He Came Among Us to Show Us How to Live & How to Love
Last week, our pastor preached a sermon on the topic of King David bringing the Ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem. Sitting there as part of the congregation, I had a sudden stunning understanding about this passage from 2 Samuel chapter 6 that Iâd never had beforeâan understanding so fraught with meaning that Iâve been thinking about it all week.
Being a child raised in evangelicalism, my spiritual journey into adult faith has been grounded and formed by Scripture. As a youth, I memorized seven books from the Bible perfectly. I married an ordained minister, who himself preached a series on this topic in an inter-racial church we planted in the inner city of Chicago. Most preachers emphasize in some way or another that David, who had only recently assumed the appointment as king of Israel, stripped down to his linen ephod and danced before the procession, bringing the Ark back to the city. Few preachers avoid drawing an obvious parallel that the king was basically leaping and dancing around in his underwear.
Perhaps itâs because of the conversations I had while sitting around in Bible study groups as I traveled in Africa that the Old Testament stories come alive in new ways. Listening to Africans in Kenya, all modern and educated and wise, talk about their particular understanding of Bible stories made me realize there were nuances I just had simply never understood because of my American background, because of privilege, because of limited exposure to the world.
Take the story of Abigail and David as an example. Abigail, with her beauty, wisdom and insight, saves David from slaughtering in angry outrage her whole little village. She prepares food for his band of outliers, assuages Davidâs outrage, then tells her husband Nabal (whose name means âfoolâ) how his death has been avoided. Out of shock, he dies anyway, and Abigail immediately marries the leader of this renegade resistance movement, David (see 1 Samuel 25). Iâve often thought, Why did she marry him right awayâor at least what appears from a surface reading as âright awayâ?
However, the Kenyan women sitting in our Bible discussion circle understood instantly. I gained insight when each described how her own tribe treated widows, not just in the past but in the present. Abigail, as a widow had no rights. She would not inherit her husbandâs wealth; that would legally go to the nearest male relative. Widows are often outcasts in communities around the world, even today, having lost position gained through a husband. Suddenly, listening to my African friends, I got it and thought: This really is not an American story, is it?
The picture that came to my mind as my pastor spoke last Sunday was of a young man, âruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to,â deliberately stripping himself of all kingly regalia down to the kind of garments a working man might wear while breaking rock, or hauling grain from the field, or pushing felled and stripped logs toward a construction site.
Michal, Davidâs wife (also the daughter of King Saul, recently slaughtered in battle along with his sons), sees her husband dancing wildly in the streets and despises him. Commentators are often not kind to Michalâbut her story is one of tragedy and agonizing family dysfunction. Remember, she had been torn from David and given to another man name Phalti, who followed her weeping when she was re-joined again to her first husband, now the king (see 2 Samuel 3:15â16).
I think Michal was a young woman corroded by depths of grief and shock. And thereâs David, dancing in the streets before the crowd of joyful and ecstatic Israelites, bringing the Ark of the Covenant that had been stolen by Israelâs archenemies, the Philistines, back to the capital city (accompanied by some 30,000 able-bodied young men). Quite a picture.
The account in 2 Samuel tells us Michal despised David in her heart and says to him when he returns to bless his household, âHow the king of Israel has distinguished himself today, going around half-naked in full view of the slave girls of his servants as any vulgar fellow would do!â Thereâs nothing like the sarcasm of a wounded woman. In other words, âIâm the daughter of a real king who knows how a real king should behave.â
I wondered what would have happened if the young David (and remember, a handsome and athletic man) hadnât stripped down to the work garments of the common laborer. I wondered if he hadnât led the people into worship as a man among men, a herder of sheep, a slaughterer of giants with nothing but a stone and a slingshot as weapons. I wondered if the people wouldnât have entered fully into worship, rejoicing and thanksgiving if their young king hadnât brought the Ark of the Covenantâa symbol of the Presence of Godâto Jerusalem as one of them, simply as a man among men.
David responds to Michal, âIt was before the Lord, who chose me rather than your father or anyone from his house when he appointed me ruler over the Lordâs people IsraelâI will celebrate before the Lord. I will become even more undignified than this, and I will be humiliated in my own eyes. But by these slave girls you spoke of, I will be held in honorâ (see 2 Samuel 6:21â22).
How extraordinary: Young women, torn from their families due to war or raids, utterly subservient to the will of arbitrary masters and mistresses, vulnerable and without position of any kind, powerless as virtual slavesâthese understand what David was doing.
If I have any insight into this passage, think of what it must have felt for them to see King David divest himself of the symbols of kingly authority, strip down to the garments of a common working laborer (like all those groaning throngs in Hollywood historical films showing the building of the pyramids, for instance). This act of Davidâs, if there is any truth into my flash of insight, said to them, âI am just a man like any other. All are welcome to enter into exuberant worship, not just the high or the mighty or the wealthy or the well-placed. The God of Israel is the God of all, even of the lowly, the humble, the abandoned, the ordinary. Come dance and worship along with me and let us together extol the King of Heaven.â
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