First Parish Unitarian UniversalistLeading like David
A sermon preached by the Reverend Diane D. Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
January 21, 2007
Readings
I Samuel 16: 1-5, 10-13 and I Chronicles 28: 1-10, Jewish Scriptures
Sermon
This past autumn, at the time I was fasting for Ramadan, I was also starting a Hebrew Scriptures class at Harvard Hillel, the center for Jewish students at Harvard University. I didn’t tell the class I was fasting. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself and I wasn’t sure what the other students in the class would think of me, so I just declined the morning bagels and cream cheese without saying why. They were confused enough as it was, I thought, about Unitarian Universalism and whether I was a Christian or not, never mind fasting for Ramadan!
In this Bible study class, we read the second Book of Samuel in light of three fundamental questions posed by Rabbi Hillel in the first century, “If I am not for myself, who am I? When I am (only) for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?”
We interpreted Hillel’s questions as a perspective on leadership: that leadership is rooted in a sense of self, enacted in relationship with others, and realized through actions in the world. We read the story of King David’s leadership in that perspective and asked as it unfolded: what was his sense of self, what were his relationships with others, and what were his actions? (as stated in course syllabus, by Bernie Steinberg, PhD).
Let me tell you the story of King David, as I’ve recently come to understand it, as told in I and II Samuel and I Chronicles in the Hebrew Scriptures.
First let me say, though, it’s a terribly bloody story. People are killed—en masse in major attacks but also in brutal one-on-one slayings. It was shocking. How could a sacred text involve so much death and destruction, much of it supposedly God’s will? With this as a primary text, it’s no wonder the Middle East is such a mess, I thought and at one point said aloud in the class and no one could disagree. Though, to be clear, it’s the same in other sacred texts—the Qu’ran in Islam and the Hindu Bhagavad Gita come immediately to mind as having their share of death and destruction.
Enough digression. Now, the story…
David was chosen by God to follow the first and failed king of the Israelites, Saul. David was a young shepherd of diverse talents: a skilled musician—he played the lyre, a man of valor, a warrior, sensible in speech, and the Lord was with him, plus he was good-looking, too. He wasn’t from a family with lineage or wealth—he was chosen on his own merits, one might say. The text says that God saw into his heart. Though perhaps the truth of the matter is that God was just tired of the “Beltway insiders,” even back then.
In the early days of David’s kingship, it’s as if God was his strategic planning consultant. David asked God, what should I do, where should I go, who should I invade? God told him to go to Hebron (2 Samuel 2:1), David went, and was victorious. Each was honoring the covenant between God and the people of Israel—if the people are faithful, God will provide; if the people acknowledge their gratitude, God will continue to provide. David was an inspiration for his people. He was real with them, he showed his grief and his joy, he led with integrity, and showed compassion. His sense of self was grounded in his faith, his relationships were good and his actions successful.
However, soon David began having ideas of his own about where he should next lead his people into conquest. Maybe he was merely gaining confidence in his own judgment or maybe it’s a sign his ego was getting out of hand, but no longer did David consult God for direction. Now David was asking God’s permission to do what he himself had decided to do, “Shall I go up against the Philistine?” naming his next combat zone. God said yes, and like before, David went and was victorious. “And now there, God? Is that OK?” God said yes and David went and was victorious.
But (and you may see where this is headed), soon came the day when David didn’t pause long enough to ask God anything, not even just to check in. He just went ahead and DID what he thought best for his people. And that’s when he started to have trouble. He delegated too much of the leadership and too much of the risk of battle to others. He became distant from the people, as well as from God. Lazy, even. So that one fateful day, languishing on his roof in the afternoon while his men were out on the battlefield, he caught sight of the beautiful Bathsheba bathing in the stream below and seduced her, a married woman.
