17. Mary, Joseph, and John the Baptist: Down Home in Palestine
17
MARY, JOSEPH, AND JOHN THE BAPTIST
The most celebrated saint of all time, hands down, is Mary. Her saintly status, however, was not clearly recognized during her lifetime, and Paul, in his writings, makes no mention of her. Indeed, the Gospel accounts that relate Mary’s activities offer no indication that she behaved in a recognizably saintly manner or was regarded as an unusually holy woman by others.
The New Testament begins with the story of Mary. True, the seventeen opening verses of Matthew are devoted to Jesus’ genealogy through his adoptive father Joseph. But to anyone reading or hearing the story for the first time, nothing makes sense until Mary suddenly steps out of the pages, albeit without reference to a single ancestor.
Joseph’s genealogy is presented twice in the Gospels, but Joseph plays only a secondary role. He is the recipient of angelic visitations and is the father of Mary’s other children, but he disappears from the narrative only a dozen years after he is introduced. After that Mary is presented alone or joined by her sons or other women, though not as a distinctly remarkable person. More than any other biblical figure, however, Mary is singled out by God for special blessing, that of giving birth to the very Son of God.
But if Mary is the most blessed, John the Baptist is surely the sorriest saint in all Scripture. His birth brings tidings of great joy to his aged parents—especially his no-longer barren mother. But in the blink of an eye, his childhood has slipped by and he is taking residence in the desert, wearing camel’s hair, and eating honey and grasshoppers.
Next we find him on the Jordan River baptizing. The privilege of lowering his cousin Jesus into the water is offset by Jesus’ comment that whoever is least in the kingdom of God is greater than John. If he heard that comment, it surely must have taken the wind out of his sails.
Hardly has he dried himself off when he sees his own disciples following after Jesus. But he nevertheless soldiers on, railing out against Herod and his sordid affair with Herodias. Herod’s disdain for the truth, however, lands John in jail—a dungeon with no celebrity quarters. With time on his hands, he begins to think and to doubt. Is Jesus really the promised messiah? He sends his remaining disciples to find out.
Sometime later John is put to death, after Herodias demands his head on a platter. John actually fares better in death than in life. The Catholic Church considers him a genuine saint and commemorates him on two separate feast days. Eastern Orthodoxy commemorates him on six feast days. At least one British pub has recognized him, though sardonically, in its name—the Baptist’s Head.
Apart from the life of Jesus, the life of John is the only one in the New Testament that is recorded from birth to death. John is featured in all four Gospels, and his words are well documented. Indeed, with the exception of Peter he speaks more than any of the twelve disciples.
Mary: Mother of Jesus
A teenage girl, Mary enters the biblical narrative as a key character, but with no recorded lineage. Why she is singled out by God is not clearly spelled out. Surely not for any claim to social status. Indeed, she appears from seemingly out of nowhere. Nazareth is a small hamlet, hardly a place of recognition. Her parents and ancestry are absent from the text. She stands alone. Her role requires no genealogical line or societal connections.
How familiar she may have been with messianic prophecies is unclear. King Herod asks the critical question: Where is the Messiah supposed to be born?Without missing a beat, the high priests respond. It was a no-brainer. Micah, the prophet, was very specific:
But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for out of you will come a ruler
who will shepherd my people Israel.[1]
Though it may have been common knowledge among religious scholars where Jesus would be born, no one knew when. Like her friends and relatives, Mary had grown up awaiting the coming Messiah, but she could not have supposed it would be in her own lifetime or that she, in her wildest imagination, would play a key role as mother. Nor could she have realized when she looked out into the night sky that the brightest star was pointing to the place where her little one would be found. She had no notion of the shenanigans that would be carried out behind the scenes and that astrologers from the East were on a trajectory that would align with her own—the destination being the little town of Bethlehem.
Everyday Life
A Town Called Nazareth
Nazareth! Can anything good come from Nazareth? This is the memorable question Nathaniel posed when he heard about Jesus for the first time. Nazareth was certainly not the Palestinian tourist town of the first century. The settlement was a drab outpost—a Galilean village lacking bustling commerce, political significance, or exciting night life. Most of the several hundred residents were peasant farmers who worked the surrounding fields in the Galilean hills.
