The King's Conscience and the Prophet's Head Text: Matthew 14:1-12
Introduction: Two Kingdoms in Conflict
In the economy of God, there are always two kingdoms, two cities, two loyalties set in stark opposition. There is the kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ, and there is the kingdom of this world. The kingdom of God is marked by truth, righteousness, and life. The kingdom of man, in its fallen state, is marked by lies, corruption, and death. These two kingdoms are perpetually at war, and in our text today, we see a raw and bloody skirmish on the front lines.
We are presented with two kings. One is Herod Antipas, the tetrarch, a petty tyrant ruling at the pleasure of Rome, a man enslaved to his lusts, his fears, and his public image. His court is a den of sensual indulgence, political maneuvering, and ultimately, murder. The other king, Jesus, is present only by reputation, by the news of His miraculous powers. His kingdom is not of this world, yet it is invading this world with such force that even corrupt rulers in their palaces cannot ignore it. And caught between these two kingdoms is the forerunner, John the Baptist, a man clothed in camel's hair, whose voice was a razor, and whose message was simple: repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
This story is not a quaint historical anecdote about the unfortunate end of a good man. It is a paradigm. It reveals the nature of worldly power, the cost of prophetic faithfulness, and the vacuity of a man-centered world. Herod's court is a microcosm of our own secular, godless age. It is a world that prizes entertainment over truth, reputation over righteousness, and sensual gratification over fidelity. And when the uncompromising voice of God's law speaks into that world, the reaction is violent. The world cannot bear the light because its deeds are evil, and so it seeks to extinguish the lamp. This passage forces us to ask ourselves: which kingdom commands our allegiance? And are we willing to pay the price for that allegiance?
The Text
At that time Herod the tetrarch heard the news about Jesus, and said to his servants, “This is John the Baptist; he has risen from the dead, and that is why miraculous powers are at work in him.” For when Herod had John arrested, he bound him and put him in prison because of Herodias, the wife of his brother Philip. For John had been saying to him, “It is not lawful for you to have her.” And although Herod wanted to put him to death, he feared the crowd, because they were regarding John as a prophet. But when Herod’s birthday came, the daughter of Herodias danced before them and pleased Herod, so much that he promised with an oath to give her whatever she asked. Now having been prompted by her mother, she said, “Give me here on a platter the head of John the Baptist.” And although he was grieved, the king commanded it to be given because of his oaths, and because of his dinner guests. And he sent and had John beheaded in the prison. And his head was brought on a platter and given to the girl, and she brought it to her mother. And his disciples came and took away the body and buried it; and they went and reported to Jesus.
(Matthew 14:1-12 LSB)
A Tyrant's Haunted Conscience (v. 1-2)
We begin with the reaction of the local ruler to the ministry of Jesus.
"At that time Herod the tetrarch heard the news about Jesus, and said to his servants, 'This is John the Baptist; he has risen from the dead, and that is why miraculous powers are at work in him.'" (Matthew 14:1-2)
Herod Antipas was a son of Herod the Great, the monster who slaughtered the infants of Bethlehem. Like father, like son. He was a man steeped in pagan superstition and political expediency, not genuine faith. Yet, when he hears of Jesus, his mind does not go to political rivals or messianic prophecies. It goes straight to the man he had murdered. His conscience, though seared, was not dead. It was haunted.
His conclusion is a fascinating mixture of superstition and guilt. He correctly identifies the work of supernatural power, but he misidentifies the person. He thinks Jesus is a resurrected John. This tells us that John's ministry had left an indelible mark on him. John had performed no miracles in his life (John 10:41), but Herod imagines that a resurrected John would be supernaturally charged. This is the logic of a guilty conscience. Sin makes men irrational. Herod had tried to silence the prophet, but now he imagines that prophet is back from the dead, more powerful than ever. You can cut off the prophet's head, but you cannot kill the prophet's words. They echo in the tyrant's empty halls.
This is a permanent principle. God has written His law on the heart, and even the most debased men know, deep down, that there is a reckoning. They can suppress the truth in unrighteousness, they can build palaces of distraction, but the ghost of their guilt will always find a way in. The fear of Herod is the fear of every man who has rejected God: the terror that the reality you have tried to bury is coming back for you.
The Prophet's Uncompromising Rebuke (v. 3-5)
Matthew now gives us the backstory, the reason for the haunting.
"For when Herod had John arrested, he bound him and put him in prison because of Herodias, the wife of his brother Philip. For John had been saying to him, 'It is not lawful for you to have her.' And although Herod wanted to put him to death, he feared the crowd, because they were regarding John as a prophet." (Matthew 14:3-5 LSB)
Here is the collision of the two kingdoms in its sharpest form. John the Baptist was not arrested for disturbing the peace or for sedition. He was arrested for preaching the law of God concerning marriage. Herod had divorced his own wife to take Herodias, the wife of his living brother, Philip. This was a flagrant violation of the law of Moses (Leviticus 18:16, 20:21). It was adultery and incest compounded.
John did not trim his message to suit the powerful. He spoke truth to power, directly and repeatedly. "It is not lawful for you to have her." He did not say, "It is perhaps inadvisable," or "Have you considered the political optics?" He said, "It is not lawful." He appealed to a higher authority than Herod. This is the fundamental task of the prophet, and of the church. We are to declare what God has said, without apology or equivocation, whether it concerns the peasant's hut or the king's bedroom. The law of God is over all.
