Jeremy L. Berg

As we near the end of our “Life of David” series, a member of my church made a comment that arrested me in my tracks this past week: “I hope pastor doesn’t end the series now that we’ve gotten to the ugly, less inspiring part of David’s life.” Guilty! I was totally ready to end the series.

We already watched as Samuel anointed the youngest brother because while “people look at the outward appearance, God looks at the heart.”

We marveled at the faith of the small shepherd boy who defeated the giant Goliath.

We joined David as he penned prayers in his caves of despair being chased by Saul.

We sang and danced with David as he brought the ark of God to Jerusalem.

We sat in awed silence as God made an everlasting Covenant with the House of David.

Then we watched in horror as David committed adultery with Bathsheba and murdered Uriah.

The story from here on out is a slow motion train wreck as David’s sin and its consequences has a ripple effect that spreads to his children. The active and decisive David of the first half of the story gives way to a passive and indecisive David who fails to confront his sons Absalom and Amnon with their own sin that wreaks havoc on the household and his kingdom.

The second half of 2 Samuel is not brimming with raw material for inspiring sermons and group discussion, so I was ready to wrap things up. Plus, the next chapter (13) staring me in the face was the disturbing account of David’s firstborn son, Amnon, and his sickening lust for his half-sister, Tamar, and the detailed account of the rape that followed.

I thought I could make a passing reference to this story, and move swiftly on. But the comment of my friend and the following words of Bruce Birch in his commentary stopped me in my tracks and changed my plans for this past Sunday:

This text is not read publicly in the church, and it is seldom preached… It is as if the silence counseled by Absalom (2 Sam 13:20) has extended through the centuries to the present. It is easy to easy to understand why the story has been ignored. We do not like to be faced with the brutal realities of which this story speaks.

The counsel of silence mentioned here is when Tamar’s brother Absalom comes to her aid after her rape. He seems to know what Amnon has done, and he is enraged. He will eventually avenge his sister by killing his half-brother. But his words to his abused and humiliated sister echo down through the centuries, and continue to be the counsel of men in places of power:

“Keep this quiet for now; he is your brother. You don’t want to tarnish the name of our royal family.”

“What he did was wrong, but you don’t want your brother to go to jail.”

“What the pastor did to you was wrong, but you don’t want to ruin the reputation of our entire ministry by going public with this. Think of all the good ministry that will be jeopardized if you speak out.”

Men in places of power and leadership have too often silenced stories of abuse like Tamar’s. So I felt very convicted that I was about to skip over her story, sweep it under the rug, move quickly to a more uplifting and less disturbing text for our Sunday gathering. I was about to become one more man in spiritual leadership failing to let Tamar’s story be told.

I changed course, and we spent last night in a circle reading and marveling at the courage and wisdom Tamar demonstrated in her tragic story of sexual abuse. Compared the literary portrayal of Bathsheba who is passive and doesn’t speak, Tamar is vocal, strong, defiant and refuses to slink away in humiliated silence. Her innocence is taken, but her voice or agency is not. Honor Tamar today by reading her story in 2 Sam 13:1-22.

Here are a few highlights from my slides taken from Bruce Birch in the New Interpreter’s Commentary:

“If the church can be the place of such reading and such voicing, then there is hope that the church might provide a community prepared to take action against continued patterns of violence against women in our culture and to stand in caring support of those who have already been victimized.”

“We have little choice but to attend to the drama of tragedy in David’s house and power politics in David’s kingdom, for David is the fascination and focus of the books of Samuel. Nevertheless, we can also choose to see the tragedy and pain of Tamar the person in spite of the narrator’s emphasis on her rape as the excuse for Absalom’s revenge. We need not victimize Tamar again by failing to to note her courage and resourcefulness in the face of danger or by refusing to acknowledge the full reality of the suffering and humiliation inflicted upon her, not only by Amnon, who raped her, but also by David and Absalom, who see her tragedy primarily as a complication in kingdom politics.” 

A vivid picture is painted when Tamar refuses to go quietly, but “rips” the special garment virgins wore in those days to announce their sexual purity and marriageability, and cries out loudly in the street for all to hear.

“Tamar will not participate in a conspiracy of silence.  She boldly makes public what Amnon has done and forces the world of power and kingdom to face the reality of this violence and her humiliation” (Birch, NIB).

This torn and tattered pure white garment of Tamar’s sends us running to the New Testament in search of a gospel and redemption note, where we find Christ clothing his redeemed Bride, the church, with a “pure, spotless” and radiant robe in the Book of Revelation. In baptism, believers are said to be washed clean and “clothed with Christ.”

But we still live in the shadowy domain where innocence is too often stolen and our unique, precious God-adorned garments stained by sin. In the land of sinister shadows lurking in violent corners, we can shine the light of hope and healing by giving voice to Tamar and letting her story be told.

In her book The Cry of Tamar (1995), Pamela Cooper-White highlights how “shockingly timeless” Tamar’s story remains when we examine the pattern of abuse:

• Tamar was sexually assaulted, not by a stranger, but by someone she knew.
• The violation took place not in a dark alley or in a desolate park, but by a family member in his home.
• Tamar was exploited through one of her most vulnerable traits—her kindness and her upbringing to take care of the other.
• Tamar said no; her no was not respected.
• When Tamar sought help, she was told to keep quiet.
• Process for achieving justice & restitution was taken out of her hands & carried forward by her brother—it became men’s business.
• In the end, it was her perpetrator for whom her father mourned, not for her.

While it was a heavy discussion in the circle last night, I think God was pleased that Tamar’s story was read and not swept under the rug.

But not much has changed. Men in places of power still get away with boasting they can “grab a woman by [their privates]” (Donald Trump) without remorse or consequence. Men with a public record of serial adultery are given cabinet positions. Worst of all, men like David who claim to be spiritual leaders “after God’s own heart” prove spineless, silent, paralyzed and unwilling to confront such sin in the royal palace. Worse, some excuse it, justify, minimize it in the name of God claiming he is “God’s anointed.”

Let us not choose silence or complicity in days of palace corruption. Let us give voice to the voiceless, tell the stories of the Tamars in our midst, and shine the light of justice and warning of the coming judgment of Christ on all such unrepentant sin.

We closed our gathering watching Jesus protect the woman caught adultery from a crowd of men ready to cast stones. And we finished with Holy Communion, reminded of his sacrificial death that took the weight of all abuse, past and present, onto himself on the cross. On the third day, he rose again in dazzling white and is now in a mission to call all sinners — the abused and the abusers — into his orbit of grace and forgiveness and redemption.