2 Samuel 11:1-5, 26-27; 12:1-9

There are some hard stories from the Bible.  Some of them get re-packaged as children’s bible stories with cute animals (as in the case of Noah’s ark and the destruction of all other life on the planet) or heroic escapes (as in the people crossing the Red Sea, which then covers over Pharoah’s entire army) or receiving an empty land.  We sometimes tell those stories without all the death or the harm to make them palatable – not just for children but for any of us. 

There’s kind of no getting around that this story is most certainly not for children, even when it’s grosser details are softened.  The Bible is really hard.

And yet somehow this story has been cleansed and sanitized and softened.  David is forever the scrappy kid who defeated the giant.  Or the heroic King, prominent in the family line from the patriarchs to Jesus.  But I have never been able to read the story of Bathsheba without feeling enraged.

When I was 15, I sat in a crowded service taxi in Amman Jordan – like a taxi but with a route like a bus.  Up to four people squished into the back seat.  My mom was on my left and a probably thirty-something man was on my right.  And while we drove, the man’s hand began to sneak up my leg under the coat I carried.  From my knee slowly inching further up.  I clenched my legs.  I froze.  When our stop came I bolted out after my mom.  I didn’t ever tell her.  Or anyone.  For a really long time.  

Every woman has a story like this. Or worse.  So. Much. Worse. Bathsheba’s story is worse. And if you have a story like this I want to say first is, that sucks. And it is not your fault. You are not to blame. I hope that you are able to tell that story to someone who will hear you and believe you. 

Violation of consent by privileged and entitled young men has been front and center most recently in the story of Jane Doe and the Cornell 7, that case once again enlivening the conversation about how and whether fraternities should remain an active part of campus life. About a pervasive culture of consent and misogyny and entitlement. I hope there is movement. I am not optimistic.

Memorably, when I preached on this text 8 years ago it was during the peak of the #MeToo movement and I had the testimony of Christine Blasey Ford ringing in my ears, while the man who she bravely testified against, threw a tantrum and was then essentially given a pass onto the Supreme Court. It really seems like nothing has changed. For thousands of years. 

Consent can be broken down to three words: Ask, Listen, Respect. Jane Doe and Dr Ford’s encounter and others would have gone quite differently had the young men involved followed through on those.  And I’m not talking only about bodies and touching and hugging and kissing, although autonomy over our own bodies is very basic – including hugs and kisses even from beloved kin or church members.  

Children learn this in school. We talk about it when they are small. Ask for consent, listen to the answer and respect the answer you receive.  When you want to borrow your friend’s ruler. When you want to sit by someone in the cafeteria. When you want to move your neighbor’s backpack because it’s in the way. And yet somehow by the time men become teens they have forgotten that it applies to them. They are implicitly getting a different message.

And part of the problem is the way we have rewritten even this very Bible story. The way much of history has told and retold this story is twofold – both problematic and both evident Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah.’  You know the one…maybe most famously by Jeff Buckley.  David is a hapless romantic; a “baffled king composing hallelujah,” overthrown by moonlight and beauty.  In my opinion, those don’t equal consent or negate assault.  

In fact, I think the intense, “well-meaning,” bumblers are most often given a pass because dogged pursuit – even if rebuffed – is read as romantic when from a woman’s perspective it’s just short of stalking.

And second Bathsheba is a sultry, seductress. Bathing in the open as a lure and – as in the Cohen ballad – tying the overcome David to the kitchen chair.  In fact the text is basically neutral about Bathsheba in both emotion and intent.  

It was David strolling on the roof after his nap, in his palace, at the highest point in the city with the best views, gawking into private area where Bathsheba was bathing.  And with a power such as he has, she has no course to refuse him when she is summoned.* Dave sees something he wants and takes it.  

Amy Yoder McGloughlin, who is the denominational minister for education, once shared a sermon she wrote about this story.  She says:

The lack of humanity with which David treated Bathsheba, and the lack of humanity with which we have been told this story is a symptom of a spiritual illness.  It’s a narcissism that insists on telling the story from the perspective of the powerful. It’s a narcissism that desires to be in David’s place, that wants to satisfy our own needs, rather than being present to the pain of others.  This is the same narcissism that limits even the vision of the writers of the Hebrew scripture, who cannot manage–despite their gifted writing skills–to give this woman a voice.

