Those Who Bleed

2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27

After the death of Saul, when David had returned from defeating the Amalekites, David remained two days in Ziklag.

David intoned this lamentation over Saul and his son Jonathan. (He ordered that The Song of the Bow be taught to the people of Judah; it is written in the Book of Jashar.) He said:
Your glory, O Israel, lies slain upon your high places!
   How the mighty have fallen!
Tell it not in Gath,
   proclaim it not in the streets of Ashkelon;
or the daughters of the Philistines will rejoice,
   the daughters of the uncircumcised will exult.

You mountains of Gilboa,
   let there be no dew or rain upon you,
   nor bounteous fields!
For there the shield of the mighty was defiled,
   the shield of Saul, anointed with oil no more.

From the blood of the slain,
   from the fat of the mighty,
the bow of Jonathan did not turn back,
   nor the sword of Saul return empty.

Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely!
   In life and in death they were not divided;
they were swifter than eagles,
   they were stronger than lions.

O daughters of Israel, weep over Saul,
   who clothed you with crimson, in luxury,
   who put ornaments of gold on your apparel.

How the mighty have fallen
   in the midst of the battle!

Jonathan lies slain upon your high places.
   I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan;
greatly beloved were you to me;
   your love to me was wonderful,
   passing the love of women.

How the mighty have fallen,
   and the weapons of war perished!

This passage, this beautiful Biblical poem, that Riley just read for us is two things. It is, first, an open, honest, and very public outpouring of profound and personal grief over the loss of a friend. And second, a beautiful example of empathy and compassion from a soon-to-be leader.

This will require a little bit of filling in the blanks, some explanation of what led to all this, because so far the Summer sermon series on Samuel, the lectionary offerings have really only focused on David and Saul, with a focus primarily on David’s rise to power. There are a couple important things that have been skipped over—one is David’s relationship with Jonathan. Jonathan is Saul’s eldest son, and were it not for David, would be the assumed heir to the throne. And despite that one would understandably assume that there would be a bitter rivalry between David and Jonathan, this is never the case. They become fast friends—in fact it’s sort of a friend-love at first sight. They are joined at the hip, loyal to each other throughout, until the death of Jonathan in battle. David and Jonathan are truly the platonic ideal of friendship.  The other thing we need to catch up on here is Saul’s downfall. We know from previous weeks that God has rejected Saul as king, and so we assume that his day are numbered, but Saul, leading up to his death, had really hit rock bottom. He was extremely paranoid, thinking that the friendship between Jonathan and David was all a plot against him, that they were conspiring to overthrow him. He was so paranoid, in fact, that he tried to have David killed (and it should be noted that David was only saved because of Jonathan’s intervention), and even nearly called for the death of Jonathan, his own son, his first born.

It’s pretty incredible, isn’t it, that David would grieve so much for a man who tried to have him killed—for a man who he knew was rejected by God, who tried to kill his own son, David’s own best friend. And I don’t know that it’s that David necessarily forgave Saul or that he’s just that perfect of a person—I think what it is that he really cares for his people, and he understands that they’re hurting. He can look past his own self-interest, he can look past his own relief and understand that while Saul was not the leader that Israel needed, he was the leader that the people asked for. They prayed for a leader to be like other nations, and Saul was literally the answer to their prayers. It didn’t work out, the people were misled and wrong, but that doesn’t mean the people aren’t allowed to grieve. David understood this, and he understood that Saul did bring some good to the kingdom. As we’ve mentioned before, Saul was a good military leader—he won a ton of battles, this reference to Saul clothing the people in crimson was to show that he did bring prosperity for a time—crimson dye of garments was a sign of luxury. So while riches and power and spread of empire aren’t the ultimate goal, he did bring some material fortune to Israel, on the surface, it may have looked like Israel was doing pretty well, so people surely grieved for their fallen leader. David understood this, and so he grieved with his people.

The academic, lecturer, and author Brene Brown had an explanation of what empathy is that went viral a few years back, and in it she explains that empathy is feeling with someone. It’s connecting with someone who’s hurting on a deep level by putting yourself in a vulnerable spot by finding a comparable pain in yourself and really understanding and seeing that someone is hurting.[i] So in this scripture passage we have David who could easily have callously celebrated the death of Saul, the death of a selfish and paranoid king who tried to have him killed. He could have jumped on the throne and told the people of Israel all the reasons they shouldn’t be grieving, that they should suck it up and worship David now, that it’s time to move on. But he doesn’t. He uses the deep pain of his own loss, the loss of his best friend, to connect with an entire people.

“Tell it not in Gath,/proclaim it not in the streets of Ashkelon;/or the daughters of the Philistines will rejoice…” Gath and Ashkelon were Philistine cities, and David is dreading the obscene celebrations that will go on there when they hear the news of the death of Saul. He understands how heartless it is to celebrate someone’s death, even if it’s an enemy. Because while David and Saul were technically on the same side, they were far from friends due to Saul’s paranoia. There is a deep respect that David has for those who are grieving and struggling, regardless of whether or not their loyalties lay with a murderous and paranoid king.

