The Blame Game
What do you suppose happened at the palace the next morning, when Herod woke up with a hangover the size of the Roman Empire and a public relations problem twice as big? I can hear them all spinning the story, can’t you? It’s not the way it seems! It’s not my fault! I’m not to blame! Let’s listen in on this precious trio, Herod and Salome and Herodias, shall we?
HEROD: “Don’t blame me! It’s not my fault! Really! I’ve been trying to protect him, after all, I only took him into protective custody because my wife - you know, Herodias - she’s got a temper, see, and - well - Things have been pretty tense around here. You should of heard what John was saying about her, and I had to do something, after all. You married men, you’ll understand. What would you have done in my place? And besides, there was the political angle. It’s not easy ruling these pigheaded, fanatical Jews. And the Romans are always second-guessing everything I do. Let me explain.
See, it’s all Herodias’ fault. I took over the rule of Galilee about 25 years ago, with Rome’s blessing, and I’ve done a pretty good job of it, if I do say so myself. It’s not as if I don’t know how to deal with the Jews, you know, I’m part Jewish myself. And I’m not power-crazy like my father, I know when to draw the line, I don’t push them too far, I observe the holy days and so on - well, at least in public, there’s no point in going overboard with these things, after all. We’re part of the Roman Empire, we can’t afford to act like narrow-minded fanatics, go along to get along, I always say. Well, anyway, I rebuilt all the cities and towns that were destroyed during the last rebellion, and got the bandits pretty much under control (at least on the major routes). Things are pretty peaceful around here, you know? The merchants and craftsmen and farmers are prosperous, I don’t tax them any more than I need to, you’d think they’d be grateful, wouldn’t you? But that’s not good enough, apparently. Those narrow-minded prudes have to go around criticizing my personal life. As if that had anything to do with ruling the country! What business is it of theirs, anyway? I don’t go around telling them who they can or can’t marry, after all! It’s not as though we’re holding orgies in the temple, I married her, didn’t I? Although sometimes I’m not sure it’s been worth the trouble. Don’t tell Herodias I said that!
Well. You want to know what happened.
I used to be married to King Aretas’ daughter - you know, the Nabatean. Caesar’s advisors thought it would be good politically, you know, help keep the alliance strong. So I agreed; why not? One woman’s pretty much like another, when all’s said and done, and everybody understands the little arrangements you have on the side. At least that’s how I always saw it. But a couple of years ago I stopped to visit my brother (my half-brother Philip, actually) on the way back from Jerusalem. And he had a new wife. As it happened she was our brother Aristobulus’ daughter Herodias, and more like the old man than anyone I’ve ever met before or since. You never met him, probably, or at least not until he’d gone around the deep end. But he had a way about him... Well, you know how these things go, once she saw how hot I was for her she - well - to make a long story short I sent the Nabatean woman back to her father and married Herodias. That was my first mistake. Never take up with an ambitious woman.
And the Jews went ballistic. You’d have thought I’d taken to stealing their daughters, they were so worked up. Herodias was my niece, they said. God was offended, they said. According to Jewish law it’s an ‘abomination’ to lie with my brother’s wife; and besides she’s a blood relative, they said. “What nonsense!” I said. “They’re divorced. And she’s only my half-brother’s daughter, for goodness’ sake. And what did it have to do with them anyway? My marriage is perfectly legal according to Roman law, we’re not living in a theocracy, I wasn’t forcing them to commit sacrilege, was I? I’ve always let them keep whatever rules they want. I’m a tolerant man, a fair man. It’s true this John the Baptizer was going a bit far. But I was willing to ride it out; like I keep telling the Romans when these little disturbances crop up, all the fuss would have died down eventually, and it certainly would have caused even more trouble if I took official notice of him. But Herodias wouldn’t let it lie. Nag, nag, nag. A real man would protect my reputation, she said. A real king wouldn’t let some pipsqueak country preacher talk about me like that. What’s your daughter going to think of you if you let us be insulted like that? My daughter, indeed! Salome’s her daughter, not mine (and a good thing, too!) I’m glad she’s not growing up to be a shrew like her mother. But when Herodias started talking about having John ‘disposed of’, as she so delicately put it, I realized I’d have to act.
So I had John arrested. But it was for his own good! I couldn’t protect him out there in the open. Surely you see that I had to do it! I had no choice!
