For Herod had seized John, and had bound him and put him in prison on account of Herodias the wife of Philip his brother.
Matthew 14:3 turns the clock back. Before telling us how John the Baptist died, Matthew explains why he was in a cell at all. A ruler had taken his brother's wife, and the preacher who said so ended up in chains.
The wording of the verse is careful — Herodias is called the wife of Herod's brother Philip. That relationship is what put John in chains. One writer sets out how tangled it was.
John rebuked the king for the many well-known evils he had done. But perhaps his blackest crime was to marry his brother Philip's wife. The fearless prophet did not hold back from naming the incestuous adulterer to his face, even though the man sat on a throne. He condemned him by the laws of God and man (Lev. 18:16; Lev. 20:21). "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife" summed up his charge. The king's guilt was three times over. Herod's own wife was alive, the husband of Herodias was alive, and Herod and Herodias were uncle and niece.
The verse names the reason for the arrest: it was for the sake of Herodias. Herod was not punishing a crime. He was removing a voice.
Herod loved his own power and his own glory more than he was willing to bow to the testimony of God. A false human idea held him more firmly than his conscience did, though in many things he seems to have felt the power of the truth. He cut off the head of John the Baptist, the one sent ahead of the Messiah. He had already put him in prison, to take out of his wife's sight the man who faithfully rebuked the sin she was living in.
Removing John did not remove the problem.
But the testimony of faithful people does not improve the world. It condemns the world, and that is what the world cannot bear… The sinner cannot give up sinning, even when he is held back. He keeps on in his sin by getting rid of the witness who condemns him. So Herod has John seized, bound, and put in prison.
The arrest happened in a royal court, and one writer finds the whole character of the world in it.
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 a shameful union with his brother Philip's wife. He could not answer the rebukes of a godly man, and a wicked woman had his ear. So he drags justice down by throwing a righteous man into prison. Only the fear of the people holds him back from murder.
Herod was not without a conscience. It did not change what he did.
It was not only that the people were blind; among them ruled a false and reckless king. He was not afraid to imprison that blessed witness of God, and at last to kill him… Bad as Herod was, he was not completely without a conscience. John's preaching had reached it, at least far enough to make him uneasy. But the outcome is what anyone would expect who knows that an enemy stands behind the scene, hating all that is of God.
John did not adjust his message for a king. The prison was the direct result.
John was faithful not only to the lower classes, but to the highest as well. His testimony to Christ was decisive. He made nothing of his own glory, so that the Lord might be lifted high. And he suffered for it too; he was shut up in prison for righteousness.
John was sent ahead of Jesus, and he went ahead of Him in this too.
John truly went ahead of the Messiah — the righteous Servant of Jehovah — right up to the very last act of his public testimony. He bore witness to the Anointed Sufferer in the prison just as much as in the wilderness, because both he and his Master were cut off in the middle of their days.
Matthew tells this story at the point where Herod hears about Jesus. The arrest recorded here comes back to haunt him.
A bad conscience is a very active thing. It acts at once. It takes fright at the shaking of a leaf. It makes cowards of us all. So it was with king Herod. His conscience kept the image of the murdered man before him, and the thought that John had risen was something of hell itself to him.
- Cause. Herod took his brother Philip's wife while her husband and his own wife were still alive. The laws of God and man condemned that marriage.
- Chains. The arrest was not justice. Herod removed John so that the sin could go on without the voice that named it.
- Court. Herod's palace is a picture of the world — corruption, then violence, with justice bent to protect a lust.
- Cost. John spoke to the highest as freely as to the crowds, and he was shut up in prison for righteousness.
- Consequence. Herod locked the witness away, but not his own conscience. He could never hear of Jesus in peace again.
For John said to him, It is not lawful for thee to have her.
John's arrest was not about politics. He had told the king to his face that his marriage was unlawful. This verse gives the one sentence that put him in prison and cost him his head.
The wording points to a message John kept repeating. One writer reads that out of the Greek, and asks what a hearer tired of the subject would say.