Notice the dynamics of Herod's weakness. He is a man caught between two fears. He wants to kill John, but he fears the crowd. He is not constrained by morality or the fear of God, but by public opinion. This is the mark of a true tyrant. He is not a man of principle, but a man of polls. He is a slave to the approval of others, which makes him dangerously unpredictable. A man who fears God is steady. A man who fears men is a weather vane in a hurricane, ready to be blown in any direction by the winds of public passion or private lust.
A Debauched Party and a Foolish Oath (v. 6-8)
The stage is now set for the final, gruesome act, which takes place at a birthday party.
"But when Herod’s birthday came, the daughter of Herodias danced before them and pleased Herod, so much that he promised with an oath to give her whatever she asked. Now having been prompted by her mother, she said, 'Give me here on a platter the head of John the Baptist.'" (Matthew 14:6-8 LSB)
The scene is one of pagan indulgence. A birthday party for a king, likely filled with drunkenness and excess. Into this scene comes the daughter of Herodias, Salome, to perform a dance. This was almost certainly a lewd, sexually provocative performance designed to titillate the drunken king and his guests. And it worked. Herod, inflamed with wine and lust, is "pleased."
In his stupor, he makes a rash and grandiose oath. He promises to give her anything, "up to half my kingdom," as Mark's gospel tells us. This is the boastful swagger of a weak man trying to appear powerful. And he binds himself with an oath. An oath is a solemn appeal to God as a witness. Herod, a pagan idolater, flippantly invokes the authority of God to seal a promise born of lust. But a vow to do a wicked thing is not binding. His duty, upon hearing the request, would have been to repent of his foolish oath, not to compound the sin by committing murder. But his pride was on the line.
The request, of course, is not the girl's. She is a pawn. She goes to her mother, Herodias, the true villain of the story. Here we see the festering bitterness of a woman scorned by the truth. She could not stand the prophet who called her life what it was: unlawful. And so, she seizes her opportunity. She does not ask for gold or land. She asks for the head of her accuser on a platter. This is the naked hatred of the unrepentant heart for the law of God. It is a demand for evil to be served up as a delicacy at their feast.
The Prophet's Reward (v. 9-12)
Herod's moment of decision reveals the utter bankruptcy of his character.
"And although he was grieved, the king commanded it to be given because of his oaths, and because of his dinner guests. And he sent and had John beheaded in the prison. And his head was brought on a platter and given to the girl, and she brought it to her mother. And his disciples came and took away the body and buried it; and they went and reported to Jesus." (Matthew 14:9-12 LSB)
We are told the king was "grieved." This was not godly sorrow. It was the selfish grief of a man trapped by his own sin. He was sorry for himself. He was not grieved because he was about to murder a righteous man, but because he was in an awkward social position. And what tips the scales? "Because of his oaths, and because of his dinner guests." Not justice. Not righteousness. Not the fear of God. But pride and peer pressure. He was more afraid of looking weak before his drunken friends than of offending the living God. He valued his reputation among fools more than the life of a prophet.
And so the grisly deed is done. The greatest of the Old Testament prophets is executed without trial, as a party favor. His head is brought on a platter, a grotesque trophy for a wicked woman. This is what the kingdom of man does to the truth. It tries to silence it, mock it, and serve it up for entertainment. The scene is a picture of ultimate degradation. The head that housed the mind that understood God's law is delivered to a dancing girl, who gives it to her adulterous mother.
But the story does not end in Herod's banquet hall. John's disciples, in an act of love and courage, claim his body and bury it. They honor their master even in death. And then they do the most important thing: "they went and reported to Jesus."
This is where every story of faithfulness, suffering, and martyrdom must end. They took their grief, their outrage, and their loss to the one true King. They reported the injustice of the petty tyrant to the King of kings. They did not riot. They did not seek political revenge. They took it to Jesus. They understood that the death of John was not a defeat for the kingdom of God, but rather a transition. The forerunner had finished his course. The King he announced was now to take center stage. John had to decrease, so that He might increase.
Conclusion: The Cost of a Head
This account is a stark reminder of the cost of discipleship. John the Baptist lost his head for telling the truth about one man's marriage. In our day, we are tempted to believe that we can be faithful Christians without ever causing offense. We want a comfortable, convenient, and culturally acceptable faith. But the kingdom of God is not at peace with the kingdom of this world.
To be faithful is to speak as John spoke. It is to say, "It is not lawful," when the world celebrates what God forbids. It is not lawful to redefine marriage. It is not lawful to murder the unborn. It is not lawful to call evil good and good evil. And when we speak this way, we should not be surprised if the world reacts like Herod and Herodias. They will be "grieved", at our insolence. They will be enraged. They may demand our heads, figuratively or literally.
But we must fear God, not man. Herod, for all his earthly power, was a pathetic, haunted slave to his sin and the opinions of others. John, in his prison cell, was a free man. He was free to speak the truth, and he was free to die for it. His death was not a tragedy; it was his graduation. He was faithful unto death, and he received the crown of life.
When the world presses in, when the cost of faithfulness seems too high, we must do what John's disciples did. We must take our fears, our sorrows, and our stand for the truth, and report to Jesus. He is the one who has ultimate authority. He is the one who, after His own unjust execution, rose from the dead in true power. Herod's fear was misplaced; it was not John who rose, but Jesus. And because He rose, we know that no act of faithfulness is ever in vain. The Herods of this world have their brief, sordid hour on the stage, but the kingdom of our God and of His Christ shall reign forever and ever.