Pentecost 7 B: A Tale of Two Kingdoms

Dear Partner in Preaching,

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Game of Thrones has nothing on the Bible.

I’m in the middle of catching up on season five of Game of Thrones, and it occurred to me that while the political intrigue, devious plotting, and unexpected (and sometimes quite expected) backstabbing and reversal of fortunes are what has made this series such a hit, there is all of that and more in Mark’s rather long (at least for his standards) account of the death of John the Baptist.

Close reader’s of Mark’s story have noticed several things about this scene over the years that make it stand out: it’s one of the longest sustained narrative scenes in the Gospel, Jesus does not appear in it at all, it seems to interrupt the flow of the rest of the story, and it’s told in flashback, the only time that Mark employs such a device. Because of these features, the scene is not only as suspenseful and ultimately grisly as anything on television, but it is unlike anything else in Mark’s account and seems almost out of place, even misplaced as a story looking for another narrative home.

Which has occasioned the question over the years as to why Mark reports it at all. Later evangelists must have asked the same question, as Matthew shortens it markedly and Luke omits it altogether. The majority opinion is that it serves two key purposes in Mark: it foreshadows Jesus’ own grisly death and it serves as an interlude between Jesus’ sending of the disciples and their return some unknown number of days or weeks later.

But while these are undoubtedly plausible explanations, I think there’s another reason altogether, and that’s simply to draw a contrast between the two kinds of kingdoms available to Jesus disciples, both then and ever since. Consider: Mark, tells this story as a flashback, out of its narrative sequence, which means he could have put this scene anywhere. But he puts it here, not simply between the sending and receiving of the disciples but, more specifically, just after Jesus has commissioned his disciples to take up the work of the kingdom of God and when he then joins them in making that kingdom three-dimensional, tangible, and in these ways seriously imaginable.

Herod’s Kingdom – the kingdom of the world and, for that matter, Game of Thrones and all the other dramas we watch because they mirror and amplify the values of our world – is dominated by the will to power, the will to gain influence over others. This is the world where competition, fear and envy are the coins of the realm, the world of not just late night dramas and reality television but also the evening news, where we have paraded before us the triumphs and tragedies of the day as if they are simply givens, as if there is no other way of being in the world and relating to each other.

Which is why Mark places the story here. Just previous to this scene Jesus sends his disciples out in utter vulnerability, dependent on the hospitality and grace of others, to bring healing and mercy with no expectation of reward or return. And just after this scene comes a different kind of feast altogether. Notice, in fact, that the return of the disciples only occasions about half a verse or so just after this scene. (Mark, after all, had already told us what they were up to in the scene just before this one.) Rather, what follows is instead a banquet of mercy, so markedly in contrast to the birthday bash Herod throws himself that its almost stunning. Rather than the rich and shameless, it’s the poor and outcast that flock to Jesus’ feeding of the thousands. Rather than political intrigue and power plays dominating the day, it’s blessing and surprising abundance that characterize this meal.

And that’s the choice that Mark puts before us: which kingdom do we want to live in? Or, at least recognizing that we have no choice but to live in the kingdom of the world to some extent, to which kingdom will we give ultimate allegiance?

Sounds easy when I put it that way. Jesus’ kingdom, we’ve been trained to answer. Ah, but not so fast. This is the world where vulnerability and sharing and mercy and justice and grace lead to abundant life, to be sure, but also where those very same qualities can get you killed, or least make you feel like you are vulnerable to being taken of. And truth be told you might be. But the other truth to be told is that you can give yourself wholly and completely to the world of power and still never, ever quite feel secure. Why? Because once you’ve accepted that power – whether defined as wealth or possessions or influence or whatever – is the most important thing in life, than you are always vulnerable to those with more power. You are, mostly simply, at the center of a never-ending contest where there are no ultimate winners, only those who prevail for a time and until they are unseated by someone else

Don’t get me wrong. I love competition – last night I watched the stunning FIFA Women’s World Cup final as well as Game of Thrones (I know, I know, too much TV!) – but it’s not the way I want to live my life and certainly not the way I want to conduct my relationships. Which is where Jesus’ kingdom, the kingdom of God, comes in. Because in this kingdom there are no winners or losers, just the children of God, all beloved, all welcome, all deserving of love and respect based not on their merit or accomplishments but simply because God values each and every one of us.

Look, the kingdom Jesus proclaims can seem odd, I know, or idealistic, particularly in light of recent current events. But it’s those same stories of violence and prejudice that make me crave the kingdom of God all the more. And it’s our privilege, Dear Partner, to invite people into this kingdom, into this way of being and relating, each and every week. So this week, tell the story of Herod, setting it beside all those other stories big or small that echo it, reminding us how often we’ve been told it’s the only kingdom there is. And then help people imagine that other kingdom, God’s kingdom, where all are welcome, all are valued, and all are cherished.

“When you play the game of thrones,” a central character says early in the story of that name, “you win or you die. There is no middle ground.” The kingdom of Jesus is a little different. When you play it – or, really, are draw into it, captivated by, and surrender to it – first you die…to all you once thought was important…and then you not so much win as simply are given all you could ever want: life, love, acceptance, and purpose. That may not play as well on the evening dramas or news, but it sure makes for good preaching. Thanks for doing just that this week and always.

Yours in Christ,
David

PS: Serious GoT fans may be interested in a piece I wrote a couple of years ago for The Huffington Post, “The Gospel According to Game of Thrones.” Or maybe not. 🙂