The one-room houses in the village were packed cheek by jowl, facing narrow, crooked streets that typically allowed for no more than one-way oxcart traffic. These alleys were either dusty or muddy, depending on the season. But with thick walls, the dwellings were not uncomfortable. Warm in the winter and cool in the summer, they efficiently served family needs. Rooftop accommodations, sometimes joined to another house by a platform bridge, afforded social interaction and space for sleeping in the cool of the evening.
Shops (often attached to houses) and a common courtyard spawned a lively community atmosphere in what might have otherwise seemed like the end of the world. Indeed, in many ways Nazareth provided the best of small-town life—a perfect place to raise a family.
Though unaware of this global positioning system and the evil schemes of Herod, Mary does have her own insider information, which comes from the angel Gabriel. After bidding her a good morning on one otherwise ordinary day, he tells her she is a most fortunate young woman—favored by God. This is astounding. She had never before had such an encounter. Rather than being flattered, however, she is thoroughly frightened. But Gabriel quickly puts her at ease. Then he drops the bombshell. She will become pregnant and give birth to a boy. She is to name him Jesus.
To say that Mary is shocked is an understatement. She is absolutely dumbfounded. This is impossible. Sure, she is betrothed to Joseph, but they had never engaged in sexual intimacies, nor had she been with any other man. How could this possibly be so? Gabriel informs her that this will be a one-of-a-kind pregnancy. The Holy Spirit will come over her, and she will become pregnant and give birth to the very Son of God.
Before Mary can respond, Gabriel adds that Elizabeth, her cousin, has conceived a son. Elizabeth? She is the last person Mary could imagine being pregnant. She is old, long past childbearing years, always pitied for the B-word—barren. Only then does Mary realize she is not the only one for whom God is working a miracle. As dazed as she is, she accepts the verdict calmly, telling the angel she is the Lord’s handmaid and is up to this incredible responsibility.
The angel leaves. Mary’s heart is pounding. Does it enter her mind to rush out and find her fiancé and tell him the news? Does she dance a little jig on the rooftop? Does she bid her family and neighbors goodbye? The text reports only that she departs in a hurry, heading for the hill country in Judah, where Elizabeth lives. When she arrives, she greets her cousin with excitement. But before Mary can even tell her about Gabriel’s message, Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, sings out the joyful news that Mary is blessed, as is the baby she is carrying. Does Mary even know that she is already pregnant? Had this supernatural conception occurred while she was on the road to the hill country?
She has little time to ponder such matters. Elizabeth confirms the good news of her own pregnancy. In fact, the moment she hears Mary’s cheery greeting, the baby in her womb leaps for joy. Elizabeth continues her song of praise to God as Mary listens. Oh to have been a fly on the wall listening to their conversation that followed. Two expectant mothers, filled with excitement as well as trepidation. Mary stays on with Elizabeth for three months, then bids farewell to her beloved cousin and returns home, walking alone on the dusty road back to Nazareth.
Mary visits Elizabeth
Mary still does not say a word to Joseph about the visitation from Gabriel or her pregnancy. She knows that she can’t keep this a secret forever, and it must be tempting to obsess about how to broach the topic. Will he believe her bizarre story? But, as it turns out, any fretting is for naught. One day, perhaps after what might have appeared to be a season of uneasiness between them, Joseph simply informs Mary that the time has come for them to marry.
And then when Mary is in her ninth month of pregnancy, she learns that she must pack up and prepare for a trip to Bethlehem, accompanying Joseph, who must report there for an imperial census for tax purposes. When they arrive they find the village teeming with people who have also come to register. These common folk already are paying too much of their income in taxes, and the general mood is probably less than celebratory.
Mary and Joseph inquire about a place to spend the night, only to learn that every room is taken, every bed is full. What they do find is a sheltered lean-to for cattle. Here in these shabby surroundings, Mary gives birth. Do women learn of her plight and quickly come to her aid? Or is this a private affair for Mary and Joseph alone?
If so, their solitary world is suddenly shattered by the rough voices of shepherds, initially from a distance but now poking around, invading her space. Mary’s initial reaction to their discovering her and the baby may have been less than welcoming. She is, after all, recovering from the exhausting labor of childbirth, while coaching her little one to take her nipple. And now she is confronted by a delegation of strangers, smelly shepherds no less.
