Proper 13 | Ordinary Time 18
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VIII, Cycle B
Revised Common
2 Samuel 11:26--12:13a
Ephesians 4:1-16
John 6:24-35
Roman Catholic
Exodus 16:2-4, 12-15
Ephesians 4:17, 20-25
John 6:24-35
Episcopal
Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15
Ephesians 4:17-25
John 6:24-35
Theme For The Day
David's repentance demonstrates that there is always a way back to God.
Old Testament Lesson
2 Samuel 11:26--12:13a
Nathan Accuses David, Who Repents
Last week's lectionary selection concluded with the account of how David, trying desperately to cover up Bathsheba's pregnancy, deploys her cuckolded husband Uriah to the front lines on a suicide mission. Verses 16-25, omitted from the lectionary, describe how David's commanding general, Joab, sends a messenger back to the king with news of the death of many Israelites in battle. Joab -- who is in on David's plot to place Uriah in harm's way, but who also worries how the king will receive news of the heavy casualties -- slyly advises his envoy how to manage the king, so as not to become a victim of the kill-the-messenger syndrome. Tell David the bad news first, he suggests, then casually slip in the news that Uriah was one of those killed. The king is initially angry that so many of his soldiers have died, but when the messenger tells him Uriah was one of them, he becomes strangely calm, declaring philosophically that, in war, you win some and you lose some. David sends the messenger back to Joab to tell him to carry on, and better luck next time.
As this week's passage opens, the scene shifts to Bathsheba, who has just learned of her husband's death. We learn nothing of her psychological state, other than that "she made lamentation for him" publicly (v. 26) -- exactly what a good wife would be expected to do under those circumstances. Throughout this entire story, in fact, Bathsheba is something of a cipher; she is a two-dimensional figure, more a victim than an actor in her own right. The remainder of this week's selection tells of how the Prophet Nathan exposes David's treachery. He cleverly tells the king a parable of a rich and powerful man who steals the only lamb his poor neighbor owns; when David responds with righteous anger, Nathan indicates "you are the man" (v. 7). David has just said of the rich man in the parable that he "deserves to die" and should make recompense fourfold; now he realizes, to his horror, that this judgment applies to him.
Furthermore, because of Uriah's death, recompense is no longer possible. Speaking for the Lord, Nathan issues this judgment against David: "I will raise up trouble against you from within your own house; and I will take your wives before your eyes, and give them to your neighbor, and he shall lie with your wives in the sight of this very sun" (v. 11). The "neighbor" is, of course, David's son, Absalom, who will rebel against him. David confesses his sin in verse 13a, but the lectionary abruptly ends the story at this point, omitting Nathan's response: "Now the Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die. Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the Lord, the child that is born to you shall die" (vv. 13b-14). When everything about this sordid tale is said and done, the best that can be said of the deeply flawed David is that he is a big enough man to confess his sin, acknowledging his guilt before God and the people.
Alternate Old Testament Lesson
Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15
Quails And Manna In The Wilderness
The people of Israel, yearning for the full rations of their Egyptian captivity, are complaining about Moses' and Aaron's leadership. "You have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger," they charge (v. 3b). The Lord advises Moses of a supernatural solution: bread that will rain down from heaven (v. 4). In verses 9-15, Moses and Aaron call the people together and tell them of the Lord's generosity. It happens exactly as they predict, with quails arriving in the evening and manna in the morning.