Someone will perhaps say: "I wish you would change your tune, sir. Why do you keep bringing up this question of sin?" Herod no doubt said something of the same sort to John the Baptist. The king often sent for the great preacher, but he had one text: "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife." The imperfect tense in the Greek of Mark 6:18 shows this was John's constant theme with the wicked king... The guilt of sin is the first divine lesson every man has to learn. Until this has been learnt no other lesson is possible.
Matthew gives the charge in its shortest form. Another writer names the law it broke.
John rebuked the king for the many notorious evils he had done. Perhaps his blackest crime was to marry his brother Philip's wife. The fearless prophet did not shrink from denouncing the incestuous adulterer to his face, though he sat on a throne. He condemned him by the laws of God and man (Lev. 18:16; Lev. 20:21). "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife" summed up his charge. The king's guilt was three times over great. Herod's own wife was alive. The husband of Herodias was alive. And Herod and Herodias were uncle and niece. But there was no repentance.
John matched his words to his hearer. The king was no exception.
He does not talk vaguely to people about sin in the abstract, but directly and pointedly about their own sins. He says to the tax collectors, whose special mark was extortion, "Collect no more than you are authorized to do"... To Herod the king, who was no doubt used to very different language, he addresses the rebuke brief and stern, "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife." These last few words cost him his life.
Herod's answer to the charge was prison. One writer names what Herod loved more than the truth, and why the prison served his wife too.
Herod loved his earthly power and his own glory more than submission to the testimony of God. A false human idea bound him more than his conscience did, although in many things he seems to have acknowledged the power of the truth. He cut off the head of John the Baptist, the forerunner of the Messiah. He had already imprisoned him, to remove out of his wife's sight the faithful reprover of the sin she was living in.
A second writer shows why such words are hated, and what Herod did instead of repenting.
But the testimony of the faithful, instead of improving the world, condemns it, and this is what it cannot bear... The lust of the flesh was at work in this man's heart. To satisfy it, he went on into wickedness and pollution. The sinner cannot give up sinning even though he is under restraint. He goes on in his sin by getting rid of the witness who condemns him.
Herod silenced the preacher, but not the preaching. One writer hears the same charge in the words of Jesus.
He had removed the head of the Baptist, but the voice that spoke of righteousness and purity was not silenced. Men may kill the witness for the truth, and show his bloodied head at the wild feasts of the wicked. But no sword can put truth itself to death. And Herod was not mistaken in thinking that the Voice then preaching in Capernaum and Chorazin was saying to him, "It is not lawful for you to have her."
John spoke plainly to a king. Others in his place rarely do.
Men who are willing to rebuke sin in high places are scarce. Nathan dealt faithfully with David (2 Sam. 12). John the Baptist put his finger on the fatal spot every time he stood before Herod: "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife"... Sadly, professional clergy too often fit their words to the wishes of the ruling powers. They become instruments in their hands for deceiving the people.
- Said, and kept saying. The tense of the verb points to a message John repeated whenever Herod sent for him — one text, never softened.
- A named law. The charge rested on written commands about a brother's wife. Herod's guilt was threefold: his own wife living, her husband living, and the two of them uncle and niece.
- Named people. John aimed at the hearer's own sin, whether tax collector or king. The few words he spoke to Herod cost him his life.
- Silence the man, keep the sin. Herod imprisoned the reprover instead of repenting. The sinner who will not stop sinning removes the witness who condemns him.
- The voice remains. The head fell, but truth is not put to death by the sword — Herod still heard the charge in Jesus' preaching.
And [while] desiring to kill him, he feared the crowd, because they held him for a prophet.
Herod wanted John the Baptist dead, and he had the power to kill him. What held him back was not conscience or law, but the crowd. This verse shows what really stops many people from sinning — and whether that check counts for anything before God.
The last phrase turns on a Greek verb that usually means "to have." One commentator shows how it comes to mean "regard":
The Greek verb echo appears very often in senses far wider than "possession." Writers used it, especially with adverbs or with nouns after prepositions, when they meant a state of mind or feeling. The step from there to the sense of "regard," needed here and in Mark 11:32, is a natural one. Our own word "hold" is the matching case: in everyday use it means to "account," as well as, in its plain sense, to "keep" or "have."
