2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27
1After the death of Saul, when David had returned from defeating the Amalekites, David remained two days in Ziklag.
17David intoned this lamentation over Saul and his son Jonathan. 18(He ordered that The Song of the Bow be taught to the people of Judah; it is written in the Book of Jashar.) He said: 19Your glory, O Israel, lies slain upon your high places! How the mighty have fallen! 20Tell it not in Gath, proclaim it not in the streets of Ashkelon; or the daughters of the Philistines will rejoice, the daughters of the uncircumcised will exult. 21You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields! For there the shield of the mighty was defiled, the shield of Saul, anointed with oil no more.22From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan did not turn back, nor the sword of Saul return empty. 23Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely! In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. 24O daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you with crimson, in luxury, who put ornaments of gold on your apparel. 25How the mighty have fallen in the midst of the battle! Jonathan lies slain upon your high places. 26I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. 27How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished!
“How the mighty have fallen…” How many times have we heard this quoted, usually without realizing from whence it came—the Hebrew Bible. Oh, there may be more of this “Song of the Bow” than we have recorded here in Second Samuel, as the text tells us it was to be included in the Book of Jasher, one of the non-canonical books of Hebrew lore, but what we DO have here is pretty impressive.
“How the mighty have fallen” is often used to describe high-flying politicians who fall from grace, either due to scandal, prosecution, or a surprising loss at the ballot box. It may be applied to an egotistical athlete who has the world by the tail, only to have his or her over-inflated self-valuing punctured like a party balloon by a streak of lousy performances or after being cut by a team for ineffectiveness. TV evangelists and other high-profile clergy are not exempt from being included in the “mighty” who have stumbled, usually after some moral failure, being it a tryst or a trust-breaking dip into the till.
But did you know this lamenting line is from David’s “Song of the Bow”? David’s lament is “sung” after Saul and Jonathan are both gone, felled in the sorrow and senselessness of battle. David has lost a king and a BFF (Best Friend Forever, for those of you about as savvy with “texting” shorthand as I). His sadness is documented for the ages, possibly with the hope that others will learn from it, and put “the bow” down before more get hurt. “The bow” here stands in for all weapons of war—past, present, and future—and more probably for war, itself.
Jesus would espouse another proverb: “He who lives by the sword will die by the sword” that has a similar warning. Violence rarely solves anything. In fact, in our day of gross polarization—domestic and global—an act of violence carried out to “stop” the actions of a faction will most assuredly just rile that person/group/party up and result in an equal (or not so equal) “reaction,” most likely resulting in more hurt, pain, and even death. Terrorism, for example, is the reaction of “under-armed” people to violent attempts to control by those either IN power, or who have more powerful “bows.”
In the “Song of the Bow,” the author pays tribute to the fallen: In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. In these words designed to bring valor to violence, David is possibly guilty of giving what we would call a “Memorial Day” speech. Each Memorial Day in America, we pay tribute to those who died in service to their country—in battle. The words used are just as lofty as David’s—every one was a hero, “swifter than eagles…stronger than lions.” It seems we have to redeem violent death by pronouncing its victims as larger-than-life, self-sacrificing. Why can’t we just honestly admit most who die in battle were scared, rushed into a battle with a predictably bad outcome, and most always much younger than we imagine. They are no less to be recognized and remembered, even if the truth be told about their unplanned, undesired, yet probably not unanticipated demise when the bullets began to fly. Each year we offer our own “Song of the Bow” for them, don’t we?
If we believe God is a God of love, if we believe that “For God so LOVED the world that God gave God’s only son,” then it becomes less and less “Christian” or God-fearing to glorify violence, or believe it is the shortest distance to conflict resolution. Obliterating an enemy just eliminates that particular enemy, and infuriates a new class of enemy who, in good order, will take the place of the one violently taken out. However, putting aside “the bow,” and engaging in dialogue and negotiation has a chance to solve the conflict and create a successful “pattern” to use in approaching future ones which may erupt. Remember that the line from the 23rd Psalm—“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies” means that God desires we invite our present enemies TO THE TABLE. We, like other creatures, are most vulnerable when we are eating, and when we share a meal with our enemies, there is an excellent chance to “bury the hatchet,” as some may say. Sounds a lot like putting down the bow, to me.
One of my favorite movies is “The Untouchables,” starring Kevin Costner and Sean Connery. Connery plays an Irish Chicago beat cop who joins Elliot Ness’s band of liquor-fighters during Prohibition. He is brutally murdered by the evil Frank Nitty during the movie, as is another member of Ness’s team. As Kostner-as-Ness sits for the last time at his desk, looking over old photos of his decimated team and recalling the “war” over booze, he muses, “So much violence…” Unfortunately, almost every day, we can look over the news from around our own nation, recalling the daily shootings, and are left with the same assessment: “So much violence.”
When are we going to learn the lesson David intended in “The Song of the Bow”? Or we can just continue to “tsk-tsk” over the bloodshed, thinking it inevitable, or worse, that it will somehow lead to an end to conflict.
Jesus was right—the one who lives by the sword will die by the sword, and just may take the whole nation with them.
Oh, and remember that Book of Jasher in which David chose to immortalize his “Song of the Bow” lament? Its Hebrew name is best translated “The Book of the Just Man.” In our constant cry for justice, may we heed the warnings of “The Song of the Bow.”
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