New Testament Lesson
Ephesians 4:1-16
Gifts For The Upbuilding Of The Church
Having prayed for the people, the author now goes on to speak of the unity of the church, the Body of Christ -- and of the role of spiritual gifts among the fellowship. He lists the personal characteristics that make for unity: "humility and gentleness ... patience, bearing with one another in love" (v. 2). This verse is a fruitful field for word studies. In verses 4-6, the word "one" occurs no fewer than seven times -- a drumbeat of emphasis that leaves no doubt what the apostle is driving at: that the true church of Jesus Christ is characterized by unity. It is possible that these verses are an early baptismal creed. Beginning with verse 7, the emphasis shifts to spiritual gifts, which Christ has "measured" out (metron) among the people. Verses 8-10 are a brief detour from the main argument, quoting and very roughly exegeting Psalm 68:18, which in fact is misquoted here (the actual Psalm text says, "You ascended the high mount, leading captives in your train and receiving gifts from people" -- not giving them). The point of this excursus is obscure, anyway, and is beside the main point, so it can easily be skipped over. The argument resumes in verse 11 with, "The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ...." This is one of the great verses of the New Testament for understanding the life and leadership of the early church.
Similar (but not exactly parallel) lists are found in 1 Corinthians 12:28 and Romans 12:6-8. These are not rigidly defined offices, but rather ecclesiastical functions for which the Spirit raises up gifted people to serve. The very fact that these lists are different from one another suggests a diversity of leadership patterns among the Pauline churches. Even more important than the functions themselves is the theological understanding of what spiritual gifts are for: equipping (katartismos) the saints, and building up (oikodome) the Body of Christ. The ultimate goal of ecclesiastical leadership is the health of the larger body. All this is provisional, anyway, until the day when we all attain to full "unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ" (v. 13). Forsaking the cunning trickery of false teachers (v. 14), we must, "speaking the truth in love ... grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ" (v. 15). The passage concludes (v. 16) with a comprehensive, organic understanding of the church as the one, unified Body of Christ.
The Gospel
John 6:24-35
Bread From Heaven
Following Jesus' walking on the water, he and the disciples are on the far side of the sea. Some of the multitude who fed on the loaves and fish have taken boats across the sea to look for them, and there they find them. When the crowd (who have seen his disciples get into a boat, but without Jesus) ask him how he got across to the other side, Jesus seems mildly annoyed: "Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life ..." (vv. 26-27a). Perhaps seeking to redeem themselves, they ask what they must do to perform the works of God. Jesus' terse answer: "Believe in him whom [God] has sent" (v. 29). The crowd then asks for a sign, another miracle. They recall the manna in the wilderness (indicating that they have made the connection between that ancient account and what Jesus did for them on the other side of the water). The scripture cited by the crowd is from no single Old Testament verse, but does contain the expression "bread from heaven" from Exodus 16:4. Jesus replies, "... it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world" (vv. 32-33). "Sir, give us this bread always," the crowd responds (v. 34) -- although it is still none too clear that they get Jesus' point. They have asked him for miracles, and he has refused, saying obliquely that what they truly need is not another miraculous sign, but himself.
Preaching Possibilities
The White House sex scandals of the 1990s led many news commentators to observe that presidents and their families are now exposed to a higher degree of public scrutiny than at any other time in history. More than one commentator alluded, at the time, to a former "gentleman's agreement" that had once pertained among the White House press corps: journalists at one time agreed that it was in the national interest to shield certain aspects of chief executives' private lives from public scrutiny. This restraint, however, is no more. Considering the very recent nature of this change in our culture, it is remarkable that the author of 2 Samuel, three millennia in the past, shows so little restraint in sharing the details of King David's shocking moral failure. The story of David's adultery and murder is an open wound in Israel's history, one that is never allowed to fully heal.
David is one of scripture's truly colossal figures: a man larger than life, in every respect. When David first comes to the attention of the Israelite nation, he's but a young boy, with a sling in his hand. David places a smooth stone in the leather pocket of that sling, whirls it around his head, and lets it fly. The fearsome giant Goliath crashes to the ground -- stone dead (if you'll pardon the pun).
