Month: July 2020

In chapters 25 and 26 of Acts, we find the Apostle Paul in legal limbo.  Festus, the newly appointed Roman governor, is not sure how the handle Paul’s case.  An opportunity presents itself when King Herod Agrippa II pays a courtesy visit.  Governor Festus asks King Herod Agrippa II to listen to this would-be prophet.  But Agrippa is not alone.  He brings with him, his sister Bernice.   She is only mentioned by name three times in Scriptures, but do not let that fool you. To modern readers, Bernice is merely a trivia question in the Biblical category.  But for the readers in ancient times, both Jewish and Roman, she was not trivial.  For them, this scene in Acts was equivalent of watching a movie where a movie legend makes a cameo appearance.  And Bernice could have easily been a movie star in today’s world with all the baggage that goes along with it.

Bernice, her brother Agrippa II, and her sister Drusilla were the children of King Herod Agrippa I, whose grandfather was King Herod the Great.  Bernice was married first to a Marcus, who died sometime later.  Her father Herod Agrippa I, then arranged for her to marry her uncle Herod, and then asked Emperor Claudius to make Herod king of Chalcis.  (Jewish Antiquities 19.276-277).  Thus, princess Bernice became Queen Bernice.

Herod Agrippa II was only seventeen when their father died unexpectedly.  Therefore, Emperor Claudius placed a Roman governor in charge of Judea, while assigning Herod Agrippa II a smaller territory. Later he is placed in charge of the Temple and the high priest.  (Jewish Antiquities 19.354-365, 20.15-16)

Things gets “complicated” when Governor Felix arrives in town.  He falls in love with sister Drusilla, whom Josephus writes “for she did indeed exceed all other women in beauty” and persuades her to leave her husband King Azizus to marry him. (Jewish Antiquities 20.137-144).  With that information, we can better understand the situation and appreciate the irony and mischief of what Paul said during one of his pretrials:

“A few days later Felix came back with wife, Drusilla, who was Jewish.  Sending for Paul, they listened as he told them about faith in Christ Jesus.  As he reasoned with them about righteousness and self-control and the coming day of judgement, Felix became frightened.  ‘Go away for now,’ he replied.  ‘When it is more convenient, I’ll call for you again.’ He also hoped that Paul would bribe him, so he sent for him quite often and talked with him. (Acts 24:24-26 NLT).  Apparently, Paul was hitting a little too close to home for Felix and Drusilla.

As for Bernice, Josephus writes that she was envious of Drusilla’s beauty and treated her badly.  When her husband (and uncle!) Herod dies, she becomes a widow.  But then the royal rumors began that she and her brother Agrippa II were having an affair.  So she persuades King Polemo to undergo some Jewish surgery and marry her.  King Polemo was happy too – he wanted her money.  But this marriage of convenience did not last.  Bernice kept her money and left her marriage to King Polemo. In return, King Polemo left Bernice – and the Jewish faith. (Jewish Antiquities 20.143-146).

Just as Bernice was having trouble keeping husbands, Rome was finding difficulty in keeping governors in Judea.  From 44-59 AD, four different governors are appointed.  In 59 AD, the fifth governor, Festus is appointed.  Governor Festus spends his time cleaning up the court docket left behind by the corrupt Governor Felix.  Among the cases: The Jewish Authorities versus the Paul of Tarsus.   Governor Festus is grappling with what to do with this tent maker.    When King Herod Agrippa II and his sister Bernice arrive for a courtesy visit, Governor Festus asks them to listen to Paul’s case. (Acts 26:1-22).

Governor Festus was grateful to have King Herod Agrippa II’s input on such a strange case.  When Paul is brought out in chains, he speaks to Agrippa and appeals to him.  Agrippa is not sold on this new Christian faith.  Afterwards, Agrippa, Bernice, and Festus discuss the matter over and agree: “This man hasn’t done anything to deserve death or imprisonment.” (Acts 26:30 NLT).

When Governor Festus dies unexpectedly in office in 62 AD, King Herod Agrippa II found himself playing mediator between the Jewish people and the Romans.  First the high priest Ananus takes advantage of the situation to execute James the Just, the brother of Jesus.  This upsets the citizens of Jerusalem and outrages the incoming Governor Albinus who is in route to Israel.  King Herod Agrippa II moves quickly to calm the situation by replacing the high priest. (Jewish Antiquities 20.197-203).

Unfortunately, Governor Albinus and his successor Florus prove incompetent to lead the Jewish people.  In response to a minor incident, Florus has 3,600 men, women, and children slaughtered or crucified.  (Jewish War 2.301-308).  Bernice goes to Governor Florus and begs him to change course.  The arrogant Roman refuses and Queen Bernice finds her own life in danger. (Jewish War 2.309-314). As a result, the Jewish people are ready to revolt against the Romans. King Herod Agrippa II with his sister Bernice by his side speaks to the Jewish people from the rooftop of the palace.  He begs them to reconsider the rash course that they are taking.  He reasons with them that if General Pompey was able to conquer Judea with a small portion of the Roman army a century ago, what kind of damage would a full Roman army do to Israel?  Agrippa reminds the people of the horror of war in general.  (Jewish War 2.344-401).

Josephus writes that “When Agrippa had spoken thus, both he and his sister wept, and by their tears repressed a great deal of the violence of the people.” (Jewish War 2.402).  Reading this, one is reminded of another person with royal blood, a descendant of King David, who wept over Jerusalem while riding on a donkey on Palm Sunday: “But as he came closer to Jerusalem and saw the city ahead, he began to weep. ‘How I wish today that you of all people would understand the way to peace. But now it is too late, and peace is hidden from your eyes. Before long your enemies will build ramparts against your walls and encircle you and close in on you from every side. They will crush you into the ground, and your children with you. Your enemies will not leave a single stone in place, because you did not recognize it when God visited you.’” (Luke 19:41-44 NLT). Jesus had vividly forewarned Jerusalem of the incoming disaster that Agrippa and Bernice saw coming.

For a short period of time, King Agrippa and Bernice were successful.  But public opinion turns against Agrippa, and he is forced to leave Jerusalem.  When the war came, Emperor Nero eventually sent General Vespasian to deal with Judea.  But a civil war was brewing on the home front.  Weary of his incompetence, the Roman armies revolted against Nero.  The Senate regained its backbone and declared Nero an outlaw.  In one year, Rome went through four emperors: Nero committed suicide, Galba was executed, Otho committed suicide, and Vitellius was brutally murdered. 

In response to this continuing chaos, General Vespasian decided that he should go to Rome and restore law and order, and in the process become emperor.   When General Vespasian decided to challenge Vitellius for the throne, he received help from his Middle Eastern friends.  The Roman historian Tacitus writes that, “Presently Agrippa, summoned from Rome by private messages from his friends, while Vitellius was still unaware of his action, quickly crossed the sea and joined the cause. Queen Berenice showed equal spirit in helping Vespasian’s party: she had great youthful beauty, and commended herself to Vespasian for all his years by the splendid gifts she made him.” (History, Book II, 81.1).

In the meantime, General Vespasian placed his son Titus in charge of military operations in Judea.  Titus conquered and leveled Jerusalem.  In a scene that reminds one ofSpartacus and Gladiator, Josephus describes how Titus was in Caesarea Philippi celebrating his brother’s Domitian’s birthday by having gladiator games with 2,500 captured Jewish rebels as unwilling participants.  (Jewish War 7.37-38).  Titus, who conquered Jerusalem, was conquered by Bernice.  It was even believed that earlier Titus had changed travel plans to return to Rome for a visit “because of his passionate longing to see again Queen Berenice.”  (History, Book II, 2.1).  The future prince of Rome had fallen in love with this beautiful Jewish princess.