The imprisonment in the previous verses was not the end of the matter. One writer traces the slide from Herod's sin to his wish to kill the man who named it:
The sinner cannot give up sinning, even under restraint. He goes on in his sin by getting rid of the witness who condemns him. Herod has John arrested, bound, and thrown into prison. Corruption always brings violence next. Held in check at first, it opens the door to murderous thoughts, and his conscience grows harder and harder.
Herod is stopped, but he is not changed. What is such a check worth once Satan is at work?
The people were blinded, and a false and reckless king ruled among them. He did not shrink from imprisoning that blessed witness of God, and in the end from killing him. It was not that he had no fear of the crowd (verse 5); his passions would have driven him to do the deed. Nor was he without sorrow and qualms when the moment came. But what can such restraints do against the schemes and power of Satan? Bad as Herod was, he still had some conscience, and John's preaching had reached it, at least far enough to make him uneasy.
One writer names Herod's real motive. It was not reverence for God that stayed his hand:
He does not object to the crime out of fear of God. He fears public opinion, and he selfishly does not want to lose his influence and prestige.
Fear of people can produce a kind of obedience, with the main sin left untouched:
Where one person says, "How can I do this and sin against God?" many in their hearts say, "How can I do this and anger people?" Herod feared John and did many things. Had he feared God, he would have worked to do everything.
The crowd's view of John shielded him for a time. Later it silenced the religious leaders too:
Herod hardened his heart. As the Spirit of God says, he added this to all the rest: he shut John up in prison. He would have done worse to him, but "though he wanted to put him to death, he feared the people, because they held him to be a prophet." Public opinion in favour of John was so strong that the chief priests and elders were also afraid to oppose it (Matt. 21:26).
One writer reads the whole scene as a portrait of the world:
In Herod's court we get a true picture of this world, marked by corruption and violence. He could not answer the rebukes of a godly man, and a wicked woman swayed him. So he degrades justice by throwing a righteous man into prison. Only fear of the people holds him back from murder. Then comes a day when the lust of the eyes takes over. The frivolous king finds a passing pleasure in the charms of a dancing girl, and it leads him into a rash oath. In the end the pride of life leads him to commit murder, to protect his worthless ideas of honour. Neither the country people nor the court will receive Christ, or any witness to Christ.
- Held. "Held him to be a prophet" uses a verb meaning to regard or account. The crowd's view of John was the one thing standing between him and the sword.
- Hardened. Herod's corruption bred violence. He could not stop sinning, so he moved to silence the witness, and his conscience grew harder.
- Held back. He was stopped, but not changed. Qualms and crowd pressure are no match for Satan's power once passion takes over.
- Half-obedient. He feared John, not God. So he did many things and left the one thing undone. That is the mark of anyone who asks what people will say instead of what God says.
- Handed over. The same fear of the crowd that spared John later gripped the chief priests and elders. Herod's court pictures a world that will not have Christ, or any witness to Him.
But when Herod's birthday was celebrated, the daughter of Herodias danced before them, and pleased Herod;
One evening of palace entertainment ends with the death of a prophet. Commentators read this birthday scene as more than court gossip. It shows what the world really is, and where unchecked pleasure leads.
Scripture says very little about birthday parties. One reference book gathers every mention.
Scripture records only two birthdays being kept. One is Pharaoh's, Genesis 40:20. The other is that of Herod Antipas, when John the Baptist lost his life, Matthew 14:6; Mark 6:21. We do not read that the Israelites had any such custom. And the Preacher says the day of death is better than the day of one's birth, Ecclesiastes 7:1.
One writer reads Herod's whole court through three appetites.
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 a shameful 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 and throws 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 protect his cheap ideas of honour.
The same writer warns that this scene is not just ancient history.
At different times the world may express itself in different ways. The fashions of this world change, but at heart it is always the same.
The dance was not innocent party fun. One writer sees a trap Herodias had laid, with her own daughter as the bait.
It seems 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 king once he had drunk well. And now the "convenient" moment had come. The sweetness of revenge meant more to her than half of Galilee. So she instructed her daughter to ask for the head of John the Baptist.