Next, David distinguishes himself in the manly arts of military leadership -- soon becoming King Saul's most valued general. At the same time, he excels in an art that is no less manly: composing and singing songs of praise to his God. As King Saul, consumed by pride, slips ever deeper into paranoia and bizarre behavior, David takes up the slack -- doing what needs to be done to keep the nation afloat. When Saul finally turns on him, fomenting civil war, God gives David the victory -- and before long, this onetime shepherd boy is presiding as king over a nation that has never before been as powerful and free (and never will be again -- except, perhaps, during the glorious reign of his son, Solomon).
Yet, as is tragically often the case with great political leaders, this man, too, has the proverbial "feet of clay." David sins -- and when this larger-than-life figure sins, he predictably does so in a big way.
There are some who say David falls in love -- but, in truth, it's more like falling in lust. David becomes obsessed with the beautiful Bathsheba, the wife of one of his generals, a man named Uriah. While the faithful Uriah's off fighting David's wars, David sends for the man's wife, and -- exercising all his kingly authority in a way Bathsheba could not refuse, on pain of death -- treats her as though she were his own. When Bathsheba tells David she's expecting his child, the king tries to cover up the scandal, sending Uriah to his death on a suicide mission that has no military significance. David may have committed the perfect crime -- but, as Dosteoevsky (in Crime and Punishment) and others have borne witness, no crime is perfect as long as the perpetrator carries the burden of guilt.
David's come a long way from his days as a brave and naive young patriot. The years have taken the sparkle of innocent mischief out of the shepherd-boy's eye -- and replaced it with the jaded leer of a middle-aged monarch who for years has sought little more than to pleasure his own senses, and build his reputation as a ruler to be reckoned with.
Few in Israel understand how depraved David has become -- other than the Prophet Nathan. The Lord sends Nathan on a mission to the palace, to convict the king of his sin. This is no easy undertaking: if Nathan simply walks into David's throne room, points a bony finger at him and cries, "Repent, you sinner!" the king's reaction is not likely to be charitable. Nathan could very well end up sharing the fate of Uriah the Hittite.
Nathan realizes he's got to be circumspect. So Nathan tells the king a story. The prophet presents the story to the king as though it were real, courtroom testimony: a legal case for the king to adjudicate. It's a tale of a poor man, who has a pet lamb, whom he loves very much. Nearby is a rich landowner, with flocks covering many a hillside. When that rich landowner decides to put on a feast -- not for anyone important, but only for a passing traveler -- the animal he selects for slaughter is not one of his own, but rather the beloved lamb of his poor neighbor.
The king quickly sees the injustice in Nathan's tale. He demands to know where this miserable offender can be found, so he can render justice. It's only at this point that Nathan looks the king in the eye and declares, "You are the man!" It's as though, in that instant, the prophet holds a mirror up to his king. David looks back at him, enraged for the briefest of moments -- then he sees his own image in the prophetic mirror.
What happens next demonstrates why David -- despite his tragic flaws and his terrible sins -- is renowned as the greatest of rulers. David repents. Then he goes out and writes a song. Tradition has it that his song is Psalm 51. It begins with these words:
Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
-- Psalm 51:1-2
There's no denial here; no kingly cover-up; no closed-door conclave of the spin doctors to discuss, in anxious whispers, how to handle the media. Instead, David writes a song -- a hymn for the public worship of his people, a hymn which makes it clear how dark is his sin and how desperate he is to receive God's forgiveness:
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
What a refreshing change this is from what we see so often in our national life! There's no attempt -- as in Bill Clinton's sexual-ethics scandal -- to redefine the meaning of the word "is." Nor (to be completely non-partisan) -- is there a Ronald Reagan-style attempt to exercise "plausible deniability," as in the Iran-Contra scandal. Once King David takes in the view in the mirror -- once he realizes the seriousness of his error, the depth of his sin -- he casts all his fortunes on God's grace and mercy, frankly and honestly admitting what he's done.
David's honest confession -- and his courageous acceptance of the consequences -- is the first step on his road to healing. That healing is not automatic, nor is it instantaneous. The grace he receives is not cheap. God doesn't respond by saying, "That's all right, Davey, boys will be boys, don't do it again!" David embarks that day on a long and agonizing road, one that at times will bring its own piercing brand of pain -- yet which, as he will discover, is the only road that leads to life.
