In this morning's two readings the saga of King David continues, and Paul or one of his disciples gives direction for Christian living. Both readings strengthen my statement last week that it is impossible to regard the Bible as a seamless document that can be read easily and uncritically. In reading the Bible it's essential to know the larger setting of any text, and it is essential to read any text within the framework of the entire Bible.
When I read these two texts, I thought of two experiences in my life—one recent and the other a long time ago. Just a couple of months ago someone I respect and like said to me in this building, "I know I shouldn't be angry." I'm very fortunate to have grown up in a church where we were expected to memorize large parts of the Bible. I was able to respond to the person's comment about anger on the basis of this morning's reading. I said, "It's okay to be angry, just don't hold onto it for more than a day or two." How many people know the verse from our second reading that says, "Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger"?
One problem is that a lot of people who went to Sunday School as children had drilled into them another part of our second lesson, the part that says, "Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you." I very much endorse that teaching, but I wouldn't take it out of context and let it stand by itself without saying something about anger and assertiveness. I don't believe Jesus or the Apostle Paul acted as doormats. They both knew how to be gentle and tenderhearted when appropriate and how to be angry and assertive when the situation called for it.
I did a word check on anger in the Gospels, in part because there is a children's hymn by Charles Wesley that contains the words "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild..." At this stage of my faith journey I have trouble with the words "meek and mild" in connection with the one who made a whip and drove the corrupt merchants out of the Jerusalem Temple. In fact when I did my word check on anger in the four Gospels, there were parables Jesus told in which people were angry, usually appropriately so. And then there is that verse in Mark's Gospel that says of Jesus when he was being challenged for healing a crippled man on the Sabbath, "He looked around at them in anger...." Jesus knew how to be angry.
Anger is part of a Christian's equipment; at least it should be. Sometimes it's called righteous indignation. Are you angry that the opponents of healthcare reform do not debate the merits of proposed changes but rather use inflammatory words like socialism and big government? I am. Are you angry that the business community is doing everything in its power to return to a system that lavishes huge amounts of money on a small number of people who know how to manipulate a trading system but contributes little to the broader economy? I am. Are you angry that greed and irrational fear are too often the dominant forces that drive the economic and political systems of our nation? I am.
A week ago in his New York Times op-ed column Bob Herbert had as his headline Anger Has Its Place. He was writing about the arrest of Henry Louis Gates, Jr. by Sgt. James Crowley in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Mr. Herbert argued that Professor Gates was completely in the right and Sgt. Crowley was completely in the wrong, a position repudiated by many black law enforcement officers. What struck me in the column was Bob Herbert's conclusion:
Most whites do not want to hear about racial problems, and President Obama would rather walk through fire than spend his time dealing with them. We're never going to have a serious national conversation about race. So that leaves it up to ordinary black Americans to rant and rave, to demonstrate and to lobby, to march and confront and sue and generally do whatever is necessary to stop a continuing and deeply racist criminal justice outrage.
That's anger, and anger does have its place. The Biblical witness encourages it. As someone who has participated in massive protest marches against racial injustice and the war in Vietnam, I find myself wondering why there isn't more anger, more action in the streets in connection with economic injustice, racial injustice, and injustice toward lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, and transgendered people. I am not condoning violence. The marches and demonstrations I participated in were peaceful, but they were effective. Maybe twittering and texting are the current vehicles for protesting. If that is true, let your fingers do the marching as an expression of appropriate anger. To paraphrase the Apostle Paul, Be angry, act on your anger appropriately, and let go of it.
Our Old Testament reading continues the story of King David, regarded as Israel's ideal ruler and called in the Bible "a man after God's own heart." Part of David's greatness was his ability to feel deeply and express his feelings—not always appropriately, but to express them nonetheless. He was an extraordinary administrator, a courageous fighter, a deeply spiritual musician and poet, and a wise student of human nature. His long reign is regarded as the high watermark of Israel's ancient history. With all that being true, his personal life was epically tragic.