She may have been distressed, but she is taken with their amazing story. They tell her how they were minding their own business, tending the sheep as they typically do, when suddenly standing in their midst was an angel, lit up like a giant sparkler. The shepherds testify that the angel announced the Messiah had been born nearby in Bethlehem that very night. They were instructed to search for him—a baby bundled in swaddling clothes and lying in a cattle trough.
So here they are, excited, all talking at once. Theirs is indeed a remarkable story. Mary listens intently, and after they leave she ponders in her heart everything the shepherds had said. Their words confirm what she has already begun to grasp. But the family does not linger in Bethlehem. There is a road trip ahead of them and religious rites to be conducted: circumcision on the eighth day and then a sacrifice to God at the Jerusalem Temple. At least for now, Mary’s infant must be treated like any other Jewish infant boy.
Potty training and weaning are all part of the early childhood routine—all uneventful, until one day strangers appear at the door, having been guided astonishingly to the very spot by a star. These colorfully clad foreigners stand out like exotic aliens among the locals. Turns out they are scholars from the East.
When they see Mary holding Jesus, they instinctively know their long journey has been successful; their search is over. They fall to their knees, worship the boy, and offer gifts. Mary’s eyes must have almost popped out. She lives in the most humble surroundings, and these are not the kinds of trinkets one buys at the town market. Now right here in front of her are wealthy Bedouins bearing gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Did she even know what these substances were? What does she do with them? And what are the neighbors saying about these unusual visitors? But they leave, going back in the direction from which they came, and life for Mary goes back to normal.
Since the angelic visitation a few years earlier, informing her she would bear a son, Mary had been living a very public life. Her secret had been confirmed in four separate settings, first by Elizabeth and then by shepherds and scholars, and in between by clerics in Jerusalem. Here her baby had been all the buzz when they arrived at the Temple. Now in Nazareth, the attention has dwindled and she settles into the daily routine. That is, until Joseph suddenly tells her that he has had an angelic visitation, and they must flee to Egypt under the cover of darkness to elude King Herod’s murderous henchmen.
Away from Palestine, they escape the terrible slaughter of the innocents that their neighbors and fellow countrymen endure. They must surely have heard of the anguish after the fact, but for now they are safe in a foreign land.
When word comes that things have calmed down, Mary returns with Joseph and Jesus to Galilee and settles down in Nazareth, where she had grown up. But every year she goes to Jerusalem for the Passover with Joseph, Jesus, and her growing family. During one such holiday, when Jesus is twelve, Mary and Joseph are on their return trip, a full day’s journey out of Jerusalem. Only then does she realize Jesus is not with the company of returning pilgrims.
A fresco of a black Madonna and Jesus in Axum Cathedral, Ethiopia
Mary had assumed he was part of the crowd, perhaps having a good time with boys his own age. But she is distraught when she learns no one has seen him. So they turn around and head back to Jerusalem. When they find him in the Temple, taking part in a discourse with religious elders, Mary is not amused. “Young man,” she abruptly addresses him, “why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been half out of our minds looking for you.”[2] His response about doing his Father’s business bewilders her, but she lets it go for the moment. Back in Nazareth, however, she often contemplates his words, wondering about their deeper meaning.
Mary had received no instructions about rearing Jesus or becoming involved in ministry herself. She might have carried out her duty and faded from the scene. But Mary is a strong-minded woman who captures the attention of the Gospel writers. Jesus is not her only responsibility. Although he is certainly the most celebrated of her children, the others must have been equally dear to her heart—her daughters (whose names are lost in the annals of time) and her sons: James, Justus, Jude, and Simon. Joseph is absent from the story after their twelfth year of marriage, perhaps having died.
Now moving on in years—likely approaching fifty—Mary attends a wedding in Cana, a small hamlet some nine miles north of Nazareth. Jesus, who had already begun to gather disciples, also attends and brings them along. At some point, perhaps well into the festivities, Mary notices that the wine is running low. She is concerned and relays the problem to Jesus. Is she hoping for a miracle? Probably not. Jesus is her oldest son, and she no doubt has depended on him for many things. She apparently thinks he can come up with a solution and only wants to spare the host embarrassment.