And it worked, too. Everything calmed right down as soon as I had him under wraps. I figured I’d keep John locked up for another 3 or 4 months and then quietly let him loose, and then went on about the business of government, meeting delegations, settling disputes, planning new building projects, that sort of thing. I had more important things to think about than one unwashed fanatic! How was I supposed to know what Herodias had cooked up?
Well, anyway. Last night was a pretty big deal. I had some important people in from Rome to meet the local power brokers; you have to do these things right, you know, you’d be surprised how much business gets done at these events. Some people complain that these little get-togethers are sheer debauchery, but you have to do this sort of thing to get ahead in politics, you really don’t have any choice. Anyway, ‘round about midnight, when people were pretty well oiled, you know, mellow, Salome came in to dance - did I mention that she’s growing up? Never would have expected that skinny little twig to fill out like that.
What’s that? You’re asking me why I had a young girl come in and dance for a bunch of half-drunken men? Let ‘em look, I say. No harm in looking. And she likes to dance. Knows she’s pretty. And if her mother didn’t mind, why should I? How should I know that Herodias had something else in mind besides helping me keep the wheels of power oiled? So when Salome was done I told her what a good job she’d done, maybe I spoke a little too free but how was I to know she’d take me up on it? So maybe I was showing off; I’m a rich man, I can afford to be generous. How was I to know what she was going to ask for? It wasn’t my fault, I tell you.
What’s that? Do I think it’s better to kill an innocent man than break a foolish promise? Well, now, don’t you think that’s pretty simplistic? Things aren’t all just black and white, it’s not that easy to govern, you know. You have to give and take, give and take, and sometimes you have to do things you’d rather not. I’m not a perfect man, never said I was; Herodias took advantage of a momentary weakness. Can’t blame a man for that, now, can you? Can you?
SALOME: You can’t blame me, either. I was only doing what my mother told me to do, after all. Our parents have the power of life or death over us, didn’t you know that? Don’t you have to obey your parents? Oh, that’s right, I’ve heard that, it’s one of the 10 most important Jewish laws, isn’t it: “Honor your father and your mother.” So you see, you can’t blame me. I had to do it. And what do I know about politics or religion anyway? I’m only a girl. It’s my duty to obey.
What do you mean, modesty? Oh, you mean, staying away from men until I’m married? Oh, that’s just for country folk, we’re more sophisticated than that here in Tiberias. And Mother says that a girl has to use what she’s got to get ahead in this world. How do you think she got to be Queen, anyway? Well, maybe not queen - but the highest ranking woman in Galilee! And besides, it’s fun. Old Herod won’t let any of ‘em touch me, he’s too busy drooling himself. So it’s perfectly safe, and they’re all just a bunch of old fools. Their faces get red and sweaty when I dance; I could get whatever I wanted out of any one of them. And I didn’t know what she was going to make me ask for until afterwards, so you can’t blame me for it. And anyway, who cares about a dirty old lunatic like the Baptist? Nobody that matters cares what happens to him. And he hated my mother, I heard some of the stuff he said, he hasn’t got any right to talk about us like that, who does he think he is?
And what right have you got to criticize me? I was only doing what I was told. If I do everything she wants and say nothing but “Yes, Mother,” and “No, Mother,” she may let me go along next time they go to Rome, and I want to go to Rome more than anything!
HERODIAS: I knew it. I’m the one you’re all going to point the finger at. I can hear it all now. But you’ve got to admit I wouldn’t have had to do a thing if Herod had done what he should have done at the very beginning. You can’t be a king by kindness; you have to let people know who’s boss or they’ll take advantage every time. That’s the only way you can deal with these people, show them a firm hand. They don’t understand the subtle approach. Herod’s gone soft. I thought he’d be more of a man than Philip, he’s Tetrarch over Galilee, but he’s just a Roman puppet after all. And when he isn’t toadying to the Romans he’s kowtowing to the Jews. He can’t even stand up for his own wife!
Well, John and people like him are just going to have to learn that they can’t get away with that sort of defamation. It’s seditious! He had it coming to him, really. It was his own fault. He didn’t have to go around saying the things he did, he brought it on himself. And don’t tell me he didn’t know what he was getting into. These Galileans are clever. They’ll push and push to see how far they can go and before you know it they’re in armed rebellion.
Herod says it wouldn’t go that far, but what does he know? And even if it didn’t, there’s still no excuse for letting John get away with slander. Herod should stand up for me. People were laughing at me behind my back, saying he’d gotten tired of me, saying that he’d started looking at Salome. Well, looking is all he’s going to do! He thinks I’m causing a scandal, imagine what would happen if he took up with her! And I wouldn’t go quietly, believe me. He’d be sorry. Salome does what I tell her, and she thinks he’s as big a fool as I do.
