4th July 2010 - "That still small voice"

Usha Hull - Ayot St Peter's and St Peter's, Tewin
Mark 6 7-29

The poet John Milton once wrote about conscience:

‘He that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit in the centre and enjoy bright day,
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts
Benighted walks under the mid day sun –
Himself is his own dungeon.’

Conscience has been described as God’s very presence in man, that still small voice that whispers through the fire and the storm and is responsible for much happiness or unhappiness within our souls. It is true that ideas about good and bad vary from place to place in every age and indeed at every stage of a human life. Yet there remains for each human being an inner conviction that there is a difference between right and wrong, an urging towards the right, and a shame when we submit to compulsion or temptation and do the wrong instead.

So as the poet Milton says, a clear conscience is very much like a clear bright day whereas a bad conscience is its own punishment, condemning the holder to self imposed imprisonment and lack of true freedom, banishing the light within and establishing its own chain and shackles.

Today’s Gospel reading is very much a story about conscience and the lack of it, set in a cruel time of great darkness and tyranny, yet here even among the cruelest and most tyrannical that still small voice is whispering and being repressed. It’s a story about two men, John the Baptist and Herod, and about two women, Herodias and her daughter, named by the historian Josephus as Salome.

There are four Herods mentioned in the New Testament but I’ll mention just two. At the birth of the Lord the man history knows as Herod the Great or Herod the First, mentioned in Matthew’s Gospel, was also responsible for what the Bible tells us was the slaughter of the innocents, or mass murder of children in Bethlehem. He is described as a madman who murdered many members of his own family, including his wife Mariamme, and he also murdered many rabbis.

This Herod had ten wives and many children and is known for his colossal building projects in Jerusalem and other parts of the ancient world, including the Great Temple, of which today, following its destruction by the Romans in 70 AD only the Western Wall, known as the Wailing Wall remains. This Herod wasn’t Jewish but wished the adoration and favour of his subjects hence the building of the temple.

The Herod in today’s reading however, was Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great. His title was that of Tetrarch of Galilee, but he was popularly known as the king and was to rule for 43 years. Like his father he was enamoured by building projects and spent a great deal of taxpayers’ money on them, including building the city of Tiberias and completing the Great Temple created by his father.

By nature, this Herod Antipas, who came face to face with both John the Baptist and the Lord at his trial, was not the sort of person you’d want as your best friend. The Lord himself referred to him as ‘that fox’ and historians have painted him as shrewd, crafty, ruthless and a lover of luxury.

If ever there was a tale of tangled affairs and complicated relationships it’s all here and had tabloids existed at the time, no doubt the Sun and the News of the World would have had a field day. Before Herod met Herodias, she was not only married to his half brother Philip, but she was also related to Herod, and by being the daughter of one of Herod’s other half brothers she was also Herod’s niece. Her union with Herod Antipas was considered a violation of the Jewish law of marriage and was widely condemned. And it wasn’t just that Herodias was Herod’s niece, it was also the fact that Herod had divorced his first wife in order to marry her, as she had divorced her previous husband. Then here comes John the Baptist, a very brave man indeed, who just can’t keep his mouth shut and who is outspoken in his condemnation of what would have been regarded as both incest and adultery. John’s criticism was of a couple who most likely wished to present themselves as respectable and observant Jews.

John the Baptist first appeared at a time of great religious and social conflict, declaring the coming of a great king. Herod wouldn’t have liked that. The title of king was his by right, he thought. But even that wasn’t the real problem. The problem was the declaration before a conservative and religious people that he, Herod was living a sinful and life by taking his brother’s wife. Even so, Herod it seems had a conscience and would have let the matter rest there, if it were not for Herodias.

Herodias was another matter. She was livid and we can well imagine what she might have said to Herod. ‘Arrest that man. Clap him in irons, throw him in the deepest dungeon, send in the executioners, silence him, off with his head...’ Herod however, wasn’t going to let Herodias dictate to him, though arrest John he did, to shut his wife up probably, and in all likelihood it would have ended there, with John rotting away in a dungeon, since Herod was also afraid of how the people would react if John were to be silenced.

Besides, Herod’s nagging conscience told him that John had things to say that were worth listening to and that he was a man of Jehovah, a holy man, a man who had lived for years in the wilderness. Some spark of decency, a faint gleam of light in Herod’s soul, the merest glimmer that could likely have been his salvation sent him down to that deep dark dungeon, there in that place of darkness to quiz John about his beliefs, to listen to this man who spoke without fear of a Kingdom Herod would have found alien. There is no doubt that Herod, for all his dark and dastardly ways, was intrigued by John. John didn’t fear him or fawn on him as so many men did. John gave him things to think about. So Herodias could rave and rant all she wished, but Herod wasn’t going to give in.

And then came the day when Herod threw a birthday party. It seems anyone who was anybody was there, a gathering of the influential, the palace aides, the leading citizens of Galilee, high ranking officials in the army. And into this gathering of mainly men, all of whom by a certain point would have been slightly the worse for wear, what with the drink flowing freely, enters Salome, Herod’s stepdaughter.

So Salome does her little dance and Herod is so charmed that in front of all those people he declares he will give her even half his kingdom as a reward. As Tetrarch of Galilee under Roman rule, Herod didn’t have a kingdom to give but this was his way of saying that Salome could have anything she wanted.

If Salome was anything like today’s young women, in today’s world she would have said, ‘Mum, he says I can have anything, a sports car, a top of the range ipad, tickets to Glastonbury all expenses paid, a shopping trip to the Big Apple, my own place to hang about in... What’ll I choose, Mum?’ And of course we know that Herodias saw her chance, and had Salome request instead, on a plate, the head of the troublemaker who’d been blackening her name, like immediately, like right now!

So here is Herod’s quandary. He can’t go back on his word, he dare not become a laughing stock in front of all these influential people, and surely word will get back to Rome if he reneges. On the other hand his conscience tells him that what’s being asked of him is an abomination, something that will sit forever in the dark recesses of his mind, that will haunt him for years to come, so much so that on being told of the miracles of Jesus, Herod will declare, in fear and dread, that the Lord is really John come back to life.

So in this little tale, we might ask, who was it who was truly in the dungeon mentioned by Milton? Yes, John was physically held in chains, but his mind was clear and free. Herod, however was enslaved by the darkness within his soul, a darkness greater than that of any dungeon because he had learnt to stifle his conscience. In the end Herod was to lose everything, his position in Galilee, his peace with God, the chance for forgiveness when he met the Lord, and perhaps his immortal soul.

It has been said, that conscience is where we are in touch with God. The artist Vincent Van Gogh once said that conscience is a man’s compass, and although the needle sometimes deviates, still one must try to follow its direction.

It’s not often in our lives when we are presented with a momentous choice as Herod was. But every day, we are presented with decisions and choices. Do we, like Herod, sometimes base the choices that we make by what other people think, even though this may be against what we know to be right in the depths of our hearts? Can we be so influenced by the face we present to the world that we let this dictate to us at the cost of our integrity? Do we sometimes try to shut out truth if it is uncomfortable or asks difficult choices from us? Are we courageous in our defence of the good and the right?

And are our moral compasses set unwaveringly to the true and steady way of the Lord even though we may have the occasional little lapses? Let’s not forget too that conscience is a sensitive creature and oft ignored will be stilled and silent.

I began with a little verse by Milton and I’ll leave you one by the poet Byron:

‘Yet still there whispers the small voice within,
Heard through Gain’s silence and over Glory’s din:
Whatever creed be taught or land be trod,
Man’s conscience is the oracle of God.’
As the people of God, may we keep listening for that still, small voice.

Amen.