Sermon series

A House Divided

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A House Divided” 2 Sam. 18:5-9, 15, 31-33

Jill hasn’t seen her Mom in a decade. Both of Jill’s parents have struggled with alcoholism. Addiction cast a long, painful shadow over her childhood. When Jill started her own family, she hoped that things might change. She scheduled times for her mother to visit with the kids, but there were so many no-shows or last-minute cancellations. The last straw came when Jill’s Mom offered to watch the kids for the evening so that Jill and her husband could see a concert. When they arrived home near midnight, they found Mom passed out on the couch. The kids had never gotten dinner, and the baby was crying in a dirty diaper.

Carl is estranged from his father. Dad left the family when Carl was only eight years old. There were years of shared custody with Carl bouncing back and forth between his parents. But Carl’s father has a new family with a younger wife and small children. Carl’s dad was always too busy to come to Carl’s baseball games and didn’t show up for graduation. When Carl sees his father doting on those younger children, it hurts Carl’s heart. He doesn’t understand why his Dad doesn’t love him or make time for him.

Jenny and her brother Sam stopped speaking after their parents died. Sam always felt that Jenny was their favorite. They always sang Jenny’s praises, she was included in special vacations, and she received generous gifts, including a down payment for her home. When it was time to settle their parent’s estate, Sam learned that there was nothing left. Jenny had power of attorney and had spent his inheritance on a pricey renovation of her own home.

If we come from a family with painful, broken relationships, we are not alone. Seventy to eighty percent of Americans consider their families to be dysfunctional. Issues of violence, abuse, neglect, and addiction create a toxic, traumatic environment for children. Unhealthy boundaries, the inability to give love, and poor communication also lead to breakdowns in families and leave a lasting legacy of guilt and shame. One in four people experience estrangement from a family member. One in ten people say that they have a cut off, a total disconnection, in a relationship with a parent or a child. Our homes have been divided in painful ways, and we can feel powerless to change.

Our reading from Second Samuel is a final sad chapter in a lengthy tale of dysfunction in the family of King David. Last week, we learned that David’s misconduct was to have lasting consequences for his house. This week, it proves to be true. It started with David’s treatment of the women in his life. In his bid to forge alliances and secure his dynasty, David acquired eight wives and at least eleven concubines. In a patriarchal world, where women had no standing apart from their menfolk, we can imagine the bitter rivalry and hurt feelings in David’s house as younger, more nubile women were constantly added to David’s harem. Those bitter feelings passed to children, who longed for the love of an absent and unavailable father.

The trouble with David’s second son Absalom was nine years in the making. When older half-brother and heir-apparent Amnon raped Absalom’s sister Tamar, Absalom hoped that his father David would remedy the injustice. But David didn’t. Amnon was his favorite son, so the king was unwilling to enforce any discipline. After two years of waiting for his father to act, Absalom took justice into his own hands. He struck down Amnon and fled to the neighboring Kingdom of Geshur. David ignored him. After three years, David’s general Joab engineered a reconciliation between father and son. Absalom moved home, but his father continued to ignore him. After four more years of this, Absalom left Jerusalem for Hebron. There he launched a conspiracy to usurp his father.

It almost worked. David with his loyalists fled Jerusalem just ahead of Absalom’s advancing forces. The rebellious son moved into the royal palace and raped his father’s concubines. The victory was short-lived. Absalom’s upstart army was no match for David’s seasoned warriors. In the bloodbath that unfolded in the forest of Ephraim, Absalom’s escape was foiled when his abundant tresses caught in the downward reaching branches of an oak tree. It didn’t take long for Joab and his armor bearers to dispatch the rebel, repeatedly running him through with their spears.

The sad, sad tale ends with the sound of a father’s remorse. David cries, “My son, Absalom! My son, my son, Absalom! If only I had died instead of you!” We can well imagine the self-recrimination behind David’s lamentation. If only he had punished Amnon when he violated Tamar. If only he had protected and comforted his daughter. If only he had been truly reconciled with Absalom. If only he had not allowed Absalom to languish in the vacuum left by too little love, too little kindness, too little attention.

Our family dysfunction seems pretty tame when compared to David’s household. In fact, this is such an unpleasant chapter in David’s story that we might like to skip right over it, but that wouldn’t provide us with the real picture of David, who may have had a heart for God but also made a mess of his own family. In tackling this terrible tale head-on, we are granted the opportunity to ponder our own families. I’d like to suggest a few lessons that we can glean from today’s reading—with hope that they might be helpful as we seek wholeness in the midst of dysfunction

A first lesson is that we all need helpful people and caring places where we can find support and healing. Poor Absalom, raised in a household that pitted wife against wife and child against child! Poor Absalom, waiting for justice for his sexually abused sister! Poor Absalom, longing year after year for the love of his father. Absalom needed caring people with whom he could work through his trauma. Absalom needed a safe and caring place where he could find the love that his father would never provide. Sometimes we need mentors or counselors, pastors or churches, that can help us to heal. We who have known our own broken families, we who have done our own healing work, we can offer the caring presence and unconditional love that help to mend hurting hearts.

We may also find healing when we decide to make different choices for our lives and families. Absalom repeated his father’s sins. He had Amnon killed, much as David had Uriah killed. Absalom raped his father’s concubines, just as David raped Bathsheba. The apple didn’t fall far from that tree. Yet we can choose to not repeat the sins of others. We have the power to remember, reflect, and opt to behave in very different ways. Those of us, who never knew a parent’s approval, can make sure our kids know that they are loved unconditionally. Those who grew up in households with poor communication and deep, dark secrets can opt to live in the light and speak the truth. We who are plagued by shame and guilt can grab ahold of God’s mercy and trust that the grace of our Lord Jesus is always sufficient for us.

We can also rethink family. In some cases where there is intractable abuse or unresolved addiction, in some cases where there is untimely death or even suicide, we don’t find a satisfactory resolution for the pain and brokenness of our families. Yet it may still be possible to find some measure of peace and healing through the families that we make. When Jesus’s family thought he was crazy and wanted to end his ministry by taking him back home to Nazareth, Jesus found in his friends and disciples the kinship and love that he needed. Jesus pointed to his companions and said, “Here are my mother, and brothers, and sisters.” May we find and be for one another the families of necessity that help us to heal, grow, and endure.

