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Commentary on Mark 6:14-29

Jesus was now becoming well known over a wide area. There was much speculation as to who he was (a major theme of Mark’s Gospel). Some were suggesting that he was John the Baptist (who had by this time been executed) come to life again, or that he was the prophet Elijah, who was expected to return just before the coming of the Messiah, or that he was a prophet in his own right, “like one of the prophets of old”. We know, of course, that all those speculations were wrong. The true answer will emerge very soon.

King Herod, steeped in superstition and full of fear and guilt, was convinced that Jesus was a re-incarnation of John the Baptist, whom he had beheaded. We now get the story as to how this happened in today’s Gospel.

Herod Antipas, also known as Herod the Tetrarch, was the son of Herod the Great, who was king when Jesus was born. When the older Herod died, his kingdom was divided among his three surviving sons. Archelaus received half of the territory, Herod Antipas became ruler of Galilee and Perea, while Philip (Herod Boethus) became the ruler of the northern territory on the east side of the Jordan. The title ‘Tetrarch’ indicates that he was ruler of one quarter of the whole territory.

It is clear that Herod had great respect for John, as he would also have for Jesus later on. The problem arose because John had denounced Herod’s taking the wife (Herodias) of his half-brother Herod Boethus. This was in clear violation of Jewish law. The historian Josephus also says that Herod feared that John, so popular with the people, might instigate a riot against him.

It was this woman, Herodias, who now wanted to be rid of John, but could not do so because of Herod Antipas’ respect for him. Herod had gone as far as arresting John, but even when John was in prison, Herod loved to listen to him, despite being puzzled by John’s preaching.

Herodias saw her opportunity when Herod threw a party for his court to celebrate his birthday. She knew her husband’s weaknesses. Herodias’s daughter was brought in to dance and utterly captivated Herod. Deep in his cups, he made a rash promise. He would give her anything, even half of the territory he governed. Under the prompting of the mother, the girl makes the gruesome request for John’s head on a dish.

Herod was aghast, but because of his oath in the presence of his guests, he dared not renege on his promise. John was beheaded, and the head given to the mother. Afterwards, John’s disciples came and took his body and gave him a decent burial.

We might notice some similarities between this story and the passion of Jesus. Both Herod and Pilate recognised in John and Jesus, respectively, people of obvious goodness of life, wisdom and integrity. The hatred of Herodias for John parallels the hatred of the Jewish leaders for Jesus—in both situations the ‘haters’ called for execution by the ruler (Herod in one case, Pilate in the other). After the deaths of John and Jesus, disciples asked and received permission for a decent burial.

John is the precursor of Jesus, not only in announcing the coming of Jesus, but also in giving his life for the integrity of his beliefs and in bringing God’s message to the people. We are called to do the same. Preparing the way for Jesus and his message must become an integral part of every Christian’s life. Without our cooperation, without our going ahead of Jesus, his message will not be heard.

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Commentary on Sirach 47:2-11 Read Friday of week 4 of Ordinary Time – First Reading »

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Commentary on Mark 6:7-13

We now reach a new stage in the formation of Jesus’ disciples. There was a calling of the first disciples to be “fishers of people”, then the choosing of twelve who would share in the very work of Jesus. Now the Twelve, the foundation of the future community, are being sent out to do exactly the same work that Jesus has been doing.

They have been given authority over unclean spirits, they preach repentance—that radical conversion (Greek, metanoia) to the vision of the Kingdom—and they anoint the sick with oil and heal them. Notice that these three activities cover the whole person: spiritual, mental and physical; healing and wholeness; health and holiness—to be holy is to be whole.

They are instructed to travel lightly, bringing only what they absolutely need—no food or money or even a change of clothes. They will not need these things because they will be taken care of by the people they serve. They are to stay in the first house that takes them in. Overall, they are to show total dependence on and trust in God.

This is freedom at its best. It is a model repeated by many saints and founders of religious congregations. Do we really need all the baggage we carry through life? Even the ancient Greeks said: “Those are really rich whose needs are the least”. That is what Jesus is teaching us. And, of course, he was a living example.

