Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

To quickly judge before self-examination would parallel David’s lawless actions

rice in a bowl with sesame seeds (Bread of Life)
Photo by Mgg Vitchakorn on Unsplash; licensed under CC0.

August 4, 2024

Alternate First Reading
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Commentary on 2 Samuel 11:26—12:13a



Last week’s passage invited us to consider the spaces of power that we inhabit; this week’s passage gets more personal.

The close reading of last week’s passage shows emphasis on the movement between spaces and across boundaries that correlate to the power of the David-Uriah-Bathsheba dynamic. Now that David has executed his plan, and Uriah has died, the narrative continues. Bathsheba is now unnamed and referred to as “the wife of Uriah.” Interestingly, she remains nameless as “wife of Uriah” in the genealogy of Matthew 1. She is now the victim of both her own rape and her husband’s murder, making her a widow. 

Besides the emotional trauma, the economic impact of widowhood was devastating. In an agrarian society with patrilineal descent, the widow has little opportunity for sustenance. From an economic perspective, verse 27 might seem charitable in this ancient Near Eastern worldview. David did not have to marry her. But he does, and the son becomes his own within the royal house and with potential rights to the throne. In fact, the passage can end here, with Bathsheba residing in the royal house, and the story of David’s reign can move to international matters.

But the end of verse 27 leads us to consider a more subversive interpretation. The text adds the commentary “But the thing that David had done displeased the LORD.” Before this note, there is no moral commentary on David’s actions—only narrative description. But this note moves us to look a bit more carefully at David and Bathsheba’s interactions and to look at the spaces of power. 

Once again, David has all the agency. He does not depart from the privilege of his palace, but David “sent” for her and “brought” her. Bathsheba is relegated to an object. Her only direct action is that she “bore him a son.” She is then absent for the remainder of the passage.

The text transitions to David’s interactions with Nathan, as the sent messenger of the Lord. The transition of 11:27–12:1 shows the subtle, yet sovereign divine power. God is displeased, so he sends Nathan. But this display of power shows a part of God who is gentle and nurturing while maintaining divine holiness. Such violation of God’s commands cannot go unpunished. But rather than inflicting direct punishment, God sends a messenger. And rather than having the messenger immediately pronounce judgment, Nathan shares a parable that allows David to discover his own failure.

The story involves a poor man and a rich man. Within the story, the sin is a form of economic oppression. It is not explained how the rich man was able to take the poor man’s single ewe. But both ancient and modern readers can easily observe exploitation of the poor by the rich. 

One of the more stunning details is revealed at 2 Samuel 12:4–5. David was completely unaware of his own sin! He committed sexual assault. To cover it up, he committed premeditated murder. Are there more despicable acts than rape and murder? His protected position made him immune from his own wrongdoings. He did not go to the battlefield and expose himself to vulnerability, but he was in the protected physical spaces of his palace in Jerusalem. As king, he was surrounded by people who did everything he asked without question.

But at a distance, the crime is obvious to the king. As Nathan narrates this story, David’s anger begins to burn at this injustice. Appropriate for a king, David summarily renders a decision for execution against this rich man. 

Then verse 7 abruptly changes Nathan’s tone into direct accusation. Nathan stunningly reveals that David is the rich man. He had unlimited material goods. He had power. Yet he took away the sole material good of the other man. The violation is named not against Bathsheba nor Uriah, but against God’s very teaching as revealed in the rhetorical statement, “Why have you despised the word of the LORD?” 

As we read this passage, perhaps our anger also burns against David. But such a response, to quickly judge before self-examination, would parallel David’s lawless actions. Rather, our response should be to question our own hidden sins. To properly frame the passage, it begins with looking at our own spaces of privilege and power. 

David does not do this. But the reader can see David’s positional privilege from the narration as David finds himself in Jerusalem, in the palace, on his rooftop, and in his chamber. An understanding of these positions gives us insight to our own wrongdoings. What are the ways that we exploit? What are the ways that we conspire? The examples of rape and murder often absolve us as our reaction might be “At least it’s not rape or murder!”

But instead, I think these extreme examples should alert us to the gravity of our own harmful actions that may be hidden from our very consciousness. The most cursory review of Christian history reveals some of the most egregious practices of violence, judgment, oppression, and anti-Semitism by Christians. In many of these cases, Christian leaders were not even aware of their wrongdoing. What makes us think we are more self-aware?

God then continues in his gentleness to David. David is punished. But he does not die. With David’s full confession “I have sinned against the Lord,” Nathan then is able to console David: “Now the LORD has put away your sin; you shall not die” (12:13b). Such a response of graciousness is also ours if we allow David to speak for us: “I have sinned against the LORD.”