'And David fled from Naioth in Ramah, and came and said before
Jonathan, What have I done? what is mine iniquity? and what is my sin
before thy father, that he seeketh my life? 2. And he said unto him,
God forbid; thou shalt not die: behold, my father will do nothing
either great or small, but that he will shew it me: and why should my
father hide this thing from me? it is not so. 3. And David sware
moreover, and said, Thy father certainly knoweth that I have found
grace in thine eyes; and he saith, Let not Jonathan know this, lest he
be grieved: but truly, as the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth,
there is but a step between me and death. 4. Then said Jonathan unto
David, Whatsoever thy soul desireth, I will even do it for thee. 5. And
David said unto Jonathan, Behold, to-morrow is the new moon, and I
should not fail to sit with the king at meat: but let me go, that I may
hide myself in the field unto the third day at even. 6. If thy father
at all miss me, then say, David earnestly asked leave of me that he
might run to Beth-lehem his city: for there is a yearly sacrifice there
for all the family. 7. If he say thus, it is well; thy servant shall
have peace: but if he be very wroth, then be sure that evil is
determined by him. 8. Therefore thou shalt deal kindly with thy
servant; for thou hast brought thy servant into a covenant of the Lord
with thee: notwithstanding, if there be in me iniquity, slay me
thyself; for why shouldest thou bring me to thy father? 9. And Jonathan
said, Far be it from thee: for if I knew certainly that evil were
determined by my father to come upon thee, then would not I tell it
thee? 10. Then said David to Jonathan, Who shall tell me? or what if
thy father answer thee roughly? 11. And Jonathan said unto David, Come,
and let us go out into the field. And they went out both of them into
the field. 12. And Jonathan said unto David, O Lord God of Israel when
I have sounded my father about to-morrow any time, or the third day,
and, behold, if there be good toward David, and I then send not unto
thee, and shew it thee; 13. The Lord do so and much more to Jonathan:
but if it please my father to do thee evil, then I will shew it thee,
and send thee away, that thou mayest go in peace: and the Lord be with
thee, as He hath been with my father.'--1 SAMUEL xx. 1-13.
The friendship of Jonathan for David comes like a breath of pure air in
the midst of the heavy-laden atmosphere of hate and mad fury, or like
some clear fountain sparkling up among the sulphurous slag and barren
scoriae of a volcano. There is no more beautiful page in history or
poetry than the story of the passionate love of the heir to the throne
for the young champion, whom he had so much cause to regard as a rival.
What a proof of the victory of love over self is his saying, 'Thou
shalt be king over Israel, and I shall be next unto thee'! (1 Samuel
xxiii. 17). Truly did David sing in his elegy, 'Thy love to me was
wonderful, passing the love of women'; for in that old world, in which
the relations between the sexes had not yet received the hallowing and
refinement of Christian times, much of what is now chiefly found in
these was manifested in friendship, such as that of these two young
men. Jonathan is the foremost figure in it, and the nobility and
self-oblivion of his love are beautifully brought out, while David's
part is rather that of the loved than of the lover. The scene is laid
in Gibeah, where Saul kept his court, and to which all the persons of
the story seem to have come back from Samuel's house at Kamah. Saul's
strange subjugation to the hallowing influences of the prophet's
presence had been but momentary and superficial; and it had been
followed by a renewed outburst of the old hate, obvious to David's
sharpened sight, though not to Jonathan. In the interview between them,
David is pardonably but obviously absorbed in self, while Jonathan
bends all his soul to cheer and reassure his friend.
