Power
Failure
August
5, 2012
First
Presbyterian Church, Sterling IL
Christina
Berry
In the spring, when kings go off
to war, David sent Joab, along with his servants and all the Israelites, and
they destroyed the Ammonites, attacking the city of Rabbah. But David remained
in Jerusalem.
One evening, David got up from
his couch and was pacing back and forth on the roof of the palace. From the roof
he saw a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful.
David sent someone and inquired
about the woman. The report came back:
"Isn't this Eliam's daughter
Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?"
So David sent messengers to get
her.
When she came to him, he had sex
with her. (Now she had been purifying herself after her monthly period.) Then
she returned home.
The woman conceived and sent word
to David. "I'm pregnant," she said.
Then David sent a message to
Joab: "Send me Uriah the Hittite."
So Joab sent Uriah to David.
When Uriah came to him, David
asked about the welfare of Joab and the army and how the battle was going.
Then David told Uriah, "Go
down to your house and wash your feet."
Uriah left the palace, and a gift
from the king was sent after him.
However, Uriah slept at the
palace entrance with all his master's servants.
He didn't go down to his own
house.
David was told, "Uriah
didn't go down to his own house," so David asked Uriah, "Haven't you
just returned from a journey? Why didn't you go home?"
"The chest and Israel and Judah are all
living in tents," Uriah told David. "And my master Joab and my
master's troops are camping in the open field.
How could I go home and eat,
drink, and have sex with my wife?
I swear on your very life, I will
not do that!"
Then David told Uriah, "Stay
here one more day. Tomorrow I'll send you back."
So Uriah stayed in Jerusalem that
day. The next day David called for him, and he ate and drank, and David got him
drunk.
In the evening Uriah went out to
sleep in the same place, alongside his master's servants, but he did not go
down to his own home.
The next morning David wrote a
letter to Joab and sent it with Uriah.
He wrote in the letter,
"Place Uriah at the front of the fiercest battle,
and then pull back from him so
that he will be struck down and die."
So as Joab was attacking the
city, he put Uriah in the place where he knew there were strong warriors. When
the city's soldiers came out and attacked Joab, some of the people from David's
army fell. Uriah the Hittite was also killed.
When Uriah's wife heard that her
husband Uriah was dead, she mourned for her husband. After the time of mourning
was over, David sent for her and brought her back to his house. She became his
wife and bore him a son. But what David had done was evil in the LORD's eyes.
So the LORD sent Nathan to David.
When Nathan arrived he said,
“There were two men in the same city, one rich, one poor. The rich man had a
lot of sheep and cattle, but the poor man had nothing—just one small ewe lamb
that he had bought. He raised that lamb, and it grew up with him and his
children. It would eat from his food and drink from his cup—even sleep in his
arms! It was like a daughter to him."
Now a traveler came to visit the
rich man, but he wasn't willing to take anything from his own flock or herd to
prepare for the guest who had arrived. Instead, he took the poor man's ewe lamb
and prepared it for the visitor."
David got very angry at the man,
and he said to Nathan,
"As surely as the LORD
lives, the one who did this is demonic!
He must restore the ewe lamb
seven times over because he did this
and because he had no
compassion."
"You are that man!"
Nathan told David. “This is what the LORD God of Israel says: I anointed you
king over Israel and delivered you from Saul's power. I gave your master's
house to you, and gave his wives into your embrace. I gave you the house of
Israel and Judah. If that was too little, I would have given even more. Why
have you despised the LORD's word by doing what is evil in his eyes?
You have struck down Uriah the
Hittite with the sword and taken his wife as your own. You used the Ammonites
to kill him. Because of that, because you despised me and took the wife of
Uriah the Hittite as your own, the sword will never leave your own house.
"This is what the LORD says:
I am making trouble come against you from inside your own family. Before your
very eyes I will take your wives away and give them to your friend, and he will
have sex with your wives in broad daylight.
You did what you did secretly,
but I will do what I am doing before all Israel in the light of day."
"I've sinned against the
LORD!" David said to Nathan.
"The LORD has removed your
sin," Nathan replied to David. "You won't die. However, because you
have utterly disrespected the LORD by doing this,
the son born to you will
definitely die."
Everything had been going so
well.