The disciples went off and did the three central works of Jesus:

• They proclaimed the Kingdom and called for a radical change of heart from people, so that they might see life in the way that Jesus, the Son of God, was proclaiming.
• They liberated many people from evil influences and compulsions. Freedom is the essence of Christian discipleship.
• They anointed the sick with soothing oil and brought them healing and wholeness.

They not only preached the Kingdom; they made it a reality in people’s lives. This is what we too are all called to do within the circumstances of our life. Even having little, we are to give much.

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Commentary on 1 Kings 2:1-4, 10-12

Today we begin reading from the Book of Kings. The two Books of Kings were originally, like 1 and 2 Samuel, a single historical work. In conjunction with the Books of Samuel, they extend the consecutive history of Israel from the birth of Samuel to the destruction of Jerusalem in 587 BC. This combined work is designed as a religious history; hence in Kings, the Temple, which is the chosen site for the worship of Yahweh, occupies the centre of attention.

The Books of Kings show clearly the theological bent of a Deuteronomic editor. In them, as already in Judges, material from various sources, such as the Book of the Acts of Solomon (1 Kgs 11:41) and the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel (1 Kgs 14:19), is forged into structural unity by an editor whose principal interest is in the fidelity to Yahweh of rulers and people. The reigns of individual kings are adapted to an editorial framework consisting of a presentation and an obituary notice for each, in stereotyped formulae. In between, the achieve­ments of the king are reported – above all, his fidelity or lack of fidelity to Yahweh.

The faithful prosper; the unfaithful pay for their defections. Since this is basically a narrative of sin and retribution, it would not be inappropriate to entitle the Books of Kings “The Rise and Fall of the Israelite Monarchy”.

Without minimising the complexity of the process by which this material was transmitted for many centuries, one may speak of two editions of the Books. The first was written at some time between 621 BC and 597 BC and the second, final edition during the Exile, probably shortly after Jehoiachin was released from his Baby­lonian Prison (561 BC).

1 Kings carries the history of Israel from the last days and death of David to the accession in Samaria of Ahaziah, son of Ahab, near the end of the reign of Jehoshaphat, king of Judah. Judgment is passed on Ahaziah’s reign, but the details are given later in 2 Kings. We should note the two large cycles of traditions which grew up around the great prophetic figures of Elijah and Elisha, the former in I Kings and the latter chiefly in 2 Kings. These cycles, which interrupt the sequence of regnal chronicles, were very probably preserved and transmitted by the prophetic communities to which there are references in the same traditions. The Elijah cycle is the more important since it dramatically underscores Israel’s critical struggle with the religion of Canaan.

According to the New American Bible, the principal divisions of the Books of Kings are:

I. The Reign of Solomon (1 Kgs 1:1-11:43).

II. Judah and Israel to the Time of Ahab (1 Kgs 12:1-16,34).

III. Stories of the Prophets (1 Kgs 17:1-22,54).

IV. The Kingdoms of Israel and Judah (2 Kgs 1:1-17, 41).

V. The Kingdom of Judah after 721 BC (2 Kgs 18:1-25:30).

Today we begin the First Book of Kings. We carry on the narrative from 2 Samuel as David comes to the end of his life and hands over the kingship to his son Solomon, the second son that he had by Bathsheba (after she had become his wife).

Today’s reading contains part of David’s final testament before his death. Moses, Joshua and Samuel, as representatives of God’s rule over his people, had all given final instructions and admonitions before they died. David is now going “to go the way of all the earth” and exhorts his son to be courageous and act like a real man.

While the section in our reading consists of positive instructions to his son and successor, Solomon, he is also instructed to execute vengeance on David’s personal enemies. These include Joab, one of his chief generals who had betrayed him, and Shimei, a man who had cursed David and whom David had originally said should not be touched.

On the positive side, Solomon is told to observe what the Lord his God requires. He is to “walk in obedience” to the Lord, a characteristic expression from the law of Moses for acting in obedience to the obligations of the covenant. These obligations are spelt out: to observe God’s decrees and commands, his laws and requirements. And finally, there is a prayer for success in all his undertakings.

David then prays that the Lord may fulfil his promise he made for the continuity of his dynastic line:

…you will never fail to have a successor on the throne of Israel.

