The Death of John


John could always tell when Herod was coming to visit by the way the hardened guards would stiffen with fear at the sound of his footsteps. Though Herod had locked John away in the belly of his fortress, he believed John was a righteous man, and Herod took personal delight in these visits—a king and a prophet, a captor and his captive.
Herod’s wife, on the other hand, wanted John dead for calling their incestuous marriage a sin against God. But she held no sway over her husband, and whenever the subject came up Herod became protective of his prisoner, partially out of his fear of God but mostly out of his fear of the people who loved John. John wasn’t just popular; he had become a symbol of freedom for many in Israel—freedom from Roman rule won through the courage of resistance. Herod’s rule was tenuous enough already. Giving his subjects further cause for moral indignation would only spell trouble for Antipas, and he knew it. So although he kept John locked away in his prison, in his mind he was keeping John safe.
Word of Jesus’s ministry and teaching spread like a fire after John’s arrest. Reports of what happened with the widow’s son in Nain, Jairus’s daughter in Capernaum, the nobleman’s son at Cana, and the man by the pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem had captured the hearts of thousands. With these reports came the hope that the Messiah, who would deliver the people of Israel from the tyranny of Rome, had finally come.
Jesus’s ministry wasn’t solely one of deeds, but also of words. He said, “I was sent for this very purpose—to proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God.” The concept of the kingdom of God was a part of Israel’s national memory. Their prophet Daniel foretold that the God of heaven would set up a holy kingdom that would never be destroyed. Destruction, however, was mostly all the people of Israel had known since those words were first given. So to hear Jesus proclaim the arrival of the kingdom of God left many presuming (and hoping) that he was talking about the end of Roman rule in the Promised Land. But there were as many theories about what Jesus was after as there were theorists.
Sitting in Herod Antipas’s jail, John himself began to wonder about who Jesus was. He hadn’t lost faith in his cousin, but his new life as one of the king’s novelties clouded his perspective on the meaning and timing of his suffering.
John’s disciples would come to visit him and tell him magnificent stories of Jesus’s miracles and boldness. John took courage from the fact that the work the two of them began continued on. But to silence his doubts, John sent two of his disciples to ask Jesus this simple question: Are you the mighty One God promised would come, or should we be looking for someone else?
John’s disciples found Jesus while he was healing the sick and performing other miraculous signs. When they had relayed John’s question, Jesus said, “Go and tell John what you’re seeing and hearing. The blind regain their sight. The lame walk, the deaf hear, the lepers are cleansed of their leprosy. Tell John the dead are being raised to life. Tell him the poor are hearing the good news of the kingdom of God.”
Then turning to the crowd, Jesus said, “You who went out into the wilderness to be baptized by John, what did you see? Did you see a weak man, someone shaken like a reed in the wind? Did you see a rich man? No. You saw a prophet, and I tell you John is more than a prophet. He is the messenger of whom Malachi spoke—the one sent to prepare the way for the Messiah’s coming. There has never been a man greater than John, yet he came to you in poverty as one of the least among you.”
Jesus looked at his audience. “To whom did John come? To what shall I compare your generation? This generation is like a child who is afraid to be too happy or too sad. We played the flute, but you wouldn’t sing. We sang a dirge, but you would not mourn. You don’t want your hearts to be moved for fear of what it could cost you. When John came to you, sobered by his call to awaken hope in you, you called him a drunk. When he welcomed the sinful and destitute, you scoffed at him for being a friend of sinners. It may seem easier to numb yourselves against hope for fear that your hope will fail, but God will justify his prophet, and he will be proven true.”
What John needed to know and what so many feared to embrace was that the kingdom of God truly was at hand. Few could see it, not because they lacked evidence, but because they were looking for something very different from what Jesus was showing.
Those who were waiting for Jesus to move on from his time with the sinful and destitute into a more political campaign would forever struggle to receive him as the One sent from God, because Jesus wasn’t focused as much on the external problems of his people as he was the internal. He was the friend of sinners—of drunks, gluttons, prostitutes, tax collectors, and all manner of social outcasts. He dignified the lives of liars and adulterers, people who habitually hurt those closest to them, by tending to their moral wounds just as he tended to the lame and the blind. He accepted them, he ate with them, and he seemed to enjoy their company even as he told them to stop their patterns of destruction. The kingdom of God would not be imposed by force, but by forgiveness, grace, love, and acceptance. This was the kingdom Jesus was building.