So if you want to blame me for John’s death, go right ahead! My shoulders are broader than Herod’s, that should be obvious by now. I’ll take full responsibility. John had it coming to him, and more, and I had the right!
There you have it. Three participants. Three culprits. Three spins. Three excuses. And one dead prophet.
She tricked me.
I was only following orders.
He was asking for it.
“It wasn’t my fault: she tricked me.“ But do you see how Herod’s entire life has led toward this moment? He has never chosen principle over expediency in his entire public career. From politics, to religion, to his marriages - every choice he made was to satisfy a temporary appetite, whether for power, for public approval, or for sensual indulgence. John the Baptist’s death was not a consequence he had envisioned - but how far back in his life would Herod have had to go to avoid it? And even if he could, would he have done anything differently? Nothing would change - because he couldn’t admit that he’d done anything wrong. Not many months after this Herod is involved with Jesus’ crucifixion in a way that makes it quite clear that his participation in John’s death meant little if anything to him. It wasn’t his fault.
Where did Herod go wrong? Was it only when he said to Salome, "Ask me for anything you want, and I’ll give it to you. Whatever you ask I will give you, up to half my kingdom." ? Or was it before then? Was it when he had a young girl dance for his drunken guests? Was it before that, when he divorced his wife to marry his brother’s? Was it before that, when he married for political reasons? Was it before that, when he agreed to Rome’s terms to become a vassal king?
Listen to Prov 4:19, “The way of the wicked is like deep darkness; they do not know what they stumble over.” And 5:22-23: “The iniquities of the wicked ensnare them, and they are caught in the toils of their sin. They die for lack of discipline, and because of their great folly they are lost.” Herod did not simply stumble once. His whole life was an illustration of the wisdom of Proverbs, of what happens when someone chooses the way of self-indulgence over self-discipline.
Herod knew better, you see. We have no reason to think that Herodias or Salome had any understanding at all of Judaism. But Herod did. And he knew that there was something special about John. He was fascinated by him, and listened to him, and to some extent feared him - but did not have the courage to repent.
Because you see, it does take courage to repent.
Herod had done many wicked things in his life; imagine how much would have to change if he were to acknowledge what he had done, and turn from his old lifestyle to a new one. Imagine how many people he would offend, how much power he would lose, how much danger he would be in - from Herodias, if from no one else. But most of all: imagine how hard it would be for him to face his own soul, see it in all its ugliness, and acknowledge that he could not even come close to making up for what he had done. That takes courage, my friend. And it takes hope. Which one of us would have the courage to look into our own souls, and repent, if we did not know of the incredible love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ?
None of us ever will come close to matching the record of evil that Herod did, killing a prophet of God and conniving at the death of the son of God. But we have all used all of their excuses:
She tricked me (or he tricked me). I was only doing what I was told. He was asking for it.
It wasn’t my fault - it was his fault - her fault - their fault. It’s my parents’ fault that I can’t seem to make commitments. It’s my wife’s fault that I hit her. It’s my boss’ fault that I cheat on my expense account. It’s the entertainment industry’s fault that my kids watch Beavis and Butthead. It’s my boyfriend’s fault that we had sex before we got married. It’s society’s fault. The devil made me do it.
Yes - other people wrong us. Yes - the devil is a real and powerful force. Yes - it’s hard to go against the crowd. Yes - life is full of tough decisions and sometimes making the moral one costs. Yes - everyone makes mistakes. But let’s stop playing the blame game. No matter what words we use to excuse ourselves, we have said “yes” to whatever it is we have done. We may not have said “yes” to what has been done to us, but we say “yes” to whatever we do in response. Let other people answer to God for their misdeeds - we have enough to answer for on our own account. And we cannot be forgiven for what we have done until we stop offering God excuses. Because, as C. S. Lewis says, excuses and forgiveness are opposites. What can be excused does not need to be forgiven. And if we are not sure which is which, then it’s probably something that needs to be forgiven. It’s always better to ask for too much forgiveness than for too little, because the only sin that cannot be forgiven is the one that has not been confessed. When we blame others, we forfeit the forgiveness and renewal that is waiting for us in Christ.
And that, my friends, is what makes it possible for us to repent: the absolute, assured conviction that nothing - except our refusal to accept it - can separate us from the love of God: “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation - not even our own sinfulness - will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord,”
