The chapters involving Bathsheba focus almost entirely on David – his desires, his choices, his feelings, and of course, his terrible sins. She’s mentioned only incidentally, almost as a part of the scenery or an accessory; a plot device whose sole purpose is to advance David’s character development. She speaks just two words in the entire passage, and they comprise a flat statement of fact rather than any sort of personal expression. Bathsheba only exists here in terms of her relationship to men – first her father, then her husband, and finally David – an indignity reinforced by the fact that Matthew’s genealogy doesn’t even refer to her by name, calling her only, “the wife of Uriah.” How dehumanizing.
Time hasn’t done much to restore Bathsheba’s humanity, either. If we think that our modern perspective of women grants us immunity from this biblical misstep, we’re sorely mistaken. Intentionally or not, most of us buy right into this way of thinking about Bathsheba. Despite the advent of feminism and an increased awareness of power dynamics, we still think of her as a temptress or adulteress or social climber first, a human being second (if at all). But the pernicious persistence of this attitude is perhaps best embodied by, of all things, the VeggieTales retelling of Bathsheba’s story. In this computer-generated reenactment (done by anthropomorphic vegetables who sing and dance, naturally), King David is still the focus, although he’s now named “King George.” The role of Bathsheba, on the other hand, is now played by…a rubber duck. Yes, the bathtub toy. And not an anthropomorphized one: a literal object.
VeggieTales retells the story in this way both because it’s very silly (and VeggieTales is nothing if not silly) as well as to avoid having to explain some of the original story’s more lurid details to its youthful audience – and rightly so. But this sanitized retelling also highlights the fact that few of us, even today, treat Bathsheba as a human being with her own thoughts, feelings, desires, and fears. Instead, we almost universally reduce her existence to that of an object belonging to someone else.
So how do we move past this understanding of Bathsheba? How do we stop thinking about her as a rubber duck and start thinking about her as the multi-dimensional woman that she was? Given how little guidance Scripture offers, how can we restore some of her humanity? I think that the key to this is, as in so much of life, to try and empathize with the one we don’t understand. We can try to put ourselves in her shoes. While we don’t have any way of knowing for sure what she was thinking or feeling, we can make some pretty educated guesses based on her circumstances.
Consider: Bathsheba is taken from her home by the king to be used for his pleasure. There’s no reason to believe that she was “asking for it” (which is a problematic turn of phrase anyway). Scripture says that DAVID was the one on the roof, not her. She was merely cleansing herself to fulfill the law’s purity requirements in the privacy of her own home. David, considering his desire to be enough of an invitation, sent messengers to “take her” – a Hebrew word which also means “to seize or acquire” (more objectification). There was no consent involved, implied or otherwise. And David wanted so little to do with her afterwards that he sent her home immediately afterwards and tried to make it look like Uriah was the father of her unborn child so that David wouldn’t have to deal with it. This was no love affair – this was abuse.
Put yourself in her shoes. Even if (and that’s a big IF) this was something that you wanted, at no point did you realistically have any say in the matter whatsoever. Your body was not your own. David’s only concern was to cover up his own wrongdoing, with no regards to your wellbeing. How would YOU feel?
Consider: Bathsheba’s husband is murdered by her abuser. We don’t have any way of knowing what her relationship with Uriah was like, but there’s no reason to believe that it was bad. Uriah was clearly a principled and loyal soldier, so it’s reasonable to assume that he would have had similar values as a husband. Bathsheba may not have realized that David was the direct cause of her husband’s demise, but even if she believed that his death was merely a consequence of war, the loss of a spouse is almost always devastating.
Put yourself in her shoes. You’re expecting a child that you didn’t consent to carry, and now all of a sudden, what little consistency you still had in your life is gone. You’re now a widow – the most vulnerable category of people in Israelite society. Your primary source of protection is gone, and you’re grieving the loss of your husband. How would YOU feel?
Finally, consider: Bathsheba’s firstborn child died as punishment for someone else’s sin. Even if you’re skeptical that her abduction and the loss of her husband would have been upsetting to her (although I think there’s plenty of evidence to suggest that she would have already been deeply traumatized) it’s all but impossible to argue that she wouldn’t have been affected by the unexpected death of her small son. He was absolutely innocent, and she had to watch him become sicker and sicker for seven full days before he finally died. All because of DAVID’S choices.
Put yourself in her shoes. You’ve lost so much. No, scratch that – so much has been TAKEN from you. And you’ve been completely, utterly, absolutely powerless through it all. How would YOU feel?
Doesn’t seem QUITE as funny to think of her as a rubber duck anymore, does it?
It’s difficult to listen to this story once you realize just how unfairly Bathsheba has been treated, both in the actual events depicted in 2 Samuel and in the court of public opinion over the centuries. Her story is one of objectification, abuse, and tragedy. But now that we’ve restored some of her humanity, we can begin to see, even without it being specifically mentioned, what Bathsheba’s gift must have been, what it was that she brought to Jesus’ lineage: impossible, indomitable strength.
As you were imagining yourself in Bathsheba’s shoes, did you think at any point that you wouldn’t have been able to face everything that she had to? I don’t know if I could. I think that very first abuse would have broken me, not to mention the later tragedies. But not Bathsheba. In spite of everything, she persisted. She held on and kept putting one foot in front of the other. She may not have been given a central role in her own story; she may not have had voice or a choice, she may not have been considered anything more than an object of David’s desire, but she didn’t let any of that destroy her. She kept going – and that’s a big deal.
It's a big deal because new beginnings cannot happen when we stay where we are. Change cannot happen when we give up. Life is hard – and not always just because that’s what it means to be human. Sometimes, life is hard because other people cruelly and intentionally MAKE it hard. Some may try to silence or erase or even abuse others, because the others are in the way of something that they want. And sometimes – far too often – they win. But if we refuse to let that be the end, then it won’t be. Our strength ensures that there will be a tomorrow, and if there’s a tomorrow, then there’s ALWAYS the chance that the new day will be better. That’s the promise of our faith.
As we prepare to welcome the infant Christ into the world in just a few days, we would do well to remember this lesson from our foremother, Bathsheba. Remember that, in spite of God’s literal presence among humanity, the world remained a sinful place – and it still does. Humans still treat each other as objects to serve their own ends, murder is still committed as wars rage on, children still die because of the selfishness of adults. We still feel utterly helpless to stop any of this, over two thousand years later. And yet, the promise of Christ’s birth is the same as the lesson that Bathsheba taught us so long ago: that, although we may live in times that try our souls and shake us to our very core, we have the strength to keep going. And God can work with that.
Bathsheba’s gift made Jesus’ birth possible. But it made so much more possible, as well. When we find ourselves in the depths of despair, when the messages of peace and hope and love and joy that we hear in December all seem more like impossible dreams than actual possibilities, let us remember her gift. No matter how terrible things get around us, we know that God will not let human sin be the end – not so long as we can hold on to the strength to keep going. The light shines in the darkness, and although the darkness is not banished, it cannot overcome the stubborn strength of that small light. It never has, and it never will. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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