Proper 9B, July 8, 2012
2 Corinthians 12:2-10 My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.
Mark 6:1-13 And he was amazed at their unbelief.
O God of compassion, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.
A few Sundays ago a parishioner asked about the Hebrew Bible lesson for the day from Samuel and wondered what it had had to do with the Gospel (or anything else in the service that day). It’s a great question that comes from experiencing a lifetime of Episcopal Church lectionary selections that used to fit together, of what we used to call the Old Testament being co-opted in service to the Christian testament or New Testament. That has changed with the Episcopal Church’s use of the Revised Common Lectionary.
It was the Episcopal Church, gathered at the General Conventions of 2003 and 2006 that decided that beginning in Advent 2007, we would depart from the Episcopal Lectionary and all use the Revised Common Lectionary for Sunday worship services. One of the important reasons is that, in the RCL, Hebrew Bible selections are read with some integrity through relatively large and relatively consecutive portions of the books, like Samuel. And while the Hebrew Bible lection might still be in conversation with the Gospel, it is no longer propping up the Gospel message. The result is that we are hearing passages of the Hebrew Bible that, until recently, have not traditionally been read on Sundays in the Episcopal Church, like today’s reading, for example.
This is an improvement in my view, both in terms of increasing our Biblical literacy, and in terms of fostering better relations among Jews and Christians. Thinking about this made me want to preach about Samuel’s account of David’s incredible rise from shepherd bandit to mighty king, and wonder aloud with you about what these stories about more than 3000 miles away and 3000 years ago might have to do with us here and now.
The context of today’s reading is that David had been anointed king for the southern realm of Judah 7½ years earlier, and now the tribes of the northern region have come together to beg him to put them under his rule as well. Now he has been both divinely ordained and also chosen by the people. This part is about how David came to occupy Jerusalem (literally the City of Peace), which also became known as the City of David. Ironically (and not coincidentally), occupying the City of Peace gave David a great military advantage. David became greater and greater, the story goes, because the Holy One, the God of hosts – elohey tzabaot –literally the God of the armies – was with him.
Perhaps you noticed that there are three verses missing in our lectionary portion. I’m hoping if you noticed, you wondered what they say. Well I’m going to tell you. They are not nice and that is surely why they have been left out. Verses 6-8 read: “The king and his men marched to Jerusalem against the Jebusites, the inhabitants of the land, who said to David, ‘you will not come in here, even the blind and the lame will turn you back’ thinking, ‘David cannot come in here.’ Nevertheless, David took the stronghold of Zion which is now the City of David. David had said on that day, ‘whoever would strike down the Jebusites, let him get up the water shaft to attack the lame and the blind, those whom David hates [or possibly those who hate David]. Therefore it is said ‘the blind and the lame shall not come into the house.’”
It’s an ugly scene of battle taunts and residual cruelty. And scholars debate what it really means, but no-one thinks it’s good. But lest anyone jump to the faulty conclusion that this is evidence of “OT bad, NT good,” I want to tell you that even when the story was re-told in the Book of Chronicles, written some time after Samuel, the chronicler omitted this part of the story.[1] And the prophets addressed the wrongful exclusion of people who were blind or lame. Jeremiah testifies to God’s concern for bringing the exiles home to Jerusalem, explicitly including those who are blind or lame.[2] And Isaiah does one better in articulating God’s promise that the eyes of the blind shall be opened and the lame shall leap like a deer.[3] We sang the text just last week. The prophets assert God’s gifts to all people and desire for inclusion, protection, and healing for any who are vulnerable. So this story of David conquering Jerusalem is an unscrubbed example of the highest expression of the ideal king, who yet has considerable character flaws. I am very glad about it because the story is about God’s enduring faithfulness and love, no matter what.
David was the unlikely victor over the giant Goliath, the handsome eighth son of an undistinguished family, a poet and musician, compassionate shepherd, faithful steward, creative and courageous in battle, who repeatedly showed considerable restraint in sparing Saul’s life even as Saul sought to kill David, and besides, he could throw a party and dance like nobody’s business! And at the same time, David was a ruthless warrior, a greedy adulterer, an unrepentant murderer, quite unable to see the consequences of his actions and quite limited in his ability to walk upright before God.
Frederick Buechner writes this about King David: “he didn’t have to talk up the bright future and high hopes because he was himself the future at its brightest, and there were no hopes higher than the ones his people had in him….[and yet] He had feet of clay like the rest of us if not more so – self-serving and deceitful, lustful and vain – but on the basis of [his] danc[ing] alone, you can see why it was David more than anybody else that Israel lost her heart to and why, when Jesus of Nazareth came riding into Jerusalem on his flea-bitten mule a thousand years later, it was as the Son of David that they hailed him.” [4]
It is good for us to know that within the Bible are many intra-mural inconsistencies and disagreements. It is dangerous to try to eliminate the discrepancies, to quiet the dissenting or unpleasant voices, or to pretend that this extraordinarily complex collection of stories is somehow not as complex as human history itself. In our foundational fables – whether they are our religious stories or nationalistic stories – we do well to acknowledge the ambiguities and admit the shadow sides. The difference creates elbow room, and I am always looking for more elbow room! Integrating difference, acknowledging the ambiguities and confessing the shadow sides of our stories creates room for hope for both healing and for peace. Everyone is cheated when we over simplify the stories which tell us about just who and Whose we are. When we fail to admit the faults of our leaders and our own faults, if we fail to recognize our own vulnerability and the vulnerability of others, how can we ever reconcile or forgive?
It’s good for us to know that God can do great things with flawed characters – because we are all flawed characters. It’s good for us to know that King David was fully human and, for that matter, it’s good for us to know that Jesus, Son of David, was fully human, with good days and bad days, mixed motives and unintended consequences, learning and growing as he went. It’s good for us to know that each of us is better than the worst thing we’ve ever done.[5] The testimonies of scripture are about God’s view of the basic and God-given human dignity at our core, no matter where we have been or what we have done or left undone. And it is good to remember that in the end, we will not be judged by our economic, or military or even intellectual might, but on how we care for those who are most vulnerable.
Rabbi Berman often reminds us that the vision of Jerusalem, the City of Peace, is not confined or limited to a particular geographical location. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem, may they prosper who love her.[6]
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