Herod: Facing the Dragons Within

Ancient maps, I’ve heard, sometimes had inscriptions around the edges, just beyond the boundaries of the known world. “There be dragons”, written in the margins, were the words used to describe what was beyond the known world, in the realm of shadow or darkness, the places yet to be explored.

When I’ve heard that legend told as a preacher-story (a genre all its own, don’t you know?!?), it generally deals with having the courage to explore something in the outer world, or about taking risks in life, or about facing the dragons that are “out there.”

But I’m convinced that the legend can also speak to our interior life, our inner makeup. “There be dragons” points to the unexplored and unknown places within our own personhood which feel very dangerous to us. These are the aspects of what it means to be me or to be you that we don’t touch, we don’t become familiar with, because we are not sure what we will find there . . . or not sure if we will like what we find there.

A healthy, growing spiritual life – not to mention a healthy emotional life – explores beyond the edges of the inner map, discovers where the dragons reside, and faces them with courage and intention. In order to live soulfully in the world, we are invited to explore the fullness of what it means to be me and you, even if that means uncovering some things about ourselves that seem unsavory.

I am not proud of the Herod within me. My initial impulse toward this shadowy region in my inner life is to banish it . . . and failing banishment, to fix it. But I have lived long enough with my own shadows, my own Herods, to know that I will likely carry most of them until the moment of my death. They will be a part of the unique maze of what it means for me to be Jerry . . . and for you to be you.

A couple of experiences have informed me. In one, I sat in front of a wise Irish nun who had the patience to share her deep, deep connection to God with me over a period of many years. I lamented, on this particular day, these dark and shadowy parts of my personality that kept showing up when I least expected to see them. Some of them I dealt with in various ways – handing them over to God at the altar, burning pieces of paper that represented them, and so on . . . you get the drift – that my religious tradition commended and approved of. But always the behaviors, the emotional responses, the afflictive reactions came back . . . a week, a month, a year later.

As I lamented, this Sister gently asked, “And what would you like to do with these parts of yourself, Jerry?”

“I’d like to obliterate them,” I answered in all honesty.

“If you could obliterate them, what would be left of you then, Jerry?” And I immediately “got it.” These shadows – what I would call today “Herods” – were a part of what it meant for me to be Jerry. They weren’t the shiny, clean, perfect model that I thought my life was to be. They were ordinary and in some ways had no luster. But they were me.

The other experience came from a book by a Jesuit, writing about the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola. In a meditation on 2 Corinthians 12, the writer suggested that when the Apostle Paul prayed repeatedly that God would take away his “thorn in the flesh,” Paul was referring to a moral impairment rather than a physical issue. Paul wanted a character defect removed, a moral imperfection to be taken away, not a physical healing as has often been speculated.

The writer went on to say that Paul finally heard God say, “My grace is enough for you . . . for my power is strongest when you are weak” when he realized that he would probably go to his grave still carrying this particular moral defect.

In other words, Paul saw part of the Herod within himself, and after a long season of praying for its removal, finally embraced it and found God’s strength in that shadow-space where he was weak.

When I first read those words about 16 years ago, it was as if I had been liberated . . . from the anxious striving and diligent asceticism that I had hoped would straighten out my life. I realized again – as I had sitting with the Irish nun – that I would carry my own Herods for a long, long time. I simply needed to know they were there. I needed to be aware of them. (I’ll post some thoughts later this week on what to do with these Herods within us when we see them.) I needed to face my own dragons.


For Reflection:
How does the map image, with “There be dragons” written around the edges of the map, speak to you about your own interior landscape?

What inner dragons (or Herods) have you faced along your journey?

And what has been your own experience of reacting to the dragons – or to the Herods – that you discover within yourself? Can you imagine God saying to you, “My grace is enough for you . . . my power in you is strongest when you are weak”?