Little Great Friday…

Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist… (Matthew 11: 11).

Each year, on August 29th, the Christian liturgy celebrates the Feast of the Beheading of John the Baptist. Herod arrested John, “on account of Herodias,” his brother’s wife. The Baptizer publicly censured the King and his wife, proclaiming that “it was not lawful to have your brother’s wife.” Saint Mark writes that Herodias “harbored a grudge against John and wanted to kill him, but was unable to do so.”

In our sister Eastern church, the Feast of the Beheading of John is a “little Great Friday.”

On Great Friday, people murdered God, crucified God. On today’s holy great feast, people murdered the greatest of all men. It is not I who chose to use the expression “the greatest.” What are my praises of the great and glorious Forerunner of the Lord, whom the Lord praised more than anyone among men, more than any of the apostles, the Angels, the Prophets, the Righteous Ones, the Sages? For the Lord declared of him:

Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist… (Matthew 11: 11).

In all Creation, there exists no greater praise.

Homily on the Feast of the Beheading of John the Baptist

This King, who “was very much perplexed” by John, if we let him, can cause us unease. Saint Mark writes that Herod feared John: he knew John to be a righteous and holy man. When he heard him speak, he liked to listen to him. The King recognizes just who John the Baptizer is.

He knew, didn’t he, that marrying his brother’s wife was a sin?

We feel unease.

Carravagio’s stunning painting eloquently depicts the effects of Herodias’ horrific command. Our gaze stills on the face of her daughter, often called Salome. And imagine the lost joy and perhaps innocence of a young girl, filled with delight at the reception of her dance.

“Mother, what shall I ask for?”

Before pondering the girl’s horrifically cruel, selfish mother, I think of the man, Herod. All too easily, I can place myself in his shoes. It’s a party, after all, with all the most influential people I know partaking of the largess of my kingdom, and it’s my birthday! The wine is flowing liberally, and I am drinking far more than my portion when suddenly I see something so beautiful that it stops my heart. And when I open my mouth, reason disappears, leaving behind only foolishness and an unbridled tongue. The minute I made the promise, I regretted it, knowing that it would come back and demand far more than I am prepared to give.

These stories aren’t just another Bible story. Rather, they are always mirrors. Like Herod, each of us has placed ourselves in a corner with promises that never should have been made. And worse? Like Herod, foolishly delivering on the promise.

What of Herodias?

Indeed, what of the sister-in-law of a king?

We can assume that the demons of most of the seven deadly sins controlled her. How else could she have counseled her daughter in such a way? Herodias’ “harboring a grudge” against John for speaking the truth recalls a disturbing essay written by CS Lewis. It was an opinion piece written in The Saturday Evening Post shortly before he died on the same day President Kennedy was killed. And it turned out to be the last words he wrote. His title?

“We have no right to happiness.”

Lewis’s last words pierce these last self-absorbed decades of the Western world. And reach all the way back to King Herod and his unlawful union with his sister-in-law.

“After all,” said Clare. “they had a right to happiness.”

We were discussing something that once happened in our own neighborhood. Mr. A. had deserted Mrs. A. and got his divorce in order to marry Mrs. B., who had likewise got her divorce in order to marry Mr. A. And there was certainly no doubt that Mr. A. and Mrs. B. were very much in love with one another. If they continued to be in love, and if nothing went wrong with their health or their income, they might reasonably expect to be very happy.

It was equally clear that they were not happy with their old partners. Mrs. B. had adored her husband at the outset. But then he got smashed up in the war. It was thought he had lost his virility, and it was known that he had lost his job. Life with him was no longer what Mrs. B. had bargained for. Poor Mrs. A., too. She had lost her looks—and all her liveliness. It might be true, as some said, that she consumed herself by bearing his children and nursing him through the long illness that overshadowed their earlier married life.

You mustn’t, by the way, imagine that A. was the sort of man who nonchalantly threw a wife away like the peel of an orange he’d sucked dry. Her suicide was a terrible shock to him. We all knew this, for he told us so himself. “But what could I do?” he said. “A man has a right to happiness. I had to take my one chance when it came….”

…The ancestry of Clare’s maxim, “They have a right to happiness,” is august. In words that are cherished by all civilized men, but especially by Americans, it has been laid down that one of the rights of man is a right to “the pursuit of happiness.” And now we get to the real point.

What did the writers of that august declaration mean?

Read the entire piece here.

Saint Simon Popovich– Saint Justin

is the author of the explanation of the Little Great Friday that began this piece. The homily of the recent Orthodox saint is long, but it warrants our attention.

My brethren, a great Mystery is taking place through this Feast, a Mystery like unto threads stretching through and making He, the All-merciful Miracle Worker, looks upon the unfortunate widowed mother, and resurrects her son, someone unknown to anyone but the mother and Himself. Yet here, Lord, Your Forerunner lies dead, destroyed. Why don’t You resurrect him? You resurrected the daughter of Jairus, head of the synagogue. Yet here is the one whom You called the greatest among those born of women, beheaded by the malefactor- king. Lord, guard Your Truth, defend Your first Apostle, Your first Martyr, Your first Evangelist, Your first Angel in the flesh, Your first Prophet, Your first Confessor. Resurrect him! Yet the Savior remains silent, and retreats to a desert place to pray to God. Why, O Lord?… In today’s Gospel reading, you heard the disciples announce to the Savior that the Forerunner has been beheaded…

Because the Holy Forerunner must also become the first Apostle to Hades, to death’s kingdom. The Holy Forerunner appeared in death’s kingdom as the first Evangelist, in order to preach the Good News of Christ to all of the souls in the kingdom of death. He appeared as well to all of them as the first Martyr, to show that people will joyously go to their deaths for True God, the Lord Jesus Christ, Savior of the world, until death is defeated and destroyed. They will not fear death, for they will be more powerful than death. Through his bodily Resurrection, the Lord grants the body victory over death. The glorious Forerunner also entered into the kingdom of death as the Forerunner of all of the true Confessors of Christ in the world, all of the true Prophets in the world, to announce to all of the souls in the kingdom of death: Lo, death is defeated, the demons destroyed, the kingdom of death will be destroyed when, in a little while, the Lord appears here, and you will be led out of this horror and into heavenly joy, into the Kingdom On High.

This was why the Lord remained silent, why he did not resurrect the greatest man among those born of women, for that man was to complete his apostolic, evangelistic, martyric, confessor’s spiritual struggle in Hades, in the kingdom of death. – to which had departed the souls of all people from Adam to the time of the coming of the Savior into this world…

Homily on the Feast of the Beheading of John the Baptist