Maybe she actually does believe he has special powers. His response to her is telling: “Is that any of our business, Mother—yours or mine? This isn’t my time. Don’t push me.”[3] But she doesn’t cower before her strong son. She goes to the servants and tells them to do whatever Jesus asks them to do. She must be truly taken aback, however, when she hears him tell the servants to fill the jugs with water. Is this some sort of practical joke?
But when the water is poured out for the guests, she quickly realizes it is actually wine. In fact, the guests are commenting on its delicate taste—what fine wine it is. They simply think the best has been saved for last. She and the servants, as well as his disciples, know differently. But there is no discussion—no questions about how this could have happened.
This is an incredible first miracle—enough to stir loyalty and belief among his disciples. But does Mary actually believe in him in the same way? She still seems to be on the fence. Yet she is ever close by, going with him and her other sons and his disciples to Capernaum, staying there for a short time.
After Jesus’ ministry gathers momentum, Mary cannot keep track of him. But she hears by the grapevine things that concern her. He has been out on the road preaching and appointing apostles. Religious leaders from Jerusalem are claiming he’s in league with the devil. Hometown friends fear that he may be losing it. So when he gets to the outskirts of Nazareth and is preaching to a crowd, Mary and her other sons arrive, hoping to take him aside and maybe talk some sense into him.
When someone passes the word on to Jesus that they have come and want a private audience with him, Jesus repeats the request to his listeners and turns this little domestic matter into a teaching moment. He asks the crowd, Who are my mother and brothers? Most of them obviously know. But he turns his own question upside down and answers that anyone who obeys God is a mother and a brother to him.
Family is foundational among this hometown Jewish crowd. Do the people show surprise and whisper among themselves? Does anyone call out for further explanation? The only response from Mary is the sound of silence.
Soon after this Jesus again returns home. Mary’s presence is not mentioned, but home is not merely Nazareth. It is Mary’s home. She is somewhere in the background.
Mary is not named among those who are with Jesus at the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem on the first day of the week just before his crucifixion and resurrection. But she is present at the crucifixion itself. What terrible anguish it must have been for Jesus’ disciples and brothers and sisters. But for Mary, the pain permeates every particle of her being. He is her firstborn son—the infant, the boy, the young adult; and now this horrific death on a cross.
That Jesus, so near death, compassionately acknowledges his mother is a selfless act that she can treasure the remainder of her life. Through her sobs, she hears him appoint his disciple John (and her nephew) as her son and in turn appoint her as his mother. It’s a tender moment that eases the raw evil of the nightmare she is enduring.
From Matthew’s account we know that James and John were the sons of Zebedee. By comparing Matthew and Mark we discover that Salome was the name of the wife of Zebedee and the mother of James and John. From John we see that Salome was Mary’s sister.
I first thought that there could be other women in the account as well, but the order of the names and the similarity of the language in the accounts leads me to be almost certain that Jesus’ mother’s sister is Salome, the wife of Zebedee and the mother of James and John. Therefore, James and John were Jesus’ first cousins.
The implications of this are enormous when we consider how the various books of the New Testament were compiled and the roles that James and John, and also the “brothers of the Lord” James and Jude, had in writing and compiling the New Testament canon.
But tragedy turns to triumph. Mary hears the incredible news that Jesus has risen from the dead. How does she process this information? Her grief was beyond anything she had ever known, and now suddenly she’s wild with excitement. There is no report of their postresurrection reunion, but Mary knows that her son now lives.
Sometime later Mary is in the upper room in Jerusalem with the disciples. Pentecost is ahead of them. She is now officially part of Jesus’ following, but she is never again mentioned in the biblical narrative. She simply disappears.
Joseph: Husband of Mary
Not just a name to be appended to that of Mary, Joseph is an important biblical figure in his own right. In fact, the New Testament opens with his genealogy. The family tree begins with Abraham and continues for forty-one generations to Joseph (preceded by his father Jacob), ending with his adopted son Jesus. Joseph is a builder engaged to be married to Mary. But he hears by the grapevine that she’s pregnant. Who could the father possibly be? This is an absolutely awful turn of events. Sheer torment. Mary, of all people. No one could have guessed. She’s the least likely person to be running around—when betrothed to another, no less.
