John The Baptizer is Killed
Herod’s pride and Herodias’ grudge silence John, but his death foreshadows the greater “losing-that-wins” to come in Jesus.
6:14 King Herod heard about this, for Jesus’ name had become well known. Some were saying, “John the Baptist has been raised from the dead, and that is why miraculous powers are at work in him.”
15 Others said, “He is Elijah.”
And still others claimed, “He is a prophet, like one of the prophets of long ago.”
16 But when Herod heard this, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised from the dead!”
Mark interrupts the disciples’ mission reports with a grim flashback. Word about Jesus is spreading, and the chatter reaches Herod. Some think Jesus is Elijah, some think he’s a prophet. But Herod? He’s haunted. He’s convinced Jesus is John the Baptizer raised from the dead. His conscience won’t let him go—John’s shadow lingers in his mind. The irony is thick: the king thinks resurrection is possible but can’t see the living Christ in front of him.
17 For Herod himself had given orders to have John arrested, and he had him bound and put in prison. He did this because of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, whom he had married. 18 For John had been saying to Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” 19 So Herodias nursed a grudge against John and wanted to kill him. But she was not able to, 20 because Herod feared John and protected him, knowing him to be a righteous and holy man. When Herod heard John, he was greatly puzzled; yet he liked to listen to him.
Mark rewinds to explain how we got here. John had a habit of telling truth to power, and he didn’t stop at Herod. He called out the king for marrying his brother’s wife, Herodias, and she didn’t appreciate the critique. She wanted him dead. But Herod wasn’t so sure. He feared John, respected him even. Something about John’s raw righteousness unsettled him—in a way that made him both uncomfortable and strangely captivated. So he kept John alive, listening to him from time to time, half-hostage and half-holy man in his personal dungeon.
21 Finally the opportune time came. On his birthday Herod gave a banquet for his high officials and military commanders and the leading men of Galilee. 22 When the daughter of Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his dinner guests.
The king said to the girl, “Ask me for anything you want, and I’ll give it to you.” 23 And he promised her with an oath, “Whatever you ask I will give you, up to half my kingdom.”
24 She went out and said to her mother, “What shall I ask for?”
“The head of John the Baptist,” she answered.
25 At once the girl hurried in to the king with the request: “I want you to give me right now the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”
26 The king was greatly distressed, but because of his oaths and his dinner guests, he did not want to refuse her. 27 So he immediately sent an executioner with orders to bring John’s head. The man went, beheaded John in the prison, 28 and brought back his head on a platter. He presented it to the girl, and she gave it to her mother.
But Herod’s birthday bash changed everything. It was a feast for the powerful, filled with wine, boasting, and bravado. His stepdaughter danced, and Herod, drunk on both wine and ego, made a reckless promise: ask for anything, even half my kingdom. That’s when the trap was sprung. The girl conferred with her mother, and Herodias saw her chance. She told her daughter to ask not for riches, not for land, but for John’s head.
Herod was cornered. He didn’t want to kill John, but his reputation was on the line. To back out would make him look weak. So, bound by his own pride, he called the executioner. John’s head was brought on a platter, an appalling centerpiece for Herod’s feast. Just like that, the greatest man ever born of a woman, as Jesus once said, was silenced by a petty tyrant’s drunken oath.
29 On hearing of this, John’s disciples came and took his body and laid it in a tomb.
John’s disciples take his body and lay it in a tomb. From the world’s perspective, this is a tragedy and a defeat. The fiery prophet who prepared the way is gone, snuffed out by corrupt power. But Mark won’t let us see it that way for long. John’s death is not the collapse of the kingdom—it’s a foreshadowing. The one whose sandals John said he wasn’t fit to untie will soon walk the same path, cut down by the powers of Rome and religion. And in his death, what looks like the kingdom’s loss will be its greatest victory.
Because in God’s upside-down economy, winning always looks like losing first.
Reflection Question
Where might faithfulness require you to let go of safety, reputation, or control—trusting that God’s kingdom often advances through what looks like loss?
