II Samuel 1:1-27
Rev. David A. Davis
June 28, 2015
What a week it has been! When it comes to the news, current events, stuff that will be written about in books, things we will remember the rest of our lives, what a week it has been. Funeral after funeral in Charleston, South Carolina. Supreme Court decisions on the Affordable Health Act and Marriage Equality. Ongoing debate and action about the Confederate flag. Escaped prisoner killed after weeks of headlines and a massive search by law enforcement. Hundreds gathered here on Palmer Square to pray for mourning families and an end to gun violence and a better way when it comes to race. A significant storm causes all kinds of havoc in in Philadelphia and New Jersey south of us here. Terror attacks in France with a beheading. 38 killed on a beach in Tunisia. 25 killed in Kuwait while at prayer. An American president singing “Amazing Grace” in church pulpit. And one last high school graduation. All this week. Broadcasters often overdo it when it comes to “breaking news”. This week they couldn’t keep up. Neither could we, really. The world and life and all of it, pinning the needle, pedal to the floor, making the head spin, wondering where to look, trying to process, make sense, find meaning. What a week! Where do you even start?
The sermon text for this morning comes from the Old Testament, the Book of II Samuel, there in the chapters that tell of the life of David; David the shepherd boy/sling shot expert/military leader/ ark returning/ temple building/dynasty leaving/psalm writer…that David. The chapters in I and II Samuel, the David narratives, are so full of the world and life and all of it. Think about it. The story of David and Goliath can be romanticized for Sunday School but the recounting of battles, and killing, and death as the bible tells of the life of David, it’s sort of unrelenting. The story of David and Bathsheba, that account of rooftop lust and sex and David conspiring to get her husband Uriah killed, and their unnamed child dying and the prophet Nathan confronting David with the truth, that part of David’s life is told and comes with a rather chilling timelessness. A chapter in the human story that seems endlessly repetitive. Then there is that recounting of David leaping, dancing before the ark of God as he victoriously returns the ark to Jerusalem. David and his shameless life of praise. David, the gifted musician and his unceasing devotion to God. The unparalleled legacy of prayer and worship passed on in the psalms: “the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want….To you O Lord I lift up my soul…..the Lord is my light and my salvation….Create in me a clean heart O God…O my God, I will give thanks to you forever”. The house of David. So full of the world and of life and of God and of faith and all of it.
The text I am about to offer for your hearing is a poem, a song of lament, a funeral elegy that David offers after receiving the news of the death of Saul, the first King of Israel and his son Jonathan. King Saul, who was plagued by his own paranoia and yearning for power, took an early shine to David who was able to calm the king with his music. When David took down Goliath, Saul brought him into the royal fold. It was right then from the start that David and Jonathan experienced a striking bond of friendship. As the bible records, “Jonathan made a covenant with David, because he loved him as his own soul.”
The friendship between the young men, a friendship forged on the battlefields and in the house of royalty, was quickly challenged as Jonathan’s father, King Saul, determined that he was going to have David killed. The bottom line was that David was getting too much attention and too much praise for his military success. Jonathan tried to intercede on David’s behalf and was able to hold off the plot for a little while. But Saul resolved to kill David again. David fled for his life out into the fields and Jonathan went on a search for information about his father’s plans. Indeed, Jonathan found out that David’s life would be forever in danger in the court of King Saul. Jonathan risked his own life to find David and tell him to flee. They met, there in the field, as Jonathan was supposedly practicing with his bow and arrow. Jonathan confirmed that David had to go and they parted, in tears and with an embrace. Jonathan said to David, “The Lord shall be between me and you, and between my descendants and your descendants, forever.”
Other than one more battlefield covenant between David and Jonathan reported in the chapters of I Samuel, Jonathan isn’t mentioned until the report of his death along with his father and his brothers at the hand of the Philistines. Then, it is in II Samuel, chapter 1, after David hears of the death of Saul and Jonathan that he offers this song.
II Samuel 1:19-27
Your glory, O Israel, lies slain upon the mountains. How the mighty have fallen! Don’t proclaim it there in the streets where your enemies will rejoice. The mountains where the shields of the mighty are left to rot, let those hills cease to flourish. For Jonathan and Saul were strong and mighty in battle, united in life and death. O children of Israel, weep over your king who adorned you with plenty. How the mighty have fallen! My heart is broken for you, O Jonathan. So great was my love for you. Your love for me was wonderful, passing the love of women. How the mighty have fallen and the weapons of war perished!