Finally, we can remember that we are not alone in the struggle. God is with us. God knows how it feels to be despised and rejected. God knows how it feels when addiction or greed or violence becomes the self-destructive idol of our beloved one. God knows what it is like to lose a grown son. God weeps with David over the loss of Absalom. God weeps with Jill over the chronic problem of her Mom’s alcoholism. God weeps with Carl over his absentee Dad. God weeps with Sam over the betrayal of his sister Jenny. God weeps with us in the chaos of trauma and dysfunction. We can trust that we have a holy helper. Thanks be to God.

Seventy to eighty percent of Americans may consider their families to be dysfunctional, but there is hope for us yet. May we find the helping people and places that we need. May we make some different choices for our lives. May we forge from those around us the family of our necessity. May we trust that God holds the hope and healing for a better tomorrow for our families.

Resources

Ted A. Smith. “Commentary on 2 Sam18:5-9, 15, 31-33” in Preaching This Week, August 9, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Robert Hoch. “Commentary on 2 Sam18:5-9, 15, 31-33” in Preaching This Week, August 12, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Ralph W. Klein. “Commentary on 2 Sam18:5-9, 15, 31-33” in Preaching This Week, August 9, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Timothy Adkins-Jones. “Commentary on 2 Sam18:5-9, 15, 31-33” in Preaching This Week, August 8, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Soulaima Gourani. “What Does Having A ‘Real’ Family Mean?” in Forbes Magazine, Nov. 24, 2019. Accessed online at What Does Having A “Real” Family Mean? (forbes.com)

Kui Mwai. “Why So Many People (Myself Included) Are Experiencing Family Estrangement” in Vogue: Culture, May 2, 2024. Accessed online at Why So Many People (Myself Included) Are Experiencing Family Estrangement | Vogue

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The Reckoning

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Reckoning” 2 Sam. 11:26-12:13a

We are constantly judging others. It is part of how we are hardwired as human beings, a legacy of the days when determining the safety or danger of any given situation could mean the difference between life and death. Researchers at Dartmouth and New York Universities determined that the human brain begins to label people as trustworthy or untrustworthy in a split second, even before we have time to consciously analyze what we see.

Our natural tendency to judge others is further shaped by our context. Children raised in families with critical parents learn to judge, sorting people into a ranked hierarchy from excellent to good to adequate to “you should be embarrassed by that effort.” Similarly, students, who cut their teeth in hyper-competitive schools and universities, can be ruthless in assigning value to the efforts of their classmates. We want that gold star for ourselves.

Psychologists suggest that our innate need to judge finds further reinforcement from the mental payoff that we reap. Finding others inadequate boosts our own sense of self-esteem and competency. We think, “At least I’m better than that!” Carl Jung, whose work was so formative for analytical psychology, formulated that there is a deeper and darker motivation behind our need to judge. Jung argued that we refuse to see what we do not like about ourselves, but at a deeper level, we still need to deal with those qualities and actions. So, we project those flaws onto others. We dislike and even hate in others that part of ourselves that we have denied and disowned.

In our reading from 2 Samuel, King David rushed to judgment when the Prophet Nathan told him a story of injustice. Last week, we heard the story of David’s abuse of power. While the armies of Israel waged war against the Ammonites, David stayed home and got up to no good. First, he violated and impregnated Bathsheba. Then, he had her husband Uriah murdered to cover up the sin. As today’s reading began, David thought all the mischief had been managed. He had even appeared generous and magnanimous by taking the widowed Bathsheba into the royal household and making her a wife.

There was only one problem—and it was a big one. God was a witness. God knew that the king had coveted his neighbor’s wife, committed adultery, borne false witness, and staged a murder. God didn’t like what God had seen, so a holy messenger, the Prophet Nathan, was called to confront David with his sin.

It was deftly done. David as king spent part of his day hearing the disputes of his people and rendering judgments. Nathan stood in line in the judgment hall and waited. When his turn came, he told a sad story of the abuse of power. We heard it—the rich man stole and killed the beloved pet of his impoverished neighbor without a second thought to the lamb’s suffering or the neighbor’s grief. David, who had not acknowledged the abuse and injustice of his own actions, rushed to judgment as he heard those actions attributed to another. “This man deserves to die!” the king proclaimed, unwittingly passing judgment on himself.

It’s a story that makes us want to pass our own judgments. How disappointed we are in David, who has proven that he is just as capable of misusing his authority as the last king, Saul. It’s a story that uncomfortably reveals that David is both sinner and saint. He is a rapist, murderer, liar, and predator. Yet, David is also Israel’s champion, a war hero, a poet, the anointed one, and a man with a heart for God. Humanity is complex, with the potential for so much good—and so much evil. It’s a fact that undergirds the salvation story of scripture. It stretches from God’s warning to Cain in the Garden of Eden, saying, “Sin is at your door. Its desire is to master you, but you must rule over it” (Gen. 4:7). It stretches to the cross, where Jesus took on the sin of the world so that we could be reconciled to God and one another. We are all sinners and saints.

David’s response to the parable of the ewe lamb reflects his inability to see and accept his own moral failure. We, too, find it easier to see the sins of others than to recognize our own faults. We lament and demonstrate against the humanitarian crisis in Gaza even as we arm the Israeli Defense Force. We rail against illegal immigration at our southern border even as we tank bi-partisan efforts to address the problem. We judge our neighbor’s addiction to drugs or alcohol while we soothe our anxiety with too much food or pornography or shopping ‘til we drop. Everyone is a judge. Everyone is a critic. Everyone has an inner troll, waiting to drop the bomb of condemnation on anyone other than ourselves. There’s a reason that Jesus cautioned the Pharisees when they judged his ministry and his disciples, saying that they would be better served attending to the plank in their own eye than casting aspersions against the crumb in the eye of their neighbor.