Herod was no hardened schemer. He was swept along by whatever was in front of him.
Herod, as seen in the Gospels, was a weak-minded, easily impressed man. So the plain speaking of the prophet impressed him. The presence of his lords and captains at his feast excited him. The daughter of Herodias danced before him and his guests, and it carried him away in a rush of excited pleasure. He had no self-control at all, and he made the most extravagant promises. "Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it to you," he said, adding no conditions. He backed the promise with oaths. The man who had inherited a quarter of his father's kingdom swore to the girl, "Whatever you ask me, I will give you, up to half of my kingdom."
Behind that loss of control, another writer sees a hand the guests never noticed.
Satan's hand is there, urging on his instruments to the final act. Men are blinded. They 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.
Herod was sorry, but his oath was no defence. One writer points out the honest way out that was open to him.
The king was sorry. But the pride of keeping his word outweighed the moral outrage of his conscience at murdering a servant of God. In fact he could easily have spared John without breaking his oath. He only had to admit honestly that John's life was not his to give. Instead he chose to ignore his responsibility to God.
Herod put himself at the centre of the feast and swore away half a kingdom. The Lord Jesus took the opposite place.
Instead of making Himself the centre of earth's ministry, He came to serve. He found the scope of that service in man's need, and the rule of it in His Father's will... He claims no power to give in the kingdom that He will receive in obedience to His Father's will. But in grace He will join those He loves to Himself in His path of suffering and rejection.
- The day — Scripture records only two birthdays kept, Pharaoh's and Herod's. At Herod's, John lost his life.
- The dance — a dancing girl brings in the lust of the eyes, and a court already ruled by the lust of the flesh gives way.
- The oath — a man with no self-control swears away half a kingdom, and pride will not let him take it back.
- The excuse — Herod could have said John's life was not his to give. He kept his word to men and ignored his duty to God.
- The contrast — Herod promised what was not his to give. Christ took the servant's place and claimed no power to give in His Father's kingdom.
whereupon he promised with oath to give her whatsoever she should ask.
Herod's birthday feast is at its height. A dance has pleased him, and in front of his guests he swears to give the girl whatever she asks. One reckless sentence cost a faithful man his life, and it exposed the man who spoke it.
Herod's pledge is striking for what it leaves out. He attaches no condition. He adds an oath so everyone knows he means it.
Herod, as seen in the Gospels, was a weak-minded, impressionable man… The daughter of Herodias danced before him and his guests. It swept him away in a rush of pleasure. He had no self-control. He made the wildest promises: "Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it to you," he said. He added no conditions. And to show that this was not just Eastern exaggeration, he backed his promise with oaths… Ahasuerus more than once promised Esther whatever she asked, up to half of his kingdom (Esther 5:3, 6; Esther 7:2). Herod may have been foolish enough to think he was copying the great world-emperor with this boastful pledge.
The promise was not generosity. It was a performance for the guests, by a man who had to look like a king.
It was a royal entertainment of which he himself was the centre. What could the flesh desire more? It was gratified to the full. Their eyes were pleased too, by the display of the beauty of Herodias' daughter… Then Herod had to rise to the occasion. If all this is for his gratification he must not act meanly, he must act as a king. So he swore to her, saying, "Whatever you ask me, I will give you, up to half of my kingdom." Here is the pride of life — claiming for himself the power to grant, like a sovereign, whatever anyone asks.
Herod thought the moment was his own. A woman who knew his weakness had planned it.
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. And now the "convenient" moment had come. The sweetness of revenge mattered more to her than half of Galilee, so she instructed her daughter to ask for the head of John the Baptist.
Herod hid behind his word, as though he had no choice. But one honest sentence would have freed him.
Though the king was sorry, the pride of keeping his word outweighed the moral outrage of his conscience in murdering the servant of God. In fact, he could easily have spared John without breaking his oath. He only had to admit honestly that John's life was not his to give. But he chose to ignore his responsibility to God.
Another writer names what Herod valued more than the truth.
Herod loved his earthly power and his own glory more than he loved submitting to the testimony of God. A false human idea bound him more than his conscience did.
