"Thinking Eternally, Acting Locally." - Neal August
A minor controversy erupted on social media last week among evangelicals, particularly of the Southern Baptist variety, over the issue of
whether King David had sexually assaulted Bathsheba in the story recounted in 2
Samuel 11-12. People on both sides of the question have passionate opinions
about the subject – often coming down (probably unfairly) on whether one is
either a strict complementarian or whether one favors soft complementarianism
and egalitarianism. The subject of complementarianism has found itself enmeshed
within the broader context of the #MeToo and #ChurchToo movements in which
evangelicals are assessing and debating matters of power, authority, hierarchy,
gender, and sex. Understandably, topics within complementarianism can overlap
with those of sexual harassment, sexual coercion, and sexual assault. Again,
it’s natural that such subjects would arouse passionate opinions and responses,
even with the topic of whether an assault took place 3,000 years ago. I’m
reminded of previous decades, during the early, heated eras of the Conservative
Resurgence, when the meaning of inerrancy led Southern Baptists to rage over
whether Melchizedek was a pagan priest and whether one should use the definite
article in front of the designation Satan. What should have been matters of
academic inquiry went straight to 11 and became front line battles for the
heart and soul of the SBC, the bible, and the gospel.
While no one denies that David ordered the murder of Uriah
(which is given straightforwardly), the question of whether David assaulted or
coerced Bathsheba against her will, or simply used his power to engage in a
mutually consenting adulterous liaison, can be less than straightforward if not
ambiguous. Such ambiguity calls for tolerance and mercy on both sides of the
question as we all wrestle with an important and timely topic. Mockery and
ridicule of differing opinions speak low of the cause of Christ and the gospel.
Much of the twitter vitriol came to a head when Denny Burk
wrote upon the matter on his website with the article, Adultery or Rape? What happened between David and Bathsheba? I find myself sympathetic to his argument that David had not
assaulted Bathsheba. Burk is approaching the topic from a more academic point
of view, looking at the story from a strictly biblical, narrative framework. To
summarize Burk’s argument in brief: If the bible had intended to describe a
sexual assault, it would have presented it in a biblical manner, which would
use the ideas of Deuteronomy 22:23-27. For a clear example, see the
accompanying story of Amnon and Tamar in 2 Samuel 13. Whatever ambiguity arises
from our current reading stems from a modern conception of sexual assault and
power relations that is foreign to the biblical conception.[1]
I think Burk’s argument is fair and sound even if I disagree
with it, which is why I was sympathetic to his take. It is a legitimate
position, and he does not deserve the childish ridicule heaped upon him.
Granted, such mockery manifests itself due to his prominent position within the
strict complementarian movement. It seems few can engage his biblical argument
outside of that context.
Those who hold a contrary opinion of the story, however, have
no less of a biblical argument. They are looking at the story less from a
narrative framework and more from a practical, realized event. To summarize the
argument in brief: Bathsheba would not have cried out because she realized she
had no option in the matter given David’s position of power, particularly over
her husband, Uriah. The general legalities of Deuteronomy 22:23-27 do not apply
to the particulars of this situation.
Again, I think this is a fair, sound, and legitimate reading
of the story even if I disagree with it. Those who hold it do not deserve to be
slandered as if denying the sufficiency of Scripture or seeking to undermine
the doctrine of complementarianism. I am quite sympathetic to the sexual
assault reading as I am to Burk’s traditional reading of adultery. Both are
attempts to engage the story with a high biblical standard of seriousness. I
appreciate both. Nevertheless, these are two frameworks looking past each
other.
My own personal framework for understanding the story is gospel-oriented
in which I combine egalitarianism and an understanding of power relations with
a scholarly and narrative conception. I began studying 2 Samuel 11-12 while at seminary. I read the David and Bathsheba story and noted its
similarities with the explicitly-rendered account of Amnon’s assault on Tamar
(chapter 13) and surmised that David’s refusal to hold his son accountable
stemmed from his own guilt of a similar sin. I speculated that the writer of
the stories had intentionally left David’s assault implicit. I went back and
forth on what the true interpretation of this story is for some time, sometimes
favoring the assault assessment and other times favoring the adultery one. However,
while noting the similarities between the Bathsheba and Tamar accounts, it was
the dissimilarities that finally led me to conclude that David did not commit
assault.
2 Samuel 11 is a brutal chapter of epic failure, corruption,
with lasting, horrific consequences, that, from a human standpoint, nearly
derails God’s plan to save creation from sin and evil. The stakes are extremely
high here and about as serious as it gets. And because the stakes are so high,
the narrative offers a shockingly blunt assessment of what occurred. The author
holds nothing back, explicitly detailing every sin David committed. David is
the preeminent warrior-king, yet he doesn’t go to war with his soldiers (v. 1).
