The Historical David: The Real Life of an Invented Hero

by Joel S. Baden

  One other figure is prominently missing from the list of David’s family presented here: Michal, the daughter of Saul whom David commanded to be brought to him when he became king in Hebron. Why isn’t she mentioned? Second Samuel 3 preserves a list of David’s sons—and Michal had no children with him. The biblical authors created an explanation for this: when David brought the ark into Jerusalem, Michal was embarrassed by David’s dancing, during which he evidently “exposed himself” in front of everyone. As a result of her verbal abuse, the text tells us, “to her dying day Michal daughter of Saul had no children” (2 Sam. 6:23). The Bible implies that this was divine punishment for Michal’s behavior. But there is a far simpler explanation. David took Michal as his wife as a show of strength, to demonstrate his power over even the royal family of the weakened northern kingdom. Being married to Saul’s daughter was also further justification for David’s rule in Israel, as it placed him in the legitimate line of succession. As was the case with Abigail, this was a marriage purely of political convenience. Having Michal as a wife served a clear purpose for David. Having children with her, however, did not. In fact, it would have been against David’s interests because Michal was a descendant of Saul, and any offspring she had with David would continue Saul’s line into the next generation.6 As we have seen, David did everything possible to destroy Saul’s lineage, so having children with Michal would run counter to his program of eradicating the Saulide legacy.

  There is another reason to believe that David probably never even slept with Michal, much less had children with her. He was already married to, and had a son with, Michal’s mother: Ahinoam. In Leviticus we read, “Do not uncover the nakedness of a woman and her daughter” (18:17). Though this law was written well after David’s time, and though David was not one to adhere strictly to the law in any case, it is a reasonable guess that it reflects a cultural norm in ancient Israel, a known abhorrence of such semi-incestual relationships.7 Just as today we need no law proscribing such an arrangement, it is likely that even David would have recognized that sleeping with both Ahinoam and Michal was forbidden. But it may not have even entered David’s mind to do so. He married Michal not for her potential offspring, but for her political utility. And, like Abigail, once she serves her purpose, she disappears from the story.

  The cases of Abigail and Michal remind us that David’s familial relationships were fundamentally political in nature.8 He married to gain the kingship, in Judah and in Israel. It was not only his wives who had political importance, however. David’s sons were lined up to succeed him on the throne: first Amnon, then Absalom. And the question of succession would be the driving force behind the most significant challenge David faced while king—one that would, in fact, temporarily force him off the throne.

  Amnon and Tamar

  THIS STORY BEGINS WITH the narrative of Amnon and Tamar, the sister of Absalom.9 Amnon, the story goes, became infatuated with his half-sister. His cousin Jonadab, in a misguided effort to improve Amnon’s mood, suggested that Amnon pretend to be sick and ask that Tamar bring him some food. So Amnon did, requesting that David send Tamar to him, and so she went to Amnon’s bedside. After she had prepared the meal, however, Amnon sent everyone out of the room. When Tamar brought the food close to him, he grabbed her and demanded that she sleep with him. Tamar pleaded with her half-brother, even suggesting that if he just asked David for her hand in marriage, he could have her—but to no avail. Amnon raped her. Afterward, he no longer desired her; in fact, he loathed her and ordered her to leave. Again she pleaded with him, that the shame this would bring upon her would be unbearable, but again to no avail. She was forced from his chambers, screaming and tearing her garment in dismay. She encountered her brother Absalom, who immediately discerned what had happened but told her to keep it quiet for the moment. David also heard about it and was upset, but did nothing. Absalom said nothing to Amnon, but hated him for having violated Tamar.

  Such is the biblical account. In assessing its historical veracity, we must begin by noting that, as with many other parts of the David story, the events described here are fundamentally private in nature. The story could be told only by one of the participants, for no one else was privy to what happened in Amnon’s bedroom. This alone is cause for doubt.

  More striking, however, is the way that elements of this story find parallels in other biblical narratives of sexual misconduct, particularly those from the semimythical patriarchal era. There are two well-known women named Tamar in the Bible: David’s daughter, and the daughter-in-law of Judah, whose story is told in Genesis 38. Both stories revolve around the question of sexual propriety within a family. Both stories have an element of deception: Amnon’s faked illness, and Tamar’s disguising herself as a prostitute. Both Tamars are treated callously by the men around them. And both are connected with David: the Tamar of Genesis bears Judah twins, one of whom, Perez, was traditionally believed to be David’s direct ancestor.10

  There are resonances also with the story of Joseph and his Egyptian master’s wife from Genesis 39. Both stories feature infatuation that turns into sexual aggression, in both cases specifically when no one else is present. In both stories the infatuation eventually turns to revulsion and leads to the debasement of the victim. In both a garment plays an evidentiary role: Absalom recognizes that Tamar has been raped by her torn garment, and the Egyptian’s wife holds Joseph’s garment up as proof that he had tried to rape her.11

  The closest parallel to the story of Amnon and Tamar, however, is the narrative of Dinah in Genesis 34. Both the Tamar and Dinah stories are, most obviously, about rape. In both the brother(s) of the victim is given the lead role in responding—both Jacob and David, the fathers, are mysteriously passive, even though they are fully aware of what has transpired. Both stories address the issue of marriage—Amnon refuses Tamar’s proposal, and Jacob’s sons offer a disingenuous proposal to Shechem.12

  The similarities between the story of Amnon and Tamar and these three chapters from Genesis strongly suggest that what we have in 2 Samuel 13 is not a historical account, but rather a mixture of older traditional stories. In short, the narrative seems to be a literary creation.13 There is no reason to believe that Amnon ever raped Tamar—in fact, there is no reason to believe that David actually ever had a daughter named Tamar at all. What the story seeks to establish is a reason for Absalom to hate Amnon, for that hatred appears to be the motivating factor behind what happened next.