The elegy, the lament, the eulogy, the ode, the funeral song, David’s song falls into a common genre in antiquity. A poem offered in praise of a king (even one who tried to take your life). A song to honor military strength and victory. An ode for one whose death has national implications. A secular piece. No mention of God or faith though it is offered here by the one who penned so many stanzas addressed to and in praise of the Lord God Almighty. Pretty standard fare, David’s dirge here in II Samuel. Except for Jonathan. Except for how David tells of their love, their loyalty, their friendship. David lauds the king but Jonathan is the one whom he laments. “Your love to me was wonderful.” It’s the love here that stands out, that seems out of place, that catches the ear.
When you read what comes right before the elegy and then what comes after, its war and death on both sides. So to praise courage and strength makes sense. It’s the love and friendship that seems odd. All these chapters that tell of David’s life; his victories, his sinfulness, all the twists and turns, the complications, and its love that throws the reader off balance. “You love to me wonderful, passing the love of women.” The Old Testament world can seem so foreign, so distant from our experience, as far removed from how you and I perceive God, the strange old world of the bible. It’s love and friendship that leaps off the page. So full of the world and of life and of God and of faith and all of it. And tucked right in there is such an extraordinary, ordinary, timeless expression of love.
When you visit places where history goes back to the ancient world, you learn the meaning of the world “tel”. Tel as a noun. It’s a world that means hill. In archeology, a tel is an artificial hill that has been created as civilizations are built one on top of another over generations. A city is destroyed and the victor builds another one right on top. So when archeologists dig at a tel, they find layers upon layers, dozens of layers that represent centuries of human history. And they find the artifacts of daily life and of war and even of worship. There on a tel, there among all the ruins, you can’t find love and friendship. “I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women.” It’s the love that stands out.
What a week it has been. The world and life and all of it, pinning the needle, pedal to the floor, making the head spin, wondering where to look, trying to process, make sense, find meaning. What a week! It’s love that ought to stand out. In the witness of the family members of those murdered last week. In the message coming out of Mother Emanuel AME Church at funeral after funeral after funeral. It’s love that ought to stand out. As the gay and lesbian couples we all know take a deep breath and with a bit of disbelief celebrate the high court acknowledging their love and their right to live in it. It’s love that ought to rise up. As three black churches are burned, and vandals think damaging monuments is the way to move forward, and as some stoked the fear that marriage is somehow under attack, and as terrorists around the world wage war on humanity, it has to be love that rises up. The place to start to find meaning this week, the only place to start is in the extraordinary, ordinary, timeless expression of love. Time will tell how the history will be written about this week, whether love and friendship and reconciliation has a chance among the ruins of our time.
I sat in a worship service Thursday morning at Fourth Presbyterian Church in Chicago. Eustacia Marshall was singing and playing piano. Eustacia was one of my field education students when she was in seminary not long ago. She now serves a congregation in North Carolina. Eustacia offered a contemporary gospel song called “Speak to My Heart”.
“Speak to my heart, Lord, that’s what I want you to do. Message of love, love to encourage me
Lifting my heart from despair, how you love, love me, and care for me. Speak to my heart now, oh Lord.”
With her own arrangement she worked in a few other spirituals that spoke of guiding feet and moving on by faith. Later around a table someone asked her if she wrote the song. Eustacia said no and gave attribution to the composer but then as the conversation continued it became clear how the song was a prayer for her over the last week as she tried to make sense, find meaning, figure out how to lead her congregation and offer a voice in the social media world of her generation. The first place to start after a week like this is to ask God to speak to your heart. Speak to my heart, Lord.
These days are so full of the world and of life and of all of it. As you try to make sense of it all, as you weigh into the deep water of the social media driven conversation, as you try to wrap your head around it and put in the perspective of your 60, 70, 80 years of live, as you pick and choose which writers get it right and which get it wrong, as you find yourself thinking about what to say next about “all of this” to your children or to one of your parents or to your neighbor or to your co-worker or the person in the next pew or to your pastor…ask God to speak to your heart so that you can pass on the extraordinary, ordinary, timeless expression of love.
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