Amos 7:7–15
This is what he showed me: the LORD was standing beside a wall built with a plumb line, with a plumb line in his hand. And the LORD said to me, "Amos, what do you see?" And I said, "A plumb line." Then the LORD said,
"See, I am setting a plumb line
in the midst of my people Israel;
I will never again pass them by;
the high places of Isaac shall be made desolate,
and the sanctuaries of Israel shall be laid waste,
and I will rise against the house of Jeroboam with the sword."
Then Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, sent to King Jeroboam of Israel, saying, "Amos has conspired against you in the very center of the house of Israel; the land is not able to bear all his words. For thus Amos has said, 'Jeroboam shall die by the sword, and Israel must go into exile away from his land.'"
And Amaziah said to Amos, "O seer, go, flee away to the land of Judah, earn your bread there, and prophesy there; but never again prophesy at Bethel, for it is the king's sanctuary, and it is a temple of the kingdom."
Then Amos answered Amaziah, "I am no prophet, nor a prophet's son; but I am a herdsman, and a dresser of sycamore trees, and the LORD took me from following the flock, and the LORD said to me, 'Go, prophesy to my people Israel.'
Mark 6:14–29
King Herod heard of it, for Jesus' name had become known. Some were saying, "John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him." But others said, "It is Elijah." And others said, "It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old." But when Herod heard of it, he said, "John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”
For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip's wife, because Herod had married her. For John had been telling Herod, "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife." And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him.
But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, "Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it." And he solemnly swore to her, "Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom." She went out and said to her mother, "What should I ask for?" She replied, "The head of John the baptizer." Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, "I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter." The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her.
Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John's head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.
---
Dacher Keltner, a psychology professor at UC Berkeley, after years of lab and field experiments, has witnessed a repeated phenomenon that he calls “the power paradox.”
He says, "While people usually gain power through traits and actions that advance the interests of others, such as empathy, collaboration, openness, fairness, and sharing; when they start to feel powerful or enjoy a position of privilege, those qualities begin to fade. The powerful are more likely than other people to engage in rude, selfish, and unethical behavior.”
This behavioral pattern is backed up by neuroscience - brain scans show that perceived power actually impairs a specific neural process, something called mirroring, that is a cornerstone of empathy.
Power, real or perceived, gets in the way of our ability to maintain empathy, compassion, and concern for others.
This power paradox is blatantly obvious in our gospel reading today.
Herod, the king, is throwing himself a birthday party. He has invited all the powerful dignitaries and members of his court to a fantastic feast, full of rich food and wine, laughter and dancing. It is an expensive and lavish bash. It’s exactly what you would expect of a powerful king who wants to celebrate himself in grand fashion, while also feeding the good favor of his most powerful advisors and key constituents.
Now Herod is married to Herodius, his brother Philip’s wife. It is a bit of a scandal. Herod has used his unquestioned power to marry a woman who the law says is off-limits to him. John the Baptist was quick to call foul on this romance, which has made Herodius especially angry, having upgraded her lifestyle from that of the king’s sister-in-law to that of a queen.
She wants John killed for speaking the truth, but it isn’t in her power to do that, so she settles for letting Herod throw him in prison. Herod, mind you, generally likes the guy, and is fascinated, if not also perplexed, by his teachings.
Anyway, back to the party. The music is playing, everybody has had a little too much to eat and drink, and then, for some entertainment, Herod’s daughter dances for the crowd. Herod, being powerful, drunk, and foolish, makes her a promise: I swear to give you anything your heart desires, even half my kingdom if you want it!
And before he knows what is happening, the girl has consulted with her mother, and comes back to Herod asking not for half his kingdom, but for John’s head.
Herod, the most powerful man in the room, the most powerful man in the kingdom, can’t muster up the power or courage to tell her “no.” He can’t manufacture the empathy or compassion to spare John’s life.
We read that he didn’t want to break his oath and, more importantly, he didn’t want to disappoint the guests. So Herod, the man with all the power, plays the powerless fool. He raises up his hand to signal the guards, and sits back as John is killed.