This boy David, son of Jesse,
killed the Philistine giant, married the King’s daughter, became King himself, united
the Northern and Southern Kingdoms, and brought the Ark of the Covenant to
Jerusalem. It looked like a charmed life. He had a palace, and three wives. He
was a man after God’s own heart. Rich, handsome, successful, powerful. What
more could he possibly want?
If you updated the details a
little bit, this story could have been taken from the headlines.
John Edwards comes to mind. I
liked him, at first. I liked that he seemed to be smart, faithful, a good
family man. I appreciated that he had been the first person in his family to go
to college, and that he had not had an easy life. He had suffered, too, the
tragic loss of a son, and seemed to have come through the experience stronger,
more compassionate. He was a tough fighter in the courtroom, and he stood by
his wife Elizabeth through her battle with cancer. The first time, anyway.
Then, after announcing that he
would not run for president unless Elizabeth’s health was stable, he ran
anyway. You know the rest of the sad tale – his affair, the cover-up, the repeated
denials the grand jury, Elizabeth’s death, the criminal trial. How the mighty
have fallen!
So just when you think that this
David, this king, the shepherd who was so ruddy and handsome, and fair of face,
just when you think he is a hero worthy of our favor, and God’s favor, you come
upon this story.
It starts with a subtle dig: “In
the spring, when kings go off to war, David sent Joab…”
Yes, this David, the one to whom
the people had said, “you were the one who led Israel out to war and back,” The
army took the Ark of the Covenant with them, but David stayed home, and sent
his Secretary of Defense, General Joab.
Instead of being with the army,
at the front, David was at home, taking the evening air out on his rooftop
patio. That’s how he chanced to see the neighbor lady taking a bath. There is
nothing in the story to even suggest that she was doing anything wrong, although
generations have sought to re-tell this story in a way that mitigates David’s
guilt. They say she was behaving
seductively, deliberately, knowing David would see. They call what happened a
romance, a love story. But it was nothing of the sort. Nowadays, if a woman is
sexually assaulted, we don’t ask, “Why was she there?” or “What was she
wearing?” And we can’t really put any blame on David’s neighbor. He saw her,
and he sent for her, and he took her, and he lay with her. The verbs are
strong, imperatives – he saw her, wanted her, took her. All just like that. He
was the King.
The woman is only named once in
the story – to identify her – Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of
Uriah the Hittite. But David didn’t care whose daughter she was, or whose wife
she was. The woman only speaks once in the story, too. She says: “I’m
pregnant.”
David sets the attempted cover-up
in motion. He sends a message to Joab to send Uriah home from the front, then
acts as if he is interested in a battle report from Uriah. Three times, David
asks, “how is everything? how is Joab? how is the army?” Uriah, whether he is
taken in or not, does what a good soldier does. He reports on the army’s
progress.
But David’s real intent is to
cover up his crime. He wants Uriah to go home, take a bath, spend a little time
with the wife, you know, R and R, a little second honeymoon. Uriah, though, is
a better soldier than his commander in chief. He doesn’t go home, but sacks out
at the entrance to the palace, with the other soldiers. David can’t understand
it – he had even sent a gift to Uriah’s home – who knows what – maybe
champagne, or strawberries dipped in chocolate. He quizzes Uriah in the morning
–
“Why didn’t you go home to your
wife?”
“The Ark and Israel and Judah are
all living in tents," Uriah told David. “And my master Joab and my
master's troops are camping in the open field. How could I go home and eat, drink, and have
sex with my wife? I swear on your very life, I will not do that!”
So David invites Uriah over for
dinner, and gets him drunk. But still, Uriah does not go home and sleep with
his wife, but returns to the same place and sleeps with his master’s servants. And
then, in the strange logic of treachery, David takes the obvious next step. He
sends a message with Uriah to Joab: Place Uriah in the front lines, in the most
dangerous position. And Joab does so.
It does not matter to David whether
other men in his army have died, nor does it matter to him whether this order
endangers the entire effort. He has one aim – to escape detection and somehow
evade responsibility. He is the most powerful man in all of Israel, God’s
anointed, King of the realm, and he has
taken another man’s wife, fathered a child with her, attempted to deceive Uriah into believing that
he is the father, and failing that, he has had Uriah killed.
