2 Sm 18:5-15, 31-33

13 August 2000

 

"Absalom!"

 

Long before I ever heard of the biblical Absalom, I saw the novel by William Faulkner in a bookstore, entitled Absalom, Absalom!  I remember feeling both curious and fascinated by the title.  I didn't know the definition of the word "Absalom," and I wondered why it was repeated.  The exclamation mark at the end of the title created a question mark in my mind.  Whatever this "Absalom" was, it seemed to be something of great importance and deep emotional meaning.

When I got older, I realized that Faulkner had borrowed his image from our scripture text.  We can see how much power is loaded into the cry, "Absalom, Absalom!"

If you recall, last week I spoke of David's heroic and not-so-heroic qualities.  This is just my opinion, but I think that we probably see David here at his best.  Some might want to go back and point to his courage when facing Goliath.  Others would mention his loyalty and deep friendship with Jonathan, son of the man—King Saul—who made it his point in life to hunt David down.

I don't doubt that these testify to a man of great character and integrity.  It's just that, not until today's scripture reading, do we see David as a man who has suffered great loss, at least, nothing that compares to this.  It seems to me that only after going through what he's gone through is he even able to show the qualities he does.

I thought of this kind of thing when I was a kid.  I had a happy childhood.  I was never abused; I was always encouraged to pursue my interests.  My parents supplied me with books; they supported me in football, soccer, baseball, and basketball.  Now I know this sounds insane, but there were times (very rarely, understand!) when I almost wished that I could experience tragedy.  I felt that if I went through something terrible, it would help make me a better person.  It's not that I thought—then or now—that God wants us to suffer, but God does enable good to come out of bad.

It's not until this point in his life that David has the opportunity to demonstrate what he's made of to such a great degree.  Absalom, his own son, has gathered around himself elements of the army and David's own court, his advisors.  He has driven his father David from Jerusalem and seized the throne.  And he has led a military expedition to track him down and kill him.

Yet, when the time comes to defeat the rebellion, David expresses the desire that his son's life be spared.  “Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom” (v. 5).  David has taken many strategic measures, as we see in chapters 15-17.  But we get the sense that all has been done without malice.  David has taken steps of sad necessity.

It reminds me of Nelson Mandela after becoming president of South Africa.  Many people would have taken the opportunity to seek revenge.  After all the years spent in prison for opposing the system of apartheid, Mandela lived to see its collapse.  But instead of payback, he stressed an approach of healing and reconciliation.

As for David, when the news of victory comes, that the war has been won, he has but one overriding concern.  What of Absalom?  What has become of the young man?  And after hearing what the messenger no doubt thought would be cause for celebration, the king's heart is broken, and he regrets that he still has life while the body of his son has grown cold.

Word gets out that David is in mourning, and both soldier and civilian see their joy turn to sorrow.  We see in verse 3 of chapter 19 that the troops slink back into Jerusalem, as though they were deserters trying to sneak away.  There's no grand reception, only a sense of embarrassment.  Only after his chief commander Joab scolds him does David appear in public and acknowledge the sacrifices his people had made.

David hasn't intended to slight his loyal supporters.  The last thing on his mind is to show them disregard.  But in his intense grief, his political and social obligations have been forgotten.  His bitter tears have clouded his vision to everything and everyone, except the loss of Absalom.  David is only being honest in expressing his torment.

It's understandable that a father would mourn the death of a son, but it seems that much more is happening here.  So much personal and national energy has been expended in putting down the revolt—maybe that partly explains it.  But isn't there also a sense of guilt, of regret, contained in that desperate cry, "Absalom!"?

Surely he knows that Absalom's defiance goes back to the time when his sister Tamar was raped by his half-brother Amnon.  And what was David's reaction?  As the scripture puts it, "When King David heard of all these things, he became very angry, but he would not punish his son Amnon, because he loved him, for he was his firstborn" (13:21).  (By the way, it's well worth your while to read the entire story of Absalom, which is contained in chapters 13-19 of 2 Samuel.)

After two years had gone by, two years in which the violation of Tamar had gone unpunished, Absalom had Amnon killed and was forced to flee into exile.  We get an indication of how dearly Absalom loved his sister from the fact that he named his daughter after her (14:27).  It was only because of Joab's interference that David was convinced to allow Absalom to return.  And even then, it was two more years before the king permitted his son to enter his presence.  Absalom had had seven long years in which to become an angry young man.

 All these things must be contained in David's bitter lament.  His anguish has to be filled with the memories of these events.  But perhaps most of all, the words of Nathan, which I spoke of last week, must have dogged David.  In that cry, "Absalom!," the king is haunted by the aftermath of Bathsheba and Uriah.  Remember the words of the prophet (12:11)?  "Thus says the Lord:  I will raise up trouble against you from within your own house," thus, the rebellion of Absalom.  "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," thus, Absalom's act of openly taking over the royal concubines.  These dreadful words have now been fulfilled in his son's actions, the son who now lays dead.  What kind of man would it take to not feel a stinging sense of regret and remorse?

I said earlier that I think this is one of David's better moments, in fact I said it's probably David at his best.  In his grief over the death of Absalom, we see the truly royal quality of David.  He has made terrible mistakes and seen the consequences of them.  Yet throughout this whole narrative, David puts himself in the care of his Lord.  This is admittedly a bad analogy, but in David's torment, we can see something of the torment of God the Father as the Son (indeed, the Son of David) is put to death.