_DAVID'S FLIGHT FROM JERUSALEM._
2 SAMUEL xv. 13.
The trumpet which was to be the signal that Absalom reigned in Hebron
had been sounded, the flow of people in response to it had begun, when
"a messenger came to David saying, The hearts of the men of Israel are
after Absalom." The narrative is so concise that we can hardly tell
whether or not this was the first announcement to David of the real
intentions of Absalom. But it is very certain that the king was utterly
unprepared to meet the sudden revolt. The first news of it all but
overwhelmed him. And little wonder. There came on him three calamities
in one. First, there was the calamity that the great bulk of the people
had revolted against him, and were now hastening to drive him from the
throne, and very probably to put him to death. Second, there was the
appalling discovery of the villainy, hypocrisy, and heartless cruelty
of his favourite and popular son,--the most crushing thing that can be
thought of to a tender heart. And third, there was the discovery that
the hearts of the people were with Absalom; David had lost what he most
prized and desired to possess; the intense affection he had for his
people now met with no response; their love and confidence were given
to a usurper. Fancy an old man, perhaps in infirm health, suddenly
confronted with this threefold calamity; who can wonder for the time
that he is paralysed, and bends before the storm?
Flight from Jerusalem seemed the only feasible course. Both policy
and humanity seemed to dictate it. He considered himself unable to
defend the city with any hope of success against an attack by such
a force as Absalom could muster, and he was unwilling to expose
the people to be smitten with the sword. Whether he was really as
helpless as he thought we can hardly say. We should be disposed
to think that his first duty was to stay where he was, and defend
his capital. He was there as God's viceroy, and would not God be
with him, defending the place where He had set His name, and the
tabernacle in which He was pleased to dwell? It is not possible for
us, ignorant as we are of the circumstances, to decide whether the
flight from Jerusalem was the enlightened result of an overwhelming
necessity, or the fruit of sudden panic, of a heart so paralysed that
it could not gird itself for action. His servants had no other advice
to offer. Any course that recommended itself to him they were ready
to take. If this did not help to throw light on his difficulties,
it must at least have soothed his heart. His friends were not all
forsaking him. Amid the faithless a few were found faithful. Friends
in such need were friends indeed. And the sight of their honest
though perplexed countenances, and the sound of their friendly though
trembling voices, would be most soothing to his feelings, and serve
to rally the energy that had almost left him. When the world forsakes
us, the few friends that remain are of priceless value.
On leaving Jerusalem David at once turned eastward, into the
wilderness region between Jerusalem and Jericho, with the view, if
possible, of crossing the Jordan, so as to have that river, with its
deep valley, between him and the rebels. The first halt, or rather
the rendezvous for his followers, though called in the A.V. "a place
that was far off," is more suitably rendered in the R.V. Bethmerhak,
and the margin "the far house." Probably it was the last house on
this side the brook Kidron. Here, outside the walls of the city, some
hasty arrangements were made before the flight was begun in earnest.
First, we read that he was accompanied by all his household, with the
exception of ten concubines who were left to keep the house. Fain
would we have avoided contact at such a moment with that feature of
his house from which so much mischief had come; but to the end of the
day David never deviated in that respect from the barbarous policy of
all Eastern kings. The mention of his household shows how embarrassed
he must have been with so many helpless appendages, and how slow his
flight. And his household were not the only women and children of the
company; the "little ones" of the Gittites are mentioned in ver. 22;
we may conceive how the unconcealed terror and excitement of these
helpless beings must have distressed him, as their feeble powers of
walking must have held back the fighting part of his attendants.
When one thinks of this, one sees more clearly the excellence of the
advice afterwards given by Ahithophel to pursue him without loss of
time with twelve thousand men, to destroy his person at once; in that
case, Absalom must have overtaken him long before he reached the
Jordan, and found him quite unable to withstand his ardent troops.
