“But at a birthday party for Herod, Herodias’ daughter performed a dance that greatly pleased him, so he promised with a vow to give her anything she wanted.” (Matthew 14:6 NLT)
I have read the gospel of Matthew many times over. In fact, I think this is my fourth go-through so far this year. And though I’ve thought about this mess with Herod and his brother’s wife and John the Baptist at great length, I don’t know that I have every stopped to consider Herodias’ daughter. What on earth happened there?
What do we know about this woman? Bible scholars suggest she was young, maybe only sixteen. We know she came from a broken home: skeevie old Uncle Herod saw to that. He set his eye on his brother’s wife and the next thing they know they are moving into the palace. Herod the step-dad was wealthy and powerful, but also incredibly paranoid (with good reason). This young lady suffered the affects of manipulative mother, to boot. What kind of woman sends her daughter in to dance for her step-father and his drunk friends? Super strange family dynamics: I can’t imagine the level of drama at their family dinner table.
As I consider Herodias’ daughter, I consider a young woman trying to please impossible parents. She participated in her mother’s demonic plan. She displayed her young wares for the most powerful men in their small nation. Her impropriety was rewarded; step-dad offered her any prize she could name; up to half of his kingdom. And this teenager girl ran back to mommy dearest for direction.
Here’s a worthwhile question: who wastes their one wish on another person’s revenge? Who sacrifices such an opportunity to another’s whim? The answer hurts: only someone desperately trying to be seen. Someone in dire need of parental approval. Someone powerless amidst a hierarchy of power.
Most teenagers would take this reward all the way to the bank: a world-tour, a new set of wheels, a shopping trip on daddy’s dime. Not Herodias’ daughter. She let her mother dictate her wish: off with John the Baptist’s head! Y’all, this is messed up! This family dynamic makes Desperate Housewives look almost wholesome by comparison! This poor girl – desperate to please her sadistic parents – went ahead and played their game. And they all lost, but perhaps she lost the most. She traded her virtue in hopes of approval that would never happen.
Herodias’s daughter surely lived in shame from that day on. Her parents played a lewd game with her, passed her back and forth like a worthless token and pinned the beheading of a prophet to her back. How does one overcome such trauma? How did she sleep at night?
Herodia’s daughter was a victim of sex trafficking at the hands of her mother. She was ogled and probably pawed at by her stepdad and his cronies. She surely wore shame from the rejection and the forced prostitution of her parents; but also from their own participation.
I wonder if Herodia’s daughter ever met the living Savior? If there was ever a girl in need of His such an interaction, it was Herodias’ daughter. Only Jesus can shatter that level of shame. Only He can forgive the execution of another. Only He could set her free from the crushing guilt and devaluation of her soul.
I’ve been thinking a lot about shame lately. I have realized what a powerful demotivation shame has been in my own story. Shame has never taken me anywhere good. Like Herodias’ daughter, people meant to protect me used their position to perpetrate their own sinful purposes, and the legacy left in their wake was shame.
Shame is the apparel of the enemy – it’s how he identifies his own. It’s part of his indoctrination. Hitler issued brownshirts and Satan issues shame. And shedding the enemy’s attire takes effort; it takes time and it requires the power of God in our frame.
So how do we shed shame? I keep recalling the fact that Jesus already bore it. Shame was buried with Him in a grave on a Friday afternoon two thousand years ago. And when He rose; shame stayed in the ground. I recall that He is issuing each believer a robe of righteousness (Revelation 17:7-8). And I refuse to agree with the lies and accusations fo the enemy any longer. I am breaking free from shame bit by bit every day.
In the woods where we live, we routinely find cicada casings. Apparently, at some point in maturity, cicadas shed their exoskeletons and leave behind these brown, crusty, shadows of themselves. This is how I picture shame: this ugly, crusty, ill-fitting covering that we wear for far too long. I don’t know how cicadas manage to crawl out of these shells and leave them so perfectly intact, but they do. Shame is like that: seemingly impossible to crawl out from in our own strength, but with the power and and truth of God, one day we’ll leave that nasty business behind. We’ll feel good in our own skin knowing that Jesus has freed us entirely.
“I sought the Lord, and He answered me, He delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to Him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.” (Psalm 34:4–5 NIV)
Lord, like Herodia’s daughter, we have been clothed with shame for far too long. We wear shame from the actions afflicted upon us and shame from our own participation. Yet, You came to earth to deal with our sin and shame. You bore them both on the cross so we could be released from shame’s ugly stronghold. Help us cooperate with Your Word and Spirit. Give us the guts to wrestle with the truth of heaven and break agreements with the agenda of the enemy. Fill our frames with Your power and shatter shame on our behalf. Set us free that we might serve You more fully. We cannot accomplish this apart from You. Amen.