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Commentary Index | Return to PrayerRequest.com | DownloadGreater Men and Women of the Bible by James Hastings: 296. Absalom's Rebellion
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Absalom's Rebellion
Amnon, his oldest son, was one of the pitiable products of the Oriental harem. He was ruled by the same ungovernable passions as overmastered his kingly father. An unprincipled friend was at hand to advise him how he could gratify his mad passion. Even David himself was made an agent in the ghastly tragedy. The hideous wrong to the victim of Amnon's lust is brought out with a frankness and realism that everywhere characterize the teaching of those early champions of righteousness, the Hebrew prophets. Amnon's brutality, even after the lapse of centuries, arouses the hot indignation of the reader, and to some extent undoubtedly excuses his subsequent murder by his brother Absalom.
2. From henceforward the court of David became the scene of constant intrigues, of plots and counterplots. Amnon is dead, and Absalom is in exile. His great misfortunes seem to have wholly unnerved the king: he mourns over his absent son and heir every day, but he will neither punish him nor pardon him. After three years Joab has the wit to stir his lethargy by a story put into the mouth of a “wise woman of Tekoa,” who pretends that a family blood-feud, carried to its bitter end, is about to “quench my coal which is left.” The interpretation follows. David will leave the nation desolate unless he “doth fetch home again his banished one.” Thus entreated, the king recalls Absalom indeed, but will not see his face; only after two full years in Jerusalem does he, through Joab's reluctant intervention, obtain an interview and a father's kiss. It is not wonderful that the five years' estrangement should have worked on Absalom's character for the worse. Handsome, strong, and doubtless pitied by the people-who would have justified Amnon's murder by David's neglect-Absalom deliberately set himself to win their favour.
3. David's sin, and the various acts of consequent weakness, had lost him something of his old influence over the people. There was one part of his conduct in particular which may have awakened the suspicion and ill-will of the northern tribes-his treatment of the remaining members of Saul's household. How far David was actuated by political motives in the matter it is impossible to say; but it is only too probable that those who were ready to suspect the king of cunning and cruelty would have their suspicions confirmed. His treatment of the lame Mephibosheth, Jonathan's son, whom he kept at his court, and to whom he restored the lands and possessions of Saul, might be construed by the envious as an act of jealous precaution rather than of real generosity. His conduct to the other members of Saul's family might well raise darker suspicions. On the occasion of a famine caused by three years' bad harvests, the oracle declared that God was angry on account of Saul's cruel repression of the Canaanites of Gibeon. By way of propitiation, David handed over seven of Saul's family to the Gibeonites, who offered them as a bloody sacrifice to Jehovah. The horrid tale of superstition is somewhat relieved by the story of Rizpah, the mother of two of the victims, who watched day and night for weeks over the bodies, driving off the birds and beasts of prey, till David at last was constrained to give them honourable burial. Although David probably acted in this matter from motives of stern religious conviction, the fact of such a slaughter of Saul's sons could scarcely fail to tell heavily against him, and tend to keep alive the lingering discontent in the north, where the name of Saul was still revered.
