2 Samuel 18:19--19:8 · David Mourns
A Grief Observed
2 Samuel 18:19--19:8
Sermon
by Roger Prescott
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Introduction

When King David learned that yet another of his sons had died, even though he had been a rebellious and unloyal one, it broke his heart. He could not be comforted with the thought that he had regained his kingdom. All he could do was to cry in his broken anguish

"O my son Absalom, my Son, my Son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!"

- 2 Samuel 18:33

These words have echoed down the centuries ever since they were uttered and they are one of the most distressing scenes in all literature. David’s deep anguish arises not only out of the death of his son, but out of his own failure as a father. Many a father in today’s world can identify with this. Successful in our own vocations and work world, we find it more difficult to be a "successful" parent.

"O my son Absalom!" This heartbreaking cry - this grief observed - points out several things we need to know. (1) It makes clear that the Bible can be read for its human drama; (2) it reminds us that it’s okay to cry; and (3) it reveals the agony of knowing what might have been.

1. The Bible as human drama

The Bible does not play down the deep reality of human emotions. All of its characters behave almost too humanly. The loss of yet another well-loved son was a matter of almost unbearable sorrow for David. And in this sorrow we see how he shares common humanity with all the rest of us.

From the parting of the waters of the Red Sea ...

Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea; and the Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night, and made the sea dry land, and the waters were divided.

- Genesis 14:21

... to the return of the Prodigal Son ...

"Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet ... for this my son was dead, and is alive again ..."

- Luke 15:22-24

... to Nathan’s piercing words to David ...

"You are the man."

- 2 Samuel 12:7

The Scripture is filled with as high and dramatic moments as could ever be known.

And now King David emotes his most plaintiff cry ...

"O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom!"

- 2 Samuel 18:33

Dramatic, powerful stuff, all this. In one sense David was a victim of his own greatness, of a strong will that urged him to scale the tempting heights of power. Yet, in spite of his drive for success and national glory, he was never lacking in the magnanimity and winsomeness that made both friend and foe love and respect him simultaneously.

It seems significant that tradition has ascribed to David the great confessional prayer, Psalm 51. The words there speak of deep human anguish and penitence:

Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy steadfast love ...
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean ...
Fill me with joy and gladness;
let the bones which thou hast broken rejoice.
Hide thy face from my sins,
and blot out all my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and put a new and right spirit within me. - Psalm 51:1, 6, 8-10

The Bible could he read with profit even if only for the high drama contained within it.

2. It’s okay to cry

Jesus wept over the city of Jerusalem (Luke 19:41) and over his friend Lazarus (John 11:35). No doubt he wept on many other occasions also. Somehow we have gotten the idea, however, that "big boys don’t cry." That notion needs to be changed, and the Bible gives us permission to cry when we hurt. If Jesus wept often and Abraham Lincoln was seen with tears streaming down his face, and a presidential candidate (Edmund Muskie) can openly cry, why do we not allow ourselves to do so? We do not show openness to others by excluding them from our pain. As Charles Dickens has Mr. Bumble say in Oliver Twist,

Crying opens the lungs, washes the countenance, exercises the eyes, and softens down the temper, so cry a way.

Perhaps no one could have used the words with such understanding as David when he said:

Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.

- Psalm 30:5

Absalom’s death had gained David entrance to the largest company of people in the world - those who have suffered pain.

3. What might have been

"O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom!"

As I read these words and they sear their way into my soul, I recall another father, saddened by the tragic death of his son. Dr. Alvin Rogness, former President of Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, had a son, Paul, whose life was snuffed out at age 24, on a city street ten minutes from the family home. He was returning from two years at Oxford University in England as a Rhodes scholar.

I’m sure that both King David and Pastor Rogness were overcome with many feelings, one of which must have surely been, "What might have been?"

Twenty years later, Pastor Rogness put some of his thoughts down about the event. They are timeless words about grief - authentic and universal. I’m sure we can extrapolate their spirit to the thoughts of King David when his son Absalom died. More important, perhaps they will speak for someone who grieves today at the loss of a loved one:

It isn’t as if grief ever quite lets go. But now, except for some swift, unexpected moments, when the loss surges in upon me again, the wrenching pain is gone. Some of life’s mirth and merriment may be gone too. But sorrow becomes more like a minor chord in a symphony which, with the jubilant majors, combines to make a rich melody.

We do not belabor Paul’s memory, nor avoid it. I occasionally wear his sweaters. We keep his pictures on display. Even his oar is resting against our bookcase, the oar he used in the Henley Regatta in the summer of 1960. It is at Christmas time that we miss him most. There are no presents for him or from him, nor his Christmas letter. We speak of what he might now have been doing. Sometimes I ponder what pain he may have been spared.*

- Alvin W. Rogness (*The Book of Comfort, Emphasis Augsburg, 1979, p. 103.)

Bret Harte once shared some powerful words. They speak for all the human family and so will stand as long as King David’s words of lament:

Of all the words
of tongue and pen,
The saddest are these:
It might have been.

Conclusion

It is false to believe that the unendurable can’t be endured. But when grief comes over us like a fog, we do not know that. Perhaps that’s why the Psalms, music, and poetry speak to us especially well at times of sorrow. I like to fantasize that King David would have loved to sing this hymn along with us today when we are at church, removing the sharp edges from our pain:

Guide me ever, great Redeemer,
Pilgrim through this barren land.
I am weak, but you are mighty;
Hold me with your powerful hand.

Bread of heaven, bread of heaven,
Feed me now and ever-more,
Feed me now and ever-more.
- Lutheran Book of Worship, 343, First Stanza Prayer

Prayer: O God, let the salt of our tears preserve our humanness.

CSS Publishing Co., Inc., Promise Of Life, The, by Roger Prescott