Next, we find mention of the forces that remained faithful to the king
in the crisis of his misfortunes. The Pelethites, the Cherethites,
and the Gittites were the chief of these. The Pelethites and the
Cherethites are supposed to have been the representatives of the
band of followers that David commanded when hiding from Saul in the
wilderness; the Gittites appear to have been a body of refugees from
Gath, driven away by the tyranny of the Philistines, who had thrown
themselves on the protection of David and had been well treated by
him. The interview between David and Ittai was most creditable to the
feelings of the fugitive king. Ittai was a stranger who had but lately
come to Jerusalem, and as he was not attached to David personally, it
would be safer for him to return to the city and offer to the reigning
king the services which David could no longer reward. But the generous
proposal of David was rejected with equal nobility on the part of
Ittai. He had probably been received with kindness by David when he
first came to Jerusalem, the king remembering well when he himself
was in the like predicament, and thinking, like the African princess
to Æneas, "_Haud ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco_"--"Having had
experience of adversity myself, I know how to succour the miserable."
Ittai's heart was won to David then; and he had made up his mind, like
Ruth the Moabitess with reference to Naomi, that wherever David was,
in life or in death, there also he should be. How affecting must it
have been to David to receive such an assurance from a stranger! His
own son, whom he had loaded with undeserved kindness, was conspiring
against him, while this stranger, who owed him nothing in comparison,
was risking everything in his cause. "There is a friend that sticketh
closer than a brother."
Next in David's train presented themselves Zadok and Abiathar, the
priests, carrying the ark of God. The presence of this sacred symbol
would have invested the cause of David with a manifestly sacred
character in the eyes of all good men; its absence from Absalom
would have equally suggested the absence of Israel's God. But David
probably remembered how ill it had fared with Israel in the days of
Eli and his sons, when the ark was carried into battle. Moreover,
when the ark had been placed on Mount Zion, God had said, "This is My
rest; here will I dwell;" and even in this extraordinary emergency,
David would not disturb that arrangement. He said to Zadok, "Carry
back the ark of God into the city: if I shall find favour in the eyes
of the Lord, He shall bring me again, and show me both it and His
habitation: but if He thus say, I have no delight in thee, behold,
here am I; let Him do to me what seemeth good unto Him." These words
show how much God was in David's mind in connection with the events
of that humiliating day. They show, too, that he did not regard his
case as desperate. But everything turned on the will of God. It might
be that, in His great mercy, He would bring him back to Jerusalem.
His former promises led him to think of this as a possible, perhaps
probable, termination of the insurrection. But it might also be that
the Lord had no more delight in him. The chastening with which He was
now visiting him for his sin might involve the success of Absalom.
In that case, all that David would say was that he was at God's
disposal, and would offer no resistance to His holy will. If he was
to be restored, he would be restored without the aid of the ark; if
he was to be destroyed, the ark could not save him. Zadok and his
Levites must carry it back into the city. The distance was a very
short one, and they would be able to have everything placed in order
before Absalom could be there.
Another thought occurred to David, who was now evidently recovering
his calmness and power of making arrangements. Zadok was a seer,
and able to use that method of obtaining light from God which in
great emergencies God was pleased to give when the ruler of the
nation required it. But the marginal reading of the R.V., "Seest
thou?" instead of "Thou art a seer," makes it doubtful whether David
referred to this mystic privilege, which Zadok does not appear to
have used; the meaning may be simply, that as he was an observant
man, he could be of use to David in the city, by noticing how things
were going and sending him word. In this way he could be of more
use to him in Jerusalem than in the field. Considering how he was
embarrassed with the women and children, it was better for David not
to be encumbered with another defenceless body like the Levites. The
sons of the priests, Ahimaaz and Jonathan, would be of great service
in bringing him information. Even if he succeeded in reaching the
plains (or fords, _marg._ R.V.) of the wilderness, they could easily
overtake him, and tell him what plan of operations it would be wisest
for him to follow.
