Absalom, Absalom!
August 9, 2009
2 Samuel 18:1-18, 33 and Ephesians 4:25-5:2
For the past eights Sundays the Gospel of Mark has been the primary text for sermons here at Southminster. Our lectionary takes a breather from that particular gospel for the next few weeks and today we have the privilege of focusing on some biblical passages that may be less familiar to many of us than those found in the gospels.
And as we switch to the book of 2 Samuel today, we must also bring with us a change of perspective in how we view the text this morning. In the gospels we are used to hearing stories of miracles and truths told through parables. When we are living in the gospels we become accustomed to knowing which side is the proper side—the side of Jesus, of course—and what our specific life lessons are supposed to be. Sometimes these lessons are difficult to hear and challenge strongly held notions and beliefs, but at least when Jesus says to the rich, young man “sell all your possessions and give the proceeds to the poor” we know exactly what is meant!
But the Hebrew Scriptures of the Old Testament do not always bring with them such clarity. Instead they frequently contain ambiguity and partial truths. In them we discover the story of, essentially, one large family. A family so great that it has grown into a nation of twelve tribes. And surely as we all know, when politics and family mix, the result can be explosive! How many of us have gotten riled up during Thanksgiving or Christmas gatherings when the extremes of our extended families all come together, and politics, religion, and family history become topics of contention? It happens to us all. The only hope is that full scale civil war doesn’t break out before we get to try grandma’s homemade chess pie.
And if we have trouble with unity in our comparatively small family units today, imagine what family gatherings would have been like in Ancient Israel, with twelve tribes and tens of thousands of people all living within a few hundred miles of one another!
And furthermore, any family rift could easily erode into a chasm because family conflict among the Israelites did not stop simply at words or simple deeds; because in this family of thousands there just as many instruments of death—swords, shields, slings, horses, chariots—as there were people.
Imagine where our family disagreements might go today if we gathered together with pistols in our pockets and poison in our purses. Now I am not suggesting that human nature is quite this vile or vengeful, but that families are passionate and there are times when the most hurtful acts we commit are against those we love most dearly. And this idea is at the very heart of the civil war between King David and his son Absalom.
Like many family conflicts, the war that rages in our passage today between David and Absalom goes back years. If one starting point had to be chosen, it would probably be when Absalom’s half-brother Amnon raped Tamar, Absalom’s full sister. This conflict among David’s children was deepened when David refused to punish his son Amnon for his horrific rape of Tamar, because his love was so great for his first-born son.
Absalom was infuriated by his father’s inaction and plotted for two years before finally killing his older half-brother Amnon. Absalom then fled from his father’s wrath and stayed away for three years until David called for Absalom to come back to Jerusalem. But even when Absalom came back, his father David wouldn’t even meet face-to-face him for two more years.
So it should be understandable that when Absalom and David finally met again, five years after Absalom killed Amnon, there would still be tension below the surface of their relationship. And when they finally do confront one another we are told that King David “kissed Absalom” but there is no mention of Absalom returning the affection.
Instead Absalom plots for four years the downfall and separation of his father’s kingdom, until finally civil war breaks out and the rift within the Israelite family is fully exposed.
This story is convoluted. And if you couldn’t keep up with the names, years and history as I just related them, you’re certainly not to be blamed! Like many family conflicts, we don’t know exactly when they start or who first broke the seal of peace and tranquility; all we know is that Pandora’s box is open and war is upon us.
Perhaps one of the more revealing aspects of this family civil war is the very name that David gave his rebellious son: Absalom. From the Hebrew ~Alv'ybia] : “avi” = My father, “shalom”=peace. Absalom: “my father is peace.” David’s rise to kingship of the Israelite tribes came via civil war within the house of Israel as it was plunged into warfare and belligerence in the conflict between David and Saul. Surely by naming his son “My father is peace” David was hoping, praying that his future family life would be conflict free and joyously loving.