The feast is not just one man's failure. Each stage of the story names a different appetite.
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 a shameful alliance with his brother Philip's wife… Then comes a day when the lust of the eyes takes 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 maintain his cheap ideas of honour.
Herod claimed the right to hand out whatever anyone asked. When two of His own disciples asked for the highest places, Jesus gave a different answer.
Though Lord of all, He took the place of a subject, obedient, dependent man on earth… 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, after He questioned them, is 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. He will receive that kingdom in obedience to His Father's will.
- Pleasure — the dance swept a weak man away. He promised with no self-control and no conditions.
- Promise — the oath was theatre for his guests. He acted the king, claiming power to grant whatever anyone asked.
- Plot — Herodias set the trap and baited it with her own daughter, counting on just this promise.
- Pride — he could have kept his oath and spared John. John's life was never his to give. A false idea of honour held him more than his conscience did.
- Person — asked for the best places in His kingdom, Christ said they were not His to give. Herod grasped; Christ obeyed.
But she, being set on by her mother, says, Give me here upon a dish the head of John the baptist.
A banquet, a dance, and a rash promise reach their point in this verse: a girl, coached by her mother, names her price. The request is short and horrifying, and it raises three questions: who wanted John dead, why the demand came so fast, and what Herod could still have done.
The word for the dish in this verse is used elsewhere in the Bible for ordinary bowls and plates.
Dish. Numbers 7:13-85; Matthew 14:8, 11; Mark 6:25, 28. In Ezra 1:9 it is basin or bowl. In the New Testament it is the Greek word pinax, probably a wooden plate.
The girl did not just repeat her mother's words.
Coming back in haste to the king, she 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 was afraid the weak-minded king might regret his rash vow and take back his promise.
The verse says the girl was "prompted by her mother." One writer reads the whole evening as Herodias's plan, not a sudden idea.
Sadly, her mother could only advise her for evil and not for good. It seems 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 king 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.
The dance had pleased the king. What the girl asked for showed something else.
Let us note the character of the one who had pleased Herod enough to win such a promise, confirmed by an oath. It is fair to assume that the pleasure came from her beauty and the gracefulness of her movements. Who could have guessed that behind all this was a heart that took real delight in corruption and violence! Oh, world, world — here is the character of those who seduce you by their charms!
One writer traces the king's slide, step by step.
The lust of the flesh had led the ruler of the people into a shameful 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 and throws a righteous man into prison. Only 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 protect his cheap ideas of honour.
Herod's oath looks like a trap he could not escape. One writer says it was not.
The king was sorry. Even so, the pride of keeping his word outweighed his conscience, which was outraged at murdering the servant of God. In fact, he could have spared John without breaking his oath. He only had to admit honestly that John's life was not his to give. But he chose to ignore his responsibility to God.
Christ once answered a request of this kind. His own disciples asked Him for whatever they wanted.
He did not make Himself the centre of earth's ministry. He came to minister. He found the scope of that ministry in man's need, and its rule in His Father's will... He questioned them, and His reply was moving: "The cup that I drink you will 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 which He will receive in obedience to His Father's will.
The head was carried out of the hall, but the memory stayed with the man who ordered it.
What good did his crime do 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." Striking fact — this hardened man, like the Pharisees, believes in resurrection; but believing a doctrine gives neither satisfaction nor rest of conscience. On the contrary, it only increases the torment.
- Prompted. "Prompted by her mother" points to a plan, not an impulse. Herodias baited a trap for Herod with her own daughter.
- Added. The girl went beyond her instructions. She wanted the dish, the crowd watching, and the head now, before the king could change his mind.
- Charmed. The dance won the promise. The request exposed the heart behind it — a warning about what the world's charms can hide.
- Trapped. Lust of the flesh, then lust of the eyes, then pride of life. Each step led to the next, and the last was murder to protect a cheap idea of honour.
- Refused. Herod had an honest way out: John's life was never his to give. Christ spoke such words about His own kingdom. Herod would not, and a man died.
And the king was grieved; but on account of the oaths, and those lying at table with [him], he commanded [it] to be given.
