2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27
The bigger they are, the harder they fall. King David receives news that the mighty King Saul and his son Jonathan have fallen in battle. On the surface, one might expect this to be a reason for rejoicing. David is becoming more and more mighty by the second, on the rise to become king. The Lord and Samuel have rejected Saul and his possible dynasty and anointed David’s future rule. Saul’s jealousy for David has been to this point a thorn in David’s flesh, a literal and figurative spear hurled at him which he barely escapes. What is more, Saul lost the battle where he died, and David is hearing the news after coming home victorious over the Amalekites (2 Sam 1:1). Israel longed for a king to fight battles they could win (1 Samuel 8). David has won; Saul has lost. There are thus many reasons Saul’s death could be seen as a cause for a rejoicing for David. The mighty fall, and it is usually the case that the mightier rise above them in rejoicing.
But this is not what happens! David weeps for Saul! He first seeks out the truth of Saul’s death from the messenger who brought him these bad tidings (2 Sam. 1:1-16). That messenger misrepresents the story of Saul’s death to appeal to what he assumes of David’s character – that David is mighty, Saul has fallen, and maybe David will be happy to hear that and show him favor. But David will have none of this false witness. He seeks truth and justice for the fallen king, even with Saul’s past enmity toward him. After exercising justice, David writes a song to commemorate both Saul and Jonathan which both celebrates their life and mourns their death. His song is not a private dirge, for all of Judah is ordered to learn it together. David will not let the community respond with less than lament for their loss of the king and his son. The song even invites creation itself to pause its nourishment of the ground. Just as oil was used to make Saul’s shield shine and endure its battles, rain and dew sustain the ground in its beauty and flourishing life. Saul the anointed is dead and his shield shall no longer endures, so David calls for the rains themselves to not anoint the ground. David, Judah, and creation are invited to remember the bravery and generosity of Saul as well as the love and companionship of Jonathan. The mighty have fallen, and creation sings over their funeral.
What is of theological significance here is how David reflects the character of God in his lament. David exemplifies the hesed (steadfast loving-faithfulness) of God in mourning Saul and Jonathan. David has a fallen enemy and a dead friend, and David is faithful and kind to both. For him, Jonathan and Saul have their identity wrapped up in their relationship to faithful and steadfast Yahweh, and this change of political tide does not shift that identity in David’s eyes. David sees Jonathan not as a possible successor to the throne but as the faithful friend whom he loved much. David sees Saul not as an opponent and jealous enemy, though he was, but first as the Lord’s anointed king. As David’s reign begins to truly be solidified in this key moment, his response to Saul’s defeat shows here that he is God’s kind of king.
The implication for the Church is that we should be invited with Judah to be a people who show this kind of loving-kindness and faithfulness to each other, especially in times which call for mourning. What if we also saw both our friends and enemies in how they are identified by God? This song connects us to Christ’s call to love our enemies (Matthew 5:43-48). Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount calls for our hearts to sing a similar song to David’s – one who longs for life for both friend and enemy. It is folly if we have love only for our Jonathan. To love those who love us is no different than the demands of a world which fells the mighty. Jesus calls for us to love Saul too, though our Saul throws spears at us and hunts us down like he did to David. Christ not only demands this love but embodies it also. As he dies in the abandonment of the cross, he shouts a prayer of lament for his enemies, “Father, forgive them, they do not what they are doing. (Luke 23:34)” Even the victimized, crucified Christ mourns the fallenness of his enemies. For, those who are the enemies of God at the cross are those for whom he died, that they may know forgiveness and life abundantly.
Pastorally and homiletically, this song reminds us of the essential place that lament has in our life with God. We see David’s song as both an invitation to see others through the love of God at work in us through Christ, and a cause to stop and grieve the brokenness of creation which affects ourselves, our friends, our enemies. If we cannot grieve for our friends and enemies, how can we love them? If we rejoice over our enemies’ defeat, how can we reflect Christ’s kind of victory? If we cannot acknowledge the things that beg us to pause and reflect on the gravity of the situation – how the mighty fall – how can we say we reflect the faithfulness of a God who suffered death for the world? Where we see people that God loves fall into sin, loneliness, despair, poverty, injustice, suffering, and death, the Spirit of God leads us to have holy compassion on the suffering of the world.
The response of the Church to even the downfall of its enemies should not be a sound of rejoicing but a song reflecting the groaning of the Spirit of God. For, as Paul says,
“We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. (Romans 8:22-23)”
When we groan in longing for the redemption of the fallenness of the world, our neighbor, our friends, our enemies, we echo the Spirit of God and join in creation’s song. This longing is necessary for the hope which we have, a hope we do not yet see realized (Rom. 8:24-25). God too longs for both friend and enemy to know redemption. God too calls for us, like Judah, to take a moment to lament of the state of things. For it is in that lament that we can truly know the power of the hope to come – that in Christ’s reign none may fall any more.
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