Here he alludes to the covenanted promise given to him by God through Nathan the prophet. Although the covenant promise to David was unconditional, individual participation in its blessing on the part of David’s royal descendants depended on their total obedience (“with all your heart and soul”) to the obligations of the Mosaic covenant.

However, both Solomon and his descendants fell short of their covenant obligations. This led to the division of the kingdom and eventually to the exile of both the northern and southern kingdoms to Babylon. It was only with the coming of Christ that the fallen tent of David would be restored and the promise of David’s eternal dynasty ultimately fulfilled.

When the nation and its king turned away from the requirements of the covenant, they experienced the covenant curses rather than blessings; but in all this, God remained faithful to his covenant promises to Abraham and to David. In spite of all their failings, the promise of the covenant found its realisation in Jesus, King and Messiah.

After 40 years on the throne, David died in Jerusalem, the “City of David”. He had been king in Hebron for 7 years and in Jerusalem for 33 years. The dates were from about 1010 to 970 BC. Solomon, his son by Bathsheba and a young man full of promise, had already taken over the kingship.

In the Old Testament David stands out as a giant. He was a man of glaring faults. He was also a man of deep religious conviction, a man of great integrity. When he failed, and he failed badly by any standards, he was the first to acknowledge his faults and express repentance for his sin. In consequence, he experienced God’s mercy and forgiveness.

We can learn from his example. Not by saying that it does not matter if we sin, because it does. But that, having sinned, we need to acknowledge our sin and turn back to our loving God.

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Commentary on Mark 6:1-6

Jesus returns to his home town in the company of his disciples. On the sabbath day, as was his right, he began teaching in the synagogue. His listeners, who all knew him since he was a child, are staggered at the authoritative way he speaks, and by what he says:

Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands!

He had no more education than any of his fellow-villagers. But the point is that they do recognise his wisdom and his power to perform miracles. Yet, he is ‘only’ the son of a carpenter and of Mary, related to James and Joses and Jude and Simon, and with “sisters” as well.

And because they knew him so well, because they were so familiar with him, they could not accept him. They deliberately chose not to see what was happening before their very eyes. This, of course, is the irony of the whole situation—they did not know him at all. They were blinded by their superficial familiarity.

This trap of familiarity is one we can all fall into very easily. How many times have we failed to recognise the voice of Jesus speaking to us because the person is someone we meet every day, a person we may not like or may even despise? But God can and does talk to us through all kinds of people, Catholic or not, relative, friend, colleague, our own children, total stranger, educated, uneducated and many others.

Jesus says to them:

Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown and among their own kin and in their own house.

This is a saying known in other cultures and an experience all too often repeated in our own day. In comparing himself to the Hebrew prophets who went before him, Jesus foreshadows his ultimate rejection by many of his own people. We have already seen his problems with his own family, and now with his townspeople—and it is not the end.

As a result of the townspeople’s deliberate blindness, we are told Jesus:

…could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.

He could not help those who had no faith in him. Jesus never forces himself on us. Jesus waits patiently and works only when we cooperate and open ourselves to him. Mark often says how amazed the people are at Jesus’ teaching. Sadly now, as the last line reads, it is Jesus’ turn to be amazed at his hometown’s lack of faith and trust in him.

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Commentary on 2 Samuel 24:2, 8-17

Today we have our last reading from the Second Book of Samuel, where we are coming to the end of David’s life. The reading comes from the final chapter of 2 Samuel. It seems that the material was originally part of chapter 21, where we are told that there had been three consecutive years of famine.

David gives a command for a military census to be made of the whole country from the far north (Dan) to the very south (Beer-sheba). However, as soon as it was done, David deeply regretted what he had done. The preceding verse (not in our reading) implies that David’s decision was the result of God’s anger against the people and would result in a lot of suffering.

The census does not appear to have been prompted by any external threat. Since he wanted to “know how many there are”, it is evident that his action was motivated either by pride in the size of the empire he had acquired or by reliance for his security on the size of the reserve of manpower he could muster in an emergency or, more likely, both.

