Beheadings

There's something particularly gruesome about beheadings.

During the much-discussed French Olympics opening ceremonies, I was dismayed by the repeated depictions of Marie Antoinette holding her head in her lap. So you had a revolution for liberty, but is it really necessary to caricature a woman who paid such a bloody price for it?

Then there was the beheading of Henry VIII's second wife, Anne Boleyn. Henry supposedly sent to France for the best executioner he could find, with a sharp blade of finest steel for a swift and least painful death. But the anticipation of that death would have been most painful, and little could lessen that.

During August, our weekday Mass readings allude to the beheading of John the Baptist. Of all the Gospel figures, John is one of the most intriguing. And his death, so unnecessarily barbaric.

Unnecessary, because Herod didn't really want to kill him. He, too, was intrigued by this man whom rumors alleged was a prophet. Even though John criticized him for marrying his brother's wife, Herod found something spell-binding in John, something that appealed to whatever latent sense of spirituality Herod had.

But despite his position and power, Herod lacked freedom. He imprisoned John, and then, at a party with many notables present, he made a fateful mistake. The daughter of his new wife Herodias performed a dance for his guests. I imagine the dance was sensual, the guests full of drink, the host garrulous and drunk.

As his guests applauded the bawdy presentation, Herod promised his stepdaughter anything she wanted as a reward.

Coaxed by Mom, who hated John, the girl asked Herod for the head of John the Baptist on a platter.

You sense Herod's horror. It was the last thing he wanted to do. But Herod was unable to summon the courage to say no.

Hopefully, John did not have long to anticipate his death. Soldiers were quickly dispatched and returned to the party, carrying their grotesque prize. The guests probably sobered up quickly.

But what of Jesus, when he heard the news? In Matthew's Gospel (14:13-21), we read, "When Jesus heard of the death of John the Baptist, he withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself." You can almost feel, with Jesus, the gut-punch of the news of his cousin's death. If you or I had been with him, we would probably have murmured, "This can't end well."

John's death must have seemed, to Jesus and his disciples, a precursor to the violence that lay ahead, violence which follows us down to the present time.

This summer, we heard the good news of the release of captives held in Russia, including the Wall Street Journal reporter Evan Gershkovich. But his release brought to mind another captive, another Wall Street Journal writer, Daniel Pearl.

Pearl was beheaded in 2002 in Pakistan. Thinking he was going to interview a terrorist leader, he was instead kidnapped and shortly after the terrorists' demands were not met, killed. His captives made a video of his death.

Royals and prophets are not the only ones who suffer by the blade. And while journalists are not prophets, Pearl shared something in common with John the Baptist: he was not afraid to speak truth to power. And he paid the price.

In our troubled times, we need truth-tellers, be they the prophets who lead us to grace and salvation, or the reporters who root out the facts and bring them to us. It's a dangerous world for journalists, be it in Russia or Gaza or Beirut or perhaps even in our own country. We need to support good journalism.