"Bless the Lord, 0 my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, 0 my soul, and do not forget all his benefits ... as a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him."
As a father has compassion for his children … When I first sang those words, I thought I knew what they meant. I supposed that I had been a compassionate father. I believed that I knew all there was to know about compassion. And I imagined that what my wife and I felt after our child died had deepened us, so that never again would we make such terrible mistakes. I thought I had grasped compassion. But I had so much to learn. So much.
I am old now, and in the last days of my life. I am sure that the Lord will soon gather me to the bosom of my fathers. But before I go, I see that I must share with you what I have learned about compassion. I must report, without covering it up any longer, my failures, so that you may learn. Yes, I said, I must report my failures. You see me as a success, and so I am, in some ways. But I am also a failure. A profound failure.
You see me wearing the royal purple. That suggests success. And I did succeed. I rose from being a mere shepherd boy out there tending my father’s flocks, and I became king of Israel and of Judah. I won the hearts of the people; but I failed to win the hearts of my own sons.
You see me decorated in gold, with riches well beyond my ability even to spend them. I succeeded in building a great city, Jerusalem; I succeeded in constructing a magnificent royal palace; I succeeded in amassing materials for the building of a temple for Almighty God. I was a successful builder of things; but I failed to build the character of my own children.
You have already heard this morning some of my literary accomplishments, the psalms. Almost every time you worship you use my words. You know of David the king, David the warrior, David the singer, David the builder. I wish I did not have to tell you of David the father. But I must, I must tell you what I have learned, through a great deal of pain and suffering. I must tell you so that my soul may rest and so that you will see that someone may be a success in a great many things, but may still be a failure in the one thing that matters -- those who look to us for leadership.
How might I say it so that you can remember it? Something like this: "What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" Listen and learn from me, from David, king of Israel, and from my three sons.
I
One of my sons is Adonijah. Adonijah is the child of my concubine Haggith. Adonijah is my oldest surviving son; there were others, but they are gone. Oh my God, the pain of that memory! Gone! But of that I will speak in a few moments.
Adonijah is my oldest surviving son, and he is so hungry for power. He is so anxious to have position. In fact, only a few weeks ago, Adonijah gathered around himself a few malcontents, and tried to make himself king in my place. Joab, my general; and Abiathar, one of the priests; and a number of others ... they all went out to the place called Zoheleth and staged a big rally. They built an altar and sacrificed sheep and oxen and prayed and preached and pranced all day long. Nothing like dragging God in by the hind legs when you want something for yourself!
And at Zoheleth Adonijah proclaimed himself king. Can you imagine it? What a brazen thing to do! Just stood up on his hind legs in front of this ragtag bunch and shouted, "I will be king." And they, the cowards, answered, "Yes, you shall be king. Long live Kind Adonijah". Can you imagine? I’m not even dead yet, and they think they can take over.
And besides, everyone knows that the Kingdom is promised to my son Solomon. No, Solomon is not the oldest. No, he is not the strongest. But he is the best and the brightest, and I have known since his birth that the Lord had set him aside to be king after me. Adonijah knew this. Joab knew this. So did Abiathar, so did they all. Why did they defy the will of the Lord? What makes Adonijah so presumptuous, so self-centered, so much in a hurry to have whatever he wants?
Oh, my friends, my friends. I am afraid that Adonijah is the product of my fathering. I am afraid that he is exactly what I made him to be. The historian who is writing the chronicle of my reign has already shown me the text of what he will say. And although it angered me to read it, I have to admit that what is written in the first Book of the Kings is true: "Adonijah’s father had never at any time displeased him by asking, ’Why have you done thus and so?’"
It’s there in the book, for you to read, "David had never at any time displeased Adonijah by asking, ’Why have you done thus and so?’"
It is the truth. I never probed his actions. I never asked him to share his feelings. I never even wanted to understand him. What I wanted was his approval. I wanted him to like me. And so I didn’t risk anything with him. I didn’t risk getting him upset. I didn’t risk asking him his motives when he got into those tight spots that every boy experiences. I didn’t risk finding out his inner side. I just left him alone!
I forgot that I am the adult and he was the child. A mature man does not need the approval of a child; a mature man needs to know the heart of the child in order to guide him with compassion. What a terrible mistake I made with Adonijah! I would not risk his displeasure, and so I never found out what he really felt. I wanted to be liked by him, and so I never admitted his troubled side. And so out of this vain and handsome youth, whose motives had never been challenged, I created a young man who wanted whatever he wanted when he wanted it, whether it was his or not.
My son Adonijah. For all my worldly success, I failed with him. What I gave him was not compassion. It was denial, it was emotional starvation. And I lost him.
II
Well, as I have told you, Adonijah wanted the throne that was to go to another of my sons, to Solomon. Solomon was the son of the love of my life, Bathsheba. Solomon, whose birth consoled us so deeply after our first child, the child of our great sin, was taken from us.
I’m sure that Solomon looks like a success story to you. Already, even before his accession to the throne, he is known as a bright and alert young man. His wise and pithy sayings are being repeated allover the land. He is incredibly attractive to all the young women of my kingdom as well as to a host of other kingdoms... why, I’ll bet we can marry him to a thousand different princesses if we want to! Solomon has a great deal going for him.
