Authors: Angela Hunt
“I know, son.” I allowed my gaze to leave his face and move over the crowd, which certainly included several men who quietly supported Adonijah. “I am only passing on your brother’s petition.”
Solomon stared at me for a moment more, then understanding lit his eyes.
He stood, his face flaming, and lifted a fist in midair. “May God strike me and even kill me if Adonijah has not sealed his fate with this request. The Lord has confirmed me and placed me on the throne of my father, David. He has established my dynasty as He promised. So as surely as the Lord lives, Adonijah will die this very day.”
I pressed my lips together, knowing that after this, none of David’s other sons would have the courage to challenge Solomon for the throne.
Solomon wasted no time carrying out the last of his father’s instructions. He told Abiathar the traitorous priest to go back to his home in Anathoth. “You deserve to die for your treason,” he said, “but I will not kill you because you carried the Ark of the Sovereign Lord for David my father and shared all his hardships. But you will no longer serve as priest of the Lord at the Tabernacle.” Zadok the priest replaced Abiathar.
Because David’s commander Joab had joined Adonijah’s rebellion, Solomon dispatched Benaiah to execute him. The wily commander also ran to the sacred tent of the Tabernacle and clung to the horns of the altar, but Solomon ordered Benaiah to kill him anyway to remove the guilt of Joab’s senseless murders from David’s family. Benaiah was then named commander of the army.
As for Shimei, the man who had foolishly cursed David on his way to Mahanaim, Solomon told him, “Build a house here in Jerusalem and live in it safely. But the day you step outside the city, you will die and your blood will be on your own head.”
For two years Shimei lived in his house, but when two of his slaves ran away, he saddled his donkey and traveled to Gath to find them. When he returned, Solomon had him executed.
Shlomo, my precious son, had inherited my peaceful nature, but
he also possessed his father’s iron will. And though the ruthless requirements of kingship often made me flinch, in Solomon’s resolute actions I saw a strength and courage I had never possessed. Truly he was the best of me and the best of David, wrought together in order to fulfill Adonai’s will for His people Israel.
M
ORE
THAN
TWENTY
YEARS
HAVE
PASSED
since David’s death, but I have never forgotten the prophet’s reassuring words. Nor have I forgotten that David paid dearly for his sins, losing four children: our baby, Amnon, Absalom, and Tamar.
In my youth I was a
tob
woman. I am a
tob
woman still, but one must look deep into my eyes to see the beauty and strength that once made me desirable. My sons have seen it, as have their wives.
David came to see the
tob
woman within, and in doing so, taught me how to love him.
I am now an old woman of seventy years. I have laughed in a small house and wept in a palace. I have loved two men and lost them both. But throughout the winding length of my life, I have been pulled and directed by words that sprang from prophets’ lips after being breathed by the
Ruach HaKodesh.
Adonai created me a
tob
woman . . . and I am content.
I’
M
WELL
AWARE
that this novel might raise as many questions as it answers, so I wanted to take a page or two to explain why events in this story unfolded the way they did.
First, I have taken pains not to purposely contradict anything in the Bible. If it happened a certain way in the Scripture, I wrote the events as the Bible said they happened. But because biblical writers only give us the “big picture” of events, as a novelist, I feel free to fill in the canvas with logical details, feelings, conversations, and settings.
When I first began to write this story, I tweeted a few comments about my progress and almost instantly became aware of a prejudice against Bathsheba. One man tweeted a reply to the effect of, “Boy, she really did a number on David,” and I was stunned when I read it. How in the world had Bathsheba become the
aggressor
? Are we so enthralled with the man “after God’s own heart” that we cannot see that he was as fallible as any other human?
I mentioned my work-in-progress on my blog and sparked an interesting conversation in which even women remarked that Bathsheba must have played some role in what was considered a “seduction” of the king. After all, she was taking a bath outdoors, and perhaps she intended to tempt David.
But homes in ancient Jerusalem did not have indoor plumbing. The word
mikvah
means “large container of water” and came to be associated with the ritual bath women had to take after their
menstrual cycle. Where would a family put this
mikvah
? Out in the courtyard, of course. Bathsheba’s bathing outside was not unusual; most women in Jerusalem would have bathed outdoors unless they watered their livestock inside the house.
David had an excellent view of Bathsheba (and everyone else), because not only was the palace located at a higher elevation than the rest of the city, he was also on the
rooftop
. Perhaps he went there to survey his kingdom; perhaps he wanted to enjoy the sunset. In any case, he was on the roof at sunset, and sunset marked the end of one Hebrew day and the beginning of another. It is therefore logical and normal that Bathsheba or any woman would have been bathing outdoors around sunset at the end of her menstrual cycle.
I have also considered the point that Bathsheba’s experience couldn’t qualify as rape because she had options. Deuteronomy 22:23–26 asserts that if a woman is raped out in the country, she is always considered innocent, for it can be assumed that she screamed and no one was around to come to her defense. If a woman is raped in the city, however, and does not scream, then she was judged guilty of adultery.
That passage was written in the days before Israel’s kings, and the establishment of Israel as a kingdom changed many aspects of everyday life. The king held the power of life and death over his subjects, so I do not think any woman assaulted by the king would endanger her life by screaming. His power and authority were a metaphorical gun at her head, and his use of force was a threat not only to her life but to her reputation.
