Sermon for the 2nd Sunday of Lent: Jesus and the Dictators – preached at the Eucharist, Sherborne Abbey, on Sunday 16 March 2025 by Canon Charles Mitchell-Innes. (Philippians Ch 3: 17 – Ch 4: v 1; Luke Ch 13: v 31 – 35)
Dictators, as we know, tend to be of a nervous disposition. They must guard their power vigilantly, and have to be constantly on the alert for any threats to it. They may strut upon the world’s stage exuding confidence and breathing threats of violence to any who would stand in their way or cross them; but autocrats, particularly those with little or no democratic back-up, need to be deeply suspicious of everyone around them, and often lead reclusive lives for their own safety. So, in addition to their reliance on force to impose their will, it is also necessary for them to use weasel words and habitually utter lies. G K Chesterton, in his fine and fiery hymn “O God of earth and altar” (NEH 492), prays
“From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,
From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation
Deliver us good Lord!”
Enter Herod Antipas, for his second appearance in St Luke’s Gospel. You may remember that, when we last met him, he had put John the Baptist in prison for taking him to task for marrying Herodias, his sister-in-law, while his brother was still alive (Ch 3: v 19 – 20) – not the sort of moral reproof you want to hear from a popular prophet. Since then, we are told by St Mark (Ch 16: v 6 – 29) that he had inadvertently and unwillingly committed himself to beheading John, because he had been beguiled by the highly suggestive dancing of Herodias’ daughter. We hear that he was upset about having to do this, and was keeping John in prison to keep him safe, “knowing that he was a righteous and holy man.”
Herod seems to have had no such qualms about getting rid of Jesus in today’s Gospel. Maybe he thought Jesus posed a more formidable threat than John had, his ministry embracing the whole of Judaea and beyond, and his teaching being more appealing, with its emphasis on compassion – as we see in his lament over Jerusalem. But quite why some Pharisees – not notable supporters of Jesus – should want to warn him about Herod’s intention to kill him is not clear; Herod was known as the Fox, as Jesus mentions, and this could have been one of his wily and devious ploys to frighten Jesus into leaving his territory. Murder and manipulation have always been parts of the armoury of any tyrant. But Herod’s power, it has to be said, was derived not from his own strength but from his being the lackey of the occupying power, Rome. He was a tinpot despot. Nonetheless we observe in him the oppressive and life-restricting tendencies common to his breed.
One such was Periander, ruler of Corinth in the late 7th and early 6th centuries BC. He was clearly successful in his autocratic rule, because the ruler of Miletus, Thrasybulus, sent a messenger to get some tips on tyranny from Periander. Several ancient Greek authors recount the story of their meeting. Periander did not say much, but took the messenger out into a field of corn; as they walked through it, Periander reduced all the ears of corn to one level by lopping off the tallest. When this little scene was reported to Thrasybulus, he understood that the sensible tyrant should cull – or at least cut down to size – any who were outstanding and might therefore threaten his position.
How very different is the teaching of Jesus summarized by Paul in today’s Epistle! Christ, he assures us, “will transform our lowly body into the body of his glory”. To be a Christian is a life-enhancing experience, where God gives us the means, the opportunity, and the encouragement of the Holy Spirit, to grow to our full stature, to become everything that we have within us.
Up and down the Nile Valley, in temples, in monuments and museums, you can find huge statues of that most famous of Pharaohs, Rameses II. We saw a large number when we were fortunate enough to be there last month. He reigned for 67 years in the 13th century BC, and was the Pharaoh of the Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt. He was also – at least the ruins of his statue on the edge of the western Egyptian desert were – the subject of Shelley’s well-known poem Ozymandias. It speaks potently and tellingly of the fragility and ultimate futility of tyranny. I would hope it makes salutary reading for today’s despots; but I doubt it.
Ozymandias
(Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792 – 1822)
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, king of kings;
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
Jesus said: “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” (Matthew Ch 5: v 5).
Amen to that.