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Commentary Index | Return to PrayerRequest.com | DownloadGreater Men and Women of the Bible by James Hastings: 318. The Rebellion and the End
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The Rebellion and the End
1. The place chosen for the rising was Hebron, both on account of the facilities it offered for retreat in case of failure, and as the city where formerly a new royalty had been instituted by David himself; perhaps also as the birthplace of Absalom, and, as has been suggested, because the transference of the royal residence to Jerusalem may have left dissatisfaction in Hebron. Absalom obtained the king's permission to go thither, on pretence of paying a vow made at Geshur. It was a clever device for entrapping two hundred influential persons from Jerusalem to invite them to accompany him, on pretext of taking part in the sacrificial feast. When they arrived at Hebron, the mask was thrown off, and the conspiracy rapidly assumed most formidable proportions.
The pretext of the sacrifice at Hebron, in pursuance of a vow made by Absalom in his exile, was meant to touch David's heart in two ways-by appealing to his devotional feelings, and by presenting a pathetic picture of his suffering and devout son vowing in the land where his father's wrath had driven him. Absalom talking about his vow is a spectacle that might have made the most unsuspecting sure that there was something in the wind. Such a use of religious observances shows, more than anything else could do, the utter irreligion of the man who could make it.1 [Note: A. Maclaren.]
Among the very curious grown-up people into whose company I was thrown, although many were frail and some were foolish, none, so far as I can discern, were hypocritical. I am not one of those who believe that hypocrisy is a vice that grows on every bush. Of course, in religious more than in any other matters, there is a perpetual contradiction between our thoughts and our deeds which is inevitable to our social order, and is bound to lead to “cette tromperie mutuelle” of which Pascal speaks. But I have often wondered, while admiring the splendid portrait of Tartufe, whether such a monster ever, or at least often, has walked the stage of life; whether Molière observed or only invented him. To adopt a scheme of religious pretension, with no belief whatever in its being true, merely for sensuous advantage, openly acknowledging to one's inner self the brazen system of deceit-such a course may, and doubtless has been, trodden, yet surely much less frequently than cynics love to suggest.2 [Note: Edmund Gosse, Father and Song of Solomon, 233.]
2. The news of Absalom's revolt came on David like a thunderclap out of a clear sky. It struck him unsuspecting and utterly unprepared. David's rule must have excited discontent not only in Judah but also in the rest of Israel. He appears, for the moment, to have been able to count on but little support west of the Jordan, beyond his six hundred trusted veterans. It seems to have been only the east, which before held so fast by the house of Saul, that now remained true to him likewise. He did not feel himself sufficiently safe from a sudden attack by Absalom, even in his capital, strong as it was, and so he determined to abandon it. He was accompanied by the faithful Cherethites and Pelethites, to whom were added on this occasion a body of Gittites who had probably formed part of David's followers in the old days at Ziklag. The offer of Zadok and Abiathar to accompany him with the ark was declined, and Hushai was also directed to remain at Jerusalem and do his utmost to defeat the counsel of Ahithophel.
This was the darkest hour in David's life. No more pathetic page is found in the Old Testament than that which tells the story of his flight before Absalom. He is crushed by the consciousness that his punishment is deserved-the bitter fruit of the sin that filled all his later life with darkness. His courage and his buoyancy have left him. He has no spirit to make a stand or strike a blow. If Shimei runs along the hillside abreast of him, shrieking curses as he goes, all he says is, “Let him curse, because the Lord hath said unto him, Curse David.”
3. Meanwhile Absalom made a triumphal entry into Jerusalem, and took formal possession of the royal palace and harem. This step destroyed the last chance of a reconciliation between the king and his son. The usurper, however, had not the wisdom to use his advantage effectively. By yielding to the crafty advice of Hushai and delaying an attack, Absalom gave David time to concentrate his loyal followers at Mahanaim, the former capital of Ishbosheth. Ahithophel, who instantly realized that this policy of inaction would be fatal to Absalom's hopes, forthwith destroyed himself. The decisive battle between the loyalists and the rebels was fought shortly afterwards near Mahanaim. Amasa, who had espoused the cause of Absalom, led the rebel army to an attack upon David's forces, which occupied a strong position in the forest of Ephraim. The issue of the battle could not be doubtful. Absalom and Amasa at the head of a large and undisciplined force were no match for David's generals. The great Israelite army was forced to retreat into a wood and was destroyed piecemeal. “The battle was there scattered over the face of all the country: and the wood devoured more people that day than the sword devoured.” It was in the forest that Absalom met his doom. Riding at full speed on his royal mule he suddenly met a detachment of David's army, and darting aside through the wood, was caught by the head-possibly entangled by his long hair-between the thick boughs of an overhanging tree, known by the name of “The Great Terebinth.” He was swept into the branches, and there remained suspended. None of the ordinary soldiers ventured to attack the helpless prince. Joab alone took upon himself the responsibility of breaking David's orders. He and his ten attendants formed a circle round the gigantic tree, enclosing its precious victim, and first by his three darts, then by their swords, accomplished the bloody work. Hard by was a well-known ditch or pit, of vast dimensions. Into this the corpse was thrown, and covered by a huge mound of stones. Mussulman legends represent hell as yawning at the moment of his death beneath the feet of the unhappy prince. The modern Jews, as they pass the monument in the valley of the Kidron, to which they have given his name, have buried its sides deep in the stones which they throw against it in execration.