The mere taking of a census was hardly sinful (there were precedents in the past), but in this instance it represented an unwarranted glorying in and dependence on human power rather than the Lord (not much different from Israel’s initial desire to have a king for their security, see 1 Sam 8-12). In those days a census was often considered impious because it usurped the prerogative of God to whom alone it belonged to give increase to family and nation. The act in many ways was uncharacteristic of David.

The result of the census found that in Israel (the northern part of the kingdom) there were 800,000 men fit for military service and in Judah (the southern part) there were 500,000. Even by today’s standards for a large country, they would be huge figures, so we can take it they are highly inflated. This, of course, only makes clearer the taking of the census as a kind of hubris.

Almost immediately, David could see the whole exercise as a not so subtle act of arrogance, of pride in the size of his kingdom, and of the material resources he had to deal with any enemies. In other words, it seemed to turn the focus away from the Israelites’ real source of strength and security, namely, the Lord God, and towards themselves. David now begs God’s forgiveness for what he has done.

And indeed God seems to concur with David’s view. The following day, Gad the seer is sent with a message. David is offered a choice of three forms of punishment: three years of famine, to be on the run from his enemies for three months, or endure a pestilence for three days. The three alternative judgments were all included in the curses that Moses said would come on God’s people when they failed to adhere to their covenant obligations (see Deut 28:15-25).

It was a very difficult choice but David chose the last of the three – three days of pestilence and said:

Let us fall into the hand of the Lord, for his mercy is great…

David, who knew both God and war, knew that even in his anger God was more merciful than man let loose in the rampages of war (see Ps 30:5).

It may have been only three days, but it coincided with the time of the wheat harvest. The death toll throughout the nation was 70,000 people. But as the plague was about to destroy Jerusalem, God relented and stayed the hand of the avenging angel. He stopped at the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite. This was located on Mount Moriah, immediately north of David’s city and overlooking it. Later it would become the site of the Temple.

Characteristically, David takes responsibility for the sin that had been committed. The sin was his and not that of the people. It was David’s decision to have the census. They should not have had to suffer:

I alone have sinned, and I, the shepherd, have done evil, but these sheep, what have they done? Let your hand, I pray, be against me and against my father’s house [but not against his people].

The people of Israel were certainly not without guilt; in fact, it was the Lord’s anger against them that led David to order the census for which they would have to pay the price. Even so, David characteristically assumes full blame for his own act and acknowledges his responsibility as king for the well-being of the Lord’s people.

The story reminds us of the subtle arrogance that can rule our lives. We can set so much store by our intellectual or academic abilities, by our professional skills or status, by the material goods we have accumulated. And we forget how really vulnerable we are and how little we can do without God’s help.

There is also our constant tendency to lay the blame on others when things go wrong. We don’t find it easy to follow David’s example. Let us reflect today on where we put our day to day security and where God fits into our lifestyle.

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Commentary on Mark 5:21-43

Today’s passage illustrates a feature of Mark’s Gospel—inclusion, where one passage is contained inside another. Today we have two miracles, with one of them narrated inside the other. Again we are told of large crowds gathering around Jesus on the shore as once again he crosses the lake.

A synagogue official, Jairus, approaches and begs Jesus to lay his healing hands on his daughter who is very ill. Jairus was a person responsible for conducting services at the synagogue and keeping order. Sometimes the position was honorary, without any administrative responsibility.

Jairus asks Jesus to come and lay his healing hands on his daughter, as he has done for so many others. As Jesus makes his way to the house followed by a large crowd, there is a woman who had been haemorrhaging for 12 years. She had tried every kind of medical treatment in vain, and she was getting worse. Apart from the distress caused by the ailment, her bleeding rendered her ritually unclean. If the people around her knew of her condition she might have been attacked. Hence her great anxiety to approach Jesus without being identified or drawing attention.

She had this tremendous faith that, just by touching the hem of Jesus’ garment, she would be healed. And she was—immediately. In both cases, there was a deep conviction that physical contact, together with faith in Jesus’ power to heal, would bring about a cure. It is important for us to recover the connection between physical touch and healing.

Jesus knew something had happened:

Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my cloak?”

His disciples naturally wondered why he would say this when so many people were pressing in on him.

