My name is Herod. The problem is that our family is so extended, and so many people bear that name, that I should really use my given name, which is Antipas. My circumstances used to be far different than they are now. It's not that Lyons is such a bad place to end up, but I became used to a lot more luxury when I was Tetrarch of Galilee and Perea in Palestine. All that has been taken from me now by the Emperor, and I am consigned to remain here on the fringes of the Empire for the rest of my life.
My family has exercised power in Palestine for many years. My father, Herod the Great, was King of the Jews. He wasn't even a Jew; he was an Idumean. My mother was a Samaritan, so I don't have a drop of Jewish blood in me. My father's second will named me as his successor, but his final will gave the kingdom to my brother Archelaus, along with the provinces of Judea and Samaria. Another half-brother, Philip, was made ruler of Trachonitus, and I was made Tetrarch of Galilee. A tetrarch is a person who rules a subsection of an area. I contested the assignments, but Caesar upheld the will, and that is how I wound up where I did.
I decided to make the best of it. I built a wall around the city of Sepphoris and made it a metropolis. I built the city of Tiberius, overlooking the Sea of Galilee, and named it after the Emperor. I established another city in Perea, south of the Sea of Galilee, and named it Livias, after the Emperor's wife. For myself, I built the fortress of Machaerus, near the Dead Sea. All that was a long time ago. Reflecting on the events which brought me to where I am now has taught me some important lessons about life. I'd like to share those with you, if you will listen.
The first lesson is: "Control your passions." When I was Tetrarch, I married a certain Nabatean princess, whose father, Aretus, ruled the Nabateans, an Arab people, from his capital in Petra. In the year 35 of the current era I went to Rome to visit my half-brother, named Philip, who was living as a private citizen in Rome. His wife, Herodias, who was also his niece, was my hostess, and she entertained me very well. In fact, I was so enamored of her, that our passions overtook our senses. I seduced her and persuaded her to divorce my brother. My problem was that I was still married. I divorced my wife and married Herodias. This was not uncommon in Rome, but the marriage was against Jewish law, for one is not to marry his brother's wife while his brother is living. Nor did they like the fact that Herodias was my niece. But I didn't feel that I was bound by Jewish laws.
When I brought her back to Palestine, my first wife departed and complained to her father in Nabatea. He was irate at my treatment of his daughter, and he attacked my province with his army. He was successful and defeated my army. I would have lost everything if the Romans had not intervened and put a stop to it. His attack, however, brought great suffering to many of my subjects, and that produced unrest among them. I allowed my passions to take control, and they were leading me into difficulty.
A second lesson I would offer is: "Be considerate of critics." About this time a strange fellow was preaching in the JordanValley. The people called him John the Baptist. He dressed peculiarly and called people to repent and to be baptized. I was interested in hearing what he had to say, so I invited him to come to my palace for an audience. He had the audacity to point his finger at me and tell me that it was wrong for me to have my brother's wife. I was ambivalent toward him. On the one hand, I certainly didn't like his criticism of me; on the other hand, it was refreshing to hear someone state courageously what he felt to be the truth. A ruler gets very little of that. As a consequence, I heard him often.
Herodias, however, was enraged by him. Perhaps she felt that he might persuade me to send her back to Rome. She pointed out that he was a real menace. The people heard him gladly, and many considered him to be a prophet. It had been several centuries since a recognized prophet had been heard in the land, and the people were listening for the voice of God. Herodias pointed out to me that he could easily lead the people in an insurrection, especially since the war with the Nabateans had created such hardship.
I acceded to her request and had John arrested and placed in prison. She wanted him killed as a nuisance. I, on the other hand, wanted him protected, and gave orders that he was not to be harmed. Periodically, I sent for him. In listening to my critic, I believe I was doing the wiser thing. I recommend that course to you. Unfortunately, in my situation, that is not where it ended.
Another lesson I would offer is: "Be careful with promises." One day, on my birthday, I was holding a celebration at my fortress, Machaerus. I had invited various officers, courtiers, and leaders in Galilee. Herodias was present. The food and wine were abundant. As a special entertainment, Herodias announced that her daughter, Salome, who was also my niece and step-daughter, would dance for me and my guests. Of itself, this was unusual. Such dances are generally very suggestive and provocative. They are performed by women of questionable background, prostitutes and such. For a young woman from a noble family to engage in such an activity was unheard of. Nevertheless, we were all sufficiently "under the influence" that we cheered her on. Salome was about seventeen at the time, and a very well-endowed young woman. She really knew how to captivate an audience. As others were expressing their appreciation, I sought to outdo them by saying that her performance was so great that I would offer her whatever she might ask, even up to half of my kingdom. I intended it as hyperbole. She left the hall and consulted with her mother about what she should ask for. Herodias saw her chance to make me do something I hadn't wanted to do. She told Salome to ask for the head of John the Baptist. The girl came back in to the festal hall, and before all my guests, she asked for the head of John the Baptist. You could hear a pin drop. All the guests waited to see what I would say. I had foolishly given my word. I didn't expect the girl to take advantage of it, but my guests were waiting to see if I would live up to my promise. I had not wanted any harm to come to John, but I was caught in a dilemma. It was important that my guests see me as a person who kept his word. So I ordered a soldier to go to the dungeon and return with the head of John the Baptist. He left, and a little while later returned with the head of the Baptist on a platter. He gave it to Salome, and she gave it to her mother. I was saddened and sobered by the whole affair. I learned the importance of being careful with promises.