Prayer For The Day
Generous in love -- God, give grace!
Huge in mercy -- wipe out my bad record.
Scrub away my guilt,
soak out my sins in your laundry.
I know how bad I've been;
my sins are staring me down....
Enter me, then; conceive a new, true life.
Soak me in your laundry and I'll come out clean,
scrub me and I'll have a snow-white life.
Tune me in to foot-tapping songs,
set these once-broken bones to dancing.
Don't look too close for blemishes,
give me a clean bill of health.
God, make a fresh start in me,
shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.
-- Psalm 51:1-2, 6-10
-- Eugene Peterson, The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2003)
To Illustrate
There is a story about a Catholic priest who was hearing confessions. There the priest sat, in his little booth, hearing long lists of sins and dispensing appropriate penances. Nothing the priest heard that day was out of the ordinary -- until one particular man walked in, sat down, and closed the door.
The man began to pour out, with great pain in his voice, how it had been many years since he'd gone to confession. For years, this man had -- slowly and deliberately, and so cleverly no one had noticed -- been stealing building supplies from the lumber yard where he worked.
"How much do you figure you stole, in all those years?" asked the priest.
"Well, let me put it this way," the man replied. "Enough to build my own house, and a house for my son, and one each for my daughters."
"That's a lot of lumber," replied the astonished priest.
"Oh, and did I tell you we also had enough left over to build a cottage by the lake?"
"What you have told me," the priest continued, in his sternest ecclesiastical voice, "is very, very serious. I need to think of a highly demanding penance to give to you. Let me ask you: have you ever done a retreat?"
"No, Father, I have not," said the man. "But if you get me the plans, I can get you the lumber!"
In this world there is repentance, and there is repentance. This particular sinner's repentance was not, apparently, as heartfelt as it could have been.
***
Walter Brueggemann's commentary on the story of David and Bathsheba is written in the staccato style of a detective novel -- which, in a certain sense, is what this lurid story is:
David has been resting on his couch (v. 2). He was at leisure and saw what he wanted, a woman "very beautiful." We do not know her name. David asks her name, but he does not measure the cost of his desire. He gets her name; her name is dangerously hyphenated: "Bathsheba -- daughter of Eliam, wife of Uriah the Hittite." She has no existence of her own but is identified by the men to whom she belongs. Now David knows who she is -- and whose she is. David does not pause, however, because he is the king. The mention of Uriah might have given David pause, but it does not. David acts swiftly, as he has always done. He is not a pensive or brooding man but one who will have his way.
The action is quick. The verbs rush as the passion of David rushed. He sent; he took; he lay (v. 4). The royal deed of self-indulgence does not take very long. There is no adornment to the action. The woman then gets some verbs: she returned, she conceived. The action is so stark. There is nothing but action. There is no conversation. There is no hint of caring, of affection, of love -- only lust. David does not call her by name, does not even speak to her. At the end of the encounter she is only "the woman" (v. 5). The verb that finally counts is "conceived." But the telling verb is "he took her." Long ago Samuel had warned that kings are takers (1 Samuel 8:11-19). Gunn (1975) calls it "grasping." Mostly David has not had to take. He had everything gladly given to him by Yahweh, by Jonathan, by Abigail, by his adoring followers.
We have before us in chapter 11 a transformed David, however. Now he is in control. He can have whatever he wants, no restraint, no second thoughts, no reservations, no justification. He takes simply because he can. He is at the culmination of his enormous power.
-- Walter Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel, in the Interpretation series (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), p. 273
***
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the Russian Christian novelist, spent years in a Soviet prison camp. There he witnessed both the cruelties of the guards and the petty selfishness of his fellow prisoners. After that experience, he came to the conclusion that the line dividing human good from human evil is not easy to draw. "If only," he writes, "there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?"