A king sits at his own birthday feast. He hears a demand he never wanted, and it grieves him — then he signs a death warrant anyway. This verse shows what happens when conscience and reputation pull against each other. Reputation wins.
Feeling bad about sin is not the same as turning from it. Herod's sorrow was strong, and it changed nothing.
Herod was a man of extreme but superficial feeling. He heard John gladly, though the prophet denounced the sin of which he was guilty. We also read that he was sorry, "exceeding sorry," when he discovered 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 the king nor the ruler did the sorrow work repentance... For all his sorrow, Herod killed the servant in Galilee; for all his gladness, he mocked the Master at Jerusalem.
Herod respected John and enjoyed listening to him. One writer traces the trap that closed around the king back to Satan.
Even though John had rebuked him, Herod thought highly of John as a just and holy man. Herod heard him, did many things, and listened gladly. But there the fair show ended. Satan found the way to shut him up to a course from which there was no escape, except by repentance and the acknowledgment of his sins. It grew out of a royal party. There Herodias' daughter danced, to the delight of Herod and his guests. She drew from the king a rash promise, sworn with an oath, to give her whatever she asked, up to half his kingdom... The devil's promises are better broken than kept.
Two things decide him: the oath he swore, and the men listening at his table.
Of Herod we read that he was grieved at the request. He feared the crowd on the one hand, and on the other he feared those who were at the table with him. He wanted to appear religious. If he made an oath, and those with him heard it, and he did not keep it, they would surely spread it around. If his religiousness led him to commit a murder, that is a small matter. How often this has happened! Under the appearance of religion, men have committed crime upon crime, and the end is not yet.
Herod acts as if he is cornered. One writer insists he was not.
Though the king was sorry, the pride of keeping his word outweighed the moral outrage of his conscience in murdering the servant of God. In fact, he could easily have spared John without breaking his oath. He only had to admit honestly that John's life was not his to give. But he chose to ignore his responsibility to God.
His office made the crime worse. A king holds power to protect the innocent.
The king was sorry. He had walked into a trap that brought him to a point he never meant to reach. Even then there was still a way out, because what was asked 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 innocent. But he had already committed himself to a course of injustice by imprisoning John and keeping him there. In the end his pride settled the matter. Before all his noble guests he had sworn to give. Sooner than lose his assumed place of sovereign power, he would give away what belonged to God.
One writer reads the scene as a portrait of the whole world system. It moves in three steps, from appetite to murder.
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 a shameful alliance with his brother Philip's wife. He could not answer the rebukes of a godly man, and a wicked woman was influencing him. So he degrades justice by throwing a righteous man into prison. Only 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 worthless ideas of honour.
- Conscience. John's preaching reached Herod's conscience, and he listened gladly. But a stirred conscience that never repents can still end in murder.
- Sorrow. His grief was real, yet grief is not repentance. The same man who was sorry over John later mocked Jesus.
- Pride. His oath and his guests overruled his conscience. He would sooner kill a man than look small in front of important people.
- Escape. He had an honest way out — John's life was never his to give, and his office was meant to protect the innocent, not sell it.
- Pattern. Lust of the flesh, then lust of the eyes, then pride of life. Herod's court shows the world's whole road: appetite, then a rash oath, then blood.
And he sent and beheaded John in the prison;
Matthew 14 pauses the story of the King to tell how John the Baptist died in a prison cell. Why does God let a faithful servant die at the whim of a birthday party?
Scripture gives no death scene and no last words. One writer weighs that silence and finds courage in it.
What a moment it must have been when the messenger entered John's cell and took his life. "He sent and had John beheaded in the prison." This is all the Spirit of God tells us of it. No doubt John met the messenger in the triumph of faith.
Herod was trapped by his own words. Commentators say it was a trap he chose to stay in.
The King was exceedingly sorry. But he was 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. 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 a right over men's bodies.
Keeping a promise is a virtue, and Herod hid behind it. Another man paid for his integrity.
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 it to the hurt of another. In the end it came to the same thing as if he were weak: a wicked woman ruled the state. But Herod had taken the position, and he could not shake off its responsibility.
