Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 14, August 11, 2024: 2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33; Psalm 130; Ephesians 4:25-5:2; John 6:35, 41-51
Last Sunday in our reading from 2 Samuel, we heard Nathan predict to David that “the sword will never depart from your house”. And this week we see it. We have skipped a lot of the story. In the intervening years, David’s first son with Bathsheba has died; he has another son with her, Solomon. Meanwhile, his oldest son has raped one of his daughters, and his son Absalom killed the rapist. Absalom was banished for a time, was restored, but then set himself up against David, having himself proclaimed King in Hebron. He has rebelled against his father.
Our reading picks the story up just before the decisive battle is to be fought between David and those supporting him, and Absalom and his followers. David does not want Absalom killed, telling them to “deal gently” with him. Absalom’s army is defeated. Absalom is killed: he is caught by a tree while riding a mule, and then killed by soldiers while hanging from the tree. David’s lament, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom!” cries out across the centuries, the lament of the parent who has lost a child. In the battle, the soldiers did not care that Absalom was David’s son: they had no mercy on the rebels.
One of the things I love in the Hebrew scriptures is the humanity that shines forth: we may know that the violence in David’s family is the result of David’s actions, but we are asked also to see David as a grieving father. Sin does not render him outside humanity.
Our epistle seems to acknowledge the heavy lessons David has had to learn, and to focus on the positive: what should we do? Paul, in his letter to the Christians at Ephesus, is concerned with the consequences of sin. He offers advice to the congregation. Some of this is obvious: tell the truth, turn from theft to honest labor. Then there is his concern about anger: we can be angry, he says, but we should not sin. Somehow anger can lead to sin. And we should not let the sun set on our anger. “Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander”, Paul advises. “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted.” Paul tells us that sin leads to division and discord, and we should turn from it. Division and discord, the bitterness and wrath that Paul names, become sinful.
It seems to me that the combination of David’s story and Paul’s message speak to us profoundly in the present moment. Both in different ways remind us that our behavior and attitudes, whether in the family, at work, or in the community, have consequences that do not stop with us. It is easy to be righteous about our positions, our views on the world, or what we do on a daily basis. We all want to be right. The newspapers are full of discussions of how divided we are as a nation, and part of that is the certainty of so many of us that we are right; at the same time, those who disagree with us do not just have different ideas, but are bad people.
How do we put away “bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander”? How do we learn to be kind to one another, even tenderhearted? This can be a challenge in families, and in workplaces; it certainly has operated in the church. It is most publicly acknowledged in politics, but politics grows out of everything else. We need to put aside our certainty, and live in some humility: there’s always a possibility that we are not right.
Kindness is an underappreciated virtue. But it is one greatly needed right now.