Nathan’s parable serves as a reminder that, not only are we sinner and saint, not only are we more eager to judge the fault of others than to confess our own failings, but we are also all subject to holy judgment. It’s a disquieting contention of scripture that there will be a Day of Judgment when we will be deemed sheep or goats, saints or sinners. David thought the mischief was managed. We think no one knows our sin. But God sees and God knows. In fact, our sins against one another are also sins against God. Nathan said it best in telling David, “Why have you despised the word of the Lord?” Indeed, according to the Ten Commandments, David’s sins of adultery and murder were a violation of Israel’s covenant with God and punishable by death. David knew this. That’s why when he was publicly confronted with his crimes, he confessed, “I have sinned against the Lord.” He threw himself upon the mercy of his eternal judge.

There is a lot of bad news in our scripture today: we are all both sinners and saints, we judge others and fail to accept our shortcomings, and we will one day face judgment. And yet there is good news. The good news is that God is merciful and abounding in steadfast love. When David finally faced facts, Nathan offered God’s mercy, saying, “God has taken away your sin; you will not die.” There would, of course, be consequences that sprang from David’s unjust actions. We all know what it is like to face the music of owning up to what we have done, whether we want to or not. Yet we can trust that God chooses to forgive. There is mercy for us.

We, who are hardwired to judge and have painfully experienced the judgment of others, struggle to trust in the mercy of our God. That steadfast love only becomes real for us when we remember what God has done for us in Jesus of Nazareth. The life of Jesus is an extended metaphor for the limitless love and incomparable mercy of God. In Jesus, we know that God loves us enough to become flesh, live among us, and teach us the better way of the kingdom. In Jesus, we learned that God loves us enough to generously forgive frail disciples, formidable opponents, and even the executioners who nailed him to a cross and gambled for his clothes. Who is in a position to condemn us? Only Jesus. As we celebrate the Lord’s Supper today and partake of the body and blood of our Lord, we remember that God would sooner die than be parted from us. The mercy of our Lord abounds for us. Thanks be to God.

Perhaps we come closest to Jesus and to embodying his Kingdom when we dare to allow God’s mercy to flow through us to others. When we rise above our instinct to judge, when we stop projecting onto others what we loathe in ourselves, when we understand that we are all in need of a savior, it is then that the Kingdom comes alive in life changing ways. We find the wherewithal to truly love our neighbor, and we place our hearts on the altar of God’s love where we are helped and healed and made new. May we go forth to love more and to judge less.

Resources

Dana Harron. “Why Do We Judge Other People?” in Psychology Today, Oct. 21, 2021. Accessed online at https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/living-eating-disorders/202110/why-do-we-judge-other-people

Visweswaran Balasubramanian. “Psychology of Judging – what it reveals about us” in Linked In Pulse, Dec. 8, 2020. Accessed online at https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/psychology-judging-what-reveals-us-visweswaran-balasubramanian/

Dhuvra Koranne. “The Psychology of Judging Others” in Mind Voyage, Nov. 8, 2023. Accessed online at The Psychology of Judging Others | Mind Voyage

Alexandra Sifferlin. “Our Brains Immediately Judge People” in Time Magazine, August 6, 2014. Accessed online at https://time.com/3083667/brain-trustworthiness/

Ted A. Smith. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 11:26-12:13a” in Preaching This Week, August 2, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 11:26—12:13a – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Ralph Klein. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 11:26-12:13a” in Preaching This Week, August 2, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 11:26—12:13a – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Roger Nam. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 11:26-12:13a” in Preaching This Week, August 4, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 11:26—12:13a – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

2 Samuel 11:26—12:13a

26When the wife of Uriah heard that her husband was dead, she made lamentation for him. 27When the mourning was over, David sent and brought her to his house, and she became his wife, and bore him a son. But the thing that David had done displeased the Lord,

12and the Lord sent Nathan to David. He came to him, and said to him, “There were two men in a certain city, the one rich and the other poor. 2The rich man had very many flocks and herds; 3but the poor man had nothing but one little ewe lamb, which he had bought. He brought it up, and it grew up with him and with his children; it used to eat of his meager fare, and drink from his cup, and lie in his bosom, and it was like a daughter to him. 4Now there came a traveler to the rich man, and he was loath to take one of his own flock or herd to prepare for the wayfarer who had come to him, but he took the poor man’s lamb, and prepared that for the guest who had come to him.” 5Then David’s anger was greatly kindled against the man. He said to Nathan, “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die; 6he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pity.” 7Nathan said to David, “You are the man! Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: I anointed you king over Israel, and I rescued you from the hand of Saul; 8I gave you your master’s house, and your master’s wives into your bosom, and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah; and if that had been too little, I would have added as much more. 9Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do what is evil in his sight? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and have taken his wife to be your wife, and have killed him with the sword of the Ammonites. 10Now therefore the sword shall never depart from your house, for you have despised me, and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife. 11Thus says the Lord: I will raise up trouble against you from within your own house; and I will take your wives before your eyes, and give them to your neighbor, and he shall lie with your wives in the sight of this very sun. 12For you did it secretly; but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun.” 13David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the Lord.” Nathan said to David, “Now the Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die.

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The Tangled Web

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Tangled Web” 2 Samuel 11:1-15

The abuse of power is the misuse of our authority. We may oppress other people or coerce them to do wrong. It can happen in politics, in the workplace, or even in our own homes. The 18th century French philosopher Montesquieu, who was the first to formulate the separation of powers in government, once wrote, “Constant experience shows us that every man invested with power is apt to abuse it, and to carry his authority as far as it will go.”

On the American political front, perhaps the most notorious late-twentieth-century example of abuse of power was Watergate. In 1972, President Richard Nixon and his reelection committee engaged in illegal clandestine operations and got caught. On June 17th of that year, five burglars were arrested by plainclothes police officers in the Democratic National Headquarters on the sixth floor of the Watergate office building. The team was planting listening devices and photographing files. In the investigation that followed, forty government officials were indicted. Eight went to jail, including White House staff members HR Haldeman and John Erlichman, as well as Attorney General John Mitchell. When tape recordings linked the President to the burglary and cover-up, Nixon resigned, saying that he no longer had “a strong enough political base” with which to govern.