Titus would return to Rome as heir apparent.  Dio Cassius writes that “Bernice was at the height of her power and consequently came to Rome along with her brother Agrippa.  The latter was accorded pretorial honors, while she dwelt in the Palace and cohabited with Titus.  She expected to be married to him and behaved in all respects as if his wife.  But when he perceived that the Romans were displeased at the situation, he sent her away” (Roman History, Book 66, 15).  In his The Lives of the Caesars, the Roman historian Suetonius writes that many of the Romans feared that Titus would prove to be another Nero, another wild youth.  Among his faults was “his notorious passion for queen Berenice, to whom it was even said that he promised marriage.” (Titus 7).   Rome being anti-Semitic and polytheistic did not have any use for this monotheistic Jew.  Other critics saw her as a modern Middle Eastern madam monarch – another Cleopatra who would split the empire.  

When Vespasian died, “Berenice came to Rome again.” (Roman History, Book 66, 18).  With Titus as emperor, she thought that she would now be empress.  Both Bernice and the critics were surprised.   “Berenice he sent from Rome at once, against her will and against his own.” (Titus 7).  It is difficult to evaluate the Titus and Bernice relationship.  Did Titus simply toss out Bernice for a major job promotion?  Or did Titus reluctantly realize that the huge demands of running the Roman empire would require some personal sacrifice, even the woman that he loved?

Titus became a beloved emperor.  Suetonius writes that “On another occasion, remembering at dinner that he done nothing for anybody all that day, he gave utterance to that memorable and praiseworthy remark: ‘Friends, I have lost a day.’” (Titus 8).  He died at a young age, after only two years as emperor.  Meanwhile, Queen Bernice had returned home and disappeared into history.

In today’s society, Queen Bernice would have written a tell-all book, describing her royal upbringing, her love/hate relationship with her siblings, the various marriages and affairs, and how she almost became empress of the Roman empire.  It would have been a best seller.  She was smart, beautiful, charming, royal, and usually politically astute.  Both the Romans and Jews would have done well to listen to her wise counsel.  And maybe, she would have one brief paragraph that made a fleeting reference to how she once heard a guy named Paul speak about how he met a certain Jesus, several years after he had been crucified. 

Therein lies the irony.  History played a surprising hand.  Within a short period of time, the Jewish Temple was destroyed, and both the Herod and Vespasian dynasties died out.  But 2,000 years later, the message that the Apostle Paul shared with both Herods and Caesars about the risen Christ would continue, unhindered.

Looking back, who were some of the celebrities that you admired growing up?  Singers?  TV personalities?  Movie stars? Political figures?  Royalty?  People who were famous for just being famous?

Career wise, are they are still going strong?  Or have they peaked?  If they have peaked, do they look back on their heyday with gratitude or with bitterness?

When you reflect on the fleeting power of fame and fortune, what should we learn from it?

As much as we enjoy the talents and gifts and celebrities, who are the people who have made an everlasting change in your life?  Have you told them?

Thanks, Paul!

It can be tough to be a younger sibling.  Big brother and big sister came through first, blazed a new trail.  Imagine being Michael Jordan’s little sister? Look at political dynasties like the Kennedys and Bushes with the sibling rivalries.  Now imagine having Jesus for your big brother?  That’s the position that James of Nazareth found himself in.

We first learn that Jesus has siblings in Mark 3.  In verses 20-21, Jesus is so busy teaching the crowds that he doesn’t have time to eat.  When word gets back to Nazareth, Jesus’s family decides that “he’s out of his mind” and schedule an intervention.

When we get to verse 31, the blessed, but agitated Mother Mary and Jesus’s brothers show up.  It’s time for intervention.  Somebody in the crowd says, “Hey Jesus, your mom and brothers are in the front yard.  They wanna talk to you.”  Then Jesus does a mic drop.  “Jesus replied, ‘Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?’ Then he looked at those around him and said, ‘Look, these are my mother and brothers. Anyone who does God’s will is my brother and sister and mother.’” (Mark 3:33-35 NLT).

I’m sure that comment went over well at the next family reunion.  But we don’t learn the names of Jesus’s siblings until Mark 6.  Jesus has preached a sermon in his hometown synagogue in Nazareth, and he has received mixed reviews from his congregation, neighbors, and childhood friends.

“They asked, ‘Where did he get all this wisdom and the power to perform such miracles?’ Then they scoffed, ‘He’s just a carpenter, the son of Mary and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas, and Simon. And his sisters live right here among us.’ They were deeply offended and refused to believe in him.” (Mark 6:2-3 NLT).  It wasn’t a beautiful day in the neighborhood in Nazareth.

Later in John 7, we get to listen to a family dinner conversation.  The fall Jewish Festival of Shelters was coming up, and the family was making plans to vacation in Jerusalem.  But Jesus didn’t seem eager to go.  He felt the need to keep a low profile at this time.  The text reads that “Jesus’ brothers said to him, ‘Leave here and go to Judea, where your followers can see your miracles! You can’t become famous if you hide like this! If you can do such wonderful things, show yourself to the world!’ For even his brothers didn’t believe in him.”

Then at the end of Jesus’s ministry, we find Mother Mary sobbing and weeping at the foot of the cross.  No brothers around.  Hanging from the cross, Jesus asked the Beloved Disciple to look after his dear mother. (John 19:25-27).

So reading the Gospels, we can piece together a portrait of James.  He thinks his brother is either mad or a con artist.  He’s irritated that these crowds are so infatuated with him.  Don’t they realize that he’s just an everyday carpenter’s son, just like he is? And yet, and yet, in the Book of Acts, we find James as the leader of the Jerusalem church, the first bishop.  What happened?

The missing link in the chain, surprisingly, comes from a letter from the Apostle Paul to the Corinthian Church.  Paul is explaining to these young Christians the basic foundations of the Christian faith, and he drops a few names.  It’s worth quoting at length. “I passed on to you what was most important and what had also been passed on to me. Christ died for our sins, just as the Scriptures said. He was buried, and he was raised from the dead on the third day, just as the Scriptures said. He was seen by Peter and then by the Twelve. After that, he was seen by more than 500 of his followers at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. Then he was seen by James and later by all the apostles. Last of all, as though I had been born at the wrong time, I also saw him.” (I Corinthians 15:3-8 NLT).

This is fascinating.  Note that the church is not ready just yet to say, “He was first seen by the women at the tomb.”  Sorry ladies.  You’ll have to wait until the four Gospels are written to get the rest of the story.  Then note that the last name mentioned was James.  James, like Paul, was a skeptic, who became an apostle.  He’s what historians call a hostile witness, the critic who verifies something, though it was against their basic beliefs.

James proves to be an unlikely major player in Acts.  Chapters 1-5 are about Peter, 6-7 are about the deacons and Stephen, 8 is mostly about Phillip, and then Chapter 9 is the conversion of Paul.  We later learn that James was one of the leaders who recognized Paul’s gift.  Paul begins to steal the show from Peter who makes his final appearance in Acts 15.  A clue is revealed in Acts 12:13. Peter, having miraculously escaped death row, asks the ladies in Jerusalem to “Tell James and the other brothers what happened.” Peter then leaves town.  This very well may be the turning point to where James takes Peter’s place as the leader of the church in Jerusalem.  And it sets up the scene for an epic clash of personalities.

In his letter to the Galatian Christians, Paul writes “In fact, James, Peter, and John, who were known as pillars of the church, recognized the gift God had given me, and they accepted Barnabas and me as their co-workers. They encouraged us to keep preaching to the Gentiles, while they continued their work with the Jews. Their only suggestion was that we keep on helping the poor, which I have always been eager to do.” (Galatians 2:9-10).  So far, so good.  But Paul continues.

