First Reading
2 Samuel 11:1–15
In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab, and his servants with him, and all Israel. And they ravaged the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained at Jerusalem.
It happened, late one afternoon, when David arose from his couch and was walking on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; and the woman was very beautiful. And David sent and inquired about the woman. And one said, “Is not this Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?” So David sent messengers and took her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she had been purifying herself from her uncleanness.) Then she returned to her house. And the woman conceived, and she sent and told David, “I am pregnant.”
So David sent word to Joab, “Send me Uriah the Hittite.” And Joab sent Uriah to David. When Uriah came to him, David asked how Joab was doing and how the people were doing and how the war was going. Then David said to Uriah, “Go down to your house and wash your feet.” And Uriah went out of the king’s house, and there followed him a present from the king. But Uriah slept at the door of the king’s house with all the servants of his lord, and did not go down to his house. When they told David, “Uriah did not go down to his house,” David said to Uriah, “Have you not come from a journey? Why did you not go down to your house?” Uriah said to David, “The ark and Israel and Judah dwell in booths, and my lord Joab and the servants of my lord are camping in the open field. Shall I then go to my house, to eat and to drink and to lie with my wife? As you live, and as your soul lives, I will not do this thing.” Then David said to Uriah, “Remain here today also, and tomorrow I will send you back.” So Uriah remained in Jerusalem that day and the next. And David invited him, and he ate in his presence and drank, so that he made him drunk. And in the evening he went out to lie on his couch with the servants of his lord, but he did not go down to his house.
In the morning David wrote a letter to Joab and sent it by the hand of Uriah. In the letter he wrote, “Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, that he may be struck down, and die.” (ESV)
Second Reading
Ephesians 3:14–21
For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen. (ESV)
Gospel Text
John 6:1–21
After this Jesus went away to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, which is the Sea of Tiberias. And a large crowd was following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing on the sick. Jesus went up on the mountain, and there he sat down with his disciples. Now the Passover, the feast of the Jews, was at hand. Lifting up his eyes, then, and seeing that a large crowd was coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?” He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he would do. Philip answered him, “Two hundred denarii worth of bread would not be enough for each of them to get a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, about five thousand in number. Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted. And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples, “Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves left by those who had eaten. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they said, “This is indeed the Prophet who is to come into the world!”
Perceiving then that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, Jesus withdrew again to the mountain by himself.
When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were frightened. But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Then they were glad to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going. (ESV)
Comments and Questions for Discussion
First Reading
Our text from 2 Samuel 11 this week has been the subject of a great deal of study and discussion in recent decades, due in large part to the sexual politics that surround it. The story of David and Bathsheba has occasioned a good deal of disagreement about the nature of their relationship. Some argue that Bathsheba intentionally seduced David (notably, all men among those I’ve seen), Some argue that Bathsheba was raped. As hideous as that word is, it needs to be said, and I hope that it makes you, my readers, squirm as much as it does me.
One thing seems certain, I can no longer read this text as a matter of simple seduction by David as I once did. It marks the turning point in David’s story and that of his line. From that moment forward “the sword” shall never depart from David’s family, according to Nathan (In the next chapter.) and David’s own wives will be unfaithful to him. While the death of his firstborn child by Bathsheba is terrible, I think the biblical author’s long term view is more important to him than the babe. Harkening back to the text we had three weeks ago, in whose omitted verses the author foresees the doom of David’s line even as the king ascends to his throne in Jerusalem, this anti-monarchical sentiment hovers over all the stories of David. I cannot read this without recalling Samuel’s warning to the people that a king will “take your daughters.” Though it is for perfumers and cooks and bakers, even so, the king will “take” what he wants, including women. (1 Samuel 8:13)
David’s betrayal of Uriah, while heinous, is not the primary cause of David’s condemnation. It is the natural sequel to his “taking” of Bathsheba. He began his own downfall with the taking of another man’s wife. From that point the great king’s slope is steep and greasy.
I read an article, one that for once I will not link, that argued that we must view the interaction between David and Bathsheba solely, or at least primarily, within the context of the biblical definition of rape. This author’s viewpoint, then, is that Bathsheba shares, if minimally, in the responsibility for the sexual event. It does not escape my notice that this also was written by a man. Biblically, then, because this occurred in the city, and Bathsheba did not cry out to prevent it, it does not meet the definition of rape as Deuteronomy would see it. (Such occurrence would not be true in the countryside, as there would be no one to hear.)