It has always been the hardest task which theology has had to face, to be rid of the idea that God, sharing our vengeful passions, delights in the death of a man as a man in his savage state delights in the death of his brother. No one questions therefore that those gaunt bodies, wet with the dew, and parched with the gathering fervours of the sun of June, excruciated, emaciated, ragged, stained, and verging to corruption, are an acceptable sacrifice to the God Yahweh. Rizpah herself does not doubt it. This is the deep tragedy of the situation; but, like all the bitterest fruits of human woe, it contains at its heart a certain core of comfort. She believes that her sons are an offering by which the vengeance of Heaven is averted. Like the Mater Dolorosa at the cross, though a sword pierces her heart, she is not without dim and eager surmises that the deaths are an expiation, and these are they who have redeemed Israel. It is the absorbing thought of the day and the night to keep those precious bodies from violation. She may not bury them; the authorities will not allow it. Perhaps in some obscure way she acquiesces in the harsh decision, from a feeling that if they were decently buried they would cease to be an effectual atonement. She would therefore leave the sacrifice complete and unimpaired. But there was one thing which she could not endure-that the vultures should peck out the eyes which she had loved and kissed, or that the lions and the jackals should tear the limbs which to her imagination were still the tender and helpless limbs of infants. Therefore the woman, in the sacred exaltation of a hungry and imperishable love, took up her station by the gallows, nor would she move by day or by night. All through the summer, till the autumn rains should come and wash the bodies, preparing them for the legal burial long delayed, she camped on that ghostly ground. The great birds wheeled, screaming, in the air by day, but she scared them from the bodies of her dead if they approached. And in the solemn and fearful night, when strong men might fear to be abroad, this delicate woman, strong with that supernatural strength which is the dower of motherhood, watched by her solitary fire, unafraid of the roaring and yelping beasts, subduing them perhaps by her silence and immobility into a kind of awed tameness in her presence, but rising even from the snatched slumbers to drive them away with her feeble hands if ever they ventured to come near to her beloved dead.… This is the atonement that must surely atone-this prolonged sacrifice of love in the heart of a mother.1 [Note: R. F. Horton, Women of the Old Testament, 158.]
A lonely watcher on the mountain-height.
There with her dead a solemn tryst to keep,
Communing silently with anguish deep,
Yet patient, strong in Love's untiring might,
The morn's red day-beam found her, and the night
Bathed her in gentle dews, yet might not steep
The pulse of agony in gentler sleep,
Soft stealing o'er that mourner's aching sight;
There, while the long and summer sun rode high,
No cry of bird awoke the solitude;
When darkness fell, no savage thing and rude
To mar the spell of holy grief drew nigh,-
She watched, till heaven with kind and pitying eye
With reconciling tears their dust bedewed!2 [Note: Dora Greenwell.]
4. Absalom drew to his side Ahithophel, the king's counsellor, and carefully fanned every flame of discontent throughout the land. When the conspiracy was ripe, he departed for Hebron with a great following, under pretence of a sacred vow. There the mask was thrown off, and Absalom was publicly proclaimed king.
The news fell like a thunderbolt on David. The hero of so many hairbreadth escapes, the seasoned warrior, the conqueror of the ancestral enemies of Israel, and once the darling of his people, he fled from Jerusalem, accompanied only by a few faithful servants and his foreign body-guard of six hundred men. It was apparently early on the morning of the day after he had received the news of the rebellion that the king left the city of Jerusalem. There is no single day in the Jewish history of which so elaborate an account remains as that which describes this memorable flight. There is none, we may add, that combines so many of David's characteristics-his patience, his high-spirited religion, his generosity, his calculation; we miss only his daring courage. It was a day of remarkable proof both of loyalty and of hatred. Before leaving Jerusalem, Ittai, apparently a newly arrived captain of the Gittites, who formed part of the royal guard, was offered the opportunity to transfer his allegiance if he wished. David's generous proposal called forth a yet more generous reply. David had evidently not lost his old power of winning the hearts of men. “And Ittai answered the king, and said, As the Lord liveth, and as my lord the king liveth, surely in what place my lord the king shall be, whether for death or for life, even there also will thy servant be.”
The start was made, across the “brook Kidron,” or dark ravine on the east of the city, “toward the way of the wilderness.” Signs of popular sorrow, probably among the poorer dwellers of the countryside, accompanied the march-“all the country wept with a loud voice.” The priesthood, too, was faithful to the king, who had loved the sanctuary. Zadok and Abiathar and their brother Levites appeared carrying the ark, as if Jordan were again to be crossed as in the days of Joshua. David, in words of devout resignation, refused their offer to accompany him in his exile: “Carry back the ark of God into the city: if I shall find favour in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring me again, and shew me both it, and his habitation: but if he say thus, I have no delight in thee; behold, here am I, let him do to me as seemeth good unto him.” David also suggested that Zadok might be of more service to him by remaining in the city, and sending word by his son Ahimaaz, and Jonathan the son of Abiathar.