“But when Peter came to Antioch, I had to oppose him to his face, for what he did was very wrong. When he first arrived, he ate with the Gentile believers, who were not circumcised. But afterward, when some friends of James came, Peter wouldn’t eat with the Gentiles anymore. He was afraid of criticism from these people who insisted on the necessity of circumcision. As a result, other Jewish believers followed Peter’s hypocrisy, and even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. When I saw that they were not following the truth of the gospel message, I said to Peter in front of all the others, ‘Since you, a Jew by birth, have discarded the Jewish laws and are living like a Gentile, why are you now trying to make these Gentiles follow the Jewish traditions? You and I are Jews by birth, not ‘sinners’ like the Gentiles. Yet we know that a person is made right with God by faith in Jesus Christ, not by obeying the law. And we have believed in Christ Jesus, so that we might be made right with God because of our faith in Christ, not because we have obeyed the law. For no one will ever be made right with God by obeying the law.’” (Galatians 2:11-16).

Apparently, Peter is in so awe of James that he segregates himself from Gentile believers when James’s buddies show up in Antioch lest they give James a bad report about him.  Paul confronts Peter about this, and this leads to a major church council in Jerusalem in Acts 15.  The question at hand: Should Gentile believers have to follow the law of Moses?  The stakes were high.  If the answer was yes, then Paul’s entire mission field would be endangered.  If the answer was no, then Christianity would be without a solid scriptural root system.  Peter, Paul, and Barnabas all spoke.  Scripture, tradition, reason, and personal experiences were carefully weighed.  After a long discussion, James stood up and made his decision: Gentiles do not need to obey the laws of Moses given to the Jews, but they should follow the laws of Noah given at the dawn of humanity – laws concerning idolatry, sexual immorality, and violence. (Genesis 9).  Like a brilliant Supreme Court Chief Justice, James the Just sends down a ruling that honors legal precedent while meeting the current challenge.

Then James the Just does two things.  First, he sends a letter with messengers to the Gentile churches, explaining his ruling.  But he also senses that his words can be easily misconstrued.  He senses a need to reassure his Jewish Christians that he has not abandoned the high moral standards of the prophets.  Therefore, he writes them a letter.  The great Reformer, Martin Luther, referred to James’s letter as a letter of a straw.  He doubted that it should even be included in the New Testament.  Luther, still sensitive to the demands and abuses of the Catholic church, found that Paul’s Galatians spoke to him about the freedom of the Christian.  But in his zeal, Luther overlooked the many gems in James.  Practical advice concerning personal and social holiness flows from James’s pen:

 Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you. James 1:27

For example, suppose someone comes into your meeting dressed in fancy clothes and expensive jewelry, and another comes in who is poor and dressed in dirty clothes. If you give special attention and a good seat to the rich person, but you say to the poor one, “You can stand over there, or else sit on the floor”—well, doesn’t this discrimination show that your judgments are guided by evil motives? James 2:2-4

So you see, faith by itself isn’t enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it is dead and useless. James 2:17

Dear brothers and sisters, not many of you should become teachers in the church, for we who teach will be judged more strictly. James 3:1

If you are wise and understand God’s ways, prove it by living an honorable life, doing good works with the humility that comes from wisdom. James 3:13

Yet you don’t have what you want because you don’t ask God for it.  James 4:2

So humble yourselves before God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come close to God, and God will come close to you. James 4:7-8

Remember, it is sin to know what you ought to do and then not do it. James 4:17

For listen! Hear the cries of the field workers whom you have cheated of their pay. The cries of those who harvest your fields have reached the ears of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies. James 5:4

Are any of you sick? You should call for the elders of the church to come and pray over you, anointing you with oil in the name of the Lord. Such a prayer offered in faith will heal the sick, and the Lord will make you well. And if you have committed any sins, you will be forgiven.  Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results James 5:14-17

These verses reveal why James was known as James the Just.  He lived a holy life and sought justice for others.  If an archaeologist had dug up a manuscript and proclaimed that it was written by the brother of Jesus, it would make international headlines.  But there is such a manuscript, (two actually).  The letter of James could easily be entitledChristian Living for Beginners. Indeed we are reminded of his big brother’s Beatitudes when we read such words as “Believers who are poor have something to boast about….God blesses those who patiently endure testing and temptation…hasn’t God chosen the poor in this world…[to] inherit the Kingdom…if you have been merciful, God will be merciful when he judges you…those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest or righteousness” (James 1:9,12; 2:5,13; 3:18).

We meet James one last time in Acts 21.  Paul arrives in Jerusalem from his third missionary trip.  He brings with him representatives of the Gentile churches who are bringing their church’s collection to provide famine relief in Jerusalem.  James and the elders rejoice at the good news.  But James wants Paul to do some fence mending with the Jewish believers.  He asks Paul to go to the Temple and publicly perform some rituals to show that he is not an apostate Jew.  Once again, James is building bridges between the Jewish and Gentile wings of the Christian Church.  Unfortunately, his plan backfires.  Paul’s enemies start a riot, which results in Paul being imprisoned in Caesarea, first under the corrupt Roman governor Felix, and then under Festus.

It is under Festus that life takes a dramatic turn for both Paul and James.  For Paul, the dramatic moment comes when he stands trial before Festus and appeals to Caesar.  So to Caesar he must go.  Paul will testify before a young Emperor Nero.  For James, the dramatic moment comes when Festus dies unexpectedly in office.  Nero appoints Albinus to be the new Roman governor.  But it takes time to travel to Judea.  In this power vacuum, the high priest Ananus seizes the opportunity to remove a religious rival.  The historian Josephus writes that “Convening the judges of the Sanhedrin, he brought before them a man named James, the brother of Jesus who was called the Christ, and certain others.  He accused them of having transgressed the law, and condemned them to be stoned to death.” It was eerily similar to what happened to Jesus so many years earlier.  Ananus, a relative of Caiaphas, had condemned James, a relative of Jesus.  This time there would be no meddlesome Roman governor to deal with.

But Ananus had miscalculated badly.  The citizens of Jerusalem were outraged at this kangaroo court and the execution of such a godly man.  Some took their complaints to Albinus who was enroute.  He was angry at this abuse of power.  Others went to King Herod Agrippa II who fired Ananus and replaced him with, wait for it, a guy named Jesus.  Life is full of ironies.

But one final irony awaited James.  In October 2002, the Biblical Archaeology Review published the discovery of an ossuary, a stone burial box, inscribed with the words “James son of Joseph, brother of Jesus.”  Ever since then, archaeologists have been trying to determine if this is the James of the New Testament.  It’s a powerful reminder that James has been buried somewhere for the past 2,000 years, while his big brother only needed to borrow a tomb for the weekend.

From a bitter brother to a beloved bishop.  From a mocker to a martyr.  From James the brother of Jesus to James to Just.  James had an incredible life journey.  His life was living proof of the transformation that can occur in any our lives through an encounter with the risen Christ.  In the shadows of three famous personalities – Jesus, Peter, and Paul – he was able to find his place and purpose by keeping the missions of Peter and Paul aligned for the glory of Jesus.

Have you ever felt like that you were in the shadow of a more famous sibling? Does knowing that Jesus also had his share of family tensions better able you to pray about your own family tensions?  Does knowing that Jesus and James were reconciled in the most miraculous way give you hope about your own family?

Have you ever felt like you were caught in between two warring factions?  Did you feel like you had to choose sides?  Or did you seek a third way that would benefit all parties?

Have you lived your life in such a manner that if you were ever falsely accused of a crime that your neighbors, especially nonbelieving neighbors, would come to your defense?  Has your faith been an active living faith?