There is so much of Bathsheba left out of story in verse 4 and 5 alone: So David sent messengers to fetch her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she was purifying herself after her period.) Then she returned to her house. The woman conceived; and she sent and told David, ‘I am pregnant.’  Even her name is left out of much of the story. 

Layering the contemporary idea of consent onto a Biblical story is anachronistic. It doesn’t really make sense. So let’s think about this story just in term of the ten commandments and covenant.  David was familiar with all of that and even by those standards, David is the bad guy! 

He completely misuses his power in summoning and assaulting Bathsheba.  Then, without a second thought, continues to use his position to give his actions legitimacy including ensuring the death of a prominent leader in his ranks. He seems to believe that God’s blessing means he is allowed to do what he wants: shirk his duty, covet, steal, adulterate, murder. How many commandments is that?

Is there any good news? I see it Nathan.  Prophets for the win.  Nathan’s whole job is telling David, “You are acting like a garbage human.”  I mean, he doesn’t say it quite like that.  He’s more like, ” You have displeased the Lord.” (A pretty tame way of saying that God is not about cheating and killing and lying and abuse.)  And he does it in a way that David can understand – story about a vulnerable lamb for the former shepherd.

“You are the man!” proclaims Nathan.  And David finally understands – at least to a degree – what he has done.  He understands that he has violated, if not Bathsheba’s consent, (again – sadly anachronistic) certainly his relationship with Uriah, his military troops, God.

Nathan does the thing we each and every one of us – and especially men with other men – need to do. He says the thing. He finds a way to be heard.

Maybe you have heard about the recent appearance of comedian Shane Gillis on Saturday Night Live and telling a ‘joke’ that included calling women who wear short shorts in the gym whores. He thought it would be funny to take people who are minding their own business and working out and make their bodies his business.

I have seen so appreciative of the men – especially the athletes and fitness influencers and gym bros – who have called out that behavior and especially those who have connected it to a hierarchical Christian culture that reinforces ideas about who belongs where and in what kind of attire. 

On my instagram feed, one fitness dude reminded me that Jesus was more likely to tell people throwing stones at women to stop it than to condemn the woman. And a comedian pitched a whole bunch of jokes that Gillis could have told about being at the gym that would have actually been funny. 

Be those guys. Be Nathan. (Men I’m specifically picking on you, but we all sometimes need to the uncomfortable thing.) In the gym. In the group chat. At the office cooler (do we even have those any more). In Slack. 

Be the one who interrupts ‘locker room talk’ with “Don’t be gross.” or “How about we treat people like people?”  or just “Ew. Ouch.” And do not do this expecting pats on the back. Do it because “The thing he did displeased the Lord.” Do it because it is your job, because you are human and so are women. In fact I’m guessing it may even bring some blow-back but it will also give permission for people to agree. It will interrupt the cycle.

For those of us who identify as women or non-binary, it can be complicated.  Because sometimes we are more vulnerable. And because we too do have power and privilege that we can misuse because we haven’t realized.  I’m still figuring out the ways I misuse my power – as a pastor, as a parent, as a white person in a neighborhood where there are many people of color.

Ijeoma Oluo, who is a woman of color who speaks and writes on race and privilege talks in her book So You Want to Talk about Race about the complications of her own privilege – as a black women she says, she still has the privileges of being able-bodied, light-skinned, educated and informed and having a public platform. 

The good news is in Bathsheba’s story, in hearing all the awful stories of the Bible, is in also hearing – and being – the prophet’s voice.   It is understanding that God’s desire is not for destruction but for care.  A Nathan to my 15-year-old self might have noticed and said, “Get your hands off of her.  Don’t ever touch a woman in that way again.” 

And the ultimate good news is that (as much as I am annoyed by it) God is full of grace, even for David. When he understands his sin and turns toward God and the harm that he has done, he is restored to relationship. Not without consequences, for sure, but restored. 

These narratives from the Hebrew Bible are hard. May we find both our prophetic voices and the healing and restoration that is possible through God’s power.  Amen.

*  Sara Koenig, “David’s Fall From Grace: Sex and Violence in David’s House, 2 Samuel 8-12” http://blog.spu.edu/lectio/davids-fall-from-grace-sex-and-violence-in-davids-house/

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