As the ascent of the Mount of Olives was being made, amid all the outward signs of mourning, the king walking barefoot and his head veiled, an additional blow fell in the news that Ahithophel the trusted counsellor had joined the rebellion. A prayer of the king that Jehovah would “turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishness” met, as the event proved, with a speedy answer. As the procession halted on the top of the Mount of Olives at some sanctuary or familiar place of prayer, a loyal friend of the king, hitherto unmentioned, appeared, viz. Hushai “the Archite,” with “his coat rent and earth on his head.” David, knowing both his loyalty and his gift for diplomacy, advised him, instead of accompanying the flight, to go to Jerusalem, and pretend to join Absalom's party, keeping meanwhile in constant communication with the king through the priesthood.
David was now to learn that Absalom's appeal to Israel had found a willing ear in the house and tribe of Saul also. He was met at the Mount of Olives by Ziba, the steward of Mephibosheth, with the tidings that his master had joined Absalom in the hope that he might recover through him his grandfather's throne. A distinguished Benjamite, Shimei by name, met him soon afterwards at Bahûrim. He received David with fierce invectives, which revealed clearly enough how fresh a memory many irreconcilable spirits retained of Saul, and of his house and its cruel fate, innocent as David was in the matter. Finally, by evening the fugitives were close to Jordan, though by no means out of reach of pursuit.
5. Meanwhile Absalom came hot-foot from Hebron to Jerusalem, seized on the palace and the harem of his father, and called a council of war. Ahithophel's advice was to follow at once, overtake the king “while he is weary and weak handed,” and slay him. Hushai counselled delay as the more politic course, and prevailed. The news reached David at the fords of Jordan, together with the advice to cross the river immediately. He found refuge in Mahanaim, a city of Gilead, where three wealthy sheikhs, one of them an Ammonite, provided for him and his followers. Ahithophel foresaw that Absalom's initial mistake and hesitation meant eventual failure, and anticipated his own, punishment by committing suicide.
Absalom at length crossed the Jordan with a large army under the leadership of Amasa, a cousin of Joab. But the delay, which enabled him to advance to the attack with increased forces, had been still more profitable to David, who was now well prepared for the conflict. In the battle that followed, not far from Mahanaim, David's army was victorious; there was a great slaughter of the enemy, both in the battle and in the later pursuit through an adjoining wood. The carnage would have been even greater, had not Joab out of compassion restrained the victors. He himself, however, thought it wise to get rid of Absalom: he was not deterred by the king's earnest injunction to all his captains to spare the prince. Absalom was found entangled in his flight by his long hair, which caught in a tree; and as he hung suspended in mid-air Joab pierced him through to the heart.
There was a piteous scene in Mahanaim when the news was carried to David by a swift runner; he sobbed aloud with passionate regrets, yearning to make atonement with his own life, and it needed all the coarse practical wisdom of Joab to make the king appear in person to welcome the troops returning from victory. As for Absalom, his body was buried under a rough cairn of stones on the battle-field, far away from the grand monument which, in default of an heir, he had built to keep his memory alive.