But parents and kids drift apart at times, don’t they? The best intentions of parents will sometimes backfire as they choose too much punishment over too little affection, or too much tenderness over ineffective amounts of instruction. Because love is so deep between families, small wrongs and tiny miscalculations can become floods of bitterness and turmoil, burying any hope of redemption under the tides of emotion, passion and misguided words.
And the separation between David and Absalom must have been cavernous. Just before the battle we hear David giving instructions to Joab, his military commander, saying “Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom.” In this simple statement rests mounds of contradiction. David is asking for a traitor, for a rebellious son, to be treated gently. He does not want Absalom to be killed; he wants to make up with his son, to find forgiveness, to realize his dream of a family of peace.
But at the same time, the divide between father and son is great enough that David does not even call Absalom his son, instead referring to him as “the young man.” There is love and there is division. There is passion and there is anger. There is kindness and there is misunderstanding. Sounds a lot like any relationship or family today, doesn’t it?
Unfortunately for David the passion of his love for Absalom was perhaps outweighed by his anger at his son’s rebellion because he only said “deal gently with the young man Absalom.” He didn’t recognize him as his son, he didn’t say preserve my son’s life at all costs, he didn’t say the most important thing for our House of Israel now is reconciliation and the restoration of peace. No, he mildly ordered his military commander to “deal gently” not to preserve life.
As Absalom treacherously hung by his head and hair in a tree branch, floating between heaven and earth, Joab followed the letter of David’s commandment, though not perhaps the spirit, quickly putting Absalom out of his misery by thrusting three spears directly into his heart, and gently letting him not experience the indignity of defeat.
When David learns of Absalom’s death, we can almost hear his bellows of pain as he mourns the murder of his son. It is almost as if he knows that by muting his love for his son in his military orders—by calling him simply “the young man” instead of “my beloved son”—David had already condemned Absalom to death. Perhaps realizing his mistake David weeps, claiming Absalom as his son five times in death when he had dismissed him as a simply a “young man” in life: “O my son Absalom, my son, my son, Absalom! Would I have died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!”
What then can be gained from this story, what insight can be found in the ambiguity of Absalom’s rebellion and David’s heartbreak? Wisely, scholar Bruce Birch notes that like David, we humans “often learn to love when it is too late. When David’s love would have made a difference, he was only the king” choosing not to be an affectionate and forgiving father.
How would this story have changed, how would the ending have been altered, if in the midst of this family rebellion, David had remember the birth of his child, if he had recalled that Absalom means “My father is peace.” And this peace is no simple precept, no basic principle. It is the peace of “shalom,” the wholeness of body and of mind, the completeness, soundness and welfare of both individuals and society as a whole. It is this peace that David desired for his family and for his son and if he could have only returned to it in the midst of dissention and war, suffering and pain, perhaps, perhaps, his cries of “O Absalom, my son” would have been in celebration instead of heartbreak.
Seeking peace, working for redemption is most difficult when the battle lines have been drawn and missteps have been taken on both sides. The further we separate ourselves from one another the further we have to return to right relationships and peaceful partnerships.
When our families of faith, when our families of blood, when our families of friendships, become complicated and askew, we must recognize and react so that the divisions aren’t made permanent and the tears are always able to be mended. Our eyes must always see the potential of our actions, and our choices in life must be made with wisdom in the interest of preserving peace and promoting the wholeness of our communal body.
In the church in Ephesus, tensions similar to those between David and Absalom were disturbing the peace of the church and Paul was able to see these divisions within the congregation and offer ways of restoring and strengthening their community.
These words have not lost their power through the millennia and I ask that you hear them anew today. Think about a relationship in your life, think of a place in the world that is suffering, think about how you may have caused a crack in a relationship, however gingerly, think about how someone else may have disturbed your own wholeness, or think about the places in our world that need your work to help find redemption and peace. And ask yourself how are these words of Paul instructing me today?
“So then, putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another. Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil… Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear…Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you. Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love…” Amen.