These hasty arrangements being made, and the company placed in some
sort of order, the march towards the wilderness now began. The first
thing was to cross the brook Kidron. From its bed, the road led up
the slope of Mount Olivet. To the spectators the sight was one of
overwhelming sadness. "All the country wept with a loud voice, and
all the people passed over; the king also himself passed over the
brook Kidron, and all the people passed over toward the way of the
wilderness." After all, there was a large number who sympathised with
the king, and to whom it was most affecting to see one who was now
"old and grey-headed" driven from his throne and from his home by an
unprincipled son, aided and abetted by a graceless generation who had
no consideration for the countless benefits which David had conferred
on the nation. It is when we find "all the country" expressing their
sympathy that we cannot but doubt whether it was really necessary for
David to fly. Perhaps "the country" here may be used in contrast to
the city. Country people are less accessible to secret conspiracies,
and besides are less disposed to change their allegiance. The event
showed that in the more remote country districts David had still a
numerous following. Time to gather these friends together was his
great need. If he had been fallen on that night, weary and desolate
and almost friendless, as was proposed by Ahithophel, there can be no
rational doubt what the issue would have been.
And the king himself gave way to distress, like the people, though
for different reasons. "David went up by the ascent of Mount Olivet,
and wept as he went up, and had his head covered; and he went
barefoot; and all the people that was with him covered every man
his head, and they went up, weeping as they went up." The covered
head and bare feet were tokens of humiliation. They were a humble
confession on the king's part that the affliction which had befallen
him was well deserved by him. The whole attitude and bearing of David
is that of one "stricken, smitten, and afflicted." Lofty looks and
a proud bearing had never been among his weaknesses; but on this
occasion, he is so meek and lowly that the poorest person in his
kingdom could not have assumed a more humble bearing. It is the
feeling that had so wrung his heart in the fifty-first Psalm come
back on him again. It is the feeling, Oh, what a sinner I have been!
how forgetful of God I have often proved, and how unworthily I have
acted toward man! No wonder that God rebukes me and visits me with
these troubles! And not me only, but my people too. These are my
children, for whom I should have provided a peaceful home, driven
into the shelterless wilderness with me! These kind people who are
compassionating me have been brought by me into this trouble, which
peradventure will cost them their lives. "Have mercy upon me, O God,
according to Thy lovingkindness; according unto the multitude of Thy
tender mercies, blot out my transgressions!"
It was at this time that some one brought word to David that
Ahithophel the Gilonite was among the conspirators. He seems to have
been greatly distressed at the news. For "the counsel of Ahithophel,
which he counselled in those days, was as if a man had inquired of
the oracle of God" (xvi. 23). An ingenious writer has found a reason
for this step. By comparing 2 Sam. xi. 3 with 2 Sam. xxiii. 34,
in the former of which Bathsheba is called the daughter of Eliam,
and in the latter Eliam is called the son of Ahithophel, it would
appear--if it be the same Eliam in both--that Ahithophel was the
grandfather of Bathsheba. From this it has been inferred that his
forsaking of David at this time was due to his displeasure at David's
treatment of Bathsheba and Uriah. The idea is ingenious, but after
all it is hardly trustworthy. For if Ahithophel was a man of such
singular shrewdness, he would not be likely to let his personal
feelings determine his public conduct. There can be no reasonable
doubt that, judging calmly from the kind of considerations by which a
worldly mind like his would be influenced, he came to the deliberate
conclusion that Absalom was going to win. And when David heard of his
defection, it must have given him a double pang; first, because he
would lose so valuable a counsellor, and Absalom would gain what he
would lose; and second, because Ahithophel's choice showed the side
that, to his shrewd judgment, was going to triumph. David could but
fall back on that higher Counsellor on whose aid and countenance he
was still able to rely, and offer a short but expressive prayer, "O
Lord, I pray Thee, turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishness."