Besides the heaping of stones on ordinary graves for protection, cairns are often used to mark a sepulchre, but with varying significations. A heap of stones is invariably found at the point where the pilgrim first catches a glimpse of some hallowed spot. A second class of cairn marks the sepulchre of some great or holy man. This is distinguished by an upright staff on the top of the heap, to which are often attached certain offerings, in the shape of pieces of cloth or white rags, emblematic of mourning. The third class of cairn is very different in its signification. We read that when Absalom fled from the battle-field of Mahanaim, and was ignominiously slain by Joab, his body was flung into a pit hard by in the distant forest of Gilead, and they “laid a very great heap of stones upon him.” The victorious soldiery heaped stones, with every mark of contumely, upon his carcase. Every passer-by would pick up a stone and add it to the cairn, accompanying the act with a curse on the son who had lifted up his spear against his father. The custom remains to the present day. Every track in the wilder parts of the country is marked by occasional cairns, to which every Arab as he passes contributes, and, as he hurls his stone, curses the memory of the murderer. There is no staff or fragment of rag here. The pile tells where some robber or criminal has met his end. The heap is not high, but very wide. There is one such remarkable cairn south-east of Rabbath Ammon, to mark with opprobrium the memory of a parricide of the Adwan tribe, tradition says not how long ago. There still stands in the vale of Kedron, just below the Temple area, a sumptuous tomb hewn out of the rock, and well known to all visitors to Jerusalem as Absalom's tomb. The Jews believe that it is the monument built in the king's vale by Absalom in his lifetime for his own sepulchre. By its architecture we know that it is many centuries later than his time, and, from the Ionic pilasters round its base, cannot be earlier than the Syro-Greek period. But the Jews hold the tradition, and stones are piled against its side, cast by each passing Israelite as he invokes a curse on the rebellious Son_1:1-17 [Note: H. B. Tristram, Eastern Customs in Bible Lands, 101.]
6. The pendulum of the people's loyalty swung back to its old allegiance, and they eagerly contended for the honour of bringing the king back. Even the men of Judah, conscious of having forfeited his confidence by so readily following Absalom, repented and urged him to return. Shimei cringed at his feet. Mephibosheth established his unfaltering loyalty. Barzillai was bound to the royal house for ever by his profuse acknowledgments and the royal offers to Chimham. All seemed ending well. But one unfortunate occurrence delayed the peaceful conclusion of the whole matter. The ten tribes were greatly irritated that Judah had made and carried through all the arrangements for the king's return, and gave vent to hot, exasperating words. These the men of Judah answered with equal heat. At an inopportune moment, Sheba sounded the trumpet of sedition, and raised the cry that was destined in the days of Rehoboam again to rend the land, “Every man to his tents, O Israel.” The ten tribes immediately seceded, and another formidable revolt yawned at David's feet, which was put down only by incredible exertions on the part of Joab. The death of Sheba was the last episode in this rebellion, which was quelled in blood, and always left a scar and seam in the national life.
Many were the afflictions of God's servant, but out of them all he was delivered. When he had learnt the lesson, the rod was stayed. He had been chastened with the rod of men, and with the stripes of the children of men; but God did not take away His mercy from him as from Saul, his house, his throne, and kingdom, in spite of many conflicting forces, being made sure. Thus always-the rod, the stripes, the chastisements; but amid all the love of God, carrying out His redemptive purpose, never hasting, never resting, never forgetting, but making all things work together till the evil is eliminated, and the soul purged. Then the after-glow of blessing, the calm ending of the life in a serene sundown.1 [Note: F. B. Meyer, David, 182.]
O soul, O soul, rejoice!
Thou art God's child indeed, for all thy sinning;
A poor weak child, yet His, and worth the winning
With saviour eyes and voice.
Who spake the words? Didst Thou?
They are too good, even for such a giver:
Such water, drinking once, I should feel ever
As I had drunk but now.
Yet sure the Word said so,
Teaching our lips to cry with His, Our Father!
Telling the tale of him who once did gather
His goods to him, and go!
Ah, Thou dost lead me, God!
But it is dark and starless, the way dreary;
Almost I sleep, I am so very weary
Upon this rough hill-road.
Almost! Nay, I do sleep;
There is no darkness save in this my dreaming;
Thy fatherhood above, around, is beaming;
Thy hand my hand doth keep.2 [Note: George MacDonald, Poetical Works, i. 281.]