While this may be technically true, the author fails to recognize that by his own study of the the subject of biblical rape, David’s offense is nonetheless condemned by the author of 2 Samuel as rape in spite of that technical difficulty. He points to the absence of a clear word for rape in biblical Hebrew, and indicates that one must determine the applicability of our word from the context in which one finds a word that basically means to debase or reduce in value. While the story of Bathsheba lacks the language of violence that characterizes Amnon’s rape of Tamar (2 Samuel 13) the article’s author overlooks the violence of Nathan’s imagery in his condemnation of David.
Bathsheba is likened by Nathan to a lamb (not full grown!) that is taken from its owner, who loved it, and slaughtered, thus not only reducing its value, but ending it. Yes, the author of 2 Samuel saw this as rape.
I have been sitting here writing this, feeling faintly nauseated the whole time because it is even necessary to argue this point any longer. I am sickened by the continued attempts to cast blame, whether wholly or even in small part, on Bathsheba. The very idea that one could declare her responsible for seduction when the text simply doesn’t support it speaks deafeningly of the persistence of toxic patriarchalism. It screams of the abuser’s attempt to deflect blame onto the abused. It echoes the filth that proceeds from far too many preachers’ mouths even today, who want to blame Bathsheba for bathing within sight of the king’s roof.
And here I would not quibble, but rather condemn our translators for saying that David was walking on his room “in the late afternoon.” This makes it sound like she did it in broad daylight. The text says, “evening.” And she is bathing “to purify herself from her uncleanness.” That means seven days had elapsed since her menstrual period and she was bathing after sunset, the beginning of the next day after the seven. It was nearly dark. “Late afternoon” just won’t get it, translators. It just won’t.
Perhaps we do read the text through modern eyes, those informed by the reality and destructive influence of power imbalances in sexual relationships. But that doesn’t change the fact that the biblical author saw this as rape, despite any reservations about the city setting of the event. David sent messengers to her and he took her to his palace. Yes, it says she came to him, but who in the kingdom would not come to the king when summoned. The power imbalance is enormous.
Finally, I will add a comment on Bathsheba’s silence. I have read too many accounts of women abused by male clergy who found it impossible to cry out either in the moment or for some time after because of their confusion and shame. These situations of imbalance make consent utterly impossible, and the anguish they suffer is the source of my nausea as I sit here. The author of the uncited article I mentioned above suggested that the loss of her baby was a much lesser punishment from God for Bathsheba’s part in her relationship with David. It is not. It is just another horrible repercussion, born by the victim, of the abuser’s decision to abuse.
Now, I’m betting that most of my readers are largely unaware that these attempts to blame Bathsheba for David’s rape still reverberate in Christian circles, but they do. It’s not as though they’re a constant object of discussion, but when the subject comes up, many influential evangelical preachers still teach this filth. We do well to be educated on some of the nuances of the text and its meaning, because the day may come when we will be given the opportunity to help lift a woman out of that quagmire of misogyny.
You who read my Divergences regularly will know that I rarely get this incensed over a text, and I apologize if my intensity is disturbing, but I simply could not sit and write as if from an ivory tower.
Second Reading
In my studies on Ephesians 3 for this week I happened upon a fascinating article that gave me a new appreciation for just what it is that Paul is saying in the prayer that constitutes our reading for this week. Robert Foster, in his journal article for Novum Testamentum, posits that we should read this prayer as a continuation, a climax of the description of the church we find in 2:19-20.
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. (ESV)
I will provide a link to the full article below, which is really rather short and readable (compared to many I wade through, at least) but I’ll do my best to outline his ideas here.
He notes the way Paul (though the author does not appear to think Paul wrote this) creates growing momentum by three hina phrases in the prayer. Hina being the word translated “that” four times in our reading. First he “bows the knee.” This is Paul’s indication that what follows is a prayer. He then prays that the Ephesians be strengthened with power, that Christ may dwell in their hearts, that they may have strength to comprehend what is the breadth and length and height and depth of Christ’s love, and all this in order that a fourth hina phrase might come about, that they may be filled with all the fullness of God.