2 Samuel 11:26--12:13a
Ephesians 4:1-16
John 6:24-35
Roman Catholic
Exodus 16:2-4, 12-15
Ephesians 4:17, 20-25
John 6:24-35
Episcopal
Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15
Ephesians 4:17-25
John 6:24-35
Theme For The Day
David's repentance demonstrates that there is always a way back to God.
Old Testament Lesson
2 Samuel 11:26--12:13a
Nathan Accuses David, Who Repents
Last week's lectionary selection concluded with the account of how David, trying desperately to cover up Bathsheba's pregnancy, deploys her cuckolded husband Uriah to the front lines on a suicide mission. Verses 16-25, omitted from the lectionary, describe how David's commanding general, Joab, sends a messenger back to the king with news of the death of many Israelites in battle. Joab -- who is in on David's plot to place Uriah in harm's way, but who also worries how the king will receive news of the heavy casualties -- slyly advises his envoy how to manage the king, so as not to become a victim of the kill-the-messenger syndrome. Tell David the bad news first, he suggests, then casually slip in the news that Uriah was one of those killed. The king is initially angry that so many of his soldiers have died, but when the messenger tells him Uriah was one of them, he becomes strangely calm, declaring philosophically that, in war, you win some and you lose some. David sends the messenger back to Joab to tell him to carry on, and better luck next time.
As this week's passage opens, the scene shifts to Bathsheba, who has just learned of her husband's death. We learn nothing of her psychological state, other than that "she made lamentation for him" publicly (v. 26) -- exactly what a good wife would be expected to do under those circumstances. Throughout this entire story, in fact, Bathsheba is something of a cipher; she is a two-dimensional figure, more a victim than an actor in her own right. The remainder of this week's selection tells of how the Prophet Nathan exposes David's treachery. He cleverly tells the king a parable of a rich and powerful man who steals the only lamb his poor neighbor owns; when David responds with righteous anger, Nathan indicates "you are the man" (v. 7). David has just said of the rich man in the parable that he "deserves to die" and should make recompense fourfold; now he realizes, to his horror, that this judgment applies to him.
Furthermore, because of Uriah's death, recompense is no longer possible. Speaking for the Lord, Nathan issues this judgment against David: "I will raise up trouble against you from within your own house; and I will take your wives before your eyes, and give them to your neighbor, and he shall lie with your wives in the sight of this very sun" (v. 11). The "neighbor" is, of course, David's son, Absalom, who will rebel against him. David confesses his sin in verse 13a, but the lectionary abruptly ends the story at this point, omitting Nathan's response: "Now the Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die. Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the Lord, the child that is born to you shall die" (vv. 13b-14). When everything about this sordid tale is said and done, the best that can be said of the deeply flawed David is that he is a big enough man to confess his sin, acknowledging his guilt before God and the people.
Alternate Old Testament Lesson
Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15
Quails And Manna In The Wilderness
The people of Israel, yearning for the full rations of their Egyptian captivity, are complaining about Moses' and Aaron's leadership. "You have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger," they charge (v. 3b). The Lord advises Moses of a supernatural solution: bread that will rain down from heaven (v. 4). In verses 9-15, Moses and Aaron call the people together and tell them of the Lord's generosity. It happens exactly as they predict, with quails arriving in the evening and manna in the morning.