David sought to cover up the resultant pregnancy by offering Bathsheba’s husband the opportunity to leave the battlefield and go home to his wife, where presumably they would have sex and it would appear that the conception had been by the husband not the King. But, her husband was too honorable for such a lowly deed—warriers didn’t leave their comrades until the battle was over. Desperate, David then commands his general to put Bathsheba’s husband on the front-line. When he is killed, David takes Bathsheba to be his wife (one of them).
God is incensed. The adultery was bad enough in the eyes of God, but the deceitful death was too much. God declares that David’s punishment will be a curse on his house, meaning his family, presumed to be the future leaders of Israel. And, indeed, the curse comes to pass. David’s lust-child by Bathsheba dies and he mourns. His first-born son Amnon rapes the king’s daughter Tamar (Amnon’s half-sister), and though the king is angry, he does nothing to punish his son. In retaliation, that son is killed by another son, the full brother of Tamar, Absolom. The king mourns. Then Absolom raises an army against the king, his own father, but the insurrection is put down by one of the king’s generals and Absolom is killed. Again the king mourns, even though his son had been out to destroy him.
David’s family becomes like a train that wrecks at every station, but nevertheless manages to reach its destination. In the end, King David has amassed great wealth and power. He hopes that his crowning glory will be the construction of a temple at Jerusalem. But, God says, “No, it’s not to be. A man of war cannot build a temple of peace.”
So, the task and the honor fall to a later son of David’s by Bathsheba, Solomon. David bequeaths the architectural drawings to Solomon. He brags (so the speech sounds to my ears) that he will provide out of his great wealth much of the gold, silver, bronze, iron, wood, marble and precious stones required. In addition, he inspires or perhaps challenges other leaders to give freewill offerings from their own wealth to the project, and they do.
Then, David blesses and thanks the Lord in the presence of these leaders and multitudes of the people. He declares in a beautiful speech, with some humility, the covenantal reciprocity of his relationship to God when he was first chosen to be king, “Who am I, and who are my people, that we should have the means to make this freewill offering? For all things come from you, and it is your gift that we have given to you.”
So, the king who, at the beginning of the story, was a man “known to the Lord,” but who distances himself from that Lord as the story unfolds, and goes seriously awry, in the end funds a temple in which people may remind themselves of that very God, in good times and in bad, to give thanks and to seek guidance, for all time, he hopes.
I’ve left out much of the adventure and intrigue in the story, but I hope I’ve gotten the gist of it correct. The text is rich with detail, and amazingly lively to read, considering its age.
We in the twenty-first century can safely conclude from the King David story that sex in politics is nothing new. Nor are intrigue and revenge in the rule of family dynasties, whether anointed, appointed or elected, long ago and far away, or in our country today.
This morning, I want to suggest that we can interpret Hillel’s three questions as a perspective on our own lives as well as King David’s, whether or not we regard ourselves as leaders (though in some arena or other of our lives, each of us surely must lead, even if it is only our children who we wish would follow us!).
Each of us are rooted in a sense of self, each of us act in relationship with others, to impact our world (whatever our sphere of influence may be). For each of us the questions of Hillel ring true: if we are not for ourselves, who are we? When we are only for ourselves, what are we? (notice the change in wording there: if we are not for ourselves, we may be nobodies, but if we are only for ourselves, we don’t even rate as being a person but a thing, not a who but only a what). And, thirdly, “if we do not act now, then when?” How long will we wait on becoming who we are meant to be, how long will we wait on doing something we know is right to do?
We can read our own lives just as we can read the story of King David’s leadership and ask ourselves: what is our sense of self, how does that influence our relationships with others, and what therefore are our actions? And how have these changed over time?
I readily acknowledge that our life stories are no less complex than David’s, no easier to tell, just as likely to appear different depending on our vantage point in time or through whose eyes we might view ourselves.
Our own sense of self is not any easy thing to see clearly. I remember growing up, my parents would admonish us against bragging, by saying that a truly self-confident person doesn’t need to tout her or his own horn, and that it is enough that God sees into our hearts and knows our accomplishments.
