Charles Ellicott Commentary Mark 6:14

"And king Herod heard [thereof]; for his name had become known: and he said, John the Baptizer is risen from the dead, and therefore do these powers work in him." — Mark 6:14 (ASV)

That John the Baptist was risen from the dead.—See Notes on Matthew 14:1-2. In addition, an interesting illustration of what is stated regarding Herod’s belief may be given from the Roman poet Persius. He is describing in one of his satires (verses 180-188) the effect of superstitious fear in spoiling all the pleasures of proud, luxurious display, and this is the illustration he chooses:

“But when the feast of Herod’s birthday comes,
And, through the window, smoke-stained, the lamps,
Arranged in proper order, with wreaths of violets around them,
Emit their oily fumes, and in the dish
Of red-clay porcelain a tuna’s tail swims,
And the white flask bulges with wine,
You move your lips, yet do not speak, and in fear
You keep the Sabbath of the circumcised,
And then dark specters of the dead arise,
And the cracked eggshell forebodes coming misfortune…”

It is clear that a description so detailed must have been captured, as it were, from some actual incident, and could not have been merely a general picture of the prevalence of Jewish superstition in Roman society. Commentators on the Roman poet have, however, failed to find any clue to the incident so vividly described.

Can we, starting from what the Gospels tell us about the character of Antipas, imagine a scene that explains his strange, mysterious hints? In A.D. 39, Herod Agrippa I, the Tetrarch's nephew, obtained the title of king from the Emperor Caligula.

Prompted by Herodias's ambition, Antipas went with her to Rome to seek the same distinction through lavish gifts and a display of state. However, Agrippa's emissaries thwarted his plans, and he was deposed and sent into exile at Lugdunum.

Might we not conjecture that the same superstitious terror that made him say John the Baptist had risen from the dead also followed him there?

“Herod’s birthday” comes around again, and there is a great feast. Instead of the “lords, high captains, and chief estates of Galilee,” senators, courtiers, and philosophers are present. And behold! There is a pause, and the Tetrarch rises in silent horror—like Macbeth at the apparition of Banquo’s ghost. He sees the dark form shaking its gory locks, his lips move in speechless terror, and he “does many things” on the coming Sabbath.

The event becomes a byword and a proverb in the higher circles of Roman society and is noted in the Stoic schools as an illustration of what superstition can achieve.

This view, of course, is no more than a conjecture, but it at least explains the phenomena. Persius died at the age of twenty-eight or thirty in A.D. 62 and may therefore well have heard the matter discussed in his boyhood.