There are four turns in the conversation, in each of which David speaks
and Jonathan answers. David's first question presupposes that his
friend knows that his death is determined, and is privy to Saul's
thoughts. If he had been less harassed, he would have done Jonathan
more justice than to suppose him capable of knowing everything without
telling him anything; but fear is suspicious. He should have remembered
that, when Saul first harboured murderous purposes, Jonathan had not
waited to be asked, but had disclosed the plot to him, and perilled his
own life by his remonstrances with his father. He should have trusted
his friend. His question breathes consciousness of innocence of any
hostility to Saul, but unconsciously betrays some defect in his
confidence in Jonathan. The answer is magnanimous in its silence as to
that aspect of the question, though the subsequent story seems to imply
that Jonathan felt it. He tries to hearten David by strong assurances
that his life is safe. He does not directly contradict David's
implication that he knew more than he had told, but, without asserting
his ignorance, takes it for granted, and quietly argues from it the
incorrectness of David's suspicions. Incidentally he gives us, in the
picture of the perfect confidence between Saul and himself, an inkling
of how much he had to sacrifice to his friendship. Wild as was Saul's
fury when aroused, and narrow as had been his escape from it at an
earlier time (1 Samuel xiv. 44), there was yet love between them, and
the king made a confidant of his gallant eldest son. They 'were lovely
and pleasant in their lives.' However gloomy and savage in his
paroxysms Saul was, the relations between them were sweet. The most
self-introverted and solitary soul needs some heart to pour itself out
to, and this poor king found one in Jonathan. All the harder, then, was
the trial of friendship when the trusted son had to take the part of
the friend whom his father deemed an enemy, and had the pain of
breaking such close ties. How his heart must have been torn asunder! On
the one side was the lonely father who clung to him: on the other, the
hunted friend to whom he clung. It is a sore wrench when kindred are on
one side, and congeniality and the voice of the heart on the other. But
there are ties more sacred than those of flesh and blood; and the
putting of them second, which is sometimes needful in obedience to
earthly love or duty, is always needful if we would rightly entertain
our heavenly Friend.
Jonathan's soothing assurances did not satisfy David, and he 'sware' in
the earnestness of his conviction. David gives a very good reason for
his friend's ignorance, which he has at once believed, in the
suggestion that Saul had not taken him into his confidence, out of
tenderness to his feelings. Their friendship, then, was notorious, and,
indeed, was an element in Saul's dread of David, who seemed to have
some charm to steal hearts, and had bewitched both Saul's son and his
daughter, thus making a painful rift in the family unity. It does not
appear how David came to be so sure of Saul's designs. The incident at
Ramah might have seemed to augur some improvement in his mood; and
certainly there could have been no overt acts, or Jonathan could not
have disputed the suspicions. Possibly some whispers may have reached
David through his wife Michal, Saul's daughter, or in the course of his
attendance on the king, which he had now resumed, his quick eye may
have noticed ominous signs. At all events, he is so sure, that he makes
solemn attestation to his friend, and convinces him that, in the
picturesque phrase which has become so familiar, 'There is but a step
between me and death.' Such temper was scarcely in accordance with 'the
prophecies which went before on' him. If he had been walking by faith,
he would have called Samuel's anointing to mind, and have drawn
arguments from the victory over Goliath, for trust in victory over
Saul, as he had done for the former from that over the lion and the
bear. But faith does not always keep high-water mark, and we can only
too easily sympathise with this momentary ebb of its waters.
None the less is it true that David's terror was unworthy, and showed
that the strain of his anxious position was telling on his spirit, and
making him not only suspect his earthly friend, but half forget his
heavenly One. There was but a step between him and death; but, if he
had been living in the serenity of trust, he would have known that the
narrow space was as good as a thousand miles, and that Saul could not
force him across it, for all his hatred and power.
Jonathan does not attempt to alter his conviction and probably is
obliged to admit the justice of the explanation of his own ignorance
and the truth of the impression of Saul's purposes. But he does what is
more to the purpose; he pledges himself to do whatever David desires.
It is an unconditional desertion of his father and alliance with David;
it is the true voice of friendship or love, which ever has its delight
in knowing and doing the will of the beloved. It answers David's
thoughts rather than his words. He will not discuss any more whether he
or David is right; but, in any event, he is his friend's.
The touchstone of friendship is practical help and readiness to do what
the friend wishes. It is so in our friendships here, which are best
cemented so. It is so in the highest degree in our friendship with the
true Friend and Lover of us all, the sweetness and power of our
friendship with whom we do not know until we say, 'Whatsoever thou
desirest, I will do it,' and so lose the burden of self-will, and find
that He does for us what we desire when we make His desires our law of
conduct.