And all of this is a prayer for the fulfillment of the prophecy of Ezekiel, who, though he had earlier prophesied the departure of God’s glory from the Temple in Jerusalem, also prophesied its return to the New Temple in Ezekiel 43:4. Foster points out that the language of being filled with the fullness of God echoes the language of the Hebrew Scriptures, which describe the Tabernacle, and later Solomon’s Temple as being so filled with God’s glory that no one could enter. He points to the language of architecture used to describe being “founded” (as in a foundation) in love as an echo of the “foundation” of the temple in 2:19. He also suggests that the four measurements of Christ’s love may also invoke the four measurements of the altar of the New Temple of Ezekiel (43:13,14).
He concludes by submitting that the concluding doxology in our reading this week links also to the temple of 2:20, as the glory to which the doxology refers is that which God would receive in the Temple, whether in Jerusalem or in the new Temple of the church.
Now to set all that in the context of the letter’s larger purposes, I note that the first mention of the temple in vv. 2:19-20 flow from Paul’s argument concerning the oneness of the Ephesian congregation in Christ. So all of this, being “joined together” as a temple for the purpose of bringing God glory, invites the Ephesians into a stirring image, grounded in the Hebrew Scriptures, of a church united, which is one of Paul’s two primary purposes for the letter. (The other being to build up their confidence while facing a particularly strong pagan/demonic worship in Ephesus. See my brief introduction to Ephesians from two weeks ago. LINK)
Also, here is the link to Foster’s article.
Gospel Text
Last week I wrote about the strange choices made by those who put together our lectionary for that week. We have the introduction to Mark’s story of the feeding of the five thousand, and then the conclusion of Mark’s second story of Jesus walking on the water and calming the storm. This week, we finally get the two stories that the lectionary skipped, the feeding and the walking on the sea. Oh, but we get them from John. In Year B. You can’t make this stuff up.
And yet, perhaps it’s a good thing that we have this feeding miracle from the Fourth Gospel. For one thing, we don’t get to read enough from John in the lectionary. For another, among all of Jesus’ miracles, this is the only one that appears in all four Gospels. The only one. And while I’ll also try to comment on the walking on water miracle as well, it seems to me that the appearance of the feeding of the five thousand in all the Gospels makes it singularly important.
I did a search for this pericope on JSTOR.org and Academia.edu, and came up with nothing useful at all, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with my own thoughts here, unsupported by scholarly insight. That said, there are a few things worth noting about the feeding in John.
The first thing I notice is that John’s version of the feeding of the five thousand contains a few details missing in the others. John tells us that this occurred when the Passover was “at hand.” He tells us that the source of the bread and the fish was a boy who was present. He adds the strange qualification that the food was distributed “to those who were seated.” John also tells us what the people were saying, “This is indeed the Prophet who is to come into the world!” Finally, he tells us that after they had fed, they thought to seize Jesus and make Him king. Each of these might be significant..
Before I start in on each of those points, I would like to reiterate what it is that I believe about the historical reliability of John. Because it is based on the recollections of one who walked with Jesus, the “disciple whom Jesus loved,” I tend to treat such details as these as being recollections, not the literary inventions of John. And while I believe that the identity of the Beloved Disciple is Lazarus, and Lazarus doesn’t appear by name until chapter 11, this doesn’t exclude him from being present, for he is already “the disciple whom Jesus loves” in chapter 11, he has been a follower of Jesus for some time. Even if that were not the case, his close association with Jesus and the twelve means that he’d have heard the story first hand.
Now about the occurrence of this miracle when the Passover was “at hand.” As you already know, John is the only Gospel that spreads the story of Jesus out over more than a year. There are three times that the Passover plays a roll in the story. The first is in chapter two, when Jesus drives the animals out of the temple and overturns the tables of the money changers. The story before us is the second, and the third, of course, is the day following Jesus’ crucifixion.
The spreading of Jesus’ story over three years is another of the features of the Fourth Gospel that weighs in favor of it’s historical nature. And the trifold mention of the Passover seems important. I would make this of it. I don’t think that the impact of Jesus’ behavior in the Temple can be overstated, especially as it contributes to the Jewish authorities’ decision to seek His death. So we have this event happening at the same time of year as His Passion. Then as the next Passover approaches, Jesus feeds the five thousand and the people decide to make him king. A year before the Passion, the people set Jesus up as a threat to the Roman authorities, the other group that will participate in killing Him. And while Pilate does try to have Jesus released, in the end it is the people’s threat, “If you release this man, you are not Caesar’s friend. Everyone who makes himself a king opposes Caesar,” (19:12) that ends the debate. Pilate finally concedes with the words, “Shall I crucify your king?”
