Sermon: "Out of the Depths I Cry," Reign of Christ Sunday, November 24, 2024
David and Absalom, Marc Chagall (1956)
Scripture: 2 Samuel 18:5-33
Preacher: Gerry Schoberg
Main characters:
David – King of Israel
Amnon – David’s firstborn son and presumably heir to the throne
Absalom – David’s third son
Tamar – David’s daughter, full sister of Absalom and half-sister of Amnon
Joab – Commander of David’s army
Ahithophel – David’s trusted counsellor who defects to Absalom
Hushai – David’s friend who deceives Absalom
Shimei – A relative of King Saul—the king who had been killed in battle and replaced by David
The story of David has all the elements of a Shakesperean play following his rise from insignificance to becoming king; his exemplary graciousness in dealing with people and his devotion to the God of Israel; his fall from grace and the consequences of his sin; battles for power and palace intrigue. And like a Shakesperean play, much of it makes sense only when you see the full picture.
In order to appreciate the reading for today from 2 Samuel 18, dealing with the death of Absalom, we need to get the full picture that takes us back to David’s adultery with Bathsheba and his arranging for the death of her husband Uriah. If it helps, the main characters in the drama that follows are on the screen. But David’s act of adultery was the incident when things started to go really badly for him. Because of that incident, the prophet Nathan confronted David and predicted:
the sword shall never depart from your house, for you have despised me, and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife. Thus says the LORD: I will raise up trouble against you from within your own house…. (12:10–11)
And indeed, from this point on trouble begins. First, his eldest son, Amnon, who presumably would be in line to become king after David, rapes his half-sister, Tamar. And then, after raping her out of lust, he turns to hating her and sends her away. David finds out about this, but he fails to take any action. Indeed, how could he after his affair with Bathsheba? Any kind of disciplinary action would have seemed entirely hypocritical. But David’s third son, Absalom, who is a full-brother to Tamar, is incensed and believes he needs to defend the honour of his sister. Following the principle that “vengeance is a dish best served cold,” Absalom waits two full years, plotting. At a feast where David is not present, Absalom commands his servants to wait until Amnon is drunk and then go and kill him. Absalom then of course has to flee, which he does going to the kingdom of Geshur across the Jordan River where his maternal grandfather was king. And he stays there for three years while David deals with the effective loss of two of his sons.
After three years of Absalom living in exile, David’s army commander, Joab, persuades him to welcome Absalom back to Jerusalem—which David does—at least he allows Absalom to return to his own house in Jerusalem, but David refuses to see him. (Think here of Michael Corleone refusing to see his brother, Fredo, because of his act of betrayal in The Godfather). David’s forgiveness of Absalom was a judicial act, not a fatherly embrace. One wonders at this point how differently the story might have gone had David welcomed his son back in the manner the father welcomes back his prodigal son in the parable from Luke 15—with open arms and a feast of celebration. What if David had been that father. But the quasi-acceptance that was still a rejection, a refusal to forgive, ate away at Absalom. This was David’s third great sin—after his adultery with Bathsheba and the killing of her husband, Uriah; but this one was a steadfast refusal to extend grace. Only after another two years is David persuaded to let Absalom come before him.
But all is still not well. Absalom the plotter is at work again—this time for personal gain; if his father could exclude him, he would shove his father out. Bit by bit he ingratiates himself to the people of Israel by telling them of how poor his father was at providing justice—one of the requirements of a king—and of how much better he would be. Chapter 15 verse 6 reads:
Thus Absalom did to every Israelite who came to the king for judgment; so Absalom stole the hearts of the people of Israel. (15:6)
After four years of winning over the hearts of the Israelites, Absalom schemed to have himself pronounced king in the traditional capital of Judah, the city of Hebron, after which, with the support of the masses of people, he would come to Jerusalem to take his father’s throne.
David is able to see the writing on the wall, as it were, and quickly flees Jerusalem, back to the wilderness where he had spent so many years when Saul was king. Psalm 3 is traditionally associated with David’s flight from Absalom:
O LORD, how many are my foes!
Many are rising against me;
many are saying to me,
“There is no help for you in God.”
But you, O LORD, are a shield around me,
my glory, and the one who lifts up my head.
I cry aloud to the LORD,
and he answers me from his holy hill. (Ps 3:1–4)
Well, maybe that is a mature reflection from a David looking back on this time from some years in the future. Right now, however, he is desperate for his life and not in a place where he can write poetry. And if we haven’t thought of it already, we now remember Nathan’s prophecy:
Thus says the LORD: I will raise up trouble against you from within your own house. (12:11)
Before leaving Jerusalem he arranges to have some of his loyalists work as spies for him—namely the two chief priests who would bring David word as to what Absalom’s plans were, and David’s friend, Hushai, who would serve as a counsellor to Absalom, giving him persuasive but unwise advice.
