King David and Me

Photo by Mateus Campos Felipe

“King David was a jerk!” So said a college student of mine in one of my Old Testament introduction courses. The student in question had an epiphany of sorts after we read a section of the book of 2 Samuel.

As the story goes, king Saul had already died in battle with the Philistines and his dynasty is teetering on demise. David, who had been at odds with Saul, is now rising to power in Israel. As a result, Saul’s general Abner decides to defect to David’s side.

As a condition of receiving Abner to his side, David demands that Michal, Saul’s daughter whom Saul had previously betrothed to David, be delivered over to him. However, Michal had since been married to a man named Paltiel. So, orders were given to have “her taken away from her husband Paltiel son of Laish. Her husband, however, went with her, weeping behind her all the way to Bahurim. Then Abner said to him, ‘Go back home!’” (2 Samuel 3:15–16).

Paltiel is clearly heartbroken. More troubling, in the heavily patriarchal world of ancient Israel, Michal did not have any say as to her own fate. With his newfound power, what David wants, David gets.  

Christians are quick to recognize David’s “great sin” with Bathsheba. (For those of you who do not know the story, David forcibly took Bathsheba from her home in order to have sex with her, and then had her husband killed in order to cover up the fact that she had become pregnant.) But it is quite common for Christian Bible readers to gloss over—or justify—the many other morally problematic things perpetrated by this man.

To be fair, David is a man of his times. Those of us living on this side of the cross should not too easily presume that our own moral sensibilities would have fared much better than a person in his sandals.

Nevertheless, we should recognize that David was in many respects a typical Ancient Near Eastern monarch. He conquered neighboring lands, slaughtering and enslaving those who stood in his way.

Setting aside the warfare passages, David still appears no less a ruthless political figure. For example, while preparing for his ascendancy, he raided villages, killing all their inhabitants and stealing their goods (see 1 Samuel 27:8–12). During his kingship, he evidenced no qualms about sending innocent people to their death (see 2 Samuel 21:1–9).

Further illustrative of David’s political expediency, on multiple occasions, though publicly distancing himself from the “dirty work” of his general Joab, he reaped the benefits of Joab’s murderous actions against his potential rivals—a quite convenient arrangement indeed.

In a similar vein, David’s final instructions to his son and heir apparent Solomon consisted of assassination orders to be carried out following David’s death on those who in some way crossed him during his life (Joab being one of them).

As a father, David fell quite short. He largely overlooked the rape of his daughter Tamar by his son Amnon, and David’s lack of redress led Tamar’s brother Absalom to seek his own vengeance, killing Amnon. David’s parental passivity persisted and after several years of estrangement from his son Absalom, Absalom eventually rebelled and attempted to usurp David’s throne.

It’s a tragic tale all the way around.

So, what do we make of the sometimes virtuous, sometimes villainous, shepherd turned king who is uniquely described in the Bible as “a man after God’s own heart?”

Here are a few observations. First, The Bible’s characters are not the type you find in, let’s say, professional wrestling, where there are either “good guys” or “bad guys.” Even the ostensible protagonists of the biblical story are generally portrayed as complex individuals, very capable of doing both good and evil. In short, they are real people. Accordingly, we should appreciate the raw honesty of Scripture.

Second, it’s important to come to terms with the open-endedness of much of the Bible’s narrative. That is, Scripture does not often tell us what to make of the stories it presents. Rather, it calls upon the reading communities to faithfully discern how the story should then inform their understanding of God and God’s purposes in the world.

God speaks through even the most troubling passages and, I suggest, encourages us to recognize and challenge the injustices portrayed there, whether they are explicitly indicated as such by the text or not. In this way—which necessarily includes reading both with and against the grain of the text—Scripture can do its work of shaping our identity and practice as God’s people.

Third and finally, even if a complete repentance leading to moral transformation never materialized for him, one might still see in David a person who ultimately recognized that he was accountable to God (see 1 Samuel 24:1–15; 26:1–11; 2 Samuel 7:18–29; 12:1–13; 24:10, 17). And despite his great failings, God did not give up on him. While I do not wish to test the boundaries of God’s grace, as I read David’s story in this light, I cannot help but to think that maybe there is hope for someone like me.