To be fair, I asked myself,
could
Bathsheba have been in love with David from the start? The Bible tells us very little about what she thought or felt, and she speaks in only two recorded instances (2 Samuel 11:5 and 1 Kings 1). So in order to gauge her feelings about the men in her life, I considered the parable Nathan told David. The poor man and his “ewe lamb” represented Uriah and
Bathsheba, and from the parable it’s clear that the poor man and the ewe lamb shared a tender relationship. The violence in the story springs solely from the rich man, while the poor man and his lamb are completely innocent.
That parable, therefore, is the biblical basis for my portrayal of Bathsheba and Uriah’s relationship.
Why do I often refer to God as HaShem?
HaShem
literally means
the name
in Hebrew, and it is used instead of the word we would translate
Jehovah
. Many Jews still use
HaShem
to refer to God, because His name is considered too holy to speak or write.
Did Samuel utter a prophecy about Bathsheba? That prophecy is a fictional invention, but the prophets prophesied many things, and Scripture records only a few of them.
Did Nathan predict all the trials that would befall David’s house? That prophecy is found in 2 Samuel 12.
Did Uriah know what David had done to his wife? We cannot know for certain. Some people in the palace definitely knew, for David used palace messengers to find out who she was and then to fetch her to the rooftop, so it’s entirely possible Uriah knew his wife had been ill-used by the king. But one thing is clear—whether or not Uriah knew, he was a man of honor, so he was determined to do his duty even if his king and master sent him to his death. I chose to exercise this option, because the story is far more dramatic if Uriah knew and walked willingly—sacrificially—into the trap David set for him.
Did Michal really raise her older sister Merab’s sons? Second Samuel 6:23 tells us that Michal remained childless all her life (after she mocked David’s dancing during the Ark’s arrival to Jerusalem). Yet in 2 Samuel 21:8–9, the Masoretic Text (and the
King James Bible
) says that Michal had five sons who were handed over to the Gibeonites. Most likely the substitution of
Michal
for
Merab
was a copyist’s error, but I chose to have Michal bring up her deceased
sister’s sons. (Biblical inerrancy refers to the fact that the Bible is without error
in the original texts.
Copyists have made errors over the years, and many Bibles will point those out in margin notes.)
Did David really sit up on his deathbed and charge Solomon with taking care of his enemies? Yes. Somehow I am reminded of Marlon Brando in that scene.
Did Absalom really cut his hair only once a year? Did the trimmings really weigh five pounds? Yes, and yes (2 Samuel 14:26). Was his hair really the hair of Adam? That’s a Jewish legend. Did he really get his hair caught in an oak (terebinth) tree? Yes.
Did Absalom have children? Yes (2 Samuel 14:27, 18:18; 2 Kings 15:2). Did four of them die in the plague? I don’t know how they died, but only Maacah is ever mentioned in Scripture again. Some scholars believe that 2 Samuel 14:27 actually means that Maacah is Tamar’s daughter and Absalom’s granddaughter (who later married Solomon’s son Rehoboam). I chose the literal rendering, though I believe either alternative is plausible.
Did Bathsheba really have five sons, four of whom survived? Yes (1 Chronicles 3:5).
I found it interesting that the Gospel of Matthew traces Jesus’ lineage through Solomon, while Luke traces it through Nathan, Bathsheba’s youngest son. The two genealogies do not agree, and here’s an explanation as to why they differ:
A. The lists of ancestors found in Matthew 1:1–17 and Luke 3:23–38 do not agree. There are two major theories for the discrepancies:
1. Matthew wrote primarily to a Jewish audience and recorded Joseph’s lineage to satisfy Jewish legal practices, while Luke wrote to Gentiles and recorded Mary’s lineage. Both trace Jesus back to David, yet Luke goes further, all
the way back to Adam (probably because he was writing for Gentiles).
2. Matthew recorded the lineage of the kings of Judah succeeding David (or after the Exile, those who would have succeeded), while Luke recorded the actual ancestors.
B. This lineage would serve the purpose of proving Jesus’ tribal identity and showing the fulfillment of prophecy (cf. Genesis 49:8–12 and 2 Samuel 7). Fulfilled prophecy (cf. Matthew 1:22; 2:15, 17, 23; 4:14; 8:17; 12:17; 13:35; 21:4; 27:9; 35) is strong evidence for a supernatural Bible and for God’s control of history and time.
C. Matthew 1:17 gives the key to understanding why some ancestors are not listed. The author was using a numerically structured, three-tiered “fourteen generation” approach to Jesus’ lineage.
1
If you’d like to read the supporting Scriptures for this novel, you’ll find most of them in 2 Samuel and 1 Kings.
I hope Bathsheba’s story, like Esther’s, has encouraged you to pick up a Bible and read the historical accounts of how they lived and how God used them. I love to hear from readers, so if you have any questions or comments, feel free to drop me a note at
[email protected]
.
1
. Robert James Utley, vol. 9,
The First Christian Primer: Matthew
, Study Guide Commentary Series, 6 (Marshall, TX: Bible Lessons International, 2000).