The great heap of stones over the pit into which Absalom was thrown was not raised in honour of the king's son, but in detestation of the traitor's enormous crime: and you will find miniature heaps of the same kind and significance all over the country. It is a widespread custom for each one as he passes the spot where any notorious murderer has been buried, to cast a stone upon it. I have often seen this done, and, yielding to the popular indignation, have thrown my stone with the rest. I am reminded of all this by the conduct of my guide, who has actually dismounted to spit upon this heap, and add his pebble to the growing pile. He says the wretch who lies buried there was a notorious robber who infested this road, and committed many cruel murders; and he is using the incident to enforce his admonitions upon us to keep together in this part of our ride, which we will of course conform to as long as it suits our purpose.1 [Note: W. M. Thomson, The Land and the Book (Revised ed., 1910), 489.]
4. The mode of Absalom's death, as well as the mode of his burial, was very significant. It had probably never happened to any warrior, or to any prince, to die from a similar cause. And but for the vanity that made him think so much of his bodily appearance, and especially of his hair, death would never have come to him in such a form. His bitterest enemy could have desired nothing more ludicrously tragical than to see those beautiful locks fastening him as with a chain of gold to the arm of the scaffold, and leaving him dangling there like the most abject malefactor. And what of the beautiful face and handsome figure that often, doubtless, led his admirers to pronounce him every inch a king? So slashed and mutilated under the swords of Joab's ten men that no one could have told that it was Absalom that lay there. This was God's judgment on the young man's vanity.
The great pit among the sombre trees, where his bloody corpse was hastily flung, with three darts through his heart, and the rude cairn piled over it, were a very different grave from the ostentatious tomb “in the king's dale,” which he had built to keep his memory green. This was what all his restless intrigues and unbridled passions and dazzling hopes had come to. He wanted to be remembered, and he got his wish; but what a remembrance! That gloomy pit preaches anew the vanity of “vaulting ambition which o'erleaps itself,” and tells us once more that
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust.1 [Note: A. Maclaren,]
5. Tidings of his son's end were carried to David at Mahanaim by Ahimaaz, the son of Zadok, and a certain Ethiopian; and his distress was so great that the conquering troops, instead of returning in triumph, slunk into the city like beaten men. It was not until Joab addressed the king in tones of threatening remonstrance that he roused himself from his grief and bore himself gratefully towards those whose loyalty had stood between him and the sword of his unworthy son.
Even before he could himself read its stories, or understand thoroughly any of its pictured scenes, some of the sayings of the Bible had fallen upon an ear which felt, even in infancy, the charm which dwells in the cadence of choice and tender words. He was but three years old, when one evening, after it had grown dark, missed and sought for, he was found alone in the nursery, pacing up and down, excited and absorbed, repeating to himself as he walked to and fro the words of David-“O my son Absalom! O Absalom, my son, my son!”2 [Note: W. Hanna, Memoirs of Dr. Chalmers, i. 8.]
“Oh my son Absalom, my son, my son!
Would I had died for thee!” Thus up the stair
Above the gate he groaned in his despair
At tidings of that fatal victory won;
All the dark deeds which Absalom had done
Merged in sweet memories of his countenance fair;
The father's heart entangled in that hair,
Whose golden sheen outvied the orient sun.
Rebel, undutiful, ingrate, unkind,
All was forgotten in that one word-Child;
The father's eyes with tears of love were blind.
So we, God's rebel children, sin-defiled,
Round our Great Father's pitiful heart entwined,
By yearning, dying Love are reconciled.1 [Note: Richard Wilton.]