Yes, despite—or perhaps because of—Herod’s great power, he chooses to protect his image rather than protecting John’s life. It is the clash of power and empathy. The greater the power, the easier it is to hold the powerless at arms’ length. The greater the influence, the easier it is not to care.
Certainly, as people of faith, we might each aim to to be prophetic like John the Baptist instead of power-drunk like Herod. Except if we’re being honest, we know that we are all far more like Herod than we’d probably like to be.
Because each of us has been given some measure of power and privilege in life, and with it, we take on the risk of using our power - big or small - for our own gain, rather than for the sake of the powerless.
Power and privilege come in many forms: wealth, credentials, leadership positions, certainly. But there’s also implicit power in being white, or male, or heterosexual, or cis-gender, or educated, or gainfully employed.
And it’s not that any one of us necessarily chose any of this, or that any of these privileged statuses are inherently bad, but when we get too comfortable with our status in life, then we run the real risk of distancing ourselves from the very people God has called us to serve.
Now, the truth, of course, is that it does not take any particular power to proclaim the Gospel, and really, God is often in the business of stripping away people’s comfort and power precisely so that it doesn’t get in the way of that proclamation.
Amos, a herdsman from the southern kingdom of Judah, was called by God out of his comfortable and familiar lifestyle, and sent to prophecy at Bethel, at the heart of Israel, at the center of the kingdom’s worship. It was because Amos was there as a homeless outsider that he was better able to empathize and speak on behalf of the poor and oppressed.
Or what of John the Baptist? Surely he, the son of a priest, could have lived a comfortable life of service in the temple. And yet God called him to proclaim such a radical word of repentance and forgiveness that he took to the wilderness, foraging and wandering - and baptizing and proclaiming God’s kingdom.
Last week, we heard about Jesus, sending the disciples out to the villages to preach good news. He sent them with no cash, no trail mix, no backpacks, no rain gear. He sent them out vulnerable, that that they might be more inclined to reach out to the vulnerable with the hope of Christ's kingdom.
Later, Jesus will tell the disciples that following him requires laying down their lives and picking up the cross. Jesus tells a rich young ruler that he needs to sell everything and give it to the poor. He will tell those who want to be his disciples that they need to be willing to give up home and family and life itself for the sake of the gospel.
And why? Because power gets in the way of empathy. Security gets in the way of the urgency of the gospel message. Wealth gets in the way of mercy and justice. And Jesus tells us that if we can’t muster up the courage to use our power for the sake of the powerless, then we would do better to rid ourselves of our power altogether, rather than exploit our privilege for our own gain.
Jesus knows a little something about setting aside power, doesn’t he? Paul's letter to the Philippians tells us that Jesus, being equal with God, chose not to exploit that divine power. He instead chose to empty himself of power, become human, and die a scandalous death. He chose vulnerability that he might empathize with the human condition, and preach a word of grace and hope into the center of this creation's brokenness and fear.
In the same way, during his last hours of life, Christ took off his outer garments, laid aside his identity as Lord and Rabbi and friend, and took on the powerless identity of a slave, washing his disciples’ feet in an act of love and service.
Christ chose to set aside his power in order that he might choose us in grace. As we are saved by that grace, then we, too, are called to choose empathy over power. Jesus' challenge to us is that we use whatever power we have on behalf of the powerless, even if it weakens us in the eyes of the world; and that if we cannot do that, then we need to choose to give up our power all together.
Jesus calls us to choose love for neighbor. To choose justice and mercy. To choose the courage to break bad promises and change bad laws. This is what Herod couldn't find the strength to do. But just as the disciples were sent out powerless and yet returned to Jesus rejoicing over all God empowered them to do, so also do we have the confidence that God will humble the powerful for the sake of the gospel, and that God will lift up the powerless to do great things in his name.
Pray that God might continue to challenge us to choose empathy over power, to give up our self-centeredness, to walk the way of the cross.
May God use our weakness as a vehicle for grace. May God use our powers and privileges as a vehicle for mercy. May God give us empathetic hearts and holy hands. May we seek nothing else but lives of love and service. And may we be deeply satisfied by the richness of our calling.