But, friends, there is a streak of something else in Solomon too, and I can’t help wondering if I put it there. Solomon is smart and wise, yes; but sometimes he uses his intelligence and his wisdom to plan harsh vengeance against people who stand in his way. Solomon is attractive, yes; but I think he trades on his attractiveness to get more and more, to get much more than anyone man should want or need.
For example, that thing with Adonijah. After Adonijah tried to grab the throne, I hurried along and had Solomon formally anointed, so that all the people would be clear that it was my intent for Solomon to be king after me. And when Adonijah got wind of what had been done, knowing that he had lost out, he ran to his brother Solomon and pleaded for his very life. Well, Solomon’s reply seemed fine at the time; I couldn’t quarrel with it. Solomon said, "If [my brother] Adonijah proves to be a worthy man, not one of his hairs shall fall to the ground; but if wickedness is found in him, he shall die." And Solomon sent Adonijah home. That would have seemed to end the matter.
But, you know, I have always suspected that Solomon is too clever by half. I think he set his brother up to fail. Remember his promise, "If he proves to be a worthy man, not one of his hairs shall fall to the ground; but if wickedness is found in him, he shall die"? Solomon was setting a trap. And so when Adonijah hinted that he wouldn’t mind having as his wife the lovely young lady Abishag, who had served at the court ... when Adonijah hinted his desire for Abishag, suddenly Solomon, who was already surrounded by more female admirers than you can count, flew into a rage. Solomon accused his brother of impertinence; he said, "You might as well ask for the kingdom too!" And there are hazy hints that he’s going to use this as a pretext to do away with his brother.
Oh my sons, my sons! My son Adonijah, whom I would not displease, and therefore who grew up to be emotionally starved. And now my son Solomon, to whom I have given everything, whom I have praised to the skies. My son Solomon, whom I never taught that because he was gifted by God, that meant he should share with his brothers. My pride and joy Solomon, to whom I promised a kingdom, teaching him all the pleasures of position; but I never taught him that to be a real man is to discipline his wants and curb his appetites. This the son of my desire for Bathsheba I never taught that a woman is a person, never to be bartered and bargained with. This my most gifted son I never taught that to whom much is given of him shall much be required.
My son Solomon. For all my worldly success, I failed with him. What I gave him was not compassion. It was a moral vacuum. And I lost him too. My failure, my sons.
III
Yes, here in my old age, I see more clearly than ever before my failures as a father. But I beg of you, do not hate me. Do not be contemptuous of me. For my failures are already more than I can bear. My failures with Adonijah and with Solomon bring back the memory of the worst of all my failures. My son Absalom. Oh, Absalom, Absalom, my son Absalom.
The story is long and complicated. I will not trouble you with all of it. It is enough just to tell you that I killed Absalom. I destroyed my son.
Oh, I did not take the sword and plunge it in. But I might just as well have done so. For I did create the circumstances which led to his death.
You see, Absalom had himself killed yet another of my sons. His brother Amnon had done an unspeakable thing with their sister Tamar, and so Absalom had avenged his sister’s honor by slaughtering Amnon. In my anger I refused to deal with Absalom in any way for three years. At first I banned him from the city of Jerusalem; later I let him come to the city, but I banned him from the court and from my face. I would not speak to him, I would not work with him. All I wanted to do was to humiliate him.
And, I am sure, it is because I humiliated my son that he rose in full-scale rebellion against me, trying to overthrow me, trying to prove himself a mighty warrior, trying to be somebody. That was Absalom. Always trying to be somebody. And what did I do about it? I ignored him. I put him down. I swept him aside, until just to get my attention, he acted out his rebellion.
Well, there was nothing to do at that point but send the army out after him. I told my general, Joab, that whatever they did, they should not harm Absalom. I just wanted him stopped, but I did think it was compassionate to spare him injury.
O my friends, my friends. After all these years, the pain of it is still too much to bear. My son Absalom was riding like the wind to escape my army, and his long hair got tangled in an oak tree, while his horse went running on. There he hung, helpless, and Joab, my trusted general ... Joab plunged three darts into his heart and took his life.
O Absalom, Absalom, my son Absalom. I can’t stand it. Beni, beni, av-shalom. Would to God I had died instead of you!
I killed him. I killed him because in my pride I would not deal positively with his problem. I killed him because I wanted to look strong to my people, and so I said, "Get out of my face. If you can’t live by my rules, then get out of my house." That wasn’t about him, you know. That was about me.
My son Absalom. For all my worldly success, I failed with him. What I gave him was not compassion. It was punishment for him and pride for me. And I lost him. I lost him forever. My failure, my three sons.
So, people of God, King David stands before you this day, a failure as a father, and asks you to learn. David asks you to learn that when you starve those who look to you, as I did with Adonijah, it is not compassion, it is just denial, and it will reap rebellion.
And when you are indulgent with those who are in your care, as I was with Solomon, neither is that compassion; it is just enabling their greediness.
And I, David, king of Israel, the father of several sons, but some are dead ... I will tell you again that when you are interested only in punishing and not in forgiving those who challenge you, that is most definitely not compassion. It is playing power games; it is death.
O my sons, my three sons. Would to God I had died instead of failing you!
"As a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him.... For the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children’s children."