In fear and trembling, probably more afraid of the crowd than of Jesus, the woman identified herself. She then hears the beautiful words:

Daughter, your faith [i.e. your total trust in me] has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.

Peace indeed. Not only was she physically cured, but she could now mix freely with people again. She was fully restored to society and her community, without the shame that a woman of that time would feel, and without having to hide.

After this, we resume the first story. Messengers come to say that Jairus’ daughter has died. There is no need to bother Jesus any more. Jesus urges Jairus to keep believing. As he approaches the house, he separates from the crowd and brings only Peter, James and John with him as witnesses to a very special event. The house is full of mourners, wailing and weeping in the customary way.

Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.

In so speaking, Jesus is not denying the child’s real death, but it is an assurance that she will be wakened from her sleep of death. Death in the Old Testament is often described as sleep. And we, too, read on gravestones that so-and-so “went to sleep in the Lord”.

The crowd, often portrayed as so supportive of Jesus, is here shown as incredulous. They laugh at him. So everyone is put out of the room except the child’s parents and Jesus’ three companions. Then:

Taking her by the hand, he said to her, “Talitha koum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!”

The words suggest resurrection to new life. Immediately the girl got up and began to walk around. She was just 12 years old.

Those present are “overcome with amazement” and are told not to say anything to anyone. They are also reminded to give the poor girl some food. This is another step in the unfolding of Jesus’ true identity, while at the same time, he does not want that identity to be made public at this stage. It is another indication of Jesus’ mission:

I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.
(John 10:10)

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Commentary on 2 Samuel 18:9-10,14,24-25,30 – 19:3

Once again David surprises us by his reactions. The tables are being turned on the rebellious Absalom and a huge army goes out against his supporters. David himself, on the advice of his commanders, stays behind. Already they suspect his gentle attitude towards his son. As they set off, David told them:

Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom.
(2 Sam 18:5)

Absalom, now in flight, on his mule gets his long hair caught in branches as he rides under a tree. The mule rides on and Absalom is left hanging in mid-air (the mule apparently was the normal mount for royalty in David’s kingdom). We were told earlier that Absalom, who was stunningly handsome, had such an abundance of thick hair that he had to shave his head every year. Presumably, then, it was this hair which got entangled in the branches of the tree. Whatever the cause, it was the young man’s beauty which was his undoing.

Absalom hanging from the tree was immediately reported to Joab, the general leading the army. In verses not part of today’s reading, Joab asked the man why he had not struck Absalom down and received a reward. The man replied that even if he had 2,000 pieces of silver in his hands, he would not lay a hand on the king’s son, whom David had ordered his officers to protect. The soldier who had found Absalom told Joab:

…if I had dealt treacherously against his life [Absalom’s] (and there is nothing hidden from the king), then you yourself would have stood aloof. (2 Sam 18:13)

Joab then himself went and thrust three spears into the heart of the helpless Absalom, still hanging alive on the tree. In Joab’s view, the rebellion is now over and the threat to David’s throne has been removed.

The battle is now called off. Absalom is taken down from the tree and thrown into a deep pit in the forest. A pile of stones is set up as a marker for his grave.

Meanwhile, Ahimaaz, the son of the priest Zadok, offers to bring the good news of the victory to David. Joab tells him he is not the man to do it because, in fact, for David it will not be good news with his son dead. Instead an anonymous Cushite is sent to bring the message. Then Ahimaaz again pleads with Joab to let him go. Joab tells him:

Why will you run, my son, seeing that you have no reward for the tidings?

But in the end Joab lets Ahimaaz go. He runs after the Cushite and he actually overtakes him and is the first to reach the city wall.

A lookout on the city gates saw Ahimaaz running alone. David said:

If he is alone, there are tidings in his mouth.

A large group of fleeing soldiers could only have meant disaster. Then the second runner is seen and again David says it must mean good news. As the runners get closer, Ahimaaz is recognised as one of them. Said David:

He is a good man and comes with good tidings.

Ahimaaz then, in the presence of David, reports:

Blessed be the Lord your God, who has delivered up the men who raised their hand against my lord the king.

But David has only one question:

Is it well with the young man Absalom?