He is in shock. But he cares deeply for her and is determined not to make a public spectacle. The marriage is off, but he will handle the matter privately with her and her family. A dream, however, prompts him to reverse course. An angel appears with a message that Mary is pregnant by the Holy Spirit; she will give birth to a son; he is to be named Jesus—God saves—because he will save God’s people from their sin.
Joseph surely must have wondered how such a pregnancy without a human father could occur. But like all faithful Jews, he is not unaware of angel messengers from God, and he is not about to put up an argument. So Joseph takes the message to heart and carries on with his plans to marry. At this point Joseph knows more about the expected birth of Jesus than does Mary.
The biblical text reveals nothing of the actual marriage celebration. The parable of the ten virgins details an elaborate affair with food and festivities.[4] But for Joseph and Mary, the marriage may have been very low key. Both the circumstances and their own social status would have been factors.
Hardly has the groom settled into married life when he learns he must prepare for a journey to Bethlehem to register for an imperial census. In Bethlehem, consigned to a cattle shelter for the night, he must have felt helpless when Mary began labor. His bride is in agony, and she doesn’t even have a decent bed in a warm inn to lie on. Does he question his decision making? What if he had looked for lodging before arriving in town?
The hours that follow are shrouded in privacy and pain. Every contraction and tortured cry cuts to the bone. If only he could relieve her agony. Then she’s pushing and at last he hears the healthy cry of a baby boy—his son. He stands by, the proud father, as shepherds come and go. And he’s the one who takes charge of circumcision and the Temple sacrifice. But life goes on. He has work to do in the shop, and Mary is responsible for domestic chores and child care.
Before he disappears from the biblical record, Joseph has another angelic visitation. This time the angel warns him to flee the wrath of King Herod, who is about to issue a death warrant for all the little boys of the land. Herod is convinced one of them (per the report of the wise men) will one day usurp his throne. Joseph, Mary, and Jesus hastily leave town and travel to Egypt.
How Joseph secured money for travel and for the family’s extended stay in Egypt is not recorded. Perhaps he traded carpentry work for food and lodging. Joseph’s decision to return to Nazareth after King Herod dies is prompted by an angel.
It is natural to imagine Joseph a quiet man. He is not the one who takes charge when the twelve-year-old Jesus appears to have gone missing after the Passover in Jerusalem. Mary does. To what extent he communicates with Mary is not disclosed. That he communicates with an angel—more than most people do—is not disputed.
John the Baptist: Desert Prophet
At first glance someone might dub him the wild man from the wilderness. The desert is his home, and he eats what he can scavenge, mainly locusts and wild honey. In fact, long before drawing public attention, he seems to have been living an ascetic lifestyle. To those who initially come out to hear him, he is no more than another stump preacher, perhaps more than a little peculiar, but so it is with desert prophets. That he hasn’t had a recent bath and wears a covering made of camel’s hair is beside the point. His words are fiery, and he is a good diversion on an otherwise dreary day.
John is the son of the elderly priest Zachariah and his wife Elizabeth, who live in the hill country of Judea. They observe the commandments and live blameless lives. Elizabeth and Mary are cousins, thus making John and Jesus second cousins. John’s birth had been foretold by the angel Gabriel while his father was participating in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to burn incense in the Temple. As would be true of Mary and Joseph, Zachariah is initially frightened, but he seems to take the angelic visitation in stride, more stunned by the message than the messenger. What a jolt it was for this elderly priest! True, it is an answer to prayer, but does he really imagine he will be changing diapers at his advanced age? Indeed, he is so shocked that he questions Gabriel as to the veracity of the message, and for that he is stricken mute.
He returns home to share the good news with Elizabeth, but he cannot speak. One can only imagine how he might have conveyed her prophesied pregnancy without words.
Elizabeth will in turn share the good news when Mary comes to visit. The two of them bond as never before—women chosen by God to bear sons destined for greatness. Elizabeth, however, has clearly recognized their different roles. “Why am I so favored,” she asks Mary, “that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”[5]
After her baby is born, Elizabeth announces at the circumcision ceremony that his name will be John. The officiants and guests are shocked. There is not one in the family so named, and the baby, after all, is the firstborn and only son of Zachariah in his old age. What an insult not to name him after his father. But Zachariah signals that Elizabeth has gotten it right. So they name him John, and at that moment Zachariah opens his mouth and sings a song of praise to God.
