Healing the tension between our public and private lives
2 Sam 18:19-33
Some years ago, the mayor of a New Zealand city had an extramarital affair, which got into the media. The distraught family members asked for privacy, and one can readily understand their concerns. However, they behaved as if the mayor’s private actions had nothing to do with his public role and therefore no one outside the family had any right to scrutinise or comment on his behaviour. We have come to see this kind of division of spheres into public and private as normal, even self-evident. And yet, how can one separate the two so rigidly when it is the same person acting? If a man is unfaithful to his wife, the one person who should have his deepest loyalty and commitment, how can one trust the same person to act in integrity towards others in public? Is not integrity, by definition, a consistent attitude in public and private, when one is on display and when one is not? To split the two as if a person could be different in those two spheres is surely nonsense.
Public and private spheres in David’s life
In David’s story, we similarly see an intertwining of public and private spheres. The public crisis of leadership (Absalom’s rebellion) ensued indirectly because of David’s private sin (adultery and the murder) and directly because of his inability to deal with his sons’ sins (rape and murder) both privately as father and publicly as supreme judge of the country. Now the two roles are in conflict as the father wants his son spared, while the king is expected to rejoice over the usurper’s defeat (2 Sam 18:28, 31). Joab understands David’s deep attachment to Absalom (2 Sam 14:1) and the grief his death will bring, even if the young Ahimaaz does not (2 Sam 18:19-20). In his immaturity, the latter is eager to bring good news and only realises his blunder when the king’s interest is solely focused on Absalom’s fate (2 Sam 18:29). The lad’s reply is hopelessly convoluted (more so in Hebrew than in English; v.29) as he suddenly grasps the full significance of Absalom’s death for David and cannot bring himself to say it. The Cushite,[1] on the other hand, has no compunction in communicating the brutal truth, perhaps because he is an outsider (2 Sam 18:32).
Where David sits and what he sees
David’s grief is heart-rending as he sobs and repeats ‘my son, Absalom’ over and over again (2 Sam 18:33). We cannot help but feel pity for his terrible anguish. Yet, once again, we get hints of the issues at stake. First, the messenger bringing news of Absalom’s death is reminiscent of another messenger bringing news of Uriah’s death (2 Sam 11:24). There, the king callously replied ‘Do not let this thing displease you, for the sword devours one as well as another…’ (2 Sam 11:25) even though Uriah was also someone’s son, someone’s husband. Now David grieves for his own son. The lesson that every life matters is etched into his heart with a sword. Secondly, there is a telling detail as David waits for news sitting between the gates (i.e. inner and outer gate; 2 Sam 18:24). The gate of a city opened onto a square, an open space where the court would gather to bring justice in legal cases (Deut 17:24; Isa 29:21).[2] David’s physical location is symbolic of his position of being in limbo.[3] He could not bring himself to deal with his son one way or another before (2 Sam 14:23-24,32-33) and his attempts to spare Absalom even in this final conflict suggests that he still cannot do so.
Our attitudes: hidden and visible
David’s story illustrates that we cannot keep public and private spheres in our lives separate. Not everyone is quite as much in the public eye as David had been, but we all experience that distinction between how we behave among others (friends, colleagues, acquaintances or complete strangers) and what we do within the four walls of our home or where no one can see us. As Jesus says, what we do in secret will eventually come to light (Luke 12:1-3) because our hidden attitudes will spill over into our visible encounters with others. None of us is entirely consistent in their behaviour, however, so instead of judging others harshly, we all need God’s forgiveness and ongoing grace to live more truthfully and with integrity.
[1] Ancient Cush (sometimes translated Ethiopia) was south of Egypt in what is modern-day Sudan.
[2] The expression is ‘to sit in the gate’, which means to sit as a judicial court. Some translations obscure this fact by rendering this phrase as ‘to sit in court’.
[3] Using physical location to point towards a spiritual position is not uncommon in biblical narratives (see in the previous reading Absalom hanging in a tree; 2 Sam 18:9-10). It is not that the narrator invents these details, but he selects them in his report to convey not only what happened but to give us clues as to what is really going on in the story.