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In a series of devotionals intended to point us toward other translations and other points of view, why use the King James Bible—even a newer edition of it—you might ask. More than 400 years after it was first published, the King James Bible continues to be the most popular translation of the Bible when readers are surveyed. The first translation to be widely available to ordinary people in English, the influence of the King James translation is undeniable.
At the time of its commissioning, the Bible had already been translated into English twice, first by Henry VIII as part of the Church of England's break with Rome, and then with the newly Protestant churches after Henry VIII's English Reformation. A translation of the Bible called the Geneva translation, which had been created with direct input from Protestant reformer John Calvin himself, was also available. But King James, who was the Protestant successor to Queen Elizabeth I and the great-nephew of Henry VIII, believed in the divine right of kings. Calvin's anti-monarchy sentiments in the footnotes of the Geneva Bible are a major reason that the King James commissioned another Bible translation in English. Okay...history lesson almost over!
The point of all of this is that the creators of the King James Bible were not working in a vacuum. They offered a translation of the Bible that intentionally told the Jesus story with care not to disrupt certain norms and power structures. A translation intended to uphold the divine right of kings, a political doctrine that asserts that kings are not subject to any other earthly authority and is intended to support the absolute power of monarchy, might downplay some of Jesus' teaching about God siding with the poor and marginalized first.
Enter Herodias, the current wife and former sister-in-law of Herod. She seems to be the "bad guy" in Mark's account of the death of John the Baptist. Indeed, note the word choice. Herodias is a grudge-holding, revenge seeker who maniacally spins a plot to kill John that includes using her own daughter as bait for the king's pleasure. Meanwhile Herod, her husband—though initially aggrieved by John's words—is exceedingly sorry that he has to serve John's head on a platter. But a promise is a promise?!?
Womanist scholars argue that Herodias and her daughter have suffered violence as this scripture has been interpreted by men over the centuries. Consider what Herod's fear of John might mean for Herodias and her daughter, who by the standards of the time might have had more wealth and food security than their non-royal peers, but who were still women without explicit power in an imperial system.
Scholar Angela Parker argues that a more nuanced reading of Herodias in this story helps us rewrite the tired and prejudiced tropes in our own society, and in particular she points to Herodias as an example of how anger and identity get toxically intertwined in the idea of the "angry black woman" who may indeed be angry, but whose anger is located in systems of injustice, violence, and oppression.
Parker writes, "My reading, rather than blaming Herodias for her anger, allows me as a womanist reader to understand her anger. Herodias is a figure who holds violence within her body. The Markan narrative paints a picture of a woman who was easily moved from one man to another. Herodias, as with other women in the Roman imperial age, likely lacked agency in deciding whom she was to marry, as the easy transfer of women was one way men secured positions and privileges in the Roman imperial world. How should a woman cope with being a piece of property that could be transferred from one man to another? How could a woman navigate such a world?
Moreover, Herodias was not able to secure a place for herself within this patriarchal society because she did not bear any sons. Attentive interpreters of the text will consider that Herodias embodies an emotion of helplessness that is transformed into violent anger because her husband has the power to cast her aside. It is only through care, subtlety, and finesse that Herodias is able to accomplish anything during her time in the royal court. But John the Baptist seems ignorant of these realities, as he focuses only on matters of marital fidelity and seems inattentive to the canny skills required of Herodias if she is to navigate a dangerous environment."
Hmm...Herodias was a royal woman, who had reason to fear for her life after having first married one royal brother and then another and failed to produce a male heir for either one of them. Where else have we heard a story like that?
Oh yes, two generations before the King James Bible, James' great uncle Henry was actually quite famous for inflicting the kind of violence that Herodias feared on his own wives. Henry VIII's justification for divorcing his first wife—a split that led to the Church of England's break up with Rome— was that she had initially been married to his brother. He beheaded his second wife because she also failed to produce a son. (If you haven't heard about the one-act musical, Six, in which the six wives of Henry VIII write and rewrite their own stories through a Hamilton-eque use of rock music, it is worth a listen. Herodias could probably relate to their project!) It seems that Herodias, angry as she was at John's truth telling, was not unnecessarily paranoid about the fall out she might suffer because of John's particular kind of truth telling.
When we approach a scripture like this—or a character like Herodias—it is important to consider who benefits from making her the "bad guy?" In this case, the original writer of Mark might have had unexamined bias shaped by a deeply patriarchal society. The translation editors lived in a time that was as shaped by the instability "caused" by a royal woman being unable to produce a son and heir. They were also meant to make earthly kings and the social systems they symbolize look—not terrible....which is hard to do some of the time when you actually read some of the things Jesus says.
Today, consider your anger. How comfortable are you with that emotion? When do you find yourself most angry? How comfortable are you with other people's anger? What do you do with that discomfort? Have you ever been angry at the text of the Bible? What is the root of that anger?
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