Power is abused in the workplace. 41.4% of workers say that they have experienced psychological aggression and bullying on the job. We’ve had bosses who intentionally embarrass workers, mock their mistakes, spread stories, shout, blame, and threaten. It may go so far as sabotaging someone’s career or manipulating co-workers to join in the abuse, creating a toxic workplace. Does any of this sound uncomfortably familiar? In one study, more than half of women reported that they have been victims of unwanted sexual behavior at work. That’s an unfortunate reality that was long kept quiet until the #MeToo movement made it headline news. Powerful people in the entertainment industry, like Harvey Weinstein and Bill Cosby, have lost high-profile court cases for sexually exploiting vulnerable women.

Our scripture reading this morning is all about the abuse of power. When the Israelites demanded a king, God warned them of the consequences (1 Sam. 8). Sounding a lot like Montesquieu, God had cautioned that a king would lord it over them: take their sons and deploy them in endless battles, take their daughters “to become perfumers, cooks, and bakers,” take the best of their harvest, vineyards, slaves, and livestock. Despite this, the people clamored for a king to rule over them. Things hadn’t gone so well with the first king, Saul, but then Samuel anointed David, the shepherd boy with a heart for God.

At first, it seemed that the Lord had been overly pessimistic about human nature. David proved his loyalty to Israel and God. He defeated Goliath. He led the Israelite troops in their defeat of their enemies. He lamented the deaths of Saul and Jonathan. He earned the loyalty and respect of all twelve tribes. He sang and danced with holy joy before the Ark of the Covenant.

Yet as our reading begins, we encounter a middle-aged David. The bored king used his royal privilege to remain behind while Joab and the army lay siege to Rabbah. Unable to sleep, David spent an evening spying on his neighbors from the roof of his palace. He saw a young woman, Bathsheba, engaged in the ritual bath of purification that was practiced by observant women after their monthly cycle. Enthralled by Bathsheba’s beauty, the king sent guards to bring her to the palace where he sexually exploited her and then threw her away, sending her back to home.  David believed that his power and her shame would force her to keep the secret of his abuse. When the violated Bathsheba later sent word that she was pregnant, David further exploited his power with the proxy murder of Uriah, after the man proved to be so righteous that he would not break his vow of celibacy for battle, even when pressured to do so by his king.

It’s a terrible story. As it reaches its inevitable conclusion, David feels that all the mischief has been managed. He shows no signs of remorse. And the pregnant Bathsheba ends up married to the man who raped her and murdered her husband, a man who already had eight wives and concubines, as well as sexual access to all the servants, slaves, and prostitutes of his kingdom.

It’s interesting to look at the history of interpretation for this story. Scholars and preachers have portrayed Bathsheba as a scheming seductress, who wantonly induces the king’s desire. They have also suggested that this is a simple case of temptation, that the beauty of Bathsheba overcame the king’s better judgment, and one mistake led to another. We have even been subjected to a Hollywood retelling that casts David and Bathsheba as star-crossed lovers whose irresistible affections set into motion tragic events. Let’s be honest. Those ways of looking at the story are all ways of blaming the victim, of making the righteous Bathsheba responsible for the sexual assault that she endured when David’s guards showed up at her door to take her into custody.

Some things never change. Police and District Attorneys will tell you how very difficult it is to prosecute rape cases. Victims are characterized as promiscuous sluts. Their clothing or demeanor is said to have been “just asking for it.” And the victims themselves struggle with the shame of making public their experience of abuse—even as they are re-traumatized by cross-examination, publicity, and innuendo in the court of public opinion.

The story of David’s actions also reveals that the abuse of power has multiple victims. Bathsheba is obviously wronged. But so are the guards who must collect and deliver Bathsheba on the king’s orders. They know what will happen when she is left alone in the company of the king, without a father or husband to protect her. General Joab is caught in David’s terrible web. He must engineer the death of Uriah, a valiant and loyal soldier under his command, or face the consequences of disobeying a direct order from his king. Even the Ammonites, Israel’s enemies, are implicated as they are used to fire the arrows that will bring to fruition David’s murderous scheme.

Abuses of power have many victims. President Richard Nixon’s bid to ensure his continued power may have targeted the DNC, but look at all the people who were caught in his tangled web: the five Cuban ex-patriots who enacted the burglary, the forty White House officials who were indicted, the eight men who went jail because they acted on the President’s orders, and ultimately the American people whose trust in free and fair elections was undermined by the realities of political intrigue and abuse.

The same is true in our workplaces. Executives who exploit their power to dip into the corporate till exploit the trust of their board, rob their shareholders, and draw their families into their malfeasance. Workplace bullies harm not only the colleagues they abuse, but also their co-workers who are coopted into shunning the victim, covering up for the boss’s sins, or perpetrating their own abuse in a jobsite that becomes dog-eat-dog. Workers who are sexually harassed are wronged—and so are their spouses or their boyfriends or girlfriends, so are their children.

Perhaps what is most disturbing about how we have historically responded to stories like the one we are considering today is that it reveals our tendency to want to protect those who are in power, especially if their power serves our own interest. We blame Bathsheba instead of David. We give the pilfering CEO a golden parachute, and they move on to their next six-figure job where they do the same thing. We make excuses for the rage-a-holic boss, saying he’s just having a bad day, or she is going through a rough time at home, or look at how productive they are, making money for the company. We justify the antics of favorite politicians, thinking that while we don’t like what they say or do, at least they will ensure that the policies we prefer will be enacted.

In our summer sermon series, David has been our hero in the faith, but this week, as the power he wields goes to his head, David becomes our anti-hero. Indeed, his actions are the antithesis of our Lord Jesus, who came with the power of God almighty and chose to use that holy power to help and heal. Instead of lording it over the people, Jesus lived with and for the people, showing them the better way of love. And when he ran afoul of the powers of empire and temple, Jesus revealed the limitless breadth of that love, surrendering his power and laying down his life on the cross for us. Jesus set an example that continues to call us to responsibly use the authority that has been placed in our hands.

It is time for us to stop enabling abusers. It is time for us to honestly look at biblical stories like David and Bathsheba. It is time for us to honestly look at political and workplace misconduct and name those actions for what they truly are: abuses of power. It really is that simple. May we go forth to hold power responsibly and demand that others do the same.