Several months ago, Sarah Prince let me borrow a book that she thought I would like to read. Since I’ve been spending more time at home lately during the pandemic, I finally got around to reading it. It’s called The Hidden Brain by Shankar Vedantam. You may have heard him on National Public Radio where he is the social science correspondent. He also hosts a podcast called “The Hidden Brain.”

That’s his term for the host of influences on our actions and decisions that operate below the radar, outside of our conscious awareness and sometimes even against our expressed intentions. Our hidden brains influence whom we love, whom we hate, whom we hire, whom we fire, how we vote and how we respond when disasters strike. It can move us to extraordinary acts of self-giving, but it can also transform ordinary people into suicide bombers or a group of bystanders into an angry mob.

In short, this book has helped me make a little more sense of what we’ve been witnessing these past few months, with the arrival of the pandemic and our nation’s uneven response to it, the rising awareness of racism and the protests in response to the violence, the elevated anxiety among parents and teachers and students and administrators about the start of a new school year, and the deepening divisions among us as the presidential election looms ahead.

However, the insight that has resonated with me the most from this book is what the author shared in the last chapter. It has to do with numbers. The hidden brain, Vedantam argues, has a hard time wrapping its mind around big numbers. It can deal with smaller numbers much better than bigger numbers, particularly in situations like epidemics or natural disasters that call for a compassionate response. Bigger numbers seem to make our hidden brain “numb-er” to the needs of others (my pun, I’m afraid, not his).

He tells the fascinating story of the tremendous effort that was put into rescuing a Jack Russell terrier from an oil tanker that caught fire in the middle of the Pacific Ocean back in the spring of 2002. After twenty days adrift in the sea, the Taiwanese crew was rescued by a cruise ship, but one of the passengers thought they heard barking back on the tanker. Turns out it was the tanker captain’s puppy who ended up left behind when the cruise ship headed back out to sea. The passenger called the Hawaii Humane Society when they pulled into port in Maui. The US Coast Guard initially declined to get involved because the tanker was in international waters. But the Humane Society got the word out, and money began to pour in to rescue little Hokget, which was the terrier’s Taiwanese name. 

They received donations from 39 states, the District of Columbia and four countries, and they paid a private company $48,000 to go look for the tanker. Finally, several days later, a Japanese fishing boat spotted it. Since the tanker seemed to be floating toward a US territory, the Johnson Atoll, the US Coast Guard finally agreed to get involved. Now with the rescue effort being funded by US taxpayers, the military employed a C-130 aircraft with high tech radar, which found the tanker and determined the dog was still on board and alive. After much coaxing with treats, Hokget was picked up, bathed and fed and brought back safely to Hawaii. I love that the local radio station celebrated by playing “Who Let the Dogs Out?”

Vedantam admits it’s a touching story, but it’s also a troubling one. “Eight years before Hokget was rescued,” he writes, “the same world that showed extraordinary compassion in the rescue of a dog sat on its hands as a million human beings were killed in Rwanda” (248). He goes on to remind us that shortly after Hokget’s rescue, the nightly news networks barely mentioned the rapes and murders happening in the Darfur region of Africa, offering only miniscule coverage. Why the discrepancy? Where was surge of compassion for these sufferings as arose for Hokget? Was it that we care more about our pets than other people? No. According to Vedantam, it may have to do more with the difference in numbers.

He suggests our hidden brain’s “inability to wrap our minds around large numbers is responsible for our apathy toward mass suffering” (249). He knows this is a disturbing idea, but he writes “the reason human beings seem to care so little about mass suffering and death is precisely because the suffering is happening on a mass scale. The brain is simply not very good at grasping the implications of mass suffering. Americans would be far more likely to step forward if only a few people were suffering, or a single person were in pain. Hokget did not draw our sympathies because we care more about dogs than people; she drew our sympathies because she was a single dog lost on the biggest ocean in the world” (250).

He calls this “the telescope effect.” Just like it can be overwhelming to gaze upon all of the stars in the sky on a clear night, but our concentration can be so much keener when we focus only on one celestial body, so, too, our hidden brain unconsciously “shapes our compassion into a telescope” whereby we are best able to respond with compassion when we focus on a single person or situation (250).

It seems to me that Jesus knew about the telescope effect and that he tried to teach it to his disciples, particularly in the parable about the lost sheep. As he told it in two of the four Gospels, Jesus pictures a shepherd who has 100 sheep. When one of them wanders off, wouldn’t the shepherd leave the 99 to go look for the one that went astray? In fact, he would rejoice more over finding the one that was lost than over the 99 who stayed put (Matthew 18:10-14, Luke 15:3-7). Maybe that one sheep was that shepherd’s Hokget.

Jesus knew about the telescope effect, and I think, deep down, in the hiddenmost recesses of our own brains, we intuit it as well. It’s just that so often we can forget it, especially when our minds are bombarded by ever bigger and bigger numbers, as we have been in this pandemic. 

When this all started back in March and the numbers of cases were tiny, we were quick to shut things down and do what we needed to do to keep ourselves and one another safe. But as the numbers have continued to grow, our hidden brains have had a harder and harder time wrapping themselves around them. The numbers are literally mind-boggling. And so as time goes on and the numbers keep getting bigger, even the simplest acts of compassion that would keep ourselves and others healthy and safe have seemed harder and harder to come by.

So what can we do? How can we consciously counteract the influence of our hidden brain that unconsciously diminishes our sympathies for so great a number of people who are suffering? 

Here’s an idea. What if we got out our mental telescopes and asked ourselves the question, “who is my Hokget?” Who is the equivalent of that little Jack Russell terrier stranded out on a boat in the middle of the world’s biggest ocean that I would do everything within my power to rescue, to keep safe, to bring home? 

Who is your Hokget? Or, still keeping the numbers small, who are your handful of Hokgets? Who among you calls forth your innate compassionate response in the midst of these difficult days? For whom would you climb any mountain, swim any sea, plumb any depth, do whatever it takes to help them get well, stay well, stay alive?

I know who mine are. Who’s yours?

Pastor Dave

Is there a doctor in the house?

In the book of Acts, there is a doctor in the house, Dr. Luke.  He was the traveling companion to the Apostle Paul.  Just as the faithful Dr. Watson wrote about the exploits of his famous friend, the detective Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Luke recorded the adventures of his famous friend, the Apostle Paul.

Dr. Luke first appears in Acts 16, in the “we” section of Paul’s second missionary journey.  “So we decided to leave for Macedonia at once, having concluded that God was calling us the preach to the good news there” (Acts 16:10).  Interestingly they soon arrive in Philippi which had a famous medical school.  This is probably Dr. Luke’s alma mater.  Apparently, he stayed in Philippi to help Lydia establish the church.

Luke reappears in Acts 20, in the “we” section of Paul’s third missionary journey.  They board a ship at Philippi and stopped in Ephesus. In Acts 21, they are now in Israel in the city of Caesarea.  There a prophet Agabus warns Paul that he will be arrested in Jerusalem.  And here we see the love that Dr. Luke had for Paul:

“When we heard this, we and the local believers all begged Paul not to go on to Jerusalem.  But he said, ‘Why all this weeping? You are breaking my heart! I am ready not only to be jailed at Jerusalem but even to die for the sake of the Lord Jesus.’  When it was clear that we couldn’t persuade him, we gave up and said, ‘The Lord’s will be done.’” (Acts 21:12-14).

Just as Peter could not dissuade Jesus from going to Jerusalem, Luke could not dissuade Paul from going to Jerusalem.  Paul goes to Jerusalem, is arrested, taken back to Caesarea, where he is imprisoned for two years, and kept in legal limbo.  It is probably during this time that Dr. Luke makes house calls, visiting the eyewitnesses of the life and ministry of Jesus.  He probably met the blessed Mother Mary who may have been in Bethany under the care of Lazarus.  It would have been Mary who told Dr. Luke about that first Christmas.  After all, Mary had pondered these things in her heart.