  Amnon’s Death

  IN THE SPRING, ABSALOM threw a party, a festival to celebrate the annual sheep-shearing. Exactly when this took place is unclear—the Bible says that it was two years after the rape of Tamar, but dating events on the basis of fictional stories is, needless to say, a risky proposition. Whenever it happened, Absalom invited David, who excused himself; he then asked David whether Amnon could attend, and after some reticence on David’s part, the king relented. So Amnon joined Absalom at Baal-hazor, a town a few miles north of Jerusalem. Absalom instructed his servants: “When Amnon is merry with wine, and I tell you to strike down Amnon, kill him! Don’t be afraid, for I myself command you” (2 Sam. 13:28). His servants dutifully obeyed and killed Amnon. Thereafter, David heard a false report that Absalom had actually killed all of David’s sons. This, we are told, devastated him, but Jonadab, his nephew, assured him that Amnon alone had died and that this was Absalom’s revenge for the rape of Tamar.

  If we accept that the story of Tamar and Amnon was a literary invention, then Jonadab’s rationale for the murder of Amnon can’t be true. But without it, the question is glaring: why did Absalom kill Amnon? The answer is obvious: because with his half-brother Amnon gone, Absalom would be next in line for the throne. If this seems an unthinkable crime, consider that in 2 Chronicles we are told that Jehoram, a ninth-century BCE king of Judah, killed all of his brothers upon taking the throne—and this even when Jehoram was already king (21:4). If Jehoram could kill his brothers only because of the potential threat that they posed to his
rule, it is not so difficult to imagine that Absalom might have killed Amnon to move up in the line of succession. Absalom may not have felt especially close to Amnon in the first place—they were only half-brothers and likely did not know each other particularly well, as they would have been raised apart by their mothers. To Absalom, Amnon may have been a virtual stranger—but he was standing in Absalom’s way.

  The more pressing question from our perspective has to do, as always, with David’s involvement. The biblical narrative goes to some lengths to make clear that David was ignorant of everything. We are told, somewhat unnecessarily from a narrative perspective, that David did not attend the sheep-shearing party—in other words, he was (as usual) not present for the murder. We are also told, equally unnecessarily, that he had to be persuaded to let Amnon go to the party—in other words, David tried (albeit unknowingly) to protect Amnon. We are told that David initially thought all the princes had died at Absalom’s hand, which is narratively useless, as this mistaken impression is immediately corrected and never comes up again—in other words, David was so ignorant of what was happening that he actually got the facts mixed up. Every aspect of this narrative that has to do with David points toward the conclusion that David had nothing to do with Amnon’s death. But none of these elements is necessary for the story—which suggests that they are included precisely to lead the reader to that conclusion. And that, in turn, suggests that exactly the opposite is the case. If the Bible tries so strenuously to persuade us that David wasn’t involved in Amnon’s death—just as it did with the deaths of Nabal, Saul, Jonathan, Abner, and Saul’s remaining descendants—then we must reckon with the possibility that, in fact, he was.

  But why would David want Amnon, his firstborn son, dead? It is helpful to ask the question in political terms: why would David not want Amnon to succeed him on the throne? The answer has less to do with Amnon, and more to do with his mother: Ahinoam. Amnon was the product of David’s failed coup, his sleeping with Saul’s wife. At the time, this had been a necessary step, even if it turned out badly. But now that David had secured the kingship over all Israel, Amnon was yet another link to the Saulide legacy. David had done everything possible to ensure that no one with any connection to Saul would ever threaten his kingship—and yet the one person in the country with a rightful claim to succeed David was none other than the child of Saul’s wife. There is no reason to think that David had any affection for Ahinoam—like Abigail and Michal, she was a pawn in his political game—and, hard though it may be to imagine, there is no reason that David would have had any special affection for Ahinoam’s son, either. Amnon was a living reminder that David had taken the kingship by force.

  We need not doubt that it was really Absalom who killed Amnon. As we have seen, he too had his reasons for wanting Amnon dead. But David must have been involved as well. What seems most probable is that he and Absalom conspired to have Amnon killed. David could have played on Absalom’s desire for the throne. He probably made a deal with Absalom: if Absalom had Amnon killed, David would promise Absalom the right to succeed him on the throne.14 Absalom, after all, was no descendant of Saul but the product of a legitimate royal marriage between David and the daughter of the king of Geshur—indeed, this was the first legitimate marriage David had participated in, after Ahinoam and Abigail; it was the first marriage David entered into when he was a king. Absalom would have been, in David’s mind, a legitimate and desirable successor.