From Gabriel he had learned that this baby will be filled with the Holy Spirit from the time of his birth. He will be set apart for ministry, expected to follow a Nazirite code of conduct, forbidding him to touch even one drop of alcohol. More than that, he will become a great prophet, like Elijah of old. Whether the parents would ever live to see this fulfilled is not recorded. But they carry out their end of the bargain by giving their infant a solid start.
Fast-forward thirty years, and people actually are speaking of John and Elijah in the same breath. It’s as though Elijah, the prophet who did not die, is back in the person of John. John’s message is delivered in anything but well-crafted sermons. Rather, he feeds off the crowds with spontaneous and straightforward exhortations. Bottom line, he’s a colorful, attention-grabbing street evangelist. Preaching repentance is his strong suit. Although people had heard the message before, John’s style is captivating, and his words hold more than just a ring of truth. Soon there are pilgrims coming from great distances to hear his preaching. He fearlessly summons the people to confess their sins. As they do, he baptizes them in the Jordan River.
But some of the people are coming with false motives, seeking to discredit his preaching. When they demand to know who sent him and why he baptizes, he identifies himself with unforgettable words. Quoting from Isaiah, he tells them, “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord.’”[6]
Still other individuals are imposters wanting to make a show of their public baptism. John sniffs them out in a heartbeat. He is livid. “You brood of snakes!” he hisses. “Who warned you to flee God’s coming wrath? Prove by the way you live that you have repented of your sins and turned to God. Don’t just say to each other, ‘We’re safe, for we are descendants of Abraham.’ That means nothing, for I tell you, God can create children of Abraham from these very stones.”[7] Had anyone ever dared to stick it to the religious elite in this manner? They are stunned. How dare this two-bit preacher demean them in front of the crowds? But they bide their time.
John the Baptist in the desert
John goes on to explain his practice of water baptism. It is only the initiation. The one who comes after him will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. As for John himself, he is not worthy to even stoop down and loosen the sandals of this one who follows.
Then, almost on cue, Jesus appears, requesting his own baptism. John’s spontaneous salutation rings through the ages: Behold the Lamb of God! What transpires next is shocking. Jesus asks John to baptize him. Jesus? To John and to alert bystanders, such an act seems entirely upside down. John protests, insisting that it should be the reverse—that he is not worthy of such an honor—to baptize the Lamb of God. But Jesus holds his ground, and John baptizes him.
That John attracts large crowds and delivers captivating messages makes him stand out among the many wandering prophets and preachers of the day. More than that, however, his calling is unique, since he has been directly commissioned by God to pave the way for Jesus’ ministry. Perhaps he has mixed emotions, then, when two of his loyal disciples, one of them Andrew, leave him to follow Jesus.
But John carries on in ministry even after he baptizes Jesus, calling on his listeners to repent and live righteous lives. He specifically piles it on the Pharisees and Sadducees—and even on King Herod. It is well known that Herod is involved in an adulterous affair with his brother’s wife Herodias. Most people are simply looking the other way. Not John. He does not mince words.
Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great (who slaughtered the infants in attempting to eliminate baby Jesus) was a wicked and egotistical ruler. Known as the “tetrarch” (Luke 3:19), he had inherited certain portions of his father’s kingdom in Galilee and in Peraea (west of the Jordan). The major mention of him in the New Testament is with reference to his imprisonment and execution of John the Baptist. That is a tragic way to “make history.”
Herod was married to the daughter of Aretas IV, a Nabatean king (SE of the Jordan), but on a certain trip to Rome he stopped to visit his half-brother, Philip, and was “smitten” with Philip’s wife, Herodias. He influenced her to leave his brother, and then he himself divorced his own wife. The two, Antipas and Herodias, thus entered an “unlawful” live-together relationship (though it was accommodatively called “marriage”). It was inevitable, therefore, that John (who denounced sin) and Herod (who reveled in it) would clash.