Two years later in Acts 27, Paul, his friend Aristarchus, and Dr. Luke are on their way to Rome.  Irritated by the slow legal process, Paul exercised his right as a Roman citizen to appeal to Caesar.  And to Caesar he shall go.  Acts 27 and 28 reveal Dr. Luke’s love of the ocean, tides, and wind.  But this is no cruise.  A storm batters the ship, and Paul and Dr. Luke find themselves shipwrecked on the island of Malta.  There Dr. Luke is amazed at Paul’s ability to lay hands on, pray, and heal the sick.

Three months later, Paul was back at sea.  Paul finally arrived at Rome where he was placed under house arrest.  It is here that Dr. Luke’s name finally appears in scriptures.  In a letter to a church, Paul writes that “Luke, the beloved doctor, sends his greetings” (Colossians 4:14).  In a letter to the family of Philemon, Paul writes “Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus, sends you his greetings.  So do Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, and Luke, my coworkers (Philemon 23-24).

During these two years, Paul conducts his missionary work from his rental house.  Dr. Luke, meanwhile, makes a record of their adventures to be used for Paul’s trial before Emperor Nero.  Apparently, Paul is found not guilty, but the status of the Christian faith is still not clear.

Several years later, Paul is imprisoned in Rome for a second time.  But this time, he’s not under house arrest where he can freely receive visitors.  Instead, he is in a dungeon.  Christianity is now outlawed.  Nero has been prosecuting, persecuting, and executing Christians in the most horrendous ways.  Paul will be executed.  In a letter that was smuggled out, perhaps orally, perhaps in pieces, Paul poignantly pens “Timothy, please come as soon as you can….only Luke is with me…the first time I was brought before the judge, no one came with me.  Everyone abandoned me” (2 Timothy 4:9,11,16).  This is the third and final time that Dr. Luke is mentioned in scriptures.

It was the lonely hour for the Apostle Paul.  He was in his Garden of Gethsemane.  Fearful of Nero, none of the Roman Christians accompanied Paul for his preliminary hearing.  In one Sherlock Holmes story, the Great Detective and the Doctor are at 221B Baker Street, planning to break in the house of a notorious blackmailer.  Holmes tells Watson, “’Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so. We have shared the same room for some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the same cell.”  In a similar fashion, in the end, it was the Missionary and the Doctor spending time in a cell, sharing memories.

Being a Roman citizen, the Apostle was executed by being beheaded around 65 AD.  Dr. Luke could serve his patient no longer….or could he?  Perhaps Dr. Luke was inspired to write a biography in memory of Paul.  He started organizing his notes and recollections that he had used for Paul’s first trial.  Then perhaps, Dr. Luke realized that Paul would not want a biography about him.  “Don’t focus on the messenger, my good doctor, focus on the message.”  Then Luke read The Good News by John Mark, while informative, wouldn’t win any literacy awards.  Then he read The Good News by Matthew, which was basically an expanded edition of Mark’s Gospel from a Jewish perspective.  Then he read some other “Good News” that might have been early examples of fake news.  Dr. Luke realized what he needed to do to honor Paul and his mission.

Luke began work on a magisterial, multivolume treatise. For his first volume, Luke begins “Many people have set out to write accounts about the events that have been fulfilled among us. They used the eyewitness reports circulating among us from the early disciples. Having carefully investigated everything from the beginning, I also have decided to write an accurate account for you, most honorable Theophilus, so you can be certain of the truth of everything you were taught” (Luke 1:1-4).

Please note that Dr. Luke wasn’t zapped by lightning and wrote his gospel.  He did his research.  He gave the Holy Spirit something to work with.  Also remember that Dr. Luke was a real physician.  He knew where babies came from.  He knew that people just don’t simply get well.  He knew that dead people don’t come alive.  Birth, suffering, and death were part of everyday life for this physician.  And yet, Luke believed that Jesus of Nazareth was miraculously born of a virgin, healed those who had suffered for years, and really did die, and really did rise again.

Because of Luke, everyone from your pastor to Linus of Peanuts fame, reads the Christmas Story about the infant Jesus being placed in the manger and shepherds listening to the voices of angels.  And it interesting to note, that while Mark mentions that the woman with the issue of blood had suffered both physically and financially by her doctors, both Matthew and Luke leave that detail out.  Matthew wants to keep the story moving.  Dr. Luke doesn’t want his profession to look bad.  And only Dr. Luke mentions that in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus sweat was like a blood.  Modern doctors confirm that during times of great stress of impending death, patients can sweat blood.

Then in his sequel, The Acts of the Apostle, he wrote about the early Christians: Peter, James, Stephen, Barnabas, Silas, Timothy, Apollos, Priscilla, Aquilla, and of course, his old friend Paul.  He ended his sequel on a cliff-hanger with Paul in Rome under house arrest awaiting trial: “For the next two years, Paul lived in Rome at his own expense. He welcomed all who visited him, boldly proclaiming the Kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ. And no one tried to stop him” (Acts 28:30-21).

Was Luke planning to write a trilogy?  Did he write a trilogy?  Will a modern-day Indiana Jones uncover an ancient manuscript, dedicated to an excellent Theophilus?  Will we read about how Paul testified before a young Emperor Nero?  Will we learn if Paul ever made it to Spain?  Would we learn more the Great Fire of Rome?  How Nero falsely blamed the Christians?  The crucifixion of Peter?  The beheading of Paul?  For Biblical students, this is the equivalent of watching The Empire Strikes Back, but not having a Return of the Jedi to follow it.

We may never find a second Acts.  But we should be gratefully for the Acts that we have.  Luke’s name only appears three times in scriptures, but thanks to him we have a history of Christianity from the births of John the Baptist and Jesus of Nazareth to the Apostle Paul awaiting trial.   With his Gospel, we see the baby Jesus and his mother Mary, the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan.  With Acts, we see the Peter of Pentecost and Paul the Tireless Traveler.  With his Gospel, he honored his Lord.  With his Acts, he honored his friend.

In your life, are the Dr. Luke – the person behind the scenes?  The person providing comfort and friendship to those who bear both the fame and heavy responsibilities of their position?  Do you do this with joy or with bitterness?

Or do you have a Dr. Luke?  A faithful friend who is there for you in both good times and bad.  The friend who is behind the camera, offstage, away from the spotlight.  Have you told your friend how much you appreciate them?

Who is your “beloved doctor”?  And who is your patient?

Last week, a friend of mine got married on Sunday evening, and then his dad died early the next morning. Doug and his fiancé – now wife – had planned a big wedding for later this year. But then his dad, who has endured pancreatic cancer for the past three years (he’s been on our prayer list at the church, Carl Seaman), entered into hospice care a few weeks ago. They began discussing the possibility of going ahead and getting married sooner in a ceremony that his dad could attend. They initially rescheduled it for this weekend, then they backed it up to last Monday, and finally back a day to last Sunday evening, outside the window of his dad’s room at the care facility. As it happened, it was just in time. 

I’ve been a fan of the musical duo The Indigo Girls since my college days. My systematic theology professor from seminary happens to be the dad of one of them, and I’ve long been impressed by how theologically evocative their lyrics can be. They have a new CD that just came out in May. The last song on it is called “Sorrow and Joy.” I’ve been thinking about this song as I’ve been thinking about my friend this past week.

Normally we think of those two emotions as complete opposites, as having very little to do with each other. But as Emily Saliers puts it in words reflecting on her younger sister’s death years ago,

         Sorrow and joy are not oil and water

         They’re hater and lover, they inform each other

         Attract and repel, make us sick, make us well

         But in the end we must hold them together

But Doug didn’t really have much of a choice. He can’t help but hold them together. He experienced the heights of joy in his wedding day and then the depths of sorrow in the death of his dad the next day. It all happened in such a short time, essentially at the same time.