Yes, I agree with them that humility is a virtue and a sign of character-strength, but being self-less is not. Nor is being selfish, of course. Being self-full, being wholly ourselves, is what Rabbi Hillel meant when he said we must be for ourselves, or else who are we? And Jesus said to love others, as we love ourselves; we love ourselves before we love others. To survive at all, we must look out for ourselves as well as others.
So, when my husband and I saw in our young children a lack of enthusiasm for their own accomplishments, we asked them to share aloud each week at our Sabbath dinner, not only what they were thankful for but also what they were proud of.
When we have a weak sense of self we may be prone to addictions, or self-destructive behavior, depression or passivity, any of which may prevent us from developing healthy relationships with others and acting in the world to offer it our gifts of love, service and leadership.
A young colleague, Rev. Hannah Hope Wells, conveys this reality when she writes [in Living A Call: Ministers and Congregations Together, pp. 23-28),
“For a long time, I served the gods of fear and self-sabotage. I was scared of who I was, of my potential to succeed, and I didn’t want to believe that it was my responsibility to let my best self live and become known. I squashed her down for a good long while, with drugs and alcohol and with destructive behavior… The fact is that I learned more about religion at Alcoholics Anonymous than I did at seminary. Part of my recovery has been facing head-on the irksome question that runs in my family: ‘Am I good enough?’”
She goes on to say that as she healed, she learned to surrender trying to prove that she’s good enough. She developed a stronger, more whole sense of self and knows now what she’s trying to serve. She’s serving God, and she expects to do so imperfectly. God is, for her, “above all humility; but also gratitude, compassion, and service to one another,” which require the values of “honesty, courage and commitment.”
“Leadership is accomplished by who you are. And you can discover who you are only if you know what you’re serving,” says Wells.
One lesson I draw from the story of King David is that he was most effective as a leader when he knew he was serving the Lord. Then he took the time to pause from the action to ask God for direction and thus become open to being guided by his higher principles and best values. The farther he got from his relationship with the divine, the worse off his family and his leadership became.
I don’t condone the death and destruction caused by King David, or by any leader, past or present. I don’t think anyone can know God’s will for sure, and if they say they do, I think it’s likely that what they say is God’s will just so happens to coincide with their own arrogant desires.
Our god, if by some name we worship, may or may not be the interventionist, punishing, rewarding God of the Hebrew Scriptures, but no matter what, each and every one of us can practice the ability to step out of the action of our lives to garner a broader (or is it a deeper?) perspective and a better sense of what is right in the moment. Whether we call it prayer, meditation, or simply reflection—in this pause we can know who we are and what we are serving, to better lead.
In the Buddhist practice of mindfulness meditation, we see a specific way to be centered in the self in the way Hillel suggested, that is inter-related with other people and with our actions in the world. In fact, many members of the parish are participating in a Monday night meditation class, called the Spirit Sangha, learning this practice. It starts up again in February and is open to newcomers; if you are interested in joining the class, you are asked to participate in an Introductory workshop to be held this Saturday from 9 to 1, so please sign up today in the Parish Hall.
The noted meditation teacher Sharon Salzburg, whose workbook the Spirit Sangha is using, writes in it of the connection between meditation and the rest of our lives in this way, and I quote:
We begin the process of meditation with the understanding that meditation is a life practice. It’s not just a formal application of the mind in a certain unusual posture. It’s really about how we live. We can honor that simple truth by making the mind quiet so that we can relate to our world as it is—not as we hope or fear it might be. In order to experience our deepest being, we need [to live] a life of integrity and wholeness…Ethical conduct is… [both] the beginning of the [mindfulness] path, and also one of the path’s greatest outcomes. (from Insight Meditation Workbook by Sharon Salzberg and Joseph Goldstein, p. 21).
This has echoes in it of the words of welcome said here by a First Parish leader at the beginning of every worship service: “it is our intention to deepen our faith and to better our world.” These intentions are each both source and outcome of the other, just as ethical conduct is both beginning and end of the mindfulness path.
May our intentions inspire and strengthen us to lead when we are called.
Amen.