It was but a few minutes after this that another distinguished
counsellor, Hushai the Archite, came to him, with his clothes rent
and dust on his head, signifying his sense of the public calamity,
and his adherence to David. Him too, as well as Ittai and the
priests, David wished to send back. And the reason assigned showed
that his mind was now calm and clear, and able to ponder the
situation in all its bearings. Indeed, he concocts quite a little
scheme with Hushai. First, he is to go to Absalom and pretend to be
on his side. But his main business will be to oppose the counsel of
Ahithophel, try to secure a little time to David, and thus give him
a chance of escape. Moreover, he is to co-operate with the priests
Zadok and Abiathar, and through their sons send word to David of
everything he hears. Hushai obeys David, and as he returns to the
city from the east, Absalom arrives from the south, before David
is more than three or four miles away. But for the Mount of Olives
intervening, Absalom might have seen the company that followed his
father creeping slowly along the wilderness, a company that could
hardly be called an army, and that, humanly speaking, might have been
scattered like a puff of smoke.
Thus Absalom gets possession of Jerusalem without a blow. He goes
to his father's house, and takes possession of all that he finds
there. He cannot but feel the joy of gratified ambition, the joy of
the successful accomplishment of his elaborate and long-prosecuted
scheme. Times are changed, he would naturally reflect, since I had to
ask my father's leave for everything I did, since I could not even go
to Hebron without begging him to allow me. Times are changed since I
reared that monument in the vale for want of anything else to keep my
name alive. Now that I am king, my name will live without a monument.
The success of the revolution was so remarkable, that if Absalom had
believed in God, he might have imagined, judging from the way in
which everything had fallen out in his favour, that Providence was
on his side. But, surely, there must have been a hard constraint and
pressure upon his feelings somewhere. Conscience could not be utterly
inactive. Fresh efforts to silence it must have been needed from time
to time. Amid all the excitement of success, a vague horror must have
stolen in on his soul. A vision of outraged justice would haunt him.
He might scare away the hideous spectre for a time, but he could not
lay it in the grave. "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked."
But if Absalom might well be haunted by a spectre because he had
driven his father from his house, and God's anointed from his throne,
there was a still more fearful reckoning standing against him, in
that he had enticed such multitudes from their allegiance, and
drawn them into the guilt of rebellion. There was not one of the
many thousands that were now shouting "God save the king!" who had
not been induced through him to do a great sin, and bring himself
under the special displeasure of God. A rough nature like Absalom's
would make light of this result of his movement, as rough natures
have done since the world began. But a very different judgment was
passed by the great Teacher on the effects of leading others into
sin. "Whosoever shall break one of these least commandments and teach
men so, he shall be called least in the kingdom of God." "Whoso shall
cause one of these little ones which believe in Me to stumble, it
were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck and
he were cast in the depth of the sea." Yet how common a thing this
has been in all ages of the world, and how common it is still! To put
pressure on others to do wrong; to urge them to trifle with their
consciences, or knowingly to violate them; to press them to give
a vote against their convictions;--all such methods of disturbing
conscience and drawing men into crooked ways, what sin they involve!
And when a man of great influence employs it with hundreds and
thousands of people in such ways, twisting consciences, disturbing
self-respect, bringing down Divine displeasure, how forcibly we are
reminded of the proverb, "One sinner destroyeth much good"!
Most earnestly should every one who has influence over others dread
being guilty of debauching conscience, and discouraging obedience to
its call. On the other hand, how blessed is it to use one's influence
in the opposite direction. Think of the blessedness of a life spent
in enlightening others as to truth and duty, and encouraging loyalty
to their high but often difficult claims. What a contrast to the
other! What a noble aim to try to make men's eye single and their
duty easy; to try to raise them above selfish and carnal motives, and
inspire them with a sense of the nobility of walking uprightly, and
working righteousness, and speaking the truth in their hearts! What
a privilege to be able to induce our fellows to walk in some degree
even as He walked "who did no sin, neither was guile found in His
mouth;" and who, in ways so high above our ways, was ever influencing
the children of men "to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk
humbly with their God"!