Herod's feelings ran high and changed nothing. His later meeting with Jesus proved it.
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, when he found out 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 the king nor the ruler did the sorrow work repentance. When Pilate sent Jesus to Herod, he was glad, exceedingly glad, to see Him… With all his sorrow, Herod killed the servant in Galilee. With all his gladness, he mocked the Master in Jerusalem.
One writer traces the whole affair back to three appetites. Each one moved the king a step further.
The lust of the flesh had led the ruler of the people into a shameful 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 and throws a righteous man into prison. Only the 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 protect his worthless idea of honour.
By every human measure this was a wasted ending. One writer says that verdict stops the story too early.
His was a life of lonely hardship. It closed at thirty-three years of age, after long imprisonment, by public execution — and all to amuse an infamous woman and her immoral daughter. This came before any of the things he hoped for had arrived. To the natural mind it looks strange that God should allow the life of one of the greatest and most honourable of His servants to end this way. Strange indeed if it really did end there; but the beheading of John only opened his existence, it did not close it.
The news reached Jesus, and He took it as more than the loss of one man.
There was no insensitivity in Him, whatever His patience and grace. He felt the grievous wrong done to God and to His testimony and His servant. It was the warning sign of a storm still more violent. A far darker deed of blood was coming — the terrible sin of His own rejection.
- Lust starts it. A shameful alliance with his brother's wife put John in prison. Herod's conscience was too weak to undo what his appetite began.
- Pride finishes it. Herod could have said the head was not his to give; he preferred his own pride to a righteous man's life.
- Sorrow proves nothing. He was exceedingly sorry over John and very glad to see Jesus. He killed the one and mocked the other.
- Silence covers the cell. Scripture gives the execution one line. One writer sees a servant who met death in the triumph of faith.
- The end is not the end. The beheading opened John's existence rather than closing it. And the Lord who felt this wrong was moving toward a darker death of His own.
and his head was brought upon a dish, and was given to the damsel, and she carried [it] to her mother.
The banquet ends with a man's head on a serving dish, handed to a dancing girl who carries it to her mother. Two questions follow: what sort of court grants such a demand, and why did God let His faithful witness die this way?
The platter was nothing grand. The word behind it names an ordinary serving plate used at meals:
Dish. Numbers 7:13-85; Matthew 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 plate.
The choice of dish was deliberate. One writer sees in it the point of the whole demand:
What but a heart fully at home in wickedness could have made her hurry like that? In front of the king and his assembled guests she asked to hold the severed head of God's honoured servant in her own hands. She would have it in a dish, as if to make it plain that this was the only food that would satisfy their hunger for revenge.
The girl asked, but the plan was her mother's. Herodias had been waiting for this moment:
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 king once he had drunk well. 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.
One writer sees Herod's court as a picture of the world itself, with each stage of the king's fall serving a different appetite:
In the court of Herod we see a true picture of this world, marked by corruption and violence. The lust of the flesh had led the ruler of the people into a shameful alliance with his brother Philip's wife. He cannot answer the rebukes of a godly man, and a wicked woman sways him. So he degrades justice and throws a righteous man into prison. Only 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 protect his worthless ideas of honour.
He could have refused. The head he handed over was never his property in the first place:
The king was sorry. He had been trapped and brought to a point he had never meant to reach. Even then there was still a way out, for what she asked did not belong to him. On the contrary, he held his authority in order 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 there. His pride settled the matter. In front of all his noble guests he had sworn to give. He would rather give away what belonged to God than lose his assumed place of sovereign power.
His sorrow changed nothing. The same king later met Jesus Himself:
With all his sorrow, Herod killed the servant in Galilee, and with all his gladness he mocked the Master at Jerusalem.
Elijah left the world in glory. John left it beheaded. There is a reason for the difference:
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. John's disciples had to save the bleeding, 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 then vindicating the righteous on earth, though He will yet do so.
Word of the death reached Jesus, and He withdrew. That was not indifference:
There was no insensitivity in Him, whatever His patience and grace. He felt the grievous wrong done to God, to His testimony, and to His servant. It was the forerunner of a storm still more violent and a deed of blood far darker — the terrible sin of His own rejection. He would not hurry the moment, but retires.