Resources

Manuela Priesemuth. “Time’s Up for Toxic Workplaces” in Harvard Business Review, June 19, 2020. Accessed online at https://hbr.org/2020/06/times-up-for-toxic-workplaces

Coline de Silans. “Power tripping: what to do when someone misuses their authority at work,” in Welcome to the Jungle, Sept. 22, 2020. Accessed online at https://www.welcometothejungle.com/en/articles/preventing-power-tripping-abuse-at-work

Rick Perlstein. “Watergate Scandal” in Britannica, July 24, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.britannica.com/event/Watergate-Scandal

Richard W. Nysse. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 11:1-15” in Preaching This Week, July 26, 2009. Accessed online at  Commentary on 2 Samuel 11:1-15 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Gennifer Brooks. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 11:1-15” in Preaching This Week, July 29, 2018. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 11:1-15 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Timothy L. Adkins-Jones. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 11:1-15” in Preaching This Week, July 25, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 11:1-15 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Wil Gafney. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 11:1-15” in Preaching This Week, July 26, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 11:1-15 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

2 Samuel 11:1-15

11 In the spring when kings march out to war, David sent Joab with his officers and all Israel. They destroyed the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah, but David remained in Jerusalem.

2 One evening David got up from his bed and strolled around on the roof of the palace. From the roof he saw a woman bathing—a very beautiful woman. 3 So David sent someone to inquire about her, and he reported, “This is Bathsheba, daughter of Eliam and wife of Uriah the Hittite.”

4 David sent messengers to get her, and when she came to him, he slept with her. Now she had just been purifying herself from her uncleanness. Afterward, she returned home. 5 The woman conceived and sent word to inform David: “I am pregnant.”

6 David sent orders to Joab: “Send me Uriah the Hittite.” So Joab sent Uriah to David. 7 When Uriah came to him, David asked how Joab and the troops were doing and how the war was going. 8 Then he said to Uriah, “Go down to your house and wash your feet.” So Uriah left the palace, and a gift from the king followed him. 9 But Uriah slept at the door of the palace with all his master’s servants; he did not go down to his house.

10 When it was reported to David, “Uriah didn’t go home,” David questioned Uriah, “Haven’t you just come from a journey? Why didn’t you go home?”

11 Uriah answered David, “The ark, Israel, and Judah are dwelling in tents, and my master Joab and his soldiers are camping in the open field. How can I enter my house to eat and drink and sleep with my wife? As surely as you live and by your life, I will not do this!”

12 “Stay here today also,” David said to Uriah, “and tomorrow I will send you back.” So Uriah stayed in Jerusalem that day and the next. 13 Then David invited Uriah to eat and drink with him, and David got him drunk. He went out in the evening to lie down on his cot with his master’s servants, but he did not go home.

14 The next morning David wrote a letter to Joab and sent it with Uriah. 15 In the letter he wrote:

Put Uriah at the front of the fiercest fighting, then withdraw from him so that he is struck down and dies.

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Facing the Giant

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Facing the Giant” 1 Samuel 17

Giant stories are as old as humanity.  In that most ancient of epics The Odyssey, Homer tells the tale of Polyphemus, the gigantic, one-eyed, man-eating son of Poseidon.  As Odysseus and his crew voyaged home from the sack of Troy, they were captured by the monstrous Polyphemus. The giant ate them two at a time until the wily Odysseus outwitted Polyphemus, blinding his foe and making an escape.

Closer to home, the Algonquin people of the northern US and Canada have long told the story of the Wendigo, a giant humanoid with a heart of ice. You know the Wendigo is near by the foul smell of rotting meat and an unseasonable chill in the air. The Wendigo has an insatiable desire for human flesh. He stalks and eats people, tearing their skin with sharp claws and feasting with yellowed fangs.

When I lived in Oregon, I was told to be on the lookout for Bigfoot. The hairy, smelly, fifteen-foot-tall giant moved silently through the forest, leaving behind footprints up to 24” long and 8” wide. Spanish explorers first reported accounts of Bigfoot in the 1500s. More recently, the giant was blamed for an attack on gold prospectors on Mt. St. Helen in 1924 and the death of three migrant workers in the 1990s. A local group near the Siskiyou National Forest built a trap for the giant with reinforced concrete walls and a metal door that slid shut when sprung. They caught several bears, but no Bigfoot. When I saw the trap while hiking the Collings Mountain Trail, it was filled with empty beer cans. Either high school partiers have made it a favorite hang-out or Bigfoot has a taste for Budweiser.

Giants are huge, overwhelming, and deadly. When facing the giant, we are terrified, ready to run for our lives or paralyzed by fear. In facing the giant, we feel outmatched and hopeless. We know that we are in for the fight of our lives—and there’s a good chance that when the battle ends, we’ll be eaten.

David faced off against the Philistine giant Goliath of Gath, a hardened warrior, nearly ten-feet-tall. His armor was impregnable. A massive bronze helmet shielded his head. 125 pounds of chainmail protected his torso. Elaborate bronze grieves covered his legs. He brandished an enormous curved bronze scimitar, a massive spear with a lethal twenty-pound iron head, and a great sword—sharp enough to cut a man’s head off. For forty mornings and evenings, Goliath strode onto the field of battle and issued his terrible challenge to the Israelites—meet me in mortal combat, man-to-man, winner take all. 

The Israelites saw the mighty Goliath, heard his challenge, and were “dismayed and greatly afraid.” Their hearts raced, their knees knocked, and their bowels loosened. It was all they could do not to turn tail and run. Giants can do that to us.

We may not face Polyphemus or Bigfoot, the Wendigo or Goliath, but we all face giants. Our giants are challenges that feel ten-feet-tall. They’re problems that are huge, overwhelming, and deadly. We all have times when we feel like a frightened child, facing a monster who can eat us alive.

We face the giant of family dysfunction. Our family may look good on the outside, but we know what goes on behind closed doors. We know the harsh and hurtful words that have been spoken. We know the mortal wounds to our heart of hearts. We know the deep, dark secrets, that we guard with our lives: domestic violence, mental illness, and sexual abuse.