Ahimaaz, suddenly realising the significance of the question, is immediately cautious and, in fact, does not say what he knows:

I saw a great tumult when the king’s servant Joab sent your servant, but I do not know what it was.

David then put Ahimaaz aside until he heard the Cushite’s report. The Cushite too at first only gives a general report:

Good tidings for my lord the king! For the Lord has vindicated you this day, delivering you from the power of all who rose up against you.

Again, the king has only one concern and asks if Absalom was safe. But the indirect response of the Cushite says it all:

May the enemies of my lord the king and all who rise up to do you harm be like that young man.

Far from being overjoyed at the removal of his rebellious son, David takes refuge in a room over the city gate and is overcome with grief:

O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!

Words that have echoed down the centuries as one of the most moving expressions of a father’s love. And that in spite of all that Absalom had done against his father. It reminds one of the way that God loves us, even at our most sinful.

And what should have been a triumphant victory is turned into a day of mourning for the whole army.

As the text continues beyond our reading, we are told that the generals and soldiers had mixed feelings about David’s reaction. They wondered if Absalom, who was out to destroy his father, had lived and they had died, would David have been happier? In that they may have been unfair. For it is only a parent who knows the feeling of having a child, even a rebellious child, lost in this way.

Once again, we see the deep humanity of David. He did what we often fail to do. He made the clear distinction between the person of his son and his actions. He was opposed to his son’s actions, but he deeply loved his son. We sometimes express that by saying that we love the sinner, but not the sin. So often, however, our hate is directed so that both forgiveness and reconciliation can be very difficult.

Jesus, of course, as the image of his Father, also set us an example in this regard. As men, filled with hatred, nailed him to the cross, he prayed:

Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. (Luke 23:34)

And, of course, every time we take advantage of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, we expect that God will forgive us no matter what we may have done or how often.

Let us remember, though, that as Christians we need to take on the same attitude as Jesus. Every time we pray the Lord’s Prayer we say:

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.

It is a dangerous prayer to make and we should think twice about its meaning before we let it trip so easily off our tongues.

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Commentary on Mark 5:1-20

Today we see Mark at his best—a story full of drama and excitement. Compare this to a much more bland version of the story in Matthew where, for some reason, there are two men. It takes place in the “region of the Gerasenes”, which was gentile territory.

There was a man who was possessed by several “unclean spirits”, i.e. demons (“My name is Legion, for we are many.”). He was absolutely uncontrollable, could smash through chains and lived in isolated places, an outcast and a source of fear to people everywhere.

But when Jesus appears, it is the demons’ turn to fear. They begged not to be sent out of that district (as gentile territory it was fertile ground for their activities—perhaps even a demon’s paradise). They offer a deal. They ask to be allowed to enter a herd of pigs. Clearly, the presence of pigs indicates this was gentile territory. Jesus grants their request, and once possessed:

…the herd, numbering about two thousand, stampeded down the steep bank into the sea and were drowned in the sea.

To the thinking of many today, this seems like a terrible waste of good pigs! How could Jesus do such a thing? But we need to remember that this was written in a Jewish context where pigs were regarded as unclean and to be avoided at all costs. We remember how the Prodigal Son was condemned in his hunger to get a job tending pigs and even to eating their food. For a Jew, this was the very lowest any human could go in terms of humiliation and degradation. So getting rid of these pigs was a case of good riddance. A better place to put evil spirits could not be imagined!

On the other hand, the swineherds were naturally upset at losing their means of livelihood and went back to the towns to announce what had happened. Subsequently, the people from those towns came out to see this extraordinary happening. They found Jesus and the man, perfectly composed and fully dressed—and they were afraid. Naturally, they realised that, in Jesus, they were in the presence of someone very special who had such powers. They were also very upset that their herds of pigs had been destroyed and, not surprisingly, they begged Jesus to go elsewhere.

The man, however, asked to follow Jesus. Jesus’ response is interesting:

Jesus refused and said to him, “Go home to your own people, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you and what mercy he has shown you.”

This was, in fact, another kind of following and is a message each of us can hear.