It was so fitting that he and his wife chose that famous musing on time from Ecclesiastes 3 for their wedding. You know how it goes: “There’s a time for this and a time for that, a time for everything under heaven.” Most of the time, the “this” and the “that” are further apart in time. For example, Tracy and I had each lost a parent before our wedding day, but that was several months to several years apart, not within the span of 12 hours.

You may know there are two Greek words for time. One is chronos, chronological time, the linear movement of time from one moment to the next. The other is kairos. When we talk about an idea whose time has come or the time is ripe, we are talking kairos time. Only rarely do the two seem to coincide. Both births and deaths tend to follow kairos rather than chronos time. Weddings may be planned on chronos time, but as my friend experienced last week, kairos can sweep in and call for adjustments.

Sorrow and joy also seem to operate more on kairos than chronos time. They rarely observe a tidy schedule. They operate on their own timetables. And they can see-saw. One moment a sense of joy and gratitude can swell up in your heart and then the very next moment be punctured by the pangs of grief.

I know Doug didn’t want the sorrow of his dad’s dying days to overshadow the joy of their wedding. But I shared with him my conviction that, ultimately, I don’t think it will. As they follow the Indigo Girls’ advice and hold these two things together, over time (chronos time that is) I really think – I hope, I pray, I trust – that they will come to discover what their pastor was talking about at their wedding about the difference between joy and happiness. Happiness can be so circumstantial, so dependent upon the situation, but joy can go so much deeper. Joy – the joy we can have in Christ – can even embrace and encompass suffering and sorrow and sadness. 

I’m reminded of something Jesus said to his disciples the night before his own death. He was telling them he knew they would have sorrow. He knew they would weep and mourn and be in pain. But just like a woman in labor has pains because her time (kairos) has come, but when her child is born she rejoices, so too he tells him that soon “your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you” (John 16:22).

My prayer for my newlywed friends is that that hard-won, all-encompassing, ever-abiding joy will be a wellspring of life in their marriage that never runs dry, that no one and nothing will ever take from them. 

But it’s also my prayer for you, for me, for all of us, in our own lives, amidst all the joys and sorrows that come our way, sometimes all at the same time it seems – that in the end, we are able to hold them together, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, in chronos and in kairos, in sorrow and in joy.

Have you ever felt like that you couldn’t do anything correctly?  That you were your own worse enemy?  That you kept bumbling and stumbling every opportunity presented to you?

If so, you’re in a great company.  Let’s look at a young man who went from missing the mark to making his mark.  His name was John Mark, all puns intended.  But we’ll just call him Mark.

Piecing together the evidence from the and Acts, it seems that Mark lived in Jerusalem and his mother Mary was a supporter of Jesus of Nazareth.  (Incidentally, Mary is the Greek version of Mariam, Moses’s big sister and prophetess.  That’s why there are so many Mary’s in the New Testament.)  It also very probable that when Jesus held his famous Last Supper, he did so in the upper room of Mary’s house in Jerusalem.  Mark may even have helped set up for the Last Supper and perhaps eavesdropped as Jesus explained that he would soon be betrayed by a friend.  When Jesus and the disciples left, Mark seems to have followed from a distance, following them to the Garden of Gethsemane.  Like the disciples, Mark could have fallen asleep during Jesus’s agonizing prayer.  Or maybe he was the only human being to have heard Jesus’s desperate prayer for comfort or guidance.  Then things got bad.  The religious leaders showed up with the SWAT team and for a few moments it looked like that they were going to round up all the usual suspects.  One of the soldiers saw Mark, reached for him, and grabbed his robe. Mark not wanting to be hauled away, slipped out of his robe, and “barely” got away.  On a night of high drama, Mark was in the embarrassing situation of trying to get home without being seen – by anybody.

In Acts 12, we read that when Peter was imprisoned by King Herod Agrippa I, Mary held a prayer meeting at her house.  When Peter was miraculously freed by an angel, he ran to Mary’s house to tell the good news.  The very last verse in the chapter reads, “When Barnabas and Saul had finished their mission to Jerusalem, they returned, taking John Mark with them.” (Acts 12:25 NLT).  Mark had arrived.  No longer would he be in his mom’s shadow.  He was about to make his mark.  He had the honor of being part of Paul’s first mission trip as they went to the island of Cyprus (Acts 13:1-5).  That would look good on anybody’s resume.

But then unlucky number 13 comes into play, twice. Acts 13:13 states that “Paul and his companions then left Paphos by ship for Pamphylia, landing at the port town of Perga. There John Mark left them and returned to Jerusalem.”  In 8 verses, Mark went from a member of a groundbreaking mission team to being a deserter.  It was one thing to land at nearby Cyprus, but when they traveled on to Turkey, Mark got cold feet and ran.  Once again, he was making an embarrassing journey back to his home in Jerusalem.  He was the kid who could follow Jesus and Paul, but when things got thick, he would bail out.

I’m sure back in Jerusalem, his mother Mary came to Mark, whispering words of wisdom,  – no, not let it be, – but try again.  Likewise, I’m sure that his cousin, Barnabas, the encourager, also encouraged Mark to try again.  But one person disagreed, the Apostle Paul.  For the second mission trip, Luke writes that “Barnabas agreed and wanted to take along John Mark. But Paul disagreed strongly, since John Mark had deserted them in Pamphylia and had not continued with them in their work. Their disagreement was so sharp that they separated. Barnabas took John Mark with him and sailed for Cyprus. Paul chose Silas, and as he left, the believers entrusted him to the Lord’s gracious care.” (Acts 15:37-40 NLT).

Mark’s resume and job history were not looking good at this point: he was streaking when Jesus was being tried, sailing back home when Paul was preaching, and splitting up the renown mission team. Streaking, sailing, and splitting.  That’s rough.  Talking about missing the mark.

Paul was the Apostle of Grace.  But he thought that John Mark was a disgrace.  He adopted Timothy as his adopted son, even though Timothy wrestled with fear and timidity being a young man.  Barnabas must have mentored Mark in a similar way, behind the scenes in one of the many untold stories in Acts.  And apparently, Mark crossed paths with Peter again and heard his firsthand accounts of the apostles.

At the end of Acts, we find the Apostle Paul under house arrest in Rome, awaiting his first trial before Emperor Nero.  There he writes several letters to local churches.    In Colossians 4:10, the Apostle Paul writes “Aristarchus, who is in prison with me, sends you his greetings, and so does Mark, Barnabas’s cousin. As you were instructed before, make Mark welcome if he comes your way.”  At the end of his personal letter to Philemon and family, Paul writes, “Epaphras, my fellow prisoner in Christ Jesus, sends you his greetings. So do Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, and Luke, my co-workers.”

Several years later, Paul is imprisoned again.  The Christian faith is outlawed.  Paul will be executed after his second trial.  In his last letter to Timothy, Paul writes, “Only Luke is with me. Bring Mark with you when you come, for he will be helpful to me in my ministry.” (2 Timothy 4:11).  Mark met Paul one more time.  All had been forgiven.  Mark had finally caught up with Timothy as part of the second generation of Christian leaders.

The executions of Peter and Paul must have had a powerful impact on Mark.  The first generation of Christian eyewitnesses were dying out through old age and persecution.  Meanwhile, the Romans were assembling a massive army to retake to Judea and the capital Jerusalem that had recently revolted against Roman authority.