Secure of Jonathan's help, David proposed the stratagem for finding out
Saul's disposition, which had probably been in his mind all along. It
says more for his subtlety than for his truthfulness. With all his
nobility, he had a streak of true Oriental craft and stood on the moral
level of his times and country, in his readiness to eke out the lion's
skin with the fox's tail. It was a shrewd idea to make Saul betray
himself by the way in which he took David's absence; but a lie is a
lie, and cannot be justified, though it may be palliated, by the
straits of the liar. At the same time it is fair to remember the
extremity of David's danger and the morality of his age, in estimating,
not the nature of his action, but the extent of his guilt in doing it.
The same relaxation of the vigour of his faith which left him a prey to
fear, led him to walk in crooked paths, and the impartial narrative
tells of them without a word of comment. We have to form our own
estimate of the fitness of a lie to form the armour of a saint. The
proposal informs us of two facts,--the custom of having a feast for
three days at the new moon, and that of having an annual family feast
and sacrifice, neither of which is prescribed in the law. I do not here
deal with the grave question as to the date of the ceremonial law, as
affected by these and similar phenomena; but I may be allowed the
passing remark that the irregularities do not prove the non-existence
of the law, but may be accounted for by supposing that, in such
unsettled times, it had been loosely observed, and that many accretions
and omissions, some of them inevitable in the absence of a recognised
centre of worship, had crept in. That is a much less brilliant and much
more old-fashioned explanation than the new one, but perhaps it is none
the worse for that. This generation is fond of making 'originality' and
'brilliancy' the tests of truth.
David's words in verse 8 have a touch of suspicion in them, in their
very appeal for kind treatment, in their reminder of the 'covenant' of
friendship, as if Jonathan needed either, and still more in the bitter
request to slay him himself instead of delivering him to Saul. He
almost thinks that Jonathan is in the plot, and means to carry him off
a prisoner. Note, too, that he does not say, 'We made a covenant,' but
'Thou hast brought me into' it, as if it had been the other's wish
rather than his. All this was beneath true friendship, and it hurt
Jonathan, who next speaks with unusual emotion, beseeching David to
clear all this fog out of his heart, and to believe in the genuineness
and depth of his love, and in the frankness of his speech. True love
'is not easily provoked,' is not soon angry, and his was true in spite
of many obstacles which might have made him as jealous as his father,
and in the face of misconstruction and suspicion. May we not think of a
yet higher love, which bears with our suspicions and faithless doubts,
and ever answers our incredulity by its gentle 'If it were not so, I
would have told you'?
David is not yet at the end of his difficulties, and next suggests, how
is he to know Saul's mind? Jonathan takes him out into the privacy of
the open country (they had apparently been in Gibeah), and there
solemnly calls God to witness that he will disclose his father's
purposes, whatever they are. The language is obscure and broken,
whether owing to corruption in the text, or to the emotion of the
speaker. In half-shaped sentences, which betray how much he felt his
friend's doubts, and how sincere he was, he invokes evil on himself if
he fails to tell all. He then unfolds his ingenious scheme for
conveying the information, on which we do not touch. But note the final
words of Jonathan,--that prayer, so pathetic, so unselfish in its
recognition of David as the inheritor of the kingdom that had dropped
from his own grasp, so sad in its clear-eyed assurance of his father's
abandonment, so deeply imbued with faith in the divine word, and so
resigned to its behests. Both in the purity of his friendship and in
the strength of his faith and submission, Jonathan stands here above
David, and is far surer than the latter himself is of his high destiny
and final triumph. It was hard for him to believe in the victory which
was to displace his own house, harder still to rejoice in it, without
one trace of bitterness mingling in the sweetness of his love, hardest
of all actively to help it and to take sides against his father; but
all these difficulties his unselfish heart overcame, and he stands for
all time as the noblest example of human friendship, and as not
unworthy to remind us, as from afar off and dimly, of the perfect love
of the Firstborn Son of the true King, who has loved us all with a yet
deeper, more patient, more self-sacrificing love. If men can love one
another as Jonathan loved David, how should they love the Christ who
has loved them so much! And what sacrilege it is to pour such treasures
of affection at the feet of dear ones here, and to give so grudgingly
such miserable doles of heart's love to Him!