This empathy, this ability to look beyond his own self-interest, this ability to put a pause on his rise to power is what makes it clear that David will be a strong and kind leader. It’s what allows him to truly understand and represent his people.

Not only can leaders learn from David, but we, as people in a democratic country where we can choose our leaders, can learn how to identify good leaders so that we can pick those who represent the people best. We’ll be celebrating this fact in exactly one week. But as usual, this world doesn’t cater to people who are kind and empathetic, so rarely do we get leaders and powerful people who are kind and empathetic. This world builds up the loudest, the most brash, it often doesn’t look beyond charisma or bluster. We’re encouraged to pick a strongman so we might be able to go toe-to-toe, with other countries, with our perceived enemies, to fight fire with fire, we don’t look at whether or not those people we are putting in power actually care about us, actually represent our interests, whether they actually want all people to be safe and comfortable and secure in life. Before David, the people of Israel thought they got what they wanted in Saul, and sure, some got riches and luxuries for a time, but they turned away from God in the process. Saul didn’t actually care very much about his people, he only wanted power and glory. And he was willing to stop at nothing, even nearly killing his own son, to keep that power.

And then you have David. David not only pauses his rise to the throne to allow the people of Israel to grieve their loss—he actively encourages this grieving. “O daughters of Israel, weep over Saul,/who clothed you with crimson, in luxury,/who puts ornaments of gold on your apparel./How the mighty have fallen/in the midst of battle!” He knows their pain because David is feeling that pain too—maybe not for Saul, but he is certainly feeling that pain for Jonathan, his best friend, whose “love to [him] was wonderful,/passing the love of women.” If David is feeling this deep pain, he can understand that his people are feeling something similar, and he encourages a public outpouring of grief. He knows it’s not healthy, that it won’t do any good to keep these feelings in. He knows how damaging it will be to just sweep this trauma and grief of war and death under the rug, and move onto the next thing.

Just like our world rarely exalts those who are kind and compassionate, this world, especially in this country, also does not respect the grieving process. This country does not grant us the time to sit and be with our feelings and care for ourselves in times of distress and grief. Family leave isn’t even mandated in this country for people who have just given birth, so time off for bereavement certainly isn’t a thing. There this horrible and false idea that being emotional, being vulnerable, is a sign of weakness. There’s a real stigma, especially for men and masculine-presenting folks, when it comes to showing a vulnerable side, there’s this preposterous assumption, that needing time to mourn or feeling and expressing our emotions is equal to being a weak or ineffective person in the world. David destroys this assumption. Not only is he allowing an entire people to have time to grieve without any caveats or judgement, he is leading by example. David is out there publicly grieving for his best friend. He is being open and honest about the real deep and true love he had for this man, a love that goes beyond romantic love. He understands that we can’t just move on from things like they didn’t happen—that we can’t always put on a brave face and get over it and get back to work.

There’s a book I’ve quoted from in previous sermons, The Undying by the poet Anne Boyer. It’s a memoir about Boyer’s experience of being diagnosed with and successfully being treated for a rare and aggressive form of breast cancer. At one point, towards of the end of the book, she writes “It’s yet another error in perception that those with social protection can look at those who have at times lacked it, and imagine that weakness is in the bleeder, not those who have never bled.”[ii] They “imagine that weakness is in the bleeder, not those who have never bled.” I love this. It really throws the power of surviving trauma and the strength and empathy that can come with it right in your face. Those who become impatient with us, those who want us to dust off our traumas and our grief with ease, they either do not understand, or they are making no effort to understand, because they can’t imagine why one could possibly still be traumatized or so sad about something, because either they’ve had it very easy, or they’ve put up walls in an attempt to avoid feeling these very human and real and normal emotions.

David is such a powerful figure and such a good leader because he recognizes that those who bleed are strong and understanding; and that those who have never bled are often cruel and uncaring, because, simply put, they do not get it. And yes, we’re in the Old Testament for the Summer, but I can’t help but think of Jesus who helps us know that we are never alone in any of our suffering, our trauma, or our grief, because he has experienced all those things with us, and for us. He got angry, we wept, and he bled. Because he was human.

I pray, Church, that we will get to a time in which we all, regardless of our gender, our orientation, our outward appearance, feel comfortable letting go and being honest when we’re struggling, when we’re hurting, when we’re grieving. I pray that we will finally get to a time in which we look to leaders who show kindness, empathy, and love, and understand that those are qualities of immense strength. I pray that we will get to a time in which we recognize that there is no weakness in crying, in grieving, in hurting. I pray that we will get to a time in which we recognize that there is no weakness in bleeding. I pray that we will get to a time in which we recognize that there is no weakness in being human. Amen.

[i] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KZBTYViDPlQ

[ii] Boyer, Anne. The Undying. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, loc. 2,150, 2019, Kindle ed.