Mark was no longer the young man filled with fear.  He was now the mature leader, realistically facing the bleak future.  What could he do?  What should he do?  Mark took up the pen and composed a book, The Good News by John Mark. Based on what he learned from Peter and a few of his own experiences, he told the story of Jesus of Nazareth, who had warned that his generation would not pass away until Jerusalem had been destroyed.  The Gospel according to Saint Mark is interesting.  Originally written in Aramaic, it got translated into a very rough Greek.  Along the way, the last page got lost or purposely destroyed, and some scribe thought he would help God out by composing a few verses to end the story.  Thus, we have the infamous snake-handling verses.  Other scholars, not least of which is NT Wright, believe that there is also a missing first page, which explains the choppy beginning.  While not perfect and scarred by missing pages and a bad translation, Mark broke new ground with his gospel.

A Jewish-Christian took 90% of Mark’s Gospel and along with some new material that he learned from the surviving disciple Matthew and wrote The Gospel according to Matthew for the Jewish community.  A few years later, Paul’s old friend and personal physician, Dr. Luke used 50% of Mark’s Gospel to write what he considered to be the ultimate gospel for the Greek community.  Matthew and Luke may have written better gospels, but it was Mark who had prepared the way.  Mark had finally made his mark on Christian history and scripture.  The boy who had been written off to tell the good news of Jesus Christ was now the man who was the first to have written the good news of Jesus Christ.

As you look on your Christian life, are there some Mary’s and Barnabas’s, people who love you and encourage you, but you also feel like that you’re always in their shadow?

Are there some Apostle Paul’s, people who have written you off, because you failed in a big-time manner?

Are there some Timothy’s, people that you feel are your rivals for attention, people whom you are competing with?

Or do you know a Mark who needs encouragement to try again?  Is there a Mark who you have prematurely written off?

Let us always remember that no matter how many times we may miss the mark, with the support of others and God’s amazing grace, we can still make our mark.

Being dysfunctional is part of being a family.  Look at Adam and Eve and their two kids, Cain and Abel.  Or Abraham and his “blended family” of Sarah and her son Isaac, and Hagar and her son Ishmael.  Think of the Father of the Prodigal Son and the Older Brother.  Think of Hank Williams, Jr. who sang about his “Family Tradition.”  Think about the dysfunctional family caused havoc across the universe in a galaxy, far, far away.  If any family needed Dr. Phil, it would have been the Skywalker family. 

In the book of Acts, we find two characters Herod Agrippa I and his son Herod Agrippa II who, like Hank, were carrying on some family traditions.  And like the Skywalkers, his family was causing chaos in a frontier kingdom in the Roman Empire, far, far away in what is now modern Israel. 

It started with King Herod the Great.  He was the Godfather of the Herod family.  He kept his friends close and enemies closer. He wasn’t Jewish, but his pal, Mark Antony recommended him to the Roman Senate as a perfect candidate for king of the land of Judea.  Naturally, the Jewish people were not thrilled to have a foreigner imposed on them by the Romans as king.  The young King Herod the Great proved himself to be an able ruler.  He was resourceful in times of famine.  He was obsessed with building.  He built the great port city of Caesarea.  And like all good politicians, he was capable of doing the right thing for all the wrong reason – most famously for expanding the Jewish Temple, not that he believed in the One True God, but because every capital needed to have a nice temple.   

He was also politically astute.  He advised his pal Mark Antony that his new girlfriend – Cleopatra aka Elizabeth Taylor was bad news.  He advised Antony to dump Cleopatra and mend fences with Julius Caesar’s nephew – Octavian Caesar, later known as Augustus Caesar.  Antony, however, ignored his advice and joined forces with Cleopatra in taking on Rome.  The Egyptian forces were destroyed, and Antony and Cleopatra committed suicide.  King Herod the Great should have been either exiled or executed for taking part (albeit reluctantly) in this rebellion.  But when he met Octavian Caesar, he told him that he only did it, because he was Antony’s friend.  Octavian was so moved by King Herod’s honesty and sincerity, he asked him to be a friend and ally to him as he was to Antony.   

Thus Herod remained king.  But as the years went by, he became paranoid.  He executed his favorite wife, Mariamme, something that he soon regretted, as well as her grandfather.  And a mother-in-law. And drowned his brother-in-law, who happened to be high priest.  And executed three of his sons.  And at the end of his life, he had prominent citizens rounded up with orders that they would be executed at his death – to ensure that there would be mourning in the land.  It was in this atmosphere that a mysterious caravan showed up in Jerusalem.  These Iranians were looking for a Jewish King who had been born.  “Who told you of such a king?” Herod demanded.  The Iranians replied, “We saw the rising of his star in the east and have come to worship him.”  And here, Herod the Great made his greatest mistake. The old king who was filled with fear, hiding in his castle, missed the opportunity to meet the Prince of Peace who was sleeping in a cradle, just a few miles away in Bethlehem.  Instead of reacting with joy, Herod through cunning and deception acted out of fear and greed, and tried to destroy this baby.  But the crafty king got fooled by these three wise guys who took an alternate route back home. 

Soon afterward, Herod the Great died.  Octavian Caesar, now Caesar Augustus, soon caught on that none of Herod’s sons, the ones who survived at least, had the goods to hold the country together.  So instead, he placed a Roman governor in charge of Judea and Samaria, and divided up the rest of the Herod’s kingdom between the sons.  For the small province of Galilee, Caesar Augustus installed one of the most reckless, crafty New Testament characters ever, Herod Antipas. 

Like his father, Herod Antipas was a builder.  He built the capitol city of Tiberias (named after the new emperor) and rebuilt the city of Sepphoris.  Sepphoris was only a few miles away from the village of Nazareth.  Perhaps a certain carpenter named Joseph would walk to Sepphoris with his young sons to work on a construction site. 

Like his father, Herod Antipas had family troubles, but unlike him, he had little political sense.  Americans are used to having leaders with marriage problems.  Americans are used to having leaders with bad foreign policy.  Herod managed to have both through a rash decision.  First, he stole his brother Philip’s wife.  Talk about an awkward Thanksgiving.  Then on top of that, in order to marry her, he dumped his current wife, who just happened to be a princess of the kingdom next door.  Needless to say, her father King Aretas IV was unhappy.  Later, he would send his army in to attack Antipas as vengeance for violating the family’s honor.  Antipas’s army suffered defeat, and the Jewish people said that it was punishment for another one of Antipas’s sins.  What sin was that? 

Enter John the Baptist.  He was a rough wild-looking man who preaching a river side revival at the Jordan River.  John the Baptist called Herod Antipas out, ordered him to repent and send back his brother’s wife.  So Herod Antipas arrested him and threw him in the dungeon.  But Antipas begrudgingly began to like John the Baptist.  John the Baptist was honest – a straight shooter.  Antipas would sneak down to the dungeon and listen to John. 

This did not escape the notice of his wife, Herodias.  She considered herself to be a queen, not an adulteress.  Why didn’t her husband execute this rabble rouser?  She waited her time, and the opportunity presented itself at Herod Antipas’s birthday party.  Herodias’s daughter, Salome, performed a dance that greatly pleased Antipas who probably had too much to drink.  He offered her anything – “up to half of my kingdom.”  Salome asked her mom, Herodias, for what she should ask.  Her answer: the head of John the Baptist.  If Antipas had been a real leader, he would have said no.  But instead, he didn’t want to be embarrassed, so he reluctantly gave the order for John to be beheaded. 

Thus, Herod had a marital scandal, a foreign policy crisis, and an unfair execution.  He needed to rebrand himself.  The opportunity presented himself when the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, hung some Roman shields in his palace in Jerusalem.  The priests saw the shields as having pagan connotations.  The Herod brothers asked Pilate to remove them.  Pilate refused.  So, Herod Antipas wrote a letter to Caesar Tiberius.  Caesar wrote back to Pilate a very angry letter and told him to remove the shields.  Antipas was now an elder statemen, defender of the faith.  But Pilate was angry at him. 