Another lesson I would offer is: "Be prepared for the power of conscience." A person in a position of power frequently has to make decisions he doesn't necessarily want to make. Then, in the wee hours of the morning, those decisions can come back to haunt him. I experienced that over the order to kill the Baptist. Not long after John's death, I began to hear about another itinerant preacher who was called Jesus. He, too, was attracting attention among the poor. When I inquired about him, I learned that some people felt he was a prophet, like one of the prophets of old. The people listened to him, because they wanted to hear an authentic word from God. Others said that he was Elijah, the prophet of old who was expected to return as a herald and forerunner of the Messiah. Still others suggested that he was actually John the Baptist, raised from the dead. That was the explanation that I tended to accept. My conscience was already troubling me, because I had had a person executed who did not deserve it. I told my soldiers that I wanted to see this Jesus, so I could decide for myself who he was, but he eluded me. Some reported back to me that when townspeople told him of my desire to see him, Jesus referred to me as a fox. I didn't get to see him at that time, but his presence kept my conscience in turmoil. Anybody who has to make unpleasant decisions had better be prepared for the same.
The next lesson I would offer is: "Be cautious about making judgments in areas that are not your business." Sometime after the event with the Baptist, I was in Jerusalem during the Passover. Jesus had been arrested and brought before Pilate, the governor, for judgment. Pilate was apparently being pressured by the Jewish authorities to find Jesus guilty of some matter of Jewish law. As a Roman, Pilate apparently didn't feel that the charges against Jesus called for the death penalty. He was looking for a way out, or looking for someone else to make the decision. There had been bad blood between us for some time, and neither of us cared much for the other. But I think that Pilate saw a chance to use me. He discovered that Jesus was from Galilee, which was in my jurisdiction, so he had Jesus sent over to where I was staying, hoping that I would pass judgment, and thus relieve him of the obligation of imposing an unpalatable sentence. I was glad to have the opportunity to see this Jesus, for whom I had so long been searching, but I was certainly in no mood to get involved in making another judgment. I interviewed Jesus and satisfied myself that he was not John the Baptist resurrected, and then I had him taken back to Pilate with no recommendation from me. From that point on, Pilate and I had a greater respect for one another. I appreciated his acknowledgment of my jurisdiction, and he appreciated my ability to avoid a politically charged situation. I am sure that I acted rightly, and I urge others not to make judgments about things that don't concern them.
One final lesson, perhaps the most costly of my life, that I would pass on, is "Practice contentment." Philip, who governed the area north of me, died. I thought that perhaps I could add his province to mine, but before I could act, the new emperor, Caligula, gave the province to Agrippa, who happened to be Herodias' brother. With the province, Caligula also gave Agrippa the title of king. It was a title I had sought earlier, when my father's kingdom was divided among my brother and me. I could live with the emperor's decision, but it galled Herodias to hear her brother called king, when I was called but a tetrarch.
Herodias couldn't leave it alone. She wanted to be called a queen. She continually urged me to go to Rome to offer the Emperor money for the title of king. She said that we should take lots of money and be prepared to spend whatever it took to get the title. "The purpose of money is to make us happy," she said, and it was apparent that she would not be happy until she had the title queen. Reluctantly, I gave in, and we went to Rome.
In the meantime, Herodias' brother, Agrippa, concerned about our intentions, sent messages to the Emperor, stating that I was untrustworthy, that I was in league with the Parthians and planning an insurrection. The Emperor believed Agrippa, took our money, took away my provinces, sent us into exile here in Lyons, and gave my provinces to Agrippa. Obviously, I had overstepped my bounds. I was seen to be too assertive. I should have been more content with what I had. My advice to you, therefore, is to be slow to push for more recognition. Do your job in the best way you can, and learn to be content.
Perhaps you think that what I have told you only applies to rulers, such as myself. I think that these lessons are applicable to everyone, and I urge you to take them to heart. Control your passions, give consideration to criticism, be careful with promises, be prepared to deal with your conscience, be cautious about making judgments, and practice contentment. Perhaps the best thing that I can do is to have my life be a lesson for you.