Is the Young Man Absalom Safe? / A Sermon Preached in the Church of St. Mary Magdalene, Stoke Bishop, on Sunday, July 19th, 1885

by David Wright

SERMON.

2 Samuel xviii. 29.

"IS THE YOUNG MAN ABSALOM SAFE?"

The touch of nature comes out strongly here. And it is this touch of nature appearing always in the Old Testament stories which gives to them their reality. The writer of ordinary histories has for the most part his favourites. These are the heroes of his imagination, and the history of their doings is unconsciously tempered by this partiality. And there are others whom he holds in disfavour. And the figure of these on his page is darkened accordingly. And the book of another historian passes over the same ground. But his sympathies are all the other way; and the lineaments are altered; and the heroes are displaced; and forms which are not heroes stand where they had stood. And so the readers of history are mystified. They do get at events. But the actors in them wear no fixed shape. Their form varies.

It is not so with the figures in the Old Testament. It is true they are seen upon that page only. No second historian of the least authority has any place in those scenes. But yet the narrative shows its faithfulness apart from any such test. There are no signs anywhere of favour or of disfavour interfering with fidelity. It is not certain who the author was of the Books of Samuel. But whoever he may have been he was certainly an admirer of David. That illustrious king stood on a pedestal of his own before all the nation. And this writer tells the principal events with which David's life and reign were mixed up. But we can discover without a critical eye that he tells them with rigid and inexorable adherence to nature and to fact. One of the very darkest transactions belonging to that life, or indeed to any other life in those past ages, is related point by point with no attempt at alleviation: only with this comment at the end: "But the thing which David had done displeased the Lord." If the pen of the writer who tells the story of Absalom's rebellion had been guided by favour or flattery, the fact would have been suppressed or at least toned down, that the King's first word to the breathless messenger who brings tidings of the victory which has saved his crown is this, "Is the young man Absalom safe?" It is natural, it is human, it is fatherly, it is pathetic and beautiful, but it is not heroic.

This young man Absalom comes upon the page a few chapters back, and gathers upon his name quickly the dark stain of murder. It is true he has received most awful provocation, and the victim of that crime has little of our sympathy. But there is no sign of penitence or of sorrow in the mind of Absalom for this deep offence, by which he has violated God's most holy law. His course runs on; it is a selfish, wilful, violent, and graceless course, unredeemed, as far as we can see, by any trace of better things. And it ends in base rebellion against the throne and life of the father who had shown to this son more favour and affection than to any of the rest. And the king fled before Absalom and went over Jordan, and the rebel host followed, and there was a great battle. And the servants of David conquered in that fight; and we know the fate of Absalom. But who shall tell the king of this? He was lodged in a stronghold called Mahanaim not far from the field of battle; and had taken his place in the chamber between the inner and the outer gate. And a watchman on the roof of this chamber kept watch.

Who shall tell the king of what has happened? Two messengers ran—one following the other—the first the shorter way by the hills; the second the longer way by the plain. But this one outran the other, and the eye of the watchman on the roof of the chamber caught sight of this single figure hastening over the plain, and then of the second in the farther distance; and it did not need the sagacity of king David to know that both of these brought tidings. And how would the tidings be given in these days? "We have won the battle," or words like that. And how were the tidings given in those days? "Blessed be the Lord thy God, which hath delivered up the men that lifted up their hand against my lord the king." The difference is worth observing.

But we are looking upon the king and listening to his word. The messengers have told the good tidings, and the king is speaking to them very eagerly. "In what state is the army? Was the slaughter great? Have any of the captains fallen?" He is not asking these questions. The king of the people—the commander of the hosts—might be expected to ask such questions. And David was both these. But David was the father of Absalom, and all things besides gave way to the yearning of the father's heart. "Is the young man Absalom safe?" The first messenger cannot answer: or rather he evades the answer, for he does know the fact. And then quickly comes up the second messenger. And again the king is forgotten, and the interests of the nation are forgotten, and everything else is forgotten, and the voice of the father speaks out again, "Is the young man Absalom safe?" We remember the answer. It is gently said, but very finely, "The enemies of my lord the king, and all that rise against thee to do thee hurt, be as that young man is."

We shall not need to follow the history further now. We are listening to this same word from the lips of the fathers of the earth, and the mothers of the earth, and all whom care for young men and young women chiefly touches and most nearly concerns. Are they safe? We bring the question down from the watch tower of Mahanaim, or from the chamber between the walls, and give to it shape and interpretation after the times in which we live. From the mouth of David it meant I think only, Does Absalom still live? Is he not among the slain? We are not to anticipate the revelation of later ages and say, as some have said, that it was the thought of the future for his son after death which moved the king of Israel so deeply. It was just the sorrow of another father at an earlier time, also in the first throes of its bitterness: "I will go down unto the grave unto my son mourning." And yet I think that without anticipating any revelation, the man whose thoughts about God and holiness were those which the Psalms of David disclose, cannot have lost his best-loved son in the very act and deed of direful guilt, without an aggravation of his anguish because of this sad thing. If Absalom in the midst of upright walking and works of righteousness had been stricken by disease and had died in his bed, the tidings of this when it reached the father might and would no doubt have moved him to deep sorrow. But I think we should not have heard that wail of grievous lamentation from the roof of the chamber, "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom, would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!"