Perhaps one of the best ways to understand the motif of divine law-breaking in the Bible is to return to the stories of David himself, the quintessential king from God. We’ve already noted the history of God picking defiled women to accomplish his purpose, and the ones which give us the Davidic line, which are repeated at the beginning of Matthew, i.e., Rahab the Canaanite prostitute, Ruth the Moabitess who consorted with a man not her husband at night, and Bathsheba who is the wife of a Hittite when David takes her unlawfully. Matthew will add an impregnated espoused girl to the list, a list which he fully and significantly recounts.
This article is a continuation of the previous article of how law breaking is a veritable literary motif and prophetic foundational principal in the Hebrew Bible, an article which can be found here.
When we considered Ezekiel’s changes to the law, I hinted at something which he may have been doing intentionally, which was a shift in focus of the latter prophets toward not only the forgiveness of sin, but also of a coming Nasi, the prince, son of David, who would save their nationhood and finally usher in all of YHVH’s promises.
As we’ve been seeing, there is a pattern throughout Scripture of a suspension of God’s laws, even sometimes with his explicit approval, as with the choice of Isaac for the birthright over his older brother Esau, or Ephraim instead of Manasseh. Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait until a later book to more fully examine how biblical writers would often riff off of earlier scriptures. What follows is an intentional series of examples of this practice, regarding one of the most important figures of the entire Bible, king David; he is such an important figure in Scripture that I’ve heard that his name appears more than any other person’s in the Bible; I have not counted all names in the Bible, but one concordance I’ve checked puts the count of his name at over a thousand. The riffing of biblical writers on the topic of the suspension of law would see its culmination in the New Testament, where David is cited by Jesus himself as proving a theological point, that law is for man, not man for law.[1] This theme would find its ultimate expression in the writings attributed to Paul, which have some quite controversial things to say about the law; Paul, like Jesus, develops this topic with David as well as the rest of the Bible’s stories, except Paul goes so much further.[2] But even before the New Testament, an appeal to something greater than the letter of law was underway, with many prophets adamantly stressing that God desires mercy, steadfast love, and a contrite heart, not sacrifice.[3] And I would argue that one of the strongest and earliest developments of this theme are in the chronicles about David’s own life, logically enough. In fact, it’s hard to find a single passage about the actions of David that do not involve the law of YHVH being set aside. These are often missed by the modern lay reader, and even by scholars, but I’m guessing the ancients understood them much better, as they are surely not accidental; rather, they are perhaps key to the main message of the authors.
Before we delve into this story, I would also like to point out that most scholars see Chronicles as a glorification of the Davidic line, and Samuel/Kings as somewhat of a criticism of it. The following narrative, along with the literary analysis I plan to do in a later book, suggest other foci entirely.
To see this story unfold, we must turn mainly to Samuel, as it is not found in Chronicles. We’ve already seen how David ate of the Showbread before he was made king, but this pattern of law violation/suspension really picks up when he is made king. Also, bear in mind that the following narrative was not completed until after the Exile, and contains a strong perspective of a people who are struggling with the promises of Yahweh still not being fulfilled after centuries. What is their perspective, and how do they make their message so relevant that it has affected the entire world thousands of years later? By tying the universal human condition to their understanding of God: sin and suffering are our lot. What then could be our hope in the future?
The story of the beginning of David’s reign is not idyllic. In Sunday schools today, David is often credited with unifying the tribes of Israel, yet seldom is it mentioned that he actually did not accomplish this until after seven years into his reign, nor does it last even for the whole of the next 33 years. The division between North and South, often blamed on his grandson Rehoboam, is actually already portrayed when David takes the throne, and is quite gory. The biblical story is one of strife, of the ugliness of civil war, men killing their own kinsmen. It is this horrific state which David finally begins to mend, but which will only be completed by his son, or so the story goes.
So it is at the very beginning of David’s reign in 2 Samuel 2 that we see not only a split in kingdoms, but also the death of one of the sons of Zeruiah, which will eventually be avenged by Joab, as mentioned in chapters 2 and 4 above. Details like this at the beginning of the narrative are key to the author’s main purposes, as we’ll see as these details arise throughout the story. Joab’s right to avenge his brother is according to the letter of the law, and yet the son of David will eventually punish it as contrary to what the law allowed, at least the letter of it, even with the blessing of David who originally never punished Joab for it. It is the words of Abner, who killed Joab’s brother in time of war, that should help us understand the narrative that follows: “must the sword devour forever? Do you not know that the end will be bitter?” And this coming from a man who had just agreed with Joab to let their men kill each other just so they could watch them die. Joab’s response is also a concept that will be reiterated throughout the following tale: “if you had not spoken, surely the men would have kept pursuing their brothers.” In the very next chapter, Abner turns Israel’s army over to David after a dispute with the ruling son of Saul, but Joab assassinates Abner, avenging his brother. Yet David mourns for Abner. It should also be noted that Zeruiah was David’s sister, so Joab and his brothers were David’s nephews, and Solomon’s first cousins. As we’ll see, this family, like Israel, will be bathed in its own blood.