We know the giants of our own making, giants that grow from our choices, misguided values, or the intense pressures of our society. We wrestle with the giant of addiction to alcohol or prescription drugs, gambling or cigarettes. We struggle with workplace giants—the mind-numbing work we cannot leave; the beastly boss who threatens and bullies; the soul-stealing ethical corners we cut to find a better bottom line. We battle with the giant of debt, born of greed, over-consumption, student loans, or simply keeping up with the Joneses.

We know the giants who invade. These are the giants who come uninvited, armed with catastrophe, the giants of accident, injury, and disability. We battle the giants of chronic disease: diabetes and COPD, heart trouble and arthritis. We tremble before the giant of cancer that multiplies uninvited within our bodies in a silent deadly tide.

We all have giants. We stand before them, feeling like those Israelites did as Goliath called them to a fight to the death, winner take all. Our giants inspire fear, hopelessness, and despair. The giant bellows its challenge and our hearts race and guts churn. We’re ready to run and hide because the odds seem good that we’ll soon be eaten.

When Goliath issued his challenge for the eighty-first time, David heard. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by Goliath, David took action. He offered his service as Israel’s champion. There was only one problem. David was the least likely person in the Valley of Elah to take on a giant—just a boy, all peach fuzz, baby fat, and gangly arms and legs. He had never been in combat before. And those stories he told about battling lions and bears with his bare hands—they sound like exaggerations at best or as Hebrew scholar John Holbert suggests, “egregious lies.”

When Saul tried to suit the boy up with the proper armor to give him a fighting chance, the kid couldn’t even walk. So, David went into battle armed only with the rustic weapons that he used to keep his flock safe—his staff, a sling shot, and five stones. As the gigantic Goliath and little David faced off at the line of battle, talking trash to one another, the Philistines rubbed their hands thinking of the spoils of war, while the whole host of Israel prepared for the worst.

Then, the impossible happened. When Goliath lumbered out, brandishing his weapons of death, David ran to meet his enemy.The stone he slung found the only chink in the giant’s impregnable armor. Goliath crumbled to the ground. Before you could say Polyphemus or Bigfoot, Wendigo or Goliath, David used the giant’s own sword to cut off his huge head, and it was the Philistines—not the Israelites—who ran for their lives.

That David, he knew how to face the giant. He has a few lessons to teach us. Are we ready?

To start with, we must face the giant. Even though we don’t want to, even though every bone in our body shouts NO, face the giant we must. Because if we don’t, then we pass on to the next generation a legacy of family dysfunction.  If we don’t, our addiction destroys our health and our family. If we don’t, the stress of our toxic workplace causes a heart attack that robs us of our retirement.  If we don’t, our health declines as we deny our diagnosis, light another cigarette, help ourselves to that slice of cake, or ignore the blood in our stool. Refusing to face the giant limits us to a life of fear in which we are either paralyzed or on the run. If we won’t face the giant, then we aren’t really free to live because the giant is the one who drives our bus.

David’s second lesson in giant killing is that we don’t have to be a hero to face the giant. We don’t need to be the biggest and strongest. We don’t need to have the best and most glorious resources at our fingertips—the bronze helmet, the coat of mail, the king’s sword. When we face the giant, we feel inadequate—all peach fuzz and baby fat. But God has given us gifts and abilities that can be effective in taking on giants. If you ask a friend to name your gifts, they’ll come up with a lengthy list—persistence, moral courage, honesty, faith, friends, a voice that can speak the truth, the ability to ask for help. God gives us the gifts and the grit to take a stand. Believe it, my friends.

David’s third lesson in giant killing is that when we face trouble, we must call on the name of the Lord. In facing our giants, we think it’s all up to us. We roll up our sleeves, stiffen our upper lip, and wade into battle alone. Our self-reliance is a little like Goliath, relying on his brute strength and impressive weapons. Look where that got him. We forget that the most valuable resources in facing our giants are spiritual. We can wade into battle with the name of the great God of Israel upon our lips, the God who does not save by sword and spear. We can place our giants squarely in the hands of the almighty God, who wins the victory, even over death. We can trust that through Jesus the powers of sin and evil have already been defeated, the battle has been won for us. That doesn’t mean we’ll be instantly delivered from all that frightens and holds us captive, yet it does mean that we can face trouble head-on with confidence because the Lord is more than a match for our giants. Can I get an, “Amen”?

Everyone knows a few giant stories, don’t we? Giants are huge, overwhelming, and deadly. Facing the giant, we feel outmatched and hopeless, like we are in for the fight of our lives. It’s a good thing we’ve had some lessons in giant killing from David this morning. May we go forth to face our giants. May we trust in our God-given gifts and abilities. May we remember that God is always at work. With the Lord’s help, there is no giant that we cannot face. Thanks be to God.

Resources

John C. Holbert. “In the Name of YHWH” in Opening the Old Testament, 2005. Accessed online at In The Name Of YHWH? Reflections On 1 Samuel 17:1A, 4-11, 19-23, 32-39 (patheos.com)

Ralph W. Klein. “Commentary on 1 Samuel 17” in Preaching This Week, June 21, 2009. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-12-2/commentary-on-1-samuel-171-4-11-19-23-32-49-2

Samuel Giere, Jr. “Commentary on 1 Samuel 17” in Preaching This Week, June 24, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on 1 Samuel 17:[1a, 4-11, 19-23] 32-49 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Roger Nam. “Commentary on 1 Samuel 17” in Preaching This Week, June 21, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on 1 Samuel 17:[1a, 4-11, 19-23] 32-49 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