He lusts after a woman who wasn’t his wife (vv. 2-3). He uses his power as king
to send for Bathsheba (v. 4). At the very least, he knowingly has sex with a
married woman (vv. 3-4). He tries to cover up his crime through deception,
feigning interest in warfare (vv. 6-8). He uses his power to urge one of his
own elite soldiers, the righteous foreigner Uriah, to violate his own
principles (vv. 8-13). He uses his power to get Uriah drunk (v. 13). Failing
all else, he uses his power to arrange the murder of Uriah and, by consequence,
several other men (vv. 15-17, 24). He uses his power to involve his nephew-commander in the murder plot (14-21). David then feigns sorrow (v. 25). Finally,
he takes Bathsheba as his wife (v. 27). God calls it evil (v. 27). Every sordid
detail of this grotesque story is explicitly spelled out, even the collateral
damage. Yet, at no time in this account does the author state that David used
his power to coerce Bathsheba into sex. Such an event is not even implied; it
must be assumed. It won’t do to say that the writer is unaware of issues concerning
power, consent, coercion, and sex, because he deals with those very subjects in
chapter 13. There, the heir to throne of Israel uses his power and position of
privilege to deceitfully arrange a situation in which to coerce his half-sister
into sex. Failing that, he assaults her. He then uses his power to force her away.
If the knowledgeable writer is explicit in chapter 13, then why not in 11?
Matters of power, coercion, and consent are not unfamiliar concepts to the
biblical writers. Look at Genesis 39:7-15. There, the wife of an Egyptian officer of
the Pharaoh attempts to use her power to coerce one of her slaves into sex,
eventually grabbing him, attempting to pull him close to her. When she fails,
she seeks either revenge or cover-up, using her privileged position of power
to falsely accuse her slave of assault and have him put in jail. The ancients
were well-aware of such abuse of power. So, because of the author’s knowledge
of the subjects of power, coercion, sex, and consent and the lack of its
reference in an otherwise brutally explicit account of power abuse, I believe
that David did not use his position of power to coerce Bathsheba into sex. This
was many horrific things, but it wasn’t sexual assault.[2]
If Bathsheba consented to sex with David without coercion, the
question is often asked, then why wasn’t she punished for adultery. While the
text may provide some answers about the consequences of her actions, such
conclusions would only be moot speculations and not the focus of the story.
Bathsheba remains a relatively passive character at this point in the
narrative. There is no indication in chapter 11 that she is a scheming social
climber using her “feminine wiles” to ascend to the heights of power. I
recommend Marg Mowczko’s A Sympathetic Look at Bathsheba. Regardless, whatever mistakes she may have made, they fail
in comparison to that of David, whose character and crimes are the focus of the
story.
Ultimately, this story is about the kingship of Israel and God’s
covenant to deal with sin and evil and save creation. At this point in history,
God has elected Israel as his special people and is moving them forward with
the covenantal promise that the entire world will be blessed through them (Gen
12, 15, and 17). God must get Israel to the place where the promise is
fulfilled but also must do so through fallen, sinful people. God didn’t want
Israel to have a human king (1 Sam 8:7), but the sins of the people made it
necessary (Judg 21:25). Nevertheless, God has already worked kingship into his
overall covenantal plan. The Davidic line of kings has already been predicted
in Genesis 49:10 and Numbers 24:17-19. God establishes it with David in 2 Samuel
7:8-17 (see v. 16 especially). In 2 Samuel 11, because of his actions, David
has put this covenantal plan in jeopardy. Nathan’s parable is about sheep, but
it concerns kingship. David was a shepherd (1 Sam 16:13). When God makes his
covenant with David, he mentions that David was a shepherd, implying that the
way he pastored sheep, he is to pastor Israel (2 Sam 7:8). The parable
implicates David as having abused his power as king. God’s chosen king has
become the abuser of power that God (through Samuel) warned the people about
when they asked for a king (1 Sam 8:9-18). The results are disastrous. Nathan
predicts that violence and evil will rise from David’s own household (2 Sam
12:10-11), which was fulfilled in the subsequent actions of Amnon and Absalom. The
prophet also predicts that people will lie with David’s wives in plain sight of
everyone (1 Sam 12:11-12), which was fulfilled in 1 Samuel 16:20-23. This last
fulfillment is significant. When Absalom takes Jerusalem, he’s declared king and
enjoys David’s concubines, an act which is indicative of assuming the position
and prerogatives of the king (2 Sam 3:7; 12:8; 1 Kin 2:22-23). God works all
this out and sets the Davidic line straight (ironically, through Bathsheba’s
son, Solomon), but the human uncertainty is profound for the reader and was
obviously excruciating for the people involved. Nevertheless, covenant and
kingship are the foci of the story. Ultimately, it is through a Davidic messiah
that power abuse is ended (Ps 110; Eph 1:20-22; Phil 2:8-11; 1 Cor 15:24; Col
1:13; 2:10, 15; Jude 1:25; Rev 2:26-27; 12:10; Matt 9:8; 21:23; Mark 3:15; John
5:27; 17:2).
Life situations can be more complex and ambiguous than
clear-cut black and white. David could have abused his position of authority at
the same time Bathsheba could have fully consented without coercion. As a real,
historic person, she could have had a range of complex thoughts, emotions, and
agendas, all situational, conflicted, and contradictory. Nevertheless,
regardless of guilt or innocence in any matters of her life, God was able to
use her for his ultimate kingly and covenantal purposes (Matt 1:6).
[1]
Importantly, I know of egalitarians who deem David’s crime as rape who
nevertheless agree with Burk on this latter point.
[2] I
would add that Nathan’s characterization of David’s crimes and the accompanying
punishment suggest something less than coercion or assault was involved (12:9,
11-12).
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