But David fails to retain the services of his valued counsellor, Ahithophel, who defects and joins with Absalom. This is one that David had relied on: he was the kind of friend a king needed—someone who understood situations and spoke with discernment and insight. David is crushed because he knew that Ahithophel knew him well and would give Absalom counsel that would be very damaging to him. God doesn’t enter the narrative very often in this part of the story of David, but he does when David prays:
O LORD, I pray you turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishness. (15:31)
Granted, it’s not a very long prayer, but it is a prayer—something that David hasn’t done for a long time, not since his eloquent prayer back in chapter 7, after the prophet Nathan had communicated to David God’s commitment in establishing David’s kingdom: “Your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me; your throne shall be established forever” (7:16). But now in chapter 15 he prays to God in the face of the betrayal of a close friend. Psalm 55 is traditionally linked with this episode:
12 It is not enemies who taunt me—
I could bear that;
it is not adversaries who deal insolently with me—
I could hide from them.
13 But it is you, my equal,
my companion, my familiar friend,
14 with whom I kept pleasant company;
we walked in the house of God with the throng….
16 But I call upon God,
and the LORD will save me. (Ps 55:12–14, 16)
A significant thing happens while David is fleeing. While he and his entourage are on their way out of one of the towns, a relative of King Saul, named Shimei, appears and openly curses David and throws stones at him, saying:
Out! Out! Murderer! Scoundrel! The LORD has avenged on all of you the blood of the house of Saul, in whose place you have reigned; and the LORD has given the kingdom into the hand of your son Absalom. See, disaster has overtaken you; for you are a man of blood. (16:7–8)
But David does something quite unexpected at this point, certainly unexpected for a king. When one of his captains offers to go and cut off Shimei’s head, David resists the urge to use his power for vengeance. Instead, he listens to Shimei and admits that maybe he is speaking the truth. Finally David comes to see that his identity is not simply that he is king; he is also a murderer. David does something that we all have trouble doing: he listens to criticism from an enemy. It would have been very easy just to command his servant to silence Shimei, but remarkably, in the context of being ousted from his throne, he comes to see who he really is—that like his son, Absalom, he is one who has inflicted great harm.
Back in Jerusalem, in a showdown of counsellors, David’s loyal friend, Hushai convinces Absalom not to follow the advice of Ahithophel, who was advising Absalom to make a quick attack against David and kill him, and so David uses his time to organize a counter-attack—but this time he is very clear with his commanders not to harm Absalom. From this morning’s reading:
Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom. (18:5)
Unlike Michael Corleone who has his brother executed, David learns again to love his son. But Joab will have none of that. When Absalom gets his long hair caught in an oak tree, Joab comes and runs three spears through him. When David is told the news, we hear one of the most grief-filled utterances in the Bible—perhaps second only to Jesus’ citing of Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son! (18:33)
David has hit bottom. Dead are two of his sons—Amnon and Absalom—each of whom, in turn, could have inherited David’s throne after him. The profound consequences of his own sin with Bathsheba are now clear. He has sown the seeds of tragedy for his own family and, since he is king, for the nation. But it is also clear that, by the end, he has begun to recover a level of affection—affection that leads to great grief when his son is killed.
In Romans 5 the Apostle Paul tells us that
we boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope (Rom 5:3–4)
But we are wary of reading this in a too facile way. The fact is that suffering does not always make us better, and if it does, it is often a rocky road. It could have made David worse; it could have entrenched him in bitterness and vengeance; this story could have been very different. But in the midst of pain and loss, indeed in the midst of discouragement and threat, there are glimpses of hope suggesting that David is recovering something of the depth of his spirituality: he re-found his connection with God when he prayed about Ahithophel; he gained humility when he confessed his own weakness and culpability through the cursing of Shimei; and finally he learned once again to love when trying to protect his own son.
Today is Christ the King Sunday when we celebrate Jesus Christ as Lord over all creation. It is interesting that the scriptures make a point of casting Jesus as a descendant of and successor to David, even though David had many faults. Going way back to the beginning of the story when Saul was being rejected by God, the prophet Samuel tells him that “the LORD has sought out a man after his own heart” (1 Sam 13:14), and in many ways we see this in the life of David: he often displays a profound trust in God; he is willing to hear criticism; he is able to learn from his mistakes; he values people who, according to human standards, are not important. But he also made some glaring mistakes—adultery and orchestrating the death of the woman’s husband, a failure that would lead to, as we have seen this morning, a tragic breakdown in his own family. The story of David is not a simple morality tale—a story with a simple lesson to it; nor is he a hero to be put on a pedestal and admired—as we are often wont to do with leaders. Rather, David is portrayed as a real human: someone who, even though he gets it wrong at times, still returns to God.
The narrative today doesn’t cast David, or even Absalom, as either all good or all bad—the way we often like to cast people. This is a narrative that shows sin and its consequences, friendship and betrayal, passion and grief, ambition and humility, and God’s grace. Amidst all the intrigue in the drama, we also see God’s determination to remain true to his promise that he would establish a kingdom through David, even if David is not the model he is often portrayed to be, but all because God has a much larger purpose in view, one that will become much clearer with the arrival of David’s descendant some thousand years later, Jesus Christ. But for now, certainly one of the take-aways from this story is the realization that God works through messiness—not through heroes, but through broken people like you and me. And that even in the midst of the messiness, grace can still be found.