1 Samuel 17:[1a, 4-11, 19-23] 32-49

17Now the Philistines gathered their armies for battle; 4And there came out from the camp of the Philistines a champion named Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. 5He had a helmet of bronze on his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail; the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of bronze. 6He had greaves of bronze on his legs and a javelin of bronze slung between his shoulders. 7The shaft of his spear was like a weaver’s beam, and his spear’s head weighed six hundred shekels of iron; and his shield-bearer went before him. 8He stood and shouted to the ranks of Israel, “Why have you come out to draw up for battle? Am I not a Philistine, and are you not servants of Saul? Choose a man for yourselves, and let him come down to me. 9If he is able to fight with me and kill me, then we will be your servants; but if I prevail against him and kill him, then you shall be our servants and serve us.” 10And the Philistine said, “Today I defy the ranks of Israel! Give me a man, that we may fight together.” 11When Saul and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and greatly afraid. 19Now Saul, and they, and all the men of Israel, were in the valley of Elah, fighting with the Philistines. 20David rose early in the morning, left the sheep with a keeper, took the provisions, and went as Jesse had commanded him. He came to the encampment as the army was going forth to the battle line, shouting the war cry. 21Israel and the Philistines drew up for battle, army against army. 22David left the things in charge of the keeper of the baggage, ran to the ranks, and went and greeted his brothers. 23As he talked with them, the champion, the Philistine of Gath, Goliath by name, came up out of the ranks of the Philistines, and spoke the same words as before. And David heard him.] 32David said to Saul, “Let no one’s heart fail because of him; your servant will go and fight with this Philistine.” 33Saul said to David, “You are not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him; for you are just a boy, and he has been a warrior from his youth.” 34But David said to Saul, “Your servant used to keep sheep for his father; and whenever a lion or a bear came, and took a lamb from the flock, 35I went after it and struck it down, rescuing the lamb from its mouth; and if it turned against me, I would catch it by the jaw, strike it down, and kill it. 36Your servant has killed both lions and bears; and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be like one of them, since he has defied the armies of the living God.” 37David said, “The Lord, who saved me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, will save me from the hand of this Philistine.” So Saul said to David, “Go, and may the Lord be with you!” 38Saul clothed David with his armor; he put a bronze helmet on his head and clothed him with a coat of mail. 39David strapped Saul’s sword over the armor, and he tried in vain to walk, for he was not used to them. Then David said to Saul, “I cannot walk with these; for I am not used to them.” So David removed them. 40Then he took his staff in his hand, and chose five smooth stones from the wadi, and put them in his shepherd’s bag, in the pouch; his sling was in his hand, and he drew near to the Philistine. 41The Philistine came on and drew near to David, with his shield-bearer in front of him. 42When the Philistine looked and saw David, he disdained him, for he was only a youth, ruddy and handsome in appearance. 43The Philistine said to David, “Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?” And the Philistine cursed David by his gods. 44The Philistine said to David, “Come to me, and I will give your flesh to the birds of the air and to the wild animals of the field.” 45But David said to the Philistine, “You come to me with sword and spear and javelin; but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. 46This very day the Lord will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you down and cut off your head; and I will give the dead bodies of the Philistine army this very day to the birds of the air and to the wild animals of the earth, so that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel, 47and that all this assembly may know that the Lord does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.” 48When the Philistine drew nearer to meet David, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet the Philistine. 49David put his hand in his bag, took out a stone, slung it, and struck the Philistine on his forehead; the stone sank into his forehead, and he fell face down on the ground.

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Dance Like No One Is Watching

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Dance Like No One Is Watching” 2 Sam. 6:1-5, 12b-19

In his first letter to Timothy, the Apostle Paul described God as eternal, immortal, and invisible, beyond the full understanding of us, mere mortals. Yet, we have all had moments when we have sensed that we are truly in the presence of the holy. During my first year in seminary, I often worshipped at the Rockefeller Chapel of the University of Chicago. The chapel is more cathedral than church, a cavernous stone space with soaring gothic architecture and somber-hued stained glass in shades of grey, blue, and purple. High above the chancel, though, is the “Light and Fire” window, a dazzling multi-colored stained-glass window, a gift of the class of 1928. Five tongues of flame surge forth from a swirling center of white and yellow, which seems to pulse against a sea of blues. To me, it looked like the moment that God sent creation hurtling across the multiverse with a big bang, or perhaps the burning bush that beckoned to Moses, or the light of Pentecost breaking forth upon waiting disciples. It invited me to a place of reverent awe, to a glimpse of the creator who lies both within and beyond creation.

I know some of you have similarly sensed the holy in creativity. You have been drawn into deep contemplation by Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling where the hand of God reaches forth to the waking Adam. Or, you have heard the voice of angels while listening Bach’s St. Matthew Passion in the heart-rending aria “Lord, Have Mercy on Me,” Erbarma Dich.

For others, the nearness of God is sensed in family and human connection. We know there is a God in the wonder of love and the mystery of two made one, who somehow become so much more. We marvel at the numinous in the birth of a baby or the sweet scent of our child’s neck when they reach up to embrace us as we tuck them into bed. We feel something holy when all the generations gather at the holiday dinner table and harmony abounds.

For many of us who call the Adirondacks home, we know the Creator in the creation. As I was writing this message, I looked out the window of my home study to see birch leaves rippling in the summer breeze and a blue heron flying above, wide wings languidly moving, long legs trailing elegantly behind. Praise the Lord. We have glimpsed God on the mountaintop with the Cascade chain of lakes stretched out at our feet, or while paddling our canoes on still waters to the scold of the kingfisher, or while pulling over to watch the sunset’s ebb over Lake Colby.

We may even feel the presence of God right here, in these pews that curve like an embrace. We feel the nearness of God in the sharing of joys and concerns and the offering of prayers. We sense God’s love in the love of a church family that blesses us with compassion in grief and hot meals in times of recovery. We know the faithfulness of God in the remembrance of those who have sat in these pews long before us and in the anticipation of those who will one day follow us.

God is, indeed, eternal, immortal, and invisible, beyond the full understanding of us, mere mortals. Yet we are not strangers to the holy. We all have stories that we could tell.

For our Israelite ancestors, God was known in the Ark of the Covenant. Built in accordance with the instructions that God imparted to Moses on Mt. Sinai, the ark was an acacia wood box, overlaid with finely wrought gold, that held the stone tablets of the Ten Commandments (Ex. 37:1-9). It was topped by the mercy seat – two golden cherubim with wings outstretched to meet in the middle. There, the Israelites believed, the eternal, immortal, and invisible God was enthroned.

