Jeremiah 1.17-end  Psalm 40.11-20  Hebrews 11.32-end  MATTHEW 14.1-12

IF YOU came into church this morning through the west door and looked to your left, you will have seen the painting of John the Baptist being put to death. The story is well known. Herod, ruler of Galilee, had seduced his (half-)brother’s wife, Herodias, and married her. John, whose mission was to preach repentance to high and low alike, dared to rebuke Herod for this, and was thrown into prison. At his birthday party, Herodias’ daughter danced before the company (commonly referred to as ‘the dance of the seven veils’, though the Bible doesn’t call it that). Herod, probably carried away by drink and, perhaps, excited by the eroticism of the dance, was so delighted that he promised to give her whatever she asked. Herodias seized the opportunity to revenge herself by getting her daughter to ask for John’s head. Herod now regretted his rash promise, but, afraid to lose face, he gave the order, and the grisly deed was carried out.
The most noticeable thing about the picture is how dark it is. We do not know how long John had been in prison. Matthew tells us that Herod wanted to kill him, but was afraid of unrest among the people, who saw John as a prophet. But Mark says that Herod recognised John to be a holy man, so kept him safe, and, indeed, listened to him gladly (Mark 6.20). In that case, it may have been many months or even longer that John languished in Herod’s dungeon.  Any prison cell is a wretched place, but an unlit underground dungeon even more so, as our picture shows.
And the darkness got to John. It entered into his mind and his spirit. He began to wonder whether he had been deluded. He had proclaimed Jesus as one mightier than himself (Matthew 3.12), and ‘the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world’ (John 1.29). But now he was plagued by doubts. Was Jesus really who he had believed him to be, or had he wasted his life and landed himself in jail by preaching what was not true? So, in the darkness of his mind, he sent messengers to ask Jesus, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or must we look for someone else?’ (Matthew 11.3).
Which is deeply, tragically ironic.  Because in the gospels John is constantly referred to in terms of light, not darkness. Jesus described him as ‘a burning and a shining light’ (John 5.35).  At his birth, John’s father, Zacharias, describes his son’s mission as ‘giving knowledge of salvation to [God’s] people … the day shall dawn … from on high, to give light to those who sit in darkness …’ (Luke 1.77-79). Similarly, the opening of St John’s gospel says that John ‘came … to bear witness to the light, that all might believe through him’ (John 1.6). And now that ‘burning and shining light’, who came to kindle the light of faith in others, is himself plunged into the darkness of doubt.

DARKNESS  – not natural darkness, but darkness of the spirit – takes many forms. There is the darkness of illness, of body or mind, of disability; the darkness of poverty, hunger and homelessness; the lack of self-esteem, of believing oneself worthless, of shame, guilt and remorse; the darkness of oppression, persecution, exploitation and powerlessness; the darkness of loneliness, through bereavement or otherwise; the darkness of fear, anxiety or depression; the darkness caused by racism, sexism, or other forms of discrimination; unhappiness about one’s sexuality or gender …  I could go on, and so, I’m sure, could you. The catalogue of human suffering and darkness is unending.
Of course, for some the darkness is deeper or longer lasting than it is for others. But no one, I believe, escapes it. ‘The mass of men,’ wrote the American, HD Thoreau, ‘live lives of quiet desperation.’ The last prayer of the day in the Church’s worship begins, ‘Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord …’ Knowing our own darkness should move us to compassion for that of others, and lead us to pray, ‘Lighten their darkness …’
Today the  Church commemorates John Bunyan. In his famous allegory, The Pilgrim’s Progress, Pilgrim and his companion Hopeful, on their journey to the Celestial City, are imprisoned and tortured by Giant Despair in Doubting Castle. They escape from the giant’s dark dungeon by remembering that they have the key of Promise. The message of the Bible might be said to be the message of promise, from God’s promise to Abraham onwards: ‘I will bless you … and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed’ (Genesis 12.2,3). The New Testament sees all God’s promises fulfilled in Christ: ‘[God] has raised up a mighty Saviour for us,’ exults Zacharias, and ‘thus has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors’ (Luke 1.69,72).
We are never alone: God promises to be with us unfailingly, even in our deepest darkness: ‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you’ (Isaiah 43.2). And Jesus’ last words to the disciples are, ‘… remember, I am with you always, even to the end of the world’ (Matthew 28.20).