Some of us think that following Jesus means spending a lot of time ‘with Jesus’ in religious activities or joining the priesthood or religious life. For most of us, our calling and our following of Jesus takes place right where we are. It is there that we need to share with others our experience of knowing and being loved by Jesus.

Let us go home and tell others what Jesus means in our lives. And, like the people in this Gospel, they may be amazed.

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Commentary on 2 Samuel 15:13-14,30, 16:5-13

Today’s First Reading is a strange narrative that shows the humility of David and has much to say to us. First, David is told that his son, Absalom, has rebelled against him and is acting as king. David, realising that Absalom has won over the majority, decides to flee from Jerusalem. He did not want to fall into the hands of his son and have a bloodbath in the city. At the same time, he did not altogether despair of the situation because he had left supporters behind. He sent Zadok the priest and Abiathar with the Ark back to the city. He also left ten of his concubines there. But, as he was caught between rebels from both the north and south parts of the kingdom, he decided to make a strategic withdrawal (see 2 Sam 15:27 and 34).

But he was brokenhearted over the turn of events. As he went up the Mount of Olives (clearly he had not gone far from the city), he wept constantly, with his head covered and walking barefoot, as did his followers. This was the usual mourning ritual but came to be used as a sign of deep sorrow in general.

A little later, as David was approaching Bahurim, which was on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives, he was approached by a man who started cursing the king. The man’s name was Shimei, son of a man called Gera and from the same clan as Saul. He also began throwing stones at David and at the royal guards, who were on either side of him. He shouted at the king:

Out! Out! Murderer! Scoundrel!

The term he used was belial, a name used for Satan and hence the personification of evil and lawlessness (Paul uses the term in 2 Cor 6:15). He called out to David, saying that David was only suffering the consequences of his actions, especially his bloodshed against the family of Saul.

We are told later on that David agreed to avenge the sufferings of the Gibeonites at the hands of Saul by delivering into their hands seven of Saul’s sons, who were dismembered and killed. Because of a promise, the son of Jonathan was spared (see 2 Sam 21:1-14). For all his humanity and sensitivity, David was a product of his age.

In addition, said Shimei, David had lost his kingdom to his son Absalom:

See, disaster has overtaken you, for you are a man of blood.

The story of Uriah and Bathseba was also public knowledge.

Naturally, David’s followers were all for killing the man who spoke in such an insulting way to their king. Says Abishai (one of the court officials with David):

Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king? Let me go over and take off his head.

In that culture, one could hardly use a worse insult than call a living person a “dead dog”.

David, however, wondered if the man was only doing the Lord’s bidding. After all, he was not saying anything that was untrue. If Absalom, his own son, could turn against him, why not a man of Saul’s family? David told his followers:

It may be that the Lord will look on my distress, and the Lord will repay me with good for this cursing of me today.

David and his followers continued on their journey, but Shimei went on taunting them by cursing and throwing stones and dirt.

To round off the full story (which is not in the reading’s passages), some time later, Shimei approached David and apologised profusely for what he did that day in cursing the king. Although Abishai was for killing him, David held his hand and made an oath to protect Shimei. However, when giving his final instructions on his death-bed, David said Shimei should not go unpunished for what he did, but he left the form of punishment to his successors (see 2 Sam 19:18-23 and 1 Kgs 2:8-9).

It would have been so easy for David, using his kingly prerogative, to wipe out the man who cursed him. In a similar situation, how would we – plebeians that we are – have acted? How do we feel when people speak critically or abusively of us?

In this story we have here a very good example of turning the other cheek (very rare in the Old Testament – not to mention in contemporary life!).

Our hitting back does not protect our dignity, but rather reveals our insecurity. When people say bad things about us, either they are true or they are false. If true, we can accept them; nothing new is being said. If they are false, we can ignore them.

Of course, there may be situations where, for serious reasons, we might have to defend our reputation. I might lose my job because of false accusations, or I might even find myself unjustly being charged with a crime.

But much of the time, our reaction is an indication of our touchiness and an inner sense that we really deserve even more than is being said. So we go on the defensive.

Apart from David’s example, we can look at Jesus, especially during his trial. He met his accusers with a dignified silence. In doing so, he towers over them in dignity and strength.