But then the plot thickens.  Antipas began hearing news of a prophet who attracted large crowds in Galilee.  Some said he was Elijah.  Other said he was Jeremiah.  But the theory that scared Antipas was that this was John the Baptist, raised from the dead.  Herod Antipas said to himself, “John, I have executed.  But who is this that walks my kingdom?”  Matters struck close to home (or the office).  Antipas had a steward named Chuza.  Chuza had a wife named Joanna, who had been ill.  The doctors offered her no hope.  She went to this prophet, and the prophet laid hands on her and healed her.  She became part of the prophet’s entourage.  Antipas wanted to see this prophet for himself. 

Word got back to Herod Antipas that some Pharisees had warned the prophet that Herod was looking for him. They were afraid that Antipas would execute him as he had John the Baptist.  To Antipas’s surprise, the prophet had some strong words for him: “Go tell that old fox, that three days I walk, healing the sick, casting out demons, and raising the dead.  And then I shall reach my goal – Jerusalem.  For it is wrong for a prophet to perish anywhere but in Jerusalem.” 

Antipas was bemused.  The prophet had called him a fox.  And apparently he was also going to Jerusalem for the Passover.  That next Friday, Antipas and his soldiers were drinking and partying when a Roman escort with the priests arrived.  They were from Pontius Pilate.  The priest has brought a man to Pilate to be condemned.  But Pilate did not want to sentence the man to death since he was Herod Antipas’s subject.  Who is this man, Herod asked.  Jesus of Nazareth.  Antipas could scarcely believe his luck.  Now he would see this prophet that he had heard so much about. 

At first, Antipas was surprised at the difference.  John the Baptist wore camel fur.  Jesus dressed simply and humbly as a carpenter.  John the Baptist would not shut up.  Jesus held his peace.  Jesus refused to perform any magic tricks for the Fox.  As far as he was concerned, he was the murderer of his forerunner John the Baptist.  Antipas was irritated.  He knew that he should set Jesus free – but that would anger the priests.  He could find him guilty and sentence him to death – but he already had one dead prophet on his resume.  So instead he and soldiers mocked Jesus and sent him back to Pilate and eventually death upon a Roman cross.  But at least he and Pilate had reached a truce. 

That Saturday, Herod Antipas could not have missed noting how Chuza and Joanna were mourning the death of Jesus.  But Sunday evening, he noticed a change.  They were joyful.  Joanna explained that how early that morning, she and several other women had gone to the tomb to give Jesus a proper burial.  When they arrived, they found the stone rolled away, the tomb empty, and two messengers saying Jesus is risen.  When they left the tomb, they saw the risen Jesus and talked to him and touched him.  Jesus is alive.  Herod Antipas couldn’t believe his ears.  The Fox had been outfoxed!  Like his father before him, he missed opportunities and responded with violence – first to John the Baptist and then with Jesus of Nazareth.  HIs father will forever be known as the bad guy of the Christmas story.  Antipas would be known as one of several bad guys with the story of Easter. 

The next few years proved to be a turning point for the bad guys of Easter.  Pontius Pilate had put down a rebellion in Samaria.  The Samaritans complained to the governor of Syria, who temporarily relieved Pilate of his command, and told him to report to Tiberius.  The interim governor soon clashed with the high priest Caiaphas – and fired him!  By the time Pilate made it to Rome, Tiberius was dead.  Caligula was emperor.  He told Pilate that he could either retire or be fired.  Meanwhile, Herod Antipas and Herodias rushed to Rome to make the claim that he should be king of all Israel.  The result was a case of family court.  Emperor Caligula was the judge and in one corner was Uncle Antipas and in the other corner was Nephew Herod Agrippa, who just happened to be childhood buddies with Caligula.  Agrippa accused Uncle Antipas of treason.  Caligula agreed.  He told Antipas that he was going to exile in France.  Herodias, however, could stay in Jerusalem, because, after all, she was Agrippa’s sister.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Herodias was Antipas’s former sister-in-law, wife, and…..niece.   But she decided to stand by her man – even in exile.  Caiaphas – fired.  Pilate – retired.  Herod Antipas – exiled.   Herod Agrippa had just inherited nearly all of his grandfather’s kingdom. 

Herod Agrippa was well-received in Jerusalem.  He expanded the city, extending the city walls to incorporate more neighborhoods, including Calvary and the nearby garden.  When a deranged Caligula decided to have a statue of himself built and placed in the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem, Agrippa got him drunk and got him to change his mind.  And for the temple leadership, Agrippa cracked down on this new cult.  He arrested James the brother of John and had him beheaded.  Then he arrested Peter during Passover and had him locked up in the dungeon. To escape that prison would be like trying to escape from Alcatraz.  Peter was chained between two soldiers with sixteen soldiers watching him. 

Meanwhile the Mary Circle of the United Jerusalem Woman was having an all-night prayer meeting.  And while they were praying, the maid Rhoda heard a knock at the door.  She went to the door and asked who it was.  “It’s me, Peter.”  She recognized the Big Fisherman’s voice. And such was her joy that she left Peter locked outside to tell the others.  Then in a parallel to the Easter story, when the disciples doubted the women coming from the empty tomb, the ladies doubted Rhoda.  “Bless her.  She’s out of her mind.  It’s past her bedtime.”  Others thought that perhaps that it was Peter’s guardian angel, letting them know that he taken Peter to be with the Lord.  Well, this guardian angel was knocking the door even louder.  They opened the door, saw Peter, and began screeching.  Peter told them to hush; he didn’t need the police to be paying a visit on a noise violation.  And he told them how the Lord had delivered him in a miraculous jail break.  An angel had broken his chains and lead him through the prison past all sixteen guards. 

The next morning, as the King James Version put it, “There was no small stir among the soldiers, what was become of Peter.”  King Herod Agrippa was furious.  The plan was to execute Peter so his approval ratings can go up.  Instead, he was in the embarrassing position to explain how the Big Fisherman escaped Alcatraz.  The soldiers on the night shift were executed for such a blunder.  (Remember that next Easter, when some “historian” suggests that the Roman soldiers accidently let Jesus, a condemned man, escape death.)  Once again, a member of the house of Herod missed an opportunity and responded with violence and was surprised by a fishermen and a handful of women. 

The years went by, Herod Agrippa I died suddenly, and the Roman governors came back.  One of them, Festus, was trying to figure out The Case of the Tent Maker that had been in legal limbo for two years.  He asked King Agrippa II to help with this case.  The Tent Maker gave his testimony about how he had met Jesus – years after he had been crucified.  Festus couldn’t believe such nonsense. “Paul,” he said, “your learning has driven you mad.”  

“I am not insane, Most Excellent Festus. What I am saying is the sober truth.” Paul then pointed to King Agrippa II and said “And King Agrippa knows about these things. I speak boldly, for I am sure these events are all familiar to him, for they were not done in a corner! King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know you do—” And King Agrippa II interrupted him. “Do you think you can persuade me to become a Christian so quickly?” (Acts 26:25-28 NLT) 

Paul was right.  King Agrippa II did know the truth.  He had heard stories about his great-grandfather and a child born in Bethlehem.  He heard stories about his great uncle who played pivotal roles in the deaths of John the Baptist and Jesus of Nazareth.   He heard about how his father had executed James and tried to execute to Peter the Big Fisherman.  And now here he was, the fourth generation listening and rejecting the Apostle Paul. 

Another missed opportunity for the Herod family. 

Are you missing opportunities to meet God?  Are you responding with humbleness or with anger or mockery?  What sort of spiritual legacy are you leaving your children and grandchildren, and nieces and nephews? 

Will you be like the House of Herod and reject God at every turn?  Or will you, like Joshua, say, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord”? 

What will be your family tradition?