  Thus a conspiracy between David and Absalom to have Amnon killed served everyone’s interests—except Amnon’s. David could eliminate the last vestiges of Saul’s line and ensure that his preferred son would succeed him; Absalom could overcome the disadvantage of his birth order and attain the royal status held by both his father and mother. Amnon died for no fault of his own; once the Tamar story is debunked, there is nothing to suggest that he deserved his fate. But he was born to the wrong mother, and he died for it at the hands of his father and his half-brother.

  Absalom’s Flight

  AFTER THE MURDER OF Amnon, Absalom fled to the territory of Geshur for three years. At first glance, this looks like an admission of guilt, as if Absalom were afraid of David’s retribution. In reality, his flight was a necessary part of the conspiracy. He hardly could just return to Jerusalem and resume his life as it had been before—if he did, everyone would understand that David condoned Amnon’s murder. If Absalom returned, David would be forced to punish him, probably with death. The two conspirators required a mechanism by which Absalom would be “punished” but eventually regain his position in the court. A false exile would serve this purpose well: Absalom could be understood as having been forced out of the country but could, in time, be allowed to return.

  It is no coincidence that Absalom should have fled to Geshur. He would not be safe anywhere in Israel because everyone would have known that he had committed fratricide. Most foreign nations would have no use for a runaway Israelite prince. But Geshur was sure to take him in, for Absalom’s mother was the daughter of the king of Geshur. Absalom fled from his father into the arms of his grandfather. The situation was perfect for everyone involved. Absalom would be safe, and David would know it. David would also have a ready-made excuse for why he was unable to capture Absalom and bring him to justice: he was being sheltered by his family in an independent foreign kingdom.

  The biblical story of Absalom’s return from Geshur to Jerusalem is somewhat convoluted. Joab, David’s general, sets the story in motion when he tricks David with the help of the famous wise woman of Tekoa. This woman disguises herself as a mourning mother and comes to David with a tale: one of her sons killed the other, and now her clan is demanding that the killer be put to death, even though this would wipe out the only remnant of her husband’s name. David’s response is just what Joab expected: he promises that the woman’s son will return to her safely. At this, the woman pulls back the curtain, telling David that he is guilty of the same crime, depriving himself of his own son and elevating legal principles over paternal love. David immediately suspects Joab, and the woman confirms it. David agrees to let his son return and sends Joab to fetch Absalom from Geshur. But David instructs Joab to have Absalom go straight to his own house, and not come to David. After two more years, David finally relents and brings Absalom to the palace, where they embrace.

  The story of the wise woman from Tekoa—another private conversation, complete with a parable—is fictional. The question is why it would be necessary for the authors to invent such an elaborate account. Why not simply present David as having a change of heart? As is the case with so many of these overly involved biblical narratives, the story serves to obscure the historical truth. It is a continuation of the cover-up of the David and Absalom conspiracy. David must be seen as disinclined ever to forgive Absalom in order to persuade the reader that he had no hand in Amnon’s death. It is only in a display of royal beneficence to the woman of Tekoa that David unwittingly acquiesces to Absalom’s return. In other words, David did not want to see Absalom again, the story tells us, but he was such a deeply good person that he allowed the wise woman to force his hand. The typical biblical program of elevating David while covering his tracks is evident.

  The same agenda is at work in the prominent role Joab plays in the story. David, we are to understand, would never on his own have taken the initiative in welcoming Absalom back. It is Joab who wants Absalom to return, not David. It is Joab who goes to fetch Absalom, not David. Everything that David wanted in reality is ascribed by the biblical authors to Joab. The two further years that Absalom spent without coming to see David are the final piece of the cover-up, yet another indication that David was deeply reticent about Absalom regaining his position in Jerusalem. Probably this was all worked out well in advance. It was the price Absalom and David had to pay for their determination to eliminate Amnon: five years of separation, of exile and virtual house arrest for Absalom. In the long run, this seemed a fair price to pay for getting the right son on the throne.
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  Absalom’s Revolt

  DAVID HAD EXECUTED HIS plan perfectly. In fact, since his early failed attempt to seize Saul’s crown, David had experienced an unbroken string of successes. What happened next, however, was unexpected and marked the beginning of his long decline.

  The Bible tells us that Absalom was exceedingly attractive—that “no one in Israel was so praised for his beauty as Absalom; from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head he was without blemish” (2 Sam. 14:25). What’s more, he had a remarkable head of hair. Physical descriptions of biblical characters are rare and always meaningful. What is the purpose of describing Absalom this way? Physical gifts went beyond mere appearance; they were seen as a sign of divine favor. Joseph is described as handsome. The infant Moses is beautiful. In the right circumstances, one could be considered fit to be a king if one only looked the part: Saul, we may recall, was chosen because he was taller than everyone else; David himself is described as handsome. Absalom’s appearance may have planted in him and in others the thought that he was particularly fit to be king. At the very least, the biblical authors provide this information as foreshadowing for Absalom’s subsequent actions.