- Given, not owed — Herod had no right to that life. To keep his honour in front of his guests, he gave away what belonged to God.
- Given on a dish — the platter was an ordinary serving plate. The girl's demand turned revenge into the last course of the meal.
- Given by a plot — Herodias baited the trap with her own daughter and valued revenge above half of Galilee.
- Given no vindication yet — John won the martyr's crown, not the grey head of old age. God does not settle accounts for the righteous now, but He will.
- Given to Christ — the news reached Jesus. He felt the wrong, withdrew, and saw in it the shadow of His own rejection.
And his disciples came and took the body and buried it, and came and brought word to Jesus.
John the Baptist has just been executed to satisfy a promise made at a birthday party. This verse records what his followers did next: they buried the body, and then they carried the news to Jesus.
Going into Herod's dungeon for the body took nerve. One writer notes what it cost these mourners:
It takes courage to take sides with a man who looks defeated. These brave men had gone into Herod's dungeon to recover the abused body of their martyred master. With hearts full of grief, they gave the one they loved a reverent burial.
One writer notices who recorded this sentence, and what it must have cost him to write:
Our Lord's chosen disciples had all declared their loyalty to Him, and one of them said so more loudly than the rest. Yet they were all missing at the critical hour. One of the twelve — Matthew — records that when John the Baptist was murdered "his disciples came and took the body and buried it." Matthew's heart must have hurt him as he wrote those words! He and his fellow-disciples did not do for the Lord Jesus what the disciples of John did for their teacher.
They went straight to Jesus. One writer traces that back to John's own preaching:
John had always pointed people to Jesus. He did no miracle, yet the people acknowledged that "everything that John said about this man was true" (John 10:41). This was the fruit of John's glad faithfulness: his disciples knew what to do when he was taken from them so suddenly. They were given his body. Having buried it, they "went and told Jesus." John was the burning and shining lamp. Jesus was the light that comes into the world and shines for all people. The lamp went out, so they turned to the great light, and found comfort there.
Those last words — "went and told Jesus" — mark a path for anyone walking home from a graveside:
If only our faith is simple and childlike, we can come to the feet of Jesus straight from the tomb where we have just laid someone we loved. There we can pour out the anguish of a bereaved and desolate heart. We shall meet no rough rejection, no heartless scolding for our foolishness and weakness in feeling so much. There will be no clumsy effort to say something suitable, no awkward try at putting on a look of sympathy. No; Jesus knows how to sympathise with a heart that is crushed and bowed down under the heavy weight of sorrow. His is a perfect human heart.
The news reached Jesus, and He pulled back from the crowd. One writer explains what tied Him to John:
Jesus knows what this means when it is reported to Him. Together with John, He had carried out the testimony of God among the people in lowly service — though He was far above him. So He felt united to him in heart and in His work. Faithfulness in the middle of all evil binds hearts very closely together... When He hears of John's death, He withdraws into a desert place. He leaves the crowd, who had now begun to reject the testimony of God openly. But He does not stop supplying all their needs.
The mourners arrived at the same hour as Jesus' twelve disciples, back from their preaching tour. One invitation covered both:
I can picture two roads that day, and the two companies on them. On one road come the sad disciples of John, who had lost their master. On the other come the disciples of Jesus, back from their first missionary tour and flushed with success (see Mark 6:30-31). The two companies meet in the Lord's presence. The Lord says to them, "Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while." How morally lovely this call is! It is made alike to successful workers and to disheartened disciples. Each alike needed it, but a desert with Jesus can be no desert.
- Told. They buried John, and then they took their sorrow to Jesus. That last step carries the lesson of the verse.
- Taught. John had spent his life pointing away from himself, so they knew where to go. The lamp went out and they turned to the light.
- Tender. They found a perfect human heart. No rebuke for their tears, no awkward search for something to say.
- Together. John's grieving followers and Jesus' glad preachers arrived at the same moment. The Lord gave both the same word: come away and rest.
- Tested. Matthew records this loyal burial. He did not do as much for his own Master — a quiet warning inside a story of courage.