Northbrae Community Church

The passage begins with Herod and others speculating: who is this man Jesus? Apparently, some held that Jesus was John the Baptist raised from the dead. Others thought he was Elijah. Yet others think that he is a prophet of old. Herod has his opinion: "John, whom I beheaded, has been raised."

So the passage goes on to describe the story of Herod and the beheading of John the Baptist. There is some question whether this story is an accurate account of the death of John Baptist. A contemporary Jewish historian, Josephus, who has a wonderfully readable (almost contemporary sounding) account of this period, agrees that Herod did indeed kill John the Baptist. But Josephus says that Herod had John beheaded because he felt threatened by his popularity.

Josephus' account is pretty simple. Herod felt threatened so he has John put to death. We don't see any very original understanding of human nature there.

But Mark's account has a very different flavor. Here John dies at the hands of the principalities and powers. But Mark's version is more ambivalent than that. We see a little deeper into human nature, into the ways of the world.

It seems like Herod is enough of a man to perceive the spiritual power of John. He is both awed and fascinated by him. He likes to hear him talk. Although it appears that John is imprisoned, yet Herod protects him. Let's stop for a little background.

First, the translations of this passage are confusing. Herodias is the name of both Herod's wife and her daughter. However, tradition has it that the daughter was named Salome. And so to keep it clearer I've asked the reader to use the name "Salome" for the daughter, [in Mark 6:22]

Second, note that we are told that Herodias was Herod's brother's wife. But Herod, as puppet King of Israel, has married her. This was a thing to be condemned under the law, and John the Baptist, the prophet, condemned it. This was a terrible thorn in the side of Herodias, the wife, who was thus considered illegitimate, or perhaps not really the wife.

Herodias wanted John gone. But Herod was afraid of the spiritual power of the prophet. Beyond that, he found him interesting.

Now let us look at the character of Herod. He seems an amiable sociable fellow. He is giving a birthday party, for himself. He's using it as a social event to cement his relations with his "courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee."

The genial ruler. The savvy politician.                                                           

At the party he has the daughter, Salome, of his wife, Herodias, dance for the guests. She must have been enchanting. So enchanting that in order to please the guests, and to show what a generous hearted big- shot he was, Herod, who it seems may have had a few glasses of vino as well, says, "Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it to you." He swears, "Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half my kingdom."

Salome runs to conspire with her mother: "What shall I ask for?" Herodias calls for the head of John the Baptist. The daughter, who now seems like a rather nasty little girl, says, "I want you to give me the head of John the Baptist, on a platter."

Herod is obviously shocked and disturbed. Mark says, "The king was deeply grieved, yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her."

In polite society an oath is an oath, right? And it would cause a little bit of a scene to back down in public right in the middle of this extravagant party. So Herod says, "Go ahead," and the prophet is beheaded. This is history at its most meaningless.

Better to cut off a man's head than do something not quite proper like going back on a social promise at your own birthday party. Right??

Herod is an adherent of what I sometimes call the Religion of Nice! It's amazing how much destruction is caused by "nice people," and by that I mean people like you and me, following "the religion of nice" in which so many of us were brought up.

Now when I use the word religion, I am using it in a general sense to describe a system of values and meanings that govern and define our life. A system that describes what is most essential and important.

For a lot of people, when you really get down to it, acting "nice," being respectable, not causing a fuss, following a code of social conduct, is one of the very deepest values governing their lives. It makes them easy to live with, nice to be around. But at what price to them, and to the rest of us?

Herod, of course, is a perfect example of the destruction that can be caused by nice, genial, well bred people when they let being nice be their governing value. But once one is too far into the religion of nice, like Herod, one fails to weigh the values of decency, fairness, compassion to those outside of the social circle within which one is trying to be nice.

There are times when we have to tell things as we see them even when it may seem, God forbid, not nice. It is "not nice" to show our annoyance or frustration. It is "not nice" to express disagreement.

It is "not nice" to object that someone who is full of unresolved anger or frustration over their life is dominating the life of the church, casting a pall over everyone. Many of us were brought up to never show your anger. As if it were better to let it build up to the point that we will do something really inappropriate and possibly destructive.

It is not nice to "air our dirty linen in public." Better to keep it private where it can fester nicely. Where the stories can become more confusing. Where any rumor becomes possible.

The religion of nice can all too easily become the religion of secrets. And when we get into secrets people start to really act crazy. Everyone has a different reality, and usually they are all wrong.                                                                                        

Now I am putting a pretty hard knock on "nice." But I feel I've earned the right to do that. I was brought up on it. And I've invested a lot in trying to unlearn it.

There is nothing wrong with nice. I try to be nice. I want people to be happy. I want people to like me; entering the ministry has helped me to see how much I want people to be happy, to like me.

All I am saying is, don't make being nice into a religion. I am pleading for balance. There are other values. For example, being honest, being truly compassionate for another's deepest needs, rather than indulging your own desire to seem nice, and to be respectable.

Jay Miyazaki raised a similar issue last Sunday when he looked below the surface for the reality of compassion. He questioned his own compassion in assuaging Sebastian's feelings by giving in to his desire for a high sodium/high fat lunch at McDonalds. He said, "Sebastian was a much more perky child after lunch. The question is: is going to McDonald's a compassionate act."

Being a nice host, not upsetting the party, sticking to your public promises (even when they were made when you were a bit drunk) these are worthy things. But at the price of an innocent man's head. Of course not.

How often in the lives of all of us there comes that nagging question, "Shouldn't I say something." For a lot of white Southerners there was a time when it simply wasn't nice or proper to say anything to question a white only lunch counter. For a lot of German Christians there was a time when it simply wasn't done to wonder aloud, "What happened to the Jews that used to live here?"

At Northbrae I have encountered a subtle form of the "Religion of Nice:" We don't want to hurt so-and-so's feelings. Now that is something we can all agree on • we don't want to hurt people's feelings, particularly in church. Or more accurately, we don't want to do or say anything that might cause someone to experience hurt feelings - because, of course, their feelings are their own.

There is a distinction between avoiding the "religion of nice" and being offensive. Some of the significant examples of the religion of nice that I have experienced here I have discussed directly with the people involved. To discuss them here today would actually be a subtle form of triangulation: our insidious tendency to avoid direct communication.

So, to avoid offense, I simply ask each of you to consider whether in your experience here you can think of examples where the progress of the church was unduly impeded by tip-toeing around someone's supposed feelings. Or where an undue desire to avoid the appearance of conflict, or to possibly ruffle feelings, actually dominated the conduct of meetings, or the development of certain plans, or even the structure of the church.

It is the religion of nice that allows this kind of thing to happen. It can tie a community in knots. Sap the energy. Undermine the commitment of those new to the system.  Stop to ponder this.                                                                                                

Northbrae is a great church, with a great future. But I offer as a parting gift, the suggestion that you keep a close on eye on the "religion of nice" when it manifests itself at Northbrae. Some alternative phrases suggest themselves: "the religion of real," "the religion of direct and honest," "the religion of real compassion."

I was brought up on the "religion of nice," and I still spend half my life worrying about other people's feelings. But I care about Northbrae - If I have offended someone's feelings today, I am sorry.

I was brought up on the "religion of nice"....... but what I try to preach is the religion of Jesus. There is quite a difference!

                                                                         Amen

                                                                                  Donald K. Felt