The ark traveled with the Hebrew people through the wilderness, led them over Jordan, and circled the walls of Jericho until they came tumbling down. The ark was carried into battle, unleashing destructive power against the enemies of Israel. So powerful was the ark that, when it was captured by the Philistines, it continued to fight—unleashing a wave of plague so merciless that the Philistines gave the ark back. As peace found Israel, the ark’s military adventures came to an end, and it rested in a tent sanctuary, all but forgotten by the people.

David had ruled the united tribes for seven years. Together, they had finally won a decisive battle against the Philistines and were acknowledged as a growing military and economic power on the stage of the ancient Near East. The crafty David had forged alliances by adding wives and concubines to his growing royal retinue. He had fathered seventeen sons, and we’ll never know how many daughters. The City of David, Jerusalem, shone as a light on a hill, a symbol of just how far those former slaves had come since leaving behind the bondage of Egypt.

Today’s reading gives us a feeling for the gratitude that David felt. On the threshold of middle age, David took stock of his rise from youngest son and shepherd boy to the leader of a mighty nation.  David knew that he had God to thank. And in a moment of deep spiritual understanding, David realized that the Ark of the Covenant must be at the center of the life of Israel. Only the ark could be a visible reminder that all they had and all that they were as a nation came from God alone, eternal, immortal, invisible, omnipotent.

So, David traded his royal robes for the simple linen ephod (loin cloth) of the humblest of priests, and he led the people in an ecstatic rite of worship to bring the Ark of the Covenant from the forgotten margins of history to the very heart of the nation. With gratitude and awe, David poured out his soul, lifting his voice in song and allowing his feet to find the rhythm of praise. Soon, all of Israel followed along in a dizzying parade of thanksgiving. The blood of sacrifice was poured out, in seemingly endless libation. It was a scandalous, over-the-top, decadent display, so impassioned that it made the queen blush when, ten miles into the parade, she saw her battle-scarred husband, sweat-soaked, blood-spattered, nearly-naked, hobbling along and croaking songs of praise. The scripture says that everyone got blessed and fed. They returned to their homes remembering the goodness of God and the rightness of their thanks and praise.

We no longer have the Ark of the Covenant at the center of Jerusalem as a reminder of all that God has done for us. Some say it was carried off in the Babylonian invasion, when the Lord left Israel to the consequence of their sin and disobedience. Others say that it was hidden by priests somewhere, deep below the holy city and will one day be unearthed. Fans of Indiana Jones winkingly argue that the ark is in permanent storage, crated and long-forgotten in a government warehouse. Our assurance that God is with us no longer comes from the ark. It’s found in our Lord Jesus, who promised his disciples that he would always be with us, even to the end of time. It’s found in the Holy Spirit, who fills us with the sacred awareness that allows us to see beyond the ordinary to the extraordinary.

David’s story is a powerful reminder to remember that all we have and all we are is a gift from God. The almighty, eternal, immortal, invisible, and only wise God is everywhere and all the time. God continues to claim God’s place at the center of our hearts and our lives. Our ancestors in the Reformed Faith affirmed this in 1648, when they wrote the first question and answer to the Westminster Shorter Catechism, “What is the chief end of humanity? Our chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy God forever.” Indeed, the Reformers saw in our worship, here and now, a dim anticipation of the endless rejoicing that we will one day know in that far brighter light, on that far better shore.

May we hear David’s invitation to praise and give thanks for all that the Lord has done for us. We don’t have to strip down to our linen ephod. We don’t have to dance like no one is watching. We don’t have to sing ourselves hoarse. We don’t have to offer up bloody sacrifices. We don’t have to scandalize the neighbors.

Instead, we can take the time to notice, name, and rejoice in the goodness of God that finds us every day. We can shed tears of joy and reverence in listening to music that makes our spirit soar. We can hold the littlest member of the family close and dance around the living room. We can raise our arms at the mountain summit or the paddle’s end and wiggle our fingers in the jazz hands of joy or pump our fist in the acknowledgement of majesty. We can make a point of singing a daily doxology to the Lord, who sits enthroned upon the cherubim and finds a home in our hearts.

Let’s take time this week to praise and delight in the Lord, shifting God from the forgotten corners of our lives to the very center of our being, right where God belongs.

Resources

Richard Nysse. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 6:1-5, 12b-19” in Preaching This Week, July 12, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Samuel Giere. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 6:1-5, 12b-19” in Preaching This Week, July 15, 2018. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Amy G. Oden. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 6:1-5, 12b-19” in Preaching This Week, July 11, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Klaus-Peter Adam. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 6:1-5, 12b-19” in Preaching This Week, July 14, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19

6David again gathered all the chosen men of Israel, thirty thousand. 2David and all the people with him set out and went from Baale-judah, to bring up from there the ark of God, which is called by the name of the Lord of hosts who is enthroned on the cherubim. 3They carried the ark of God on a new cart, and brought it out of the house of Abinadab, which was on the hill. Uzzah and Ahio, the sons of Abinadab, were driving the new cart 4with the ark of God; and Ahio went in front of the ark. 5David and all the house of Israel were dancing before the Lord with all their might, with songs and lyres and harps and tambourines and castanets and cymbals. 12It was told King David, “The Lord has blessed the household of Obed-edom and all that belongs to him, because of the ark of God.” So, David went and brought up the ark of God from the house of Obed-edom to the city of David with rejoicing; 13and when those who bore the ark of the Lord had gone six paces, he sacrificed an ox and a fatling. 14David danced before the Lord with all his might; David was girded with a linen ephod. 15So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting, and with the sound of the trumpet. 16As the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal daughter of Saul looked out of the window and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord; and she despised him in her heart. 17They brought in the ark of the Lord, and set it in its place, inside the tent that David had pitched for it; and David offered burnt offerings and offerings of well-being before the Lord. 18When David had finished offering the burnt offerings and the offerings of well-being, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord of hosts, 19and distributed food among all the people, the whole multitude of Israel, both men and women, to each a cake of bread, a portion of meat, and a cake of raisins. Then all the people went back to their homes.

“Light and Fire,” Rockefeller Memorial Chapel, University of Chicago