His seduction of Bathsheba and the murder of her husband Uriah seem to have unleashed a whirlwind that never departed from his family. His son Amnon became infatuated with David's daughter by another wife. The daughter's name was Tamar. Tamar had a brother, a son of David by the same wife, and the brother's name was Absalom. Amnon forced himself sexually on Tamar and then refused to marry her.
Absalom seethed with anger toward Amnon over the rape of his sister, and he held on to his anger for two years before he acted on it. Like the health club murderer in Pittsburg recently, Absalom exploded with repressed rage and killed his half brother Amnon. Absalom fled and stayed in exile for several years. Eventually David allowed him to return home to Jerusalem, which may not have been a wise thing to do.
Absalom is describes as being very attractive, and he was also ambitious. He began to plot the overthrow of his father David and his own ascension to the throne. He waged a campaign to insinuate himself into the hearts of his fellow citizens by telling them all that he would do for them if he were king. Eventually David had to escape from Jerusalem with his loyal following while Absalom took over Jerusalem, forcing his father's wives to submit to him sexually on the roof of the palace.
David's loyal general, Joab, chose the location for the decisive battle between the armies of David the father and Absalom the son. The battlefield was a wild and desolate place unfamiliar to Absalom but well known to Joab. Riding into battle, Absalom was caught by his mane of long hair in the branches of a low-hanging tree and became an easy target for Joab and David's loyal soldiers. David had asked Joab to spare the life of Absalom if at all possible, but Joab knew that would be unlikely and unwise.
When David learned of Absalom's death, he wept uncontrollably. "Absalom, my son, my son, Absalom, my son! Would God I had died instead of you!" His sorrow at the death of his son was greater than his satisfaction in preserving his kingdom. Joab the general reminded David that thousands of men had risked their lives in loyalty to him as king. David turned from his extravagant grieving and took his seat on the throne in the presence of the troops who had been loyal to him. He restored their confidence in him as God's chosen ruler.
What can we take from this story of events that took place three thousand years ago? The saga of King David reminds us that the heroes of our faith are not cardboard figures, living above the level of joy and sorrow that you and I know. They were men and women of full humanity, plagued by doubts at times, given to failure as well as success, but in the end grounded in their trust that God was with them and that God loved them with a costly love.
As a man, I find comfort especially in King David's ability to live in the fullness of his humanity. He laughed easily, he wept without apology, and in one famous episode he danced in public wearing almost nothing. That part I leave to your judgment. But the part about weeping I commend to all of you, women and men, but especially to men. I know that things are changing little by little. But I grew up hearing that boys don't cry. They bite their lip and grit their teeth, but they don't cry.
I was in high school when my Great Aunt Agnes died. (This the second of the two things I remembered when reading today's lessons.) She had lived in our house for my whole life, and she was the only grandparent-figure I knew. At her funeral my cousin Ruth and I were the only family members who shed tears, and there were a lot of family members there. The understanding was that if you really had faith, you wouldn't cry because the person who had died was now in heaven. That kind of faith didn't leave room for sadness and appropriate grief. King David is a healthy counterbalance.
Yesterday's newspaper had an article about Roger Federer and his wife flying to New York with their new-born twins in preparation for the U.S. Open Tennis Tournament. The article reviewed Federer's tennis performance since learning his wife was expecting twins. Writing about his playing in January, the reporter said, "He lost in the Australian Open final to Rafael Nadal, famously breaking down in tears." Bravo for Roger Federer! It's fine for Super Bowl losers to sob in the locker room, but tennis players get "famous" or infamous for shedding tears.
Peter "wept bitterly" the text says, when he realized the enormity of his denial of Jesus, and Jesus wept at the tomb of his well-loved friend Lazarus. Grief and anger—both part of Jesus' life two thousand years ago and both part of our human journey today.
The faith we share is one that engages our minds. It calls us to think critically about life and the choices we make. Our faith also calls us to engage our emotions as we take in the truth, stated so well in our second reading, that God loves us in Christ, described as a fragrant offering.
May we grow in our freedom to trust and love with our minds, and especially with our hearts, where laughter and tears reside together as a reflection of the way life is and will always be.
Thanks be to God.