So, while the feeding of the five thousand is significant in itself, its proximity to the Passover and the people’s reaction make it even equally important in the larger story of Jesus’ journey to the Cross.
Then we have the delightful detail of the person who actually supplied the bread and the fish. A boy. A couple of insights here, perhaps as small as the boy. The first is that we are told that those who were present numbered “five thousand men.” Matthew makes a point of telling us that this number doesn’t include women and children. John makes this clear by showing us a child having a role in the story. The other is that the boy’s offering is derided. For he must have offered it. How else would the disciples have known? I like to think that this small detail speaks to our tendency to think that our small offerings may seem too little to be meaningful, but that Jesus can and will make big things of them if we’ll but offer.
Then Jesus distributes the food (with help, we’d assume?) to “those who were seated.” I’m not sure what to make of this, but it does seem to suggest that those who were fed were those who responded to Jesus’ command to sit down. Hungry, restless, sitting down doesn’t seem to be an easy thing to do. And yet, sitting down and waiting brought the feeding, the filling they needed. Maybe I’m making too much of this.
Next, John tells us something the people said that none of the other evangelists relates. “This is indeed the Prophet who is to come into the world!” I’ll retranslate that for you here, as the translations in both the NRSV and the ESV lack the punch that I think the Greek conveys.
When the people saw the sign that he had done, they said, “Because (of this), this is truly the Prophet! The one coming into the world!”
The first thing to note is the tone of expectation of “the Prophet.” Matthew goes to great lengths to demonstrate that Jesus is indeed the prophet whom Moses foretold, the one like him who would come after him. In John we hear this declaration directly from the mouths of the people. And we hear that declaration in a time of great distress, the people living under Roman occupation. That Jesus fulfills this role, but in a way wildly different from expectation, remains a point of contention between John’s congregation and their Jewish neighbors.
Then we have an iteration of the phrase “coming (or come) into the world,” that is peculiar to John. Jesus speaks often of Himself as the one who has come into the world, and the narrator of the Fourth Gospel speaks of the light that was coming into the world. In most of the occurrences of this phrase, the reference is to light. The other exceptions are in Peter’s confession that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of God who is coming into the world,” and Jesus’ declaration to Pilate that He has come into the world to “bear witness to the truth.” What this tells me is that in our reading for this week, the feeding miracle functions as “light” and as “bearing witness to the truth.” And what is that “truth?” That Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, coming into the world. This, for me at least, goes beyond Jesus’ identity as Son of God, but speaks to the very nature and will of God, whose Son came not to condemn the world, but so that the world might be saved through Him. To believe that Jesus is the Son of God is to believe that this is God’s nature, to love the world so much that They sent Their Son.
Lastly, among the four Gospels only John tells us that the people’s response was to try to make Jesus king. And Jesus’ reaction? As some would say today, “That’s a hard nope!” The only king the people need is from heaven, not an earthly one. Before Pilate Jesus doesn’t deny He’s a king, only that His kingdom is “from this world.” Like the temptation in the wilderness that the other three Gospels relate, Jesus declines political power.
I’d like to go down a brief rabbit hole on this one. For me, political power and the Gospel are like oil and water. And this for one very simple reason. Political power is always about violence or the threat of it. It doesn’t matter which side of the political spectrum you find yourself on, it all boils down to making others do what you think they ought to do under some threat of violence, imprisonment, the taking away of one’s property, even death. Some think we are living immorally and they seek to encode their understanding of Christian morality into law, so as to punish those who violate it. Others think we ought to feed the poor, so they enact taxes to force others who don’t share that sentiment to support their view or be fined or go to jail.
In the end, both sides have (partial) views of what Kingdom life is like, but both believe their Gospel too weak to produce the fruits they desire to see, so they turn to Caesar to produce the peace they think they want. But in the end, I don’t think Caesar can produce the Kingdom. Only the Gospel can.
I finished my reflections on John’s feeding of the five thousand and I closed the document. Hours later I thought, “You haven’t touched on the walking on the water, numbskull!” But this Divergence has gotten so long that I don’t want to add much. What I would note, and then leave for your reflection, is this. In the other stories, the storm is calmed when Jesus gets in the boat, or speaks to the storm. In John Jesus enters the boat and suddenly they arrive at the other side. What do you make of that?