In a part of the story that we
did not read today, David writes to Joab and tells him not to worry about
Uriah’s death, or the death of the other men, because this is just the way
things happen in wartime. Joab, of course, knows better,but he participates in
the deception.
Uriah’s wife mourns for her lost
husband, a man of courage and honor, but when she is finished, David brings her
into his house and marries her. Up to now, the reader of this story might think
that the main characters are David, Bathsheba, Uriah and Joab.
But what David had done was evil
in the LORD's eyes.
And now, the other main
characters appear.
Nathan, the prophet, comes to the
king. He speaks boldly, but not too boldly. When speaking truth to power, it is
wise to take care with one’s words. So Nathan tells a story, a little parable
about a rich man who has many sheep and cattle, and his neighbor, a poor man
with one beloved little lamb. This little lamb is like a child to the poor man.
He feeds it from his plate, and lets it drink from his cup, he cradles the lamb
in his arms like a child, and it sleeps in his bed. But when the rich man
throws a party, the poor man’s lamb is what’s for dinner. David is outraged.
This rich man is evil! He must pay!
“You are that man,” Nathan says.
You had everything.
Everything. But everything wasn’t
enough. And now, there will be consequences. David is truly and deeply
penitent.
Psalm 51, a Psalm attributed to
David, which we used as our prayer of confession,
expresses his contrition: “Have
mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant
mercy blot out my transgressions… Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and
done what is evil in your sight, so that you are justified in your sentence and
blameless when you pass judgment. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a
new and right spirit within me. …Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and
sustain in me a willing spirit.”
God will forgive David, but all
of David’s heartfelt penitence cannot undo what he has done.
Let me hasten to add here that in
NO way should we employ a literal interpretation with this story, and in no way
should we ever, under any circumstances, conclude that the loss of a child is
punishment from God. The writer of this portion of Second Samuel has concluded
that that is the case, after the fact, but no generalizations should be drawn
from such a conclusion, any more than anyone should conclude that God has
blessed David’s behavior when Bathsheba later gives birth to Solomon. The
suffering that David and his family will experience as a direct result of David’s
dishonesty and abuse will reach deep into the next generation, and the sorrow
and grief that David will experience will be devastating. But these are
inescapable consequences. The events he has set in motion by his actions will
bring great grief upon his house, as we will see next Sunday.
It remains to be seen what will
happen to John Edwards. Clearly, his political career is over.
But that was what people said
about Newt Gingrich, too. Among others. What is clear is that the love of power
is dangerous, and the thoughtless wielding of authority or influence for the
gratification of one’s selfish desires is destructive, then and now. Power in
itself is not evil; but coercive power without responsibility is immoral and
manipulative.
The love of power and the thirst
for power, the heady feeling of an absolute lack of accountability, have led
many an otherwise upright person down a path of destruction, not only of their
own lives, but of the lives of innocent people around them. This story is almost
a melodrama, but for the sadness of it:
David becomes an object lesson, a
story of what not to do.
Bathsheba is simply an object –
of David’s desire.
Uriah represents the upright and
faithful man, taken advantage of by his leader;
Joab is the complicit lieutenant,
expediting David’s evil plan.
Nathan is the prophet, speaking
truth to power, clever and wise in his actions.
But God, in this story, is
demonstrated to be a God of forgiveness and mercy, a God of extravagant love
and grace,
even more than we had previously
imagined,
even more than we can possibly
justify,
even more than we could ever use
up.
In David, the nature of human sin
is exposed, His love of power is destructive, even deadly, and nearly destroys
his realm. But in God, the power of love is revealed, and that powerful love
restores and redeems David.
That powerful love continues to
restore and redeem people, and at this table, we find it once again, waiting
for us. At this table, the One who overcame the love of power with the power of
love, the only one who could show us what that looked like, that One welcomes
us here. Here, at the communion table, Christ gives himself to us, and bids us
come.
This is not an altar, for God
does not desire a sacrifice or a burnt offering.
This is a table, where people
gather to break open their hearts, to break bread, to share in the cup of the
new covenant. This is not an exclusive table, not a reserved place for only
certain people. It is an open table, where everyone, young and old, is a member
of the family, and there is room for all.
You are welcome here, for the
King of Love has invited you, and every person who knows him and follows him is
welcome at his table.
Amen.
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