How will sin be resolved, and intergenerational punishment be halted before the people are annihilated? I believe this is one of the main points of this story, and it is foreshadowed by David’s words when he hears of Abner’s death. David directs the curse to Joab’s lineage, and blesses his own, despite his own sins which bring about the horrific chain of events that follow, both on him and his line.
2 Samuel 6 recounts the story of David’s mistake of hauling the ark of the covenant on a cart, rather than being carried by the Levites per the law. But it is not David who is struck dead for it. In a following book in this series, I hope to expound on several motifs that more fully show what the authors are doing in this narrative, especially with the Gentile involvement in the establishment of the Temple, which was not supposed to be for Gentiles according to the law; for now we will only focus on David’s suspensions of law, which are only sometimes portrayed as sinful, other times perhaps as being “above” law, and divinely approved.
In 2 Samuel 8, we see that David appears to appoint two high priests. Why he did so, or how the postexilic Jews understood this and adapted it, will also have to be a topic reserved for later. Hint: one of the priests appears to be from the North, the other from the South.
In 2 Samuel 11, David commits both adultery and murder, both of which were to be punished by death under the law, without exception. God would not tolerate the spilling of blood without the blood of the murderer being spilt, according to the Torah.[4] And yet God does tolerate the murderer continuing to live. These are well-known, but one detail which typically gets overlooked is what Bathsheba was actually doing when David saw her bathing. She was purifying herself from her uncleanness; if by this the author intended to convey that David “went into her” while she was menstruating, then David is guilty of yet another crime punishable by death, at least according to Leviticus 20:18, although 15:24 allows the man to live, perhaps if it is done unintentionally (or maybe because it was written by another author). David’s actions regarding this law would surely have not been blameless, as she already knew that she was in that state.
Yet in 2 Samuel 12, David’s sorrow at being confronted with his sin somehow prevents God requiring that he die, even before any sin offering could have been made, as per the law. There certainly is a curse for the sin on his household, which will cause many to die, but not David himself. Moreover, God portrays part of his punishment as God repeating David’s own sin: David committed adultery secretly, yet God would have David’s own son rape his concubines before all Israel. And of course God would bring death to David’s innocent first son by Bathsheba.
In 2 Samuel 13, we find the twisted story of David’s son Amnon who is in infatuated with his half-sister, a chain of events which will eventually result in Absalom fulfilling Nathan’s prediction of taking the kingdom and “going into” his father’s wives. But perhaps an overlooked detail here is that the sister Tamar tells her brother not to rape her, for their father would in fact give her in marriage to him, which was contrary to the law. There is no reason to doubt that the author is not in agreement with this. It is also often overlooked that the penalty for Absalom killing his brother in vengeance was death, which David also ignores.
If the stories of the rebellions of the children of Israel were not enough to show the need for the suspension of law, lest all people be wiped out as in the Flood, then the calling for blood vengeance against a relative should be enough: as in the Greek Oresteia (written around the same time as 2 Samuel), where is the end to blood vengeance when murder is within a family? This idea is stressed with the story of the wise woman of Tekoa in 2 Samuel 14, in which a man kills his own brother, and the people demand justice. As with his own son Absalom, David tells the woman that the living son who killed his brother would be protected, contrary to the requirement of the law. This woman’s ruse, instigated by Joab, would lead to Absalom not only not being executed, but being returned to Jerusalem, where he hatches his coup.
When David flees Jerusalem in 2 Samuel 15 and 16, Ziba meets David. Ziba is the servant of Mephibosheth, the lame son of Saul whom David had accepted at his table. Ziba lied to David, telling him that Mephibosheth had remained in Jerusalem, hoping the kingdom would be restored to him. David therefore gives the entire estate of Mephibosheth to his servant Ziba.
Also upon leaving Jerusalem, David is cursed by another relative of Saul, Shimei, which is contrary to the law of Exodus 22:28. Yet David does not punish him at that time. Indeed, there is an overriding theme of God’s hand being behind it all, for it was God’s own messenger who told Absalom to go into his father’s concubines, for the counsel of Ahithophel “was as if one had inquired of God.” Nor did David want Absalom killed, despite his insurrection.
