Sunday, December 22, 2019

Bathsheba (2 Samuel 11, Matthew 1)

  1. Bathsheba
The book of Matthew begins with a list of Jesus’ genealogy. (That genealogy comes right before the scripture we just heard.) And on that genealogical list are four women, which is significant and unusual in a patriarchal society. 
Today I preach on the fourth and final woman on that list: Bathsheba.
What do you think of when you hear the name Bathsheba? 
Some of you have been hearing Bible stories, and reading and studying Bible stories, for many years, so you may have heard Bathsheba’s story before, and you may have been exposed to some ideas about what kind of a woman Bathsheba was. 
But what does the Bible actually say about her? 
We know very little about her background. Only that she was the wife of a man named Uriah, who was a soldier in the king’s army. In fact, Uriah was off at war, fighting on behalf of the king, when this story takes place.
One evening, Bathsheba went up to the roof of her house to bathe. In that part of the world, people often went up on the roofs of their houses, especially in the evening, to take advantage of the cool evening breezes. The warm mediterranean sun would heat their houses so that, by late in the day, it could be unbearable inside, but to sit up on the roof and enjoy the evening breeze would be quite pleasant.

2. Taken
On this particular day, Bathsheba was bathing. People in ancient communities could not really demand or expect privacy the way we do today, but the rooftop of one’s own home was about as private a location as one could get. Yes, there were other rooftops around, but in the evening, as the light slowly dimmed, one could almost feel hidden away from the public eye.
So Bathsheba slipped out of her outer clothing. Perhaps she left her inner clothing on; the scripture doesn’t say. And maybe she did notice one building that rose above the others: the king’s palace. But since it was the time of year when kings went off to war, she wasn’t worried about the king looking out on her.
But the king wasn’t off to war. We don’t know why. 
The king’s army was off to war. Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah - a soldier in that army - was off to war. But the king was at home. And in that evening darkness, he was up on his roof, and he looked out, and in the twilight he caught sight of Bathsheba.
The king - King David - thought the woman he saw was very beautiful. So he sent someone to find out who she was. They reported back that she was Eliam’s daughter, Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite.
In ancient patriarchal society, the wording of that report made it very clear: she already belonged to someone. She was Eliam’s daughter. She was Uriah’s wife. She was spoken for. 
Yet the very next sentence in the story reads: “So David sent messengers to take her. They took her, brought her to him, he had sex with her, and then he sent her back home.”
Bathsheba had no say in this. None. David was the king, he could do what he wanted, and who was she to say no? If she dared object, she could suffer the king’s wrath. This rape by the king was not something she could have prevented or avoided. Her life literally depended on being silent and submissive.

3. Pregnant
Some time passes. Then Bathsheba sends a message to King David. This message is only two words long, and they are the only two words spoken by
Bathsheba in this part of the story. 
Those two words are: “I’m pregnant.”
Those are two very significant words. Those two words are always filled with emotion. However, the particular emotion they contain can vary widely. Depending on the circumstances, the words “I’m pregnant” can be words spoken with great joy or great fear.
If you’ve ever spoken those words, or had them spoken to you, I’m sure that was a moment filled with great joy, or great fear, or perhaps a mixture of both.
For Bathsheba, I’m pretty sure these words were spoken with great fear. Her pregnancy threatened to expose both her and her king. And, being a woman in a patriarchal society, most of the blame would be directed at her, even though she was, in fact, blameless.
But some of the blame would also go to the king. So he acted quickly to cover up what he had done. He sent word for Uriah to come home on leave, to spend some time with his wife Bathsheba. Maybe he could convince everyone that the baby was Uriah’s.
But apparently there was an oath all loyal soldiers took which forbade them spending intimate time with their wives while wars raged; and since Uriah was a good, upstanding soldier, loyal to his king, he refused to break that oath and spend time with his wife in that way while the king’s army was out in battle.
So David sent him back, and ordered him to be put in the front of the fiercest battle, and then ordered the army to pull back, so that Uriah was left alone, vulnerable… a move which quickly resulted in Uriah’s death.
David, relieved, no longer feared Bathsheba’s pregnancy. The one who could accuse him of raping her was now dead. With nothing to fear, David brought Bathsheba into his house and made her his wife.
But, according to the scripture, what David had done was evil in the Lord’s eyes.

4. A Woman, Not a Slave
Women were considered property. Bathsheba is referred to in scripture more often as “the wife of Uriah.” Her very identity depended on her attachment to a male. Without that male, she had no identity.

