The passage from Second Samuel could be ripped from the headlines of any newspaper. We have a leader who we think is superhuman, almost Divine, who turns out to be just like the rest of us: a sinner. Remember, the Israelites believe David has been chosen by God to lead them and, as such, should be above all this petty human stuff.
The scene opens with David planning a battle. Scripture says spring is “the time when kings go to war.” But David decides it is not his place to lead his army, so he goes up on the roof of his palace. While up there, he spies a woman, reportedly the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She is taking a ritual bath for purification, and rather than look away, David decides to watch.
David sends one of his advisors to find out who she is and report back to him. He asks her to visit with him, and one thing leads to another, and the woman, Bathsheba, ends up pregnant. Now, I know it is hard to believe a leader would have an affair, but there it is.
The King sends for the woman’s husband, Uriah, one of his generals. They have a conversation about why Uriah did not go home after his last battle, and Uriah tells him that it would not be fair for him to return home while his subordinates were unable to. Uriah is a good leader, maybe a great leader, as he thinks about the comfort of those under him before his own.
As you know, I have spent most of my adult life in the military. I enlisted right out of high school and have continued with my service, with a few breaks here and there. When I was an enlisted man, it used to make me angry when we were sleeping on the ground, and the officers were on cots, having their meals served to them. The higher up the chain you went, the more privilege that position carried with it.
The best officers, and the ones we were willing to do anything for, were the ones who thought about us first. They ensured we had everything we needed or could get, and then they concerned themselves with their needs. This is a theory I have carried with me as I have risen through the ranks. Yes, being a leader has certain privileges, but with that privilege comes a lot of responsibility.
By all accounts, Uriah was this type of leader and David did not seem to understand why he did not avail himself of the privilege of his position. David’s privilege and sin led him to take the steps we read about at the end of today’s story. “In the morning David wrote a letter to Joab and sent it by the hand of Uriah. In the letter he wrote, ‘Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, so that he may be struck down and die.’” Make it look like an accident.
If you are keeping score, David has now broken three of the top ten: covetous, adultery, and murder. If there were anyone in need of a confession, it would be David. But what about Uriah? This is not the last time we hear about him. Uriah is mentioned in the Gospel of Matthew, right at the beginning, in the Genealogy of Jesus. Amongst the names, we read, “David was the father of Solomon, whose mother had been Uriah’s wife.” There is no mention of the mother’s name, but there is Uriah, who was killed because of David’s sin.
I wonder if he was buried on a golf course. But I digress.
It has been said that confession is good for the soul. I have not met anyone who truly enjoys confession. No one likes to think about the things they have done wrong. It is not proper to talk about sin. We have almost removed that word from our lexicon, and we excuse sin away in ourselves and in those we choose to lead us.
When I began ministry, I was part of a church that practiced sacramental confession. Each week, I would make myself available for folk to come to the church for confession. Now, just to clear up a few misconceptions, in confession, the person is not confessing their sins to the priest; the priest is there only as a witness. We confess to God, we have been forgiven by God, and we are loved by God.
From a psychological standpoint, there is something therapeutic about admitting our faults in the presence of another human being. Having a caring person listen, perhaps offering some words of reassurance or guidance, helps us on the road to healing. In many ways, confession is therapy if the person standing with you is good at what they do.
During Lent, it was common for most people to come to confession. Before confessions began, I would mention that since there were so many people, unless there was a particular issue you needed help with, you just hit the highlights. There was one who would come every year. We would go through the opening, and then I would ask if there was anything they would like to confess. Each time, the answer was the same: no, nothing.
Confession is not easy. Admitting we have faults is not easy, but from a spiritual point of view, confession is necessary. I am not advocating confession to another person, but admitting that we are all sinners and have fallen short is the first step.
When I first came here, I got some pushback on using a prayer of confession in the service. I mean, we are good people after all; we are not sinners. The prayer sometimes involves us saying things that we feel aren’t true.
“We have not done your will, we have broken your law, we have rebelled against your love, and we have not heard the cry of the needy.”
Isn’t that a bit much? We are a loving community; we pay attention to and are engaged in missions with the needy. Why do we need to beat our chest and claim that we are not doing this when we are? Worship is supposed to be a happy experience; I am supposed to feel better about myself when I come out of worship, not worse. Let’s just skip over the whole confession thing.
Except. We do gather each week with regrets. Maybe not on David’s scale; we haven’t arranged a murder to cover up an adulterous affair. But we have occasionally wounded those we love with unkind words or hurtful acts. We have walked or driven past someone seeking something from us and pretended we didn’t see them when, in fact, we did, but we have felt helpless in the face of the systems of poverty. We come carrying burdens that sometimes feel overwhelming to us, and when all we do is set them aside while we sing praises to God, we walk away with those same burdens, guilt, and sin. That is why we need confession. Even when the words of the corporate prayer don’t quite mirror our personal experience, there is space to offer our own prayers.
The worst thing we can do is try to justify our behavior. For centuries, theologians and biblical scholars have tried to explain away David’s behavior. As one might imagine, the blame is placed on Bathsheba. They claim she was too beautiful, and David could not control himself. We find this same thinking when it comes to rules about how women should dress or how victims of rape or other sexual crimes are treated. We spin it off the man and onto the woman. This behavior is certainly something that needs to be confessed.
When we come to worship, we bring our whole selves, all of us, our wants, hopes, desires, and even our sins. What have we done, and what have we left undone? How have we used our power and our privilege? Have we built up or broken-down God’s kingdom? Have we loved our neighbor?
None of these questions is meant to make us feel bad about ourselves. When we confess, we lay our burdens down and leave them behind. Here is where we come and offer all these things to God, who loves us. Here in this place, we find forgiveness and not judgment for what we have or have not done. Here is where we can leave our past behind and start new. Each week, we have the opportunity for a do-over. We have an opportunity to ask God to forgive our shortcomings and help us do better and be better in the future. Do not let the opportunity pass you by.
Amen.