In 2 Samuel 17, the restoration of the kingdom is compared to a bride returning to her husband, a motif found throughout Scripture, from Genesis to the latter prophets, as I hope to examine later. But here I only want to point out that, despite God comparing his sinful people to an adulteress wife, it was unlawful for a man to take back a wife who had been remarried to another; this analogy is made explicit in Jeremiah 3. And yet God restores Israel over and over, despite her pollution. Also, note that there are similarities in detail between when David mourned Absalom and Abner, both of whom were killed by Joab. Joab’s justice, and its delay I believe, will therefore be key to the narrative’s resolution, with its theme of delayed/suspended justice.
Just as Israel would have scattered without a shepherd had David continued mourning his son, the kingdom was reunited again when David sat before the people, and was brought back to Jerusalem in chapter 19. It is at this point that David grants a series of pardons of crimes which should have been punished by law, pardons which, like Israel’s blessings for following Yahweh, were mostly not to last. It was one of the sons of Zeruiah, who began this tale, who called for the punishment of the first pardoned individual, Shimei, the man who cursed David as he fled Jerusalem. David swears not to kill him. Next up is the lame Mephibosheth, a son of Saul, who had been slandered by his servant as if he had abandoned David, when he actually hadn’t; and yet David does not punish either, but tells them to “divide the land.” Why would David let Ziba have anything, much less go unpunished, if he had lied about Mephibosheth deserting? Unless the overriding point of the entire narrative is the restoration of God’s people (including to their land), despite their sin. Joab’s sins are not mentioned here, but will come up again when justice finally rolls around. Just note that in this chapter there is still unresolved strife between Judah and the rest of Israel.
In chapter 20, Sheba the Benjamite, from the same tribe as Saul, incites yet another rebellion, as the bloodletting for sin has not yet ceased, despite many Sunday school lessons portraying David’s return to Jerusalem as the ultimate resolution. It is at this time that David sends Amasa as general to gather Judah to fight, but Amasa delays. When Amasa catches up to Joab’s army, Joab disembowels him, and leaves him to wallow in it. And just as the people stopped at the corpse of his brother when Abner killed him in chapter 3, now the people stop at Amasa until he is covered. I believe the author repeats such details to cinch his motifs. And just as a woman ended the insurrection of Abimelech way back in Judges 9, and a woman convinced David to let Absalom return to Jerusalem, so it is that a woman ends the siege and insurrection of Sheba, who supposedly had the might of Israel on his side. They throw his head over the city wall to Joab. I’ve seen apologists argue that the authors’ inclusion of women in such key roles is a sign that the Bible’s message is not as misogynist as many moderns claim; may be, but it would appear to me that the authors are ironically using women to show the hand of God behind it all.
Does this finally bring an end to the suffering and death brought on by David and the people’s sins? Not at all! We’ve already covered the famine that God sent on the land in chapter 21 until David slaughtered seven sons of Saul. If there was any doubt that the narrative didn’t involve intergenerational punishment, it’s gone at this point. Despite all of David’s pardons, and his protection of Saul’s son Mephibosheth, he still must kill some more. Was Mephibosheth’s pardon because of his innocence? Nope. It was because of an oath that David made to Jonathan. Nice. Once those men were killed, God again allowed the people food, as punishment was corporate, a detail often overlooked in Bible classes today. This concept may seem foreign to the individualism of western moderns, but for postexilic Jews, it was all too familiar.
After all these brutal events there was peace? No. David was still contending with the Philistines, many of whom were quite large and powerful.
Chapter 24 of 2 Samuel is of course David’s sin of numbering the people, which was covered in chapter two above. Once again, God is involved in inciting David so as to punish the people. This story’s resolution ends in the purchase from a Jebusite the very land for the Temple by which the people will finally be able to approach God and hopefully put a stop to war and punishment for sin, a peace and rest ushered in only by the anointed one, the son of David and son of God.
It is this ultimate resolution where 1 Kings picks up the narrative, and explains how it developed. The story of David’s suspension of law would not be complete without venturing a little way into the 1 Kings to see what this son of David did, even with the blessing of the dying David.
In this story that has so shaped what the world has become, it is not just peace, rest, and the presence of Yahweh in the Temple that Solomon is supposed to have brought to Israel. It was also a resolution to all the injustice that David had delayed. We begin in chapter one of 1 Kings.
When the aged David lay unable to rule on his bed, it was his own lack of action that helped encourage his son Adonijah—along with the support of the general Joab and one of the David’s high priests, Abiathar—to appoint himself king. Moreover, Adonijah was actually next in line after Absalom, the logical and apparently legitimate choice. Only after the prophet Nathan and Bathsheba entreat David and inform him of Adonijah’s actions does David appoint Solomon as his actual heir to the throne. Note too that this is a story of power politics: there is no mention in this particular part of the narrative whom God had selected, only the political supporters of Solomon: Zadok the priest, Nathan the prophet, and Benaiah the general. Thus there is still division in the kingdom which Solomon will finally unite, with some bloodshed.