Unlike the other women we’ve learned about this Advent season, Bathsheba does very little. She is passive, she is mostly silent…Her life depends on that silence… and she is used and abused…
And this was how things were… David was clearly the more guilty party, but he was king, and he was male. He could use his position to avoid punishment, but Bathsheba could very easily have been accused of adultery and sentenced to death for it. The law dictated death for anyone guilty of adultery, but do you honestly think those punishments were handed out fairly? That a man - a king! - would be treated as harshly, would be punished as severely, as a woman?
Her fear must have been overwhelming and all-consuming.
But God saw, and God noticed, and God was upset … with the king. God knows who the victim is, and who the abuser is. And God knows that Bathsheba is a woman; more than a man’s property; more than someone’s slave.
It reminds me of the time some religious leaders brought to Jesus a woman accused of adultery; those leaders asked Jesus what should be done with her. After all, the law clearly stated that the penalty for adultery was death.
But Jesus knew who had the power in society, and how women were treated; and why was it that the men wanted to punish the woman - the one without power - yet refused to hold accountable the one who did have power? 
Which is why Jesus said to the men: “whichever one of you is innocent can condemn her and punish her.” And what happened? They all turned and walked away.
Even now blame is often cast on those who are, in fact, the victim. Rape victims, even today, are made to feel like what happened was their fault. 
She was drunk. She was wearing tight jeans. She was flirting.
But Jesus does not allow those with power to blame their victims. On another occasion, some men came to Jesus once; I think they were complaining about women who were tempting them into sin.
And Jesus said to them, “If your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out. If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. If any part of your body is leading you to sin, cut it off. It’s better to go through life maimed than it is to allow yourself to fall into sin.”
See? Jesus doesn’t allow anyone with power or privilege to pass blame onto those who are oppressed or victimized. 

5. Nativity
So far this sermon isn’t very Christmas-y. I know. 
So let’s consider the circumstances surrounding Jesus’ birth. It was precisely those who were oppressed and victimized, the used and abused, who received the angel’s greetings, and the news of the messiah’s birth… and overwhelmingly, this message consisted of the phrase, “fear not.”
The fear that Bathsheba experienced as a poor, on’ry, oppressed, victimized person, is overcome by the birth of Jesus. The fear - that paralyzing fear - of all who live with great anxiety, is replaced by an awesome peace and calm. In a time of great apprehension, all is calm. All is bright.
And this is, in part, because God does not tolerate abuse of power. 
Whether that abuse is committed by King David, or King Herod, or the high priests, or the Pharisees, or the president of the United States… God does not tolerate abuse of power. It is evil in the Lord’s eyes.
God does not tolerate the blaming of victims.
God does not tolerate oppression and injustice.
Instead, God delights in justice, and in what is right.
God’s desire is for justice to roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.
God’s desire is for good news to be proclaimed to 
those who are poor, because God knows that poverty is often the result of injustice.
God’s desire is for release to be proclaimed to those who are captive. Whether they are prisoners of fear, or of corruption, God’s desire is that they be released from that captivity.
God’s desire is that sight be given to the blind. Too many would place blindfolds over truth and blindfolds over justice, but God desires the light of truth to shine.
And all this is good news for Bathsheba and anyone else who has been victimized in any way.
After all, God is the one who takes the stone that the builders rejected, and uses it as the cornerstone of his kingdom. God takes rejected people - people like Bathsheba and Tamar and Rahab and Ruth - and gives them a central role. 
The story of Jesus’ birth is a story of radical resistance to powers of corruption and abuse. The fact that Matthew thought to include Bathsheba - the wife of Uriah - on Jesus’ family tree is just one example of how this is true. 
It’s said that history is written by the victorious and the powerful, and that’s true - unless it is God writing the story. When God writes the story, someone who has power stolen from them, who has been victimized and abused, somehow finds their way to a place of honor. 
This is because our God is the one who takes the stone that the builders rejected, and makes it the cornerstone. 
Our God is the God who makes a way out of no way.
Our God is the God who makes the first last, and the last, first. 
Our God is the one who - in the words of Mary, mother of Jesus - scatters those with arrogant thoughts and proud inclinations; God is the one who pulls the powerful down from their throne and lifts up the lowly; the one who fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty-handed. The one who comes to earth not as a king, but as a poor baby born to poor parents, who couldn't even secure an appropriate dwelling for his birth, but instead had to settle for a stable filled with a barnyard's worth of animals. 
It's quite remarkable when you stop and think about it, that God would show such love and concern for the least of these. Yet this is the God we worship. The God of people like Tamar and Rahab and Ruth and Bathsheba. 
The God of Joseph and Mary. 
The God of you and me.

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