After John’s disciples returned to tell him what Jesus had said, crowds continued to gather and Jesus continued to teach and heal the sick, blind, lame, and deaf because he had compassion on them.
After a while Jesus left Galilee to return to his hometown of Nazareth. On the Sabbath he went to teach in the synagogue, as was his custom. But his own people had grown jaded toward the wisdom and wonders he displayed. They whispered to one another, “Lofty words from the carpenter’s son.”
Knowing their whispers, Jesus sighed: “A prophet has no honor in his own hometown.”
Their unbelief made his ministry unwelcome, so he limited his miracles there to only a few before he left. He knew that when he left Nazareth this time, he would never return. He had come to his own but his own did not receive him.
It was around this time when Jesus gathered his twelve disciples, the ones he had personally called to follow him. He said to them, “I’m sending you out to proclaim the kingdom of God to the lost sheep of Israel. I want you to go to your own people and I want you to call your people to repentance. I want you to do what I have done. I want you to heal the sick, raise the dead, cast out demons, and cleanse the lepers. I want you to bless the homes of those who receive you and shake the dust off your feet when people turn you away.
“You are sheep among wolves, so be wise as serpents but harmless as doves. Be careful. People will reject you and even persecute you because of me. You’ll be dragged before kings and rulers because of my message of a coming and present kingdom. When they drag you into court, do not worry about what you should say. God will speak through you.
“Friends, you will be hated on account of me. But do not be afraid of those who can kill the body but not the soul. God will take care of you as sure as he cares for the birds of the air. You are of far greater value to him than they. Whoever receives you receives me. And whoever receives me receives the One who sent me. This is holy work.”
So twelve men, Simon Peter and his brother Andrew; James and John, the sons of Zebedee; Philip and Nathanael; Thomas the twin; Matthew the tax collector; James, the son of Alphaeus; Thaddaeus; Simon the Zealot; and Judas Iscariot, went out in pairs and did as Jesus had told them.
John continued to languish in the Machaerus prison, and Herodias continued to resent the way her new husband enjoyed John’s company. On Herod’s birthday Herodias threw a party at Machaerus. After their guests had eaten and drunk their fill, the music started and Herodias sent her young daughter in to dance for the inebriated king. Antipas couldn’t take his eyes off the little girl as she twirled and swept across the floor.
When the music stopped, Antipas called for the child and said, “You have pleased me, young lady. Ask me for anything and I will give it to you. Anything you want.”
Knowing this was a great honor, the girl withdrew to tell her mother what the king had said.
“For what should I ask?” she said.
Herodias whispered a single sentence into her daughter’s ear. Perplexed, the girl looked at her mother as if to say, “Are you sure?” Herodias gave a firm nod.
The child stood quietly before the king until he noticed she had re- turned. To impress the girl and amuse his friends, the drunken king said with as much pomp as he could muster, “Well, my child. Have you made your decision? Name your price.”
The girl said, “I want the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”
Such grotesque words to proceed from the lips of a child! But Herod found himself in a room full of people who needed to know, without question, that when he made a declaration, he would follow it to its end. In his heart he hated himself. He liked John, and he feared John for the way the prophet had captured the hearts of those he led.
Herod’s captain caught Antipas’s eye, as if to say, “Say the word, King. I’ll tell the executioner.”
Herod nodded, and before the party was over the Tetrarch of Galilee and Perea had given the severed head of a beloved prophet to a child, who in turn gave the bloody silver platter to her mother who gave her husband a look that said, “I will not be scorned.”
When John’s disciples heard what had happened, they came to claim John’s body. After they buried him, they went to find Jesus to tell him what happened. Though Jesus had endured some minor scrapes with various religious leaders throughout his travels, up to this point he had been mostly well received wherever he went. Great crowds continued to follow and people continued to put their hope in him.
But with his rejection at Nazareth, and with John’s execution, even Jesus’s closest disciples were beginning to sense the changing of a season. Could someone usher in a new kingdom without having to overthrow the current one? Would John’s fate eventually find them too?
About the Post: This post is an excerpt of chapter 11 of my 2015 release Behold the King of Glory: A Narrative of the Life, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.
About the Art: Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (1571–1610) Beheading of Saint John the Baptist, 1608, oil on canvas, 361 cm (142.1 in) x 520 cm (204.7 in). St. John’s Co-Cathedral, Valletta, Malta.
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