A reflection for the Passion of Saint John the Baptist.
Herod is such an uncomfortable figure in this Gospel because he is not completely indifferent to John the Baptist.
He knows John is righteous and holy. He is disturbed by what John says, yet he keeps listening. There is something in John’s words that gets under his skin. Herod seems drawn to the truth even while resisting what it asks of him.
I recognize more of myself in that than I would like.
There are times when I know exactly what the right thing is. I do not need another Scripture passage, another homily, or another sign from heaven. The problem is not confusion. The problem is that obedience may cost me something I would rather keep.
Maybe it is my pride. Maybe it is my comfort. Maybe it is the approval of someone whose opinion has too much influence over me. Sometimes I can spend a remarkable amount of energy pretending I am still “discerning” when I already know perfectly well what God is asking.
Herod’s tragedy is that he keeps truth close enough to hear it, but not close enough to let it change him.
Then comes the banquet.
He makes a reckless promise in front of his guests, and when Herodias’s daughter asks for John’s head, Herod is deeply distressed. He does not want to do it. He knows it is wrong.
And he does it anyway.
Why? Because everyone is watching.
That may be the most frightening part of the story. Herod chooses a terrible act not because he believes it is right, but because backing down would embarrass him.
Pride can make cowards of us in very ordinary ways.
I have certainly had moments when saying, “I was wrong,” felt much more difficult than continuing down a foolish path. Once I have defended a position, made a promise, or spoken too confidently, there is a powerful temptation to protect my image instead of changing course.
But repentance often looks exactly like changing course.
It may mean admitting that I spoke too quickly. Apologizing without explaining myself. Refusing to go along with something simply because everyone else seems comfortable with it. It may mean disappointing someone whose approval I want.
Knowing the truth is not the same as surrendering to it.
I can admire courage without being courageous. I can appreciate mercy while holding onto resentment. I can believe deeply in forgiveness while still avoiding the apology I owe. I can hear the Gospel every week and still find creative ways to protect the parts of my life I do not want Christ rearranging.
Herod listened to John, but listening alone was not enough.
The Gospel asks me a harder question: What will I do with the truth once I have heard it?
Sometimes holiness is not discovering something new. Sometimes it is finally doing the good thing I already know I should do.
Lord, give me the courage not only to recognize your truth, but to choose it when choosing it costs me something.