In the mind of Herod, the death penalty is what John deserves. He has stepped over the line. It’s one thing to rail against the religious leaders; it’s another to find fault with the king—and in personal, private matters, no less. The king is not oblivious to John’s popularity with the people, and he fears an uprising. Perhaps more than that, he is convinced John is truly a man of God. But prophet or not, Herod is fed up with John’s insults. So he throws the nettlesome prophet in jail.
There John has time to reflect on what is going on outside the dungeon walls and what is likely to happen to him. Has he been on the right track? Is his cousin Jesus actually the Messiah? Maybe not. Maybe such claims are just pie in the sky. He is unsure and begins to doubt. He ponders his own role in Jesus’ messianic ministry—how at one point he had been so certain of his cousin being the very Son of God. Didn’t the Spirit descend like a dove from heaven the moment he baptized him? Didn’t he hear the very voice of God? Here is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.
But that was then; this is now. He’s in prison, and he has doubts. That his cousin is actually the Son of God, now that he has had time to really think about it, seems far-fetched. So he sends his remaining disciples to find out for sure what is really going on. They go and find Jesus and ask him directly if he is the One they are waiting for. Jesus simply tells them to look at his track record.
After John’s disciples leave, Jesus turns to the crowd and sings John’s praises. True, he looks like a desert caveman. But the fact remains: he is the Elijah, prophesied to reappear and pave the way for the Messiah.
Sometime after this, King Herod is hosting a birthday celebration for himself with food and live entertainment on a grand scale. Among the dancers is Salome, a nubile lass, the daughter of Herodias. Herod is completely charmed by her—more so as the wine flows and the night wears on. Feeling altogether mellow and magnanimous, he tells the young beauty that he will give her anything she asks for. Her mother, overhearing the vow, secretly prompts her daughter. So when Herod asks the girl to specify her wish, she is ready with an answer: the head of John the Baptist—not just chopped off, but displayed on a platter for all at the feast to see. Thus it was that decapitation ended the ministry of this seemingly crazy prophet from the desert. John’s disciples, loyal to the end, give his body a proper burial and mourn his passing.
Concluding Observations
From a human perspective, John’s is a sad story—altogether different from the story of his cousin Jesus. Jesus is actively involved in the Jewish cultural life of his time. He has close friends and relatives, he enjoys good meals, he outwits the Pharisees, and he tantalizes his listeners with parables. None of this good life applies to John. From the time of his youth he has eked out a subsistence in the desert. His initiation to the public is not as a rabbi who is calling disciples and performing miracles. Rather, he is consigned to the hard life of a street preacher, railing out about sin and repentance. His baptism and introduction of Jesus lead to the desertion of most of his own followers. He doubts and he dies an ignominious death.
Joseph, husband of Mary, is an all-around decent fellow. Without Mary, his story would be swept away by the winds of time. She, on the other hand, did not need him in order to fulfill her role and complete her story as the most celebrated woman ever. Another descendant of David might have served as well.
As for Mary, she is God’s first choice. Indeed, never before or after would God pick out an ordinary human being to carry out such an intimate and earth-shattering assignment. Did it even occur to her to argue with the angel Gabriel when he came with the message? Moses argued, so also Jeremiah. Does Mary, nourished on the Law and the Prophets, realize she is the virgin of ancient prophecy? Whatever the case, she hurries to celebrate with Elizabeth. Her story that follows is that of a young woman who matures into motherhood. She is a strong, independent Jewish woman—a role model whose true identity is blurred in Renaissance paintings and mute garden statues.
In some segments of Christianity and during certain eras of church history, Mary has been raised to a position above all other biblical figures—even Jesus himself. What is most strange in the biblical text is her disappearance after Pentecost. One wonders if she died shortly thereafter. Paul never mentions her, though he had close ties with some of the disciples, including her sons. It is safe to assume that she did not live on to be the grand matriarch of the infant church.
Further Reading
McKnight, Scot. The Real Mary: Why Evangelical Christians Can Embrace the Mother of Jesus. Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2007.
Murphy, Catherine M. John the Baptist: Prophet of Purity for a New Age. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2003.
Perry, Tim. Mary for Evangelicals: Toward an Understanding of the Mother of Our Lord. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2006.