New Testament Lesson
Ephesians 4:1-16
Gifts For The Upbuilding Of The Church
Having prayed for the people, the author now goes on to speak of the unity of the church, the Body of Christ -- and of the role of spiritual gifts among the fellowship. He lists the personal characteristics that make for unity: "humility and gentleness ... patience, bearing with one another in love" (v. 2). This verse is a fruitful field for word studies. In verses 4-6, the word "one" occurs no fewer than seven times -- a drumbeat of emphasis that leaves no doubt what the apostle is driving at: that the true church of Jesus Christ is characterized by unity. It is possible that these verses are an early baptismal creed. Beginning with verse 7, the emphasis shifts to spiritual gifts, which Christ has "measured" out (metron) among the people. Verses 8-10 are a brief detour from the main argument, quoting and very roughly exegeting Psalm 68:18, which in fact is misquoted here (the actual Psalm text says, "You ascended the high mount, leading captives in your train and receiving gifts from people" -- not giving them). The point of this excursus is obscure, anyway, and is beside the main point, so it can easily be skipped over. The argument resumes in verse 11 with, "The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ...." This is one of the great verses of the New Testament for understanding the life and leadership of the early church.
Similar (but not exactly parallel) lists are found in 1 Corinthians 12:28 and Romans 12:6-8. These are not rigidly defined offices, but rather ecclesiastical functions for which the Spirit raises up gifted people to serve. The very fact that these lists are different from one another suggests a diversity of leadership patterns among the Pauline churches. Even more important than the functions themselves is the theological understanding of what spiritual gifts are for: equipping (katartismos) the saints, and building up (oikodome) the Body of Christ. The ultimate goal of ecclesiastical leadership is the health of the larger body. All this is provisional, anyway, until the day when we all attain to full "unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ" (v. 13). Forsaking the cunning trickery of false teachers (v. 14), we must, "speaking the truth in love ... grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ" (v. 15). The passage concludes (v. 16) with a comprehensive, organic understanding of the church as the one, unified Body of Christ.
The Gospel
John 6:24-35
Bread From Heaven
Following Jesus' walking on the water, he and the disciples are on the far side of the sea. Some of the multitude who fed on the loaves and fish have taken boats across the sea to look for them, and there they find them. When the crowd (who have seen his disciples get into a boat, but without Jesus) ask him how he got across to the other side, Jesus seems mildly annoyed: "Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life ..." (vv. 26-27a). Perhaps seeking to redeem themselves, they ask what they must do to perform the works of God. Jesus' terse answer: "Believe in him whom [God] has sent" (v. 29). The crowd then asks for a sign, another miracle. They recall the manna in the wilderness (indicating that they have made the connection between that ancient account and what Jesus did for them on the other side of the water). The scripture cited by the crowd is from no single Old Testament verse, but does contain the expression "bread from heaven" from Exodus 16:4. Jesus replies, "... it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world" (vv. 32-33). "Sir, give us this bread always," the crowd responds (v. 34) -- although it is still none too clear that they get Jesus' point. They have asked him for miracles, and he has refused, saying obliquely that what they truly need is not another miraculous sign, but himself.
Preaching Possibilities
The White House sex scandals of the 1990s led many news commentators to observe that presidents and their families are now exposed to a higher degree of public scrutiny than at any other time in history. More than one commentator alluded, at the time, to a former "gentleman's agreement" that had once pertained among the White House press corps: journalists at one time agreed that it was in the national interest to shield certain aspects of chief executives' private lives from public scrutiny. This restraint, however, is no more. Considering the very recent nature of this change in our culture, it is remarkable that the author of 2 Samuel, three millennia in the past, shows so little restraint in sharing the details of King David's shocking moral failure. The story of David's adultery and murder is an open wound in Israel's history, one that is never allowed to fully heal.
David is one of scripture's truly colossal figures: a man larger than life, in every respect. When David first comes to the attention of the Israelite nation, he's but a young boy, with a sling in his hand. David places a smooth stone in the leather pocket of that sling, whirls it around his head, and lets it fly. The fearsome giant Goliath crashes to the ground -- stone dead (if you'll pardon the pun).
Next, David distinguishes himself in the manly arts of military leadership -- soon becoming King Saul's most valued general. At the same time, he excels in an art that is no less manly: composing and singing songs of praise to his God. As King Saul, consumed by pride, slips ever deeper into paranoia and bizarre behavior, David takes up the slack -- doing what needs to be done to keep the nation afloat. When Saul finally turns on him, fomenting civil war, God gives David the victory -- and before long, this onetime shepherd boy is presiding as king over a nation that has never before been as powerful and free (and never will be again -- except, perhaps, during the glorious reign of his son, Solomon).
