Let’s admit it: David is a problem. Three years ago, when we were in the same lectionary cycle of the King David saga, it was in the wake of the Me-Too movement. It was hard to reconcile his behavior with the general atmosphere of the time. The sheer audacity of David and the abuse of power to force Bathsheba into sex, let alone the conspiratorial killing of Uriah, stands in sharp contrast to the man who is supposedly a reflection of “God’s own heart.”
David is a monster.
Traditionally, the theological view has been that if God could use David to further God’s ends, surely He could use us too. However, a modern reading of David's life challenges this perspective. His actions, when viewed through a contemporary ethical lens, raise serious questions about this traditional interpretation.
Maybe you believe David sufficiently repents, and I suppose you could point to the price that David and his family pay due to his behavior. As a direct result of his own abuse of power and negligence, David oversees a court full of conspiracies, rebellion, and sinister power plays. David, as a result of his sin, occupies an environment in which abuse runs rampant. Yet, we still hold David up as an exemplary king. Moreover, Jesus is one born of the house of David. This, to my ears, sounds more like a liability than an asset.
Some are quick to point out that David’s contrition, along with the heavy price he pays with Abner's rebellion, his trusted military leader, and the death of his sons, are the theological grist of the story. I just don’t buy it. While I do admit that biblical progeny is certainly important to David – and it clearly seems that God threatens David’s progeny – it is his sons and not David who pay the ultimate price.
You might think it was a different time; women were, after all, treated as property. Some preachers and scholars have even gone to great lengths to blame Bathsheba for the whole thing. The film David and Bathsheba (1951), in a most misogynistic move, lays the blame squarely at Bathsheba’s feet as the femme fatale seductress. However, David’s abuse of power looks exactly like what Samuel originally warned the Israelites about kings (1 Sam. 8:4-18). And even an embellished reading of the story would not support any transgression on Bathsheba’s part, even if she did consent. I would expect and hope that the Kings of Israel would be held to a different standard. Moreover, having your paramour’s husband murdered and making it appear like a battlefield death is beyond the pale. David is not just as bad as other kings; he’s worse.
When these passages were written, people weren’t sure about the Davidic Monarchy. If you are a proponent of multiple Biblical source texts, which I am, it becomes apparent that while one group of writers seeks to elevate David, there is another group that seems less enthusiastic about the monarchy and appears to pine for the time of the Judges (1 Sam. 7:2-17; 8:1-22; 10:17-27; 12:1-25) There is also the argument in absentia that says that the Biblical story of David is constructed with David’s warts and all to address criticisms of David (e.g., David had no legitimate claim to the throne but was a rebellious usurper. Therefore, the author creates a scenario where God secretly chose David; David was a philanderer; David was violent; David killed Saul; and the list goes on) Ultimately, these passages are political propaganda from a time well after the Davidic Monarchy and a unified Israel. David was a figure who needed to be defended against his well-known poor behavior at a time in Israel’s history when the Monarchy needed to appear flawless.
I wonder, however, if embedded in these stories lies a lesson about the age-old dynamic of power, privilege, influence, subjection, and marginalization. Here, David is depicted with the ultimate agency at the absolute pinnacle of his power. He sends, he directs, and he remains within the elite boundary of royal space, sending others in his stead or having others come to him. He neglects his duty as king to go out in battle with his soldiers because his power allows him to do so. David is also literally elevated on a rooftop, seeing what others cannot, in a position where he can see Bathsheba bathing. At his command, Bathsheba is brought to him in the royal residence. Uriah, arguably the hero of this story, certainly more so than David, refuses the offer of food and comfort; instead, in a show of solidarity with his fellow soldiers on the battlefield, he chooses to remain in a tent; he refuses even to go to his own home at David’s insistence. His agency is in his refusal of David’s veiled scheming. In sharp contrast, Bathsheba is treated as a commodity, something to be had, bought, or sold, literally objectified at every grammatical turn of the text. She is seen, sent for, and perhaps ultimately raped. Her only agency is internal agency. In her only spoken line, she can only speak of things within the bounds of her own body, without implications on others. She is reduced to speaking only of her own body, only able to say, “I am pregnant.” without implication of David’s actions.
The story perhaps holds a mirror up to us and forces us to ask what places of privilege we occupy. Where are we able to send and summon others, and what affords us those privileges? What agency do we have, and how is that agency protected, muted, or inhibited? This story tells us that unchecked privilege and power are dangerous to others and to ourselves and operate well outside the boundary of God’s vision for us. And it tells us that power and influence are often ill-gotten. Therefore, the story of David serves as a warning that we should actively choose to be aware of the places where we have power and where privilege affords us special protections. We should be mindful of how we receive power and privilege. Where we wield any privilege or power, like Uriah, we should use it to resist those who wield it unchecked. And finally, we should seek out and empower those whose agency has been inhibited to the point where they cannot hold sway even over their own bodies.
All that said, I have only provided a redemptive reading of one problematic passage about David and not of David himself. Perhaps this is an invitation to take a respite for a time, set aside David's heroism, and reflect more on the problem. This will be difficult for many of us, as we have long made David the King exemplar. Moreover, well before we Christians came on the scene, David had already been elevated by our Jewish counterparts, as evidenced by the expected Messiah being of the house of David. But I wonder if, in these passages about the Exemplar King’s misbehavior, there lies something about God’s vision for human society and the presumed places of power and privilege.
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