As if to connect the mercy of David to Solomon, his first act as king is to spare his brother Adonijah who lays hold of the altar as a plea for mercy. Solomon swears to him that he will not kill him if he shows himself worthy. But this mercy toward Adonijah, along with others whom David had spared, will not last. And note that these details are not incidental to the narrative, but are in fact part of its main focus.
Chapter two solidifies this focus, as David commands Solomon what to do as king. After exhorting him to follow YHVH, he gives his instructions for what he wants Solomon to do first thing as king. The very first one is to kill Joab. Then to favor one of David’s supporters when he fled before Absalom, Barzillai. Then David commands Solomon to kill Shimei who cursed David, even though David had sworn not to kill him. And thus ends his last recorded instructions before his death.
The narrative then continues, showing how Solomon solidified his rule. How? By killing or banning these men, narrated in the order already presented. The first one Solomon kills is his own brother. What was Adonijah’s offense that showed him not to be a “worthy” man? He asked for a woman in marriage who had kept David warm as he lay on his death bed. This was such a subtle political power play that even Bathsheba agreed to ask Solomon to grant her to Adonijah. We moderns probably fail to note this similarity of Solomon to other rulers who killed members of their family merely to establish political power, such as Herod the Great or the Hasmoneans. But it’s not only there in the text, but is key to the story’s message. This brutal beginning is not only the will of Solomon, but is presented as God’s method for establishing his grand promises to Israel. And it includes fratricide for an action which was not condemned by the law per se. And just as David had sworn not to kill Shimei yet ordered his death, so Solomon told his mother that he would not refuse her request, which he promptly does.
The narrative then turns towards to how Solomon handled the priest Abiathar, whose only offense that we’ve seen was that he supported the elder son of David, Adonijah, as king. Solomon places him under house arrest, banishing him from Jerusalem to Anathoth, the home town of a later political outcast, Jeremiah. Abiathar’s expulsion as priest is also portrayed as fulfillment of God’s promise to Eli to bring his priestly line to an end (another example of intergenerational punishment), and to establish the priestly line of Zadok who supported Solomon.
Next we read of Solomon’s dealing with Joab. He too takes hold of the altar and will not let go, so Solomon has him executed there. It is only then, we’re told, that the blood guilt was taken away. In other words, the narrator himself confirms that the house of David had borne it for all those years that David had let Joab live. Again, the guilt is to fall on Joab and his descendants, contrasting this with the descendants of David who are favored by God, at least until they also sin.
Next Solomon deals with Shimei, whom he places under house arrest under pain of death. At some point later on, Shimei would leave his home to pursue a runaway slave, for which Solomon would execute him.
Thus was established the reign of Solomon, mainly by bringing a day of judgment to those who had so far escaped it. I also do not think it a minor detail that chapter 3 illustrates Solomon’s God-given wisdom and justice by his ordering the slaughter of an innocent child. Of course, he does not allow the sentence to be carried out. But note that God’s own slaughter of innocents is part of the providential narrative from Abraham’s command to kill Isaac, to the final plague of the Exodus, all the way to Matthew, where Herod repeats it, ostensibly with the approval of God merely to tie Jesus to this historical prophetic motif! Solomon’s command to kill a child is one more example of that motif, and a critical one, as he was a narrative symbol of Israel’s hope in God’s messiah even centuries after the lineage of David had long ceased to rule. And once again, it was a command that was contrary to the law.
To summarize, this narrative’s point regarding the suspension of law is multifaceted, as we’ve seen. It involves mercy, but so much more. It involves such concepts as a delay of judgment and promise, much as the exiles experienced, wondering when their God would finally show them favor again and fulfill his grand covenant. It involves what I call “historical revelation,” where the very events of their stories were literary motifs that pointed toward eternal truths, even if it took God threatening to kill (as in the Exodus, regarding Israel’s children) or even actually killing innocent babies (as in Matthew, or in Exodus regarding the Egyptian’s children) of Israel to produce that revelation. We also saw repetition of the motif of the promotion of the younger son, in Solomon. David himself was the least of his brothers. We saw the breaking of covenants/oaths, whether by the person who made the oath or the one who agreed to it. At no point, as fundamentalists will probably finally appreciate, do we see a permanent suspension of the Mosaic law, a topic to which we’ll return in the next chapter when we consider the New Testament and its views of law. To read it, check out my book here.
[1] Matthew 12:1-8.
[2] E.g., Romans 4:6; 11:5-10; and see the next chapter below.
[3] E.g., Psalm 51:16-17; 1 Samuel 15:22; Hosea 6:6
[4] Numbers 35:31-34