Yet, as is tragically often the case with great political leaders, this man, too, has the proverbial "feet of clay." David sins -- and when this larger-than-life figure sins, he predictably does so in a big way.
There are some who say David falls in love -- but, in truth, it's more like falling in lust. David becomes obsessed with the beautiful Bathsheba, the wife of one of his generals, a man named Uriah. While the faithful Uriah's off fighting David's wars, David sends for the man's wife, and -- exercising all his kingly authority in a way Bathsheba could not refuse, on pain of death -- treats her as though she were his own. When Bathsheba tells David she's expecting his child, the king tries to cover up the scandal, sending Uriah to his death on a suicide mission that has no military significance. David may have committed the perfect crime -- but, as Dosteoevsky (in Crime and Punishment) and others have borne witness, no crime is perfect as long as the perpetrator carries the burden of guilt.
David's come a long way from his days as a brave and naive young patriot. The years have taken the sparkle of innocent mischief out of the shepherd-boy's eye -- and replaced it with the jaded leer of a middle-aged monarch who for years has sought little more than to pleasure his own senses, and build his reputation as a ruler to be reckoned with.
Few in Israel understand how depraved David has become -- other than the Prophet Nathan. The Lord sends Nathan on a mission to the palace, to convict the king of his sin. This is no easy undertaking: if Nathan simply walks into David's throne room, points a bony finger at him and cries, "Repent, you sinner!" the king's reaction is not likely to be charitable. Nathan could very well end up sharing the fate of Uriah the Hittite.
Nathan realizes he's got to be circumspect. So Nathan tells the king a story. The prophet presents the story to the king as though it were real, courtroom testimony: a legal case for the king to adjudicate. It's a tale of a poor man, who has a pet lamb, whom he loves very much. Nearby is a rich landowner, with flocks covering many a hillside. When that rich landowner decides to put on a feast -- not for anyone important, but only for a passing traveler -- the animal he selects for slaughter is not one of his own, but rather the beloved lamb of his poor neighbor.
The king quickly sees the injustice in Nathan's tale. He demands to know where this miserable offender can be found, so he can render justice. It's only at this point that Nathan looks the king in the eye and declares, "You are the man!" It's as though, in that instant, the prophet holds a mirror up to his king. David looks back at him, enraged for the briefest of moments -- then he sees his own image in the prophetic mirror.
What happens next demonstrates why David -- despite his tragic flaws and his terrible sins -- is renowned as the greatest of rulers. David repents. Then he goes out and writes a song. Tradition has it that his song is Psalm 51. It begins with these words:
Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
-- Psalm 51:1-2
There's no denial here; no kingly cover-up; no closed-door conclave of the spin doctors to discuss, in anxious whispers, how to handle the media. Instead, David writes a song -- a hymn for the public worship of his people, a hymn which makes it clear how dark is his sin and how desperate he is to receive God's forgiveness:
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
What a refreshing change this is from what we see so often in our national life! There's no attempt -- as in Bill Clinton's sexual-ethics scandal -- to redefine the meaning of the word "is." Nor (to be completely non-partisan) -- is there a Ronald Reagan-style attempt to exercise "plausible deniability," as in the Iran-Contra scandal. Once King David takes in the view in the mirror -- once he realizes the seriousness of his error, the depth of his sin -- he casts all his fortunes on God's grace and mercy, frankly and honestly admitting what he's done.
David's honest confession -- and his courageous acceptance of the consequences -- is the first step on his road to healing. That healing is not automatic, nor is it instantaneous. The grace he receives is not cheap. God doesn't respond by saying, "That's all right, Davey, boys will be boys, don't do it again!" David embarks that day on a long and agonizing road, one that at times will bring its own piercing brand of pain -- yet which, as he will discover, is the only road that leads to life.
