod's court as a picture of the whole world.
In the court of Herod we get a true picture of this world marked by corruption and violence. The lust of the flesh had led the ruler of the people into an infamous alliance with his brother Philip's wife. He could not answer the rebukes of a godly man, and a wicked woman influenced him. So he degrades justice by throwing a righteous man into prison. Only his fear of the people holds him back from murder. Then comes a day when the lust of the eyes finds a passing pleasure in the charms of a dancing girl. It leads the frivolous king into a rash oath. Finally the pride of life leads him to commit murder to keep up his shabby ideas of honour.
The king regretted it, and one writer shows he could still have stopped.
The king was sorry. A trap had caught him and brought him to a point he never meant to reach. Even then he could still escape, because what she asked for did not belong to him. On the contrary, he held authority to do justice and judgment, and he should have protected the life of the guiltless. But he had already committed himself to a course of injustice by imprisoning John and keeping him in prison, and his pride decided the matter. In front of all his noble guests he had sworn to give. Rather than lose his assumed place of sovereign power, he would give away what belonged to God.
The same writer sets Herod's reckless promise beside the Lord's answer when two disciples asked Him for whatever they wanted.
How moving was His reply after He questioned them: "You will drink the cup that I drink, and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized, but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared." He claims no power to give in the kingdom He will receive in obedience to His Father's will.
The head could be carried out of the room; the memory could not be carried out of the conscience.
Was there no one there whose heart cried out against this horrible crime? Would the sight of that head not burn into Herod's conscience for the rest of his life? Could the girl or her mother ever get rid of the guilt of this enormous crime, pressed on them by the sight of that head?
Herod's later reaction to the reports about Jesus shows how the crime followed him.
Of what advantage is his crime to him? From now on it will always be his companion. He hears people speaking of Jesus and His miracles. "It is John," he says, "whom I beheaded; he is risen from the dead."... He wants to be rid of this vague terror. It had gripped him at the thought of meeting again the man he had put to death. So he wants to see Jesus, perhaps to kill Him too. Anything is better than uncertainty. But the uncertainty stays, despite everything. When Herod at last sees the Saviour, he can neither see His miracles nor hear Him. He meets on earth a silent Christ, whose voice he will not hear until later, when he will see Him as Judge.
John's faithful life ended in disgrace, and one writer explains why.
A woman killed him in disgrace, like Sisera the cursed Canaanite, and like Abimelech, the murderer of seventy of his brothers. Like Elijah, in whose spirit and power he came, John too was hated by a Jezebel. Elisha saw Elijah disappear in a blaze of glory. John's disciples had to rescue the bleeding, headless body of their master from the vultures and the dogs. One truth explains this contrast: God was not vindicating the righteous on earth at that time, as He will yet do.
John was the Forerunner, the messenger sent ahead of Christ.
The rejection and murder of the Forerunner is a solemn sign that, in due time, Herod will take his part in the rejection and crucifixion of Christ.
- The gift asked — a head on a plain wooden dish. The girl added her own touch: hand it over at once, in front of the guests.
- The gift given — Herod gave away what was never his. He held authority to protect the guiltless, and traded that duty for his good name.
- The gift kept — the head left the room, but the guilt stayed. Herod carried the crime until he stood before a silent Christ.
- The gift delayed — John's end was not God's failure. God was not vindicating the righteous on earth in that day. He will yet do it.