On the surface…

at least…

our reading from the Second Book of Samuel…

this morning… 

is quite a straightforward story.

We see, here, the aftermath of last week’s story about David, Bathsheba, and Uriah.

Last week, after David had “seduced” Bathsheba––

to put it politely––

and got her pregnant…

he arranged for her husband, Uriah, to be killed in battle…

in order to cover up his “indiscretion”.

Although David had abused his power as king––

at a number of levels––

and he thought that he had gotten away with it…

here…

this morning…

we discover that he hasn’t.

God, we are told, is “displeased” with David’s evil;

and the prophet Nathan is moved to confront David about it.

And…

in a wonderful piece of story-telling…

the author has Nathan come to David with a touching story of injustice:

about a rich man who has taken the lamb of a poor man––

his only worldly possession…

and one that he cared deeply about––

for his own sordid use.

As readers, we know it to be a parable.

But David––

not realising that it’s a parable––

is incensed… 

and passes judgment on the perpetrator;

which…

of course…

leads to that wonderful “gotcha”-moment…

when Nathan announces to David, “You are the man!”.

As I said, it’s a wonderful piece of story-telling…

even if…

on one level…

it’s quite a straightforward story––

although it has a number of things to teach us.

It’s a story that reminds us that we abuse the power entrusted to us at our peril;

that the things that we try to hide seldom stay hidden;

and that no one is––

or should be––

above the law.

It’s a story that encourages us to speak truth to power—

and offers us a model for how we might go about it.

It’s a story that invites us to consider that all that we have comes from God…

and warns us not to presume upon it.

It’s a story that holds out for us the promise of God’s forgiveness––

when we repent and confess––

no matter how heinous our sins might be;

even while it points out that––

despite that––

forgiveness doesn’t somehow magically sweep away the consequences… 

or the implications… 

of what we have done.

It’s also a story that makes clear to us that God is displeased with injustice…

and, by implication…

exhorts us to be displeased with it as well.

 

But is that all that there is to this story?

 

No!

And maybe, for us, this is our “gotcha”-moment––

even if it’s something that the characters in the story…

and its author…

could never have contemplated.

In this story…

when Nathan confronts David regarding his “sin”…

about which, we’re told…

God is “displeased”… 

it quickly becomes clear that that seems to be only in regards to what David has done to Uriah:

that is, in taking his wife…

then arranging for him to be murdered.

But the story completely ignores what David has done to Bathsheba…

which was, at the very least, a gross abuse of power…

a form of coercion…

if not actually sexual assault… 

or even rape.

Indeed, it’s telling that…

in our story this morning… 

Bathsheba isn’t even mentioned by name.

She’s referred to simply as “the wife of Uriah”.

She effectively has no personhood.

Her identity is completely subsumed into that of the men to whom she is attached:

she’s simply Uriah’s wife…

or she’s David’s wife.

And, in fact, Nathan’s clever little parable simply reinforces that impression.

Bathsheba is property.

She was Uriah’s property––

just like the lamb in the parable––

which David stole for his own selfish use.

Indeed, the whole parable is couched in economic terms.

Now…

within the fiercely patriarchal world of antiquity, that’s not altogether surprising.

And yet… 

none of the commentators that I read in preparing for this morning made any note of that.

Not one!

There was plenty written about the corrupting nature of power;

and how Nathan shows us how to speak truth to power.

There was plenty about confession, repentance, and forgiveness;

and the fact that forgiveness doesn’t change the consequences of our actions.

But there was not one comment about all of these events from the perspective of Bathsheba…

or the impact that all of this had on her.

After being, effectively, raped…

and impregnated by her rapist…

and then her husband murdered…

she was forced to marry the perpetrator…

because…

within that world…

she simply had no other option.

She couldn’t have survived as a widow with an infant…

without the support and protection of another man.

And there was not one comment made about the problems of a culture…

or a system…

that sees women as property and possessions in that way…

or as having value only in relation to men.

And the lack of any comment to that effect is… 

in itself… 

particularly telling.

Indeed…

the fact that modern, educated, privileged, white men can’t seem to recognise that this is a problem––

that’s part of the problem.

Because, sadly, the same attitudes that are reflected in our story…

still pervade our world––

and our own society––

even today.

Back at the start of this year… 

when the news broke about the alleged rape of Brittany Higgins… 

the Prime Minister’s response was woefully ham-fisted. 

After some delay, he announced a review into the workplace culture at Parliament House;

which was prompted, he said, by a conversation with his wife, Jenny:

“She said to me, ‘You have to think about this as a father first. What would you want to happen if it were our girls?’”

The responses to that were scathing.

As one female journalist from NewsCorp, of all places, wrote: 

“Those five words ‘as a father’ and ‘our girls’ made me so angry. All women matter, no matter who they are. Why do we have to keep having this conversation? The language around ‘father first’ and ‘our girls’ is dangerous because it insinuates that females are only worthy if they are special to a male in some way. Is my only worth being attached to a man, am I not worthy of respect in my own right?”

Indeed!

It’s that sort of attitude towards women…

that continues to drive the pandemic of domestic violence…

and sexual assault…

and sexual discrimination…

that we’re seeing.

It’s that sort of attitude towards women… 

that lets men think… 

that they have the right to legislate what women can do with their bodies.

It’s that sort of attitude towards women…

that still can’t admit that we, men, have a problem…

and that we need to change. 

But until we start to recognise that all of this is also a religious and a theological issue––

and not just a social, cultural, and political one;

until we start to recognise––

in a way that the characters in this story or even its author couldn’t––

that this is an issue about which God is displeased…

and that we sin against God when we allow it to continue…

then… 

we’re actually no better than David.

In fact… 

we’re a darned sight worse!