Prayer For The Day
Generous in love -- God, give grace!
Huge in mercy -- wipe out my bad record.
Scrub away my guilt,
soak out my sins in your laundry.
I know how bad I've been;
my sins are staring me down....
Enter me, then; conceive a new, true life.
Soak me in your laundry and I'll come out clean,
scrub me and I'll have a snow-white life.
Tune me in to foot-tapping songs,
set these once-broken bones to dancing.
Don't look too close for blemishes,
give me a clean bill of health.
God, make a fresh start in me,
shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.
-- Psalm 51:1-2, 6-10
-- Eugene Peterson, The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2003)
To Illustrate
There is a story about a Catholic priest who was hearing confessions. There the priest sat, in his little booth, hearing long lists of sins and dispensing appropriate penances. Nothing the priest heard that day was out of the ordinary -- until one particular man walked in, sat down, and closed the door.
The man began to pour out, with great pain in his voice, how it had been many years since he'd gone to confession. For years, this man had -- slowly and deliberately, and so cleverly no one had noticed -- been stealing building supplies from the lumber yard where he worked.
"How much do you figure you stole, in all those years?" asked the priest.
"Well, let me put it this way," the man replied. "Enough to build my own house, and a house for my son, and one each for my daughters."
"That's a lot of lumber," replied the astonished priest.
"Oh, and did I tell you we also had enough left over to build a cottage by the lake?"
"What you have told me," the priest continued, in his sternest ecclesiastical voice, "is very, very serious. I need to think of a highly demanding penance to give to you. Let me ask you: have you ever done a retreat?"
"No, Father, I have not," said the man. "But if you get me the plans, I can get you the lumber!"
In this world there is repentance, and there is repentance. This particular sinner's repentance was not, apparently, as heartfelt as it could have been.
***
Walter Brueggemann's commentary on the story of David and Bathsheba is written in the staccato style of a detective novel -- which, in a certain sense, is what this lurid story is:
David has been resting on his couch (v. 2). He was at leisure and saw what he wanted, a woman "very beautiful." We do not know her name. David asks her name, but he does not measure the cost of his desire. He gets her name; her name is dangerously hyphenated: "Bathsheba -- daughter of Eliam, wife of Uriah the Hittite." She has no existence of her own but is identified by the men to whom she belongs. Now David knows who she is -- and whose she is. David does not pause, however, because he is the king. The mention of Uriah might have given David pause, but it does not. David acts swiftly, as he has always done. He is not a pensive or brooding man but one who will have his way.
The action is quick. The verbs rush as the passion of David rushed. He sent; he took; he lay (v. 4). The royal deed of self-indulgence does not take very long. There is no adornment to the action. The woman then gets some verbs: she returned, she conceived. The action is so stark. There is nothing but action. There is no conversation. There is no hint of caring, of affection, of love -- only lust. David does not call her by name, does not even speak to her. At the end of the encounter she is only "the woman" (v. 5). The verb that finally counts is "conceived." But the telling verb is "he took her." Long ago Samuel had warned that kings are takers (1 Samuel 8:11-19). Gunn (1975) calls it "grasping." Mostly David has not had to take. He had everything gladly given to him by Yahweh, by Jonathan, by Abigail, by his adoring followers.
We have before us in chapter 11 a transformed David, however. Now he is in control. He can have whatever he wants, no restraint, no second thoughts, no reservations, no justification. He takes simply because he can. He is at the culmination of his enormous power.
-- Walter Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel, in the Interpretation series (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), p. 273
***
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the Russian Christian novelist, spent years in a Soviet prison camp. There he witnessed both the cruelties of the guards and the petty selfishness of his fellow prisoners. After that experience, he came to the conclusion that the line dividing human good from human evil is not easy to draw. "If only," he writes, "there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?"
