Grieving for Lost Opportunities
A Love Letter to My Friends and My Church . . .
“Your glory lies slain on your heights . . .”–2 Sam.1:17
2 Samuel 1:17-27
I. GRIEVING FOR CURLEY
I can still remember sitting in Advanced Math class, McGehee High School, 1970, when I heard the news. My friend, Curley Mays, was dead. Killed a few miles from the DMZ, Curley’s position had survived the first onslaught of the NVA, but not the second one. And Curley, Lance Corporal, USMC, was dead.
We were on the same baseball team–Western Auto. He had–yes, curley blond hair. Every Fourth of July we stayed up all night smoking pork ribs, chicken legs, raccoon, and rattle snake.
His dad was the town barber. Not a very good one I might add. But my dad took me there. Once a month every on a Saturday morning. By this time other boys were going to a hair stylist. But not my dad. He was a loyal person. Once a month we went to Mr. May’s barber shop and heard all the scores and all the fishing stories.
In the middle of Mr. Powell’s Math class I heard Curley was killed in the DMZ. Right in Math class.
Today we hear another cry of pain. David’s cry of pain. And we grieve with David. The lesson from 2 Samuel is a scream of pain, and David will not be quieted, he will not be comforted, and he will not be ignored.
II. BAD NEWS
A messenger has come to David with the news that King Saul and Jonathan, who is Saul’s son and David’s best friend have been killed fighting the Philistines on Mount Gilboa. The messenger clearly believes that he is bringing good news to David. For years Saul has been a threat to David. Now, with the deaths of Saul the King and Jonathan, the heir to the throne, the obstacles that prevented David from becoming king have been cleared. David is now free to be who he is meant to be. It is time for rejoicing. . . but David does not rejoice. From someone deep within him, something boils up inside him. David aches with loss.
Your glory, O Israel, lies
slain upon your high places!
How the mighty have fallen!
Tell it not in Gath, proclaim it not
in the streets of
Ashkelon; or the daughters of the
Philistines will rejoice.
Don’t let your enemies see you cry. Don’t tell it in Gath a great Philistine city. They would not understand. They would see it as weakness. There god is not big enough to handle their pain. In Gath they have a theology that deflects pain. In Ashkelon they worship a great, great god–a god who dwells high above every defeat, a god who knows not at all of death.
Among yourselves, and in our community, weep as you remember all that has been and that will be no more. Remember the glory that was Saul’s kingdom and the prosperity and happiness it brought you. Grieve also for broken hopes and lost dreams.
Tell it not in Gath, proclaim
it not in the streets of
Ashkelon;
or the daughters of the
Philistines will rejoice . . .
[But] O daughters of Israel,
weep over Saul,
who clothed you with crimson
in luxury .. . .
Among yourselves, and in the community of the faithful, weep as your remember all that has been and that will be no more. Remember the glory that was Saul’s kingdom and the prosperity and happiness it brought you: the clothes of expensive crimson, the golden ornaments, all the beauty of it. Grieve also for the broken hopes and lost dreams you cherished.
Cry for Jonathan. Innocent Jonathan. Who stood by his father even when he was evil and disobedient. David’s good friend.
David has become King David. Undisputed. His first act as king, his first command, is that they should learn to grieve properly. Write this down and teach it to the people, so that they will know how to speak of their pain.
Pain can silence us. We can lose so much that no words can be found to speak of it. it is important for us to find the sons and symbols by which we can articulate our hurt. That is the reason we have Memorial Day. To remember their sacrifice. To say little; to feel much.
David commands that all the people learn to sing the song of lament. Many would object, saying that the past is best forgotten and put behind us. We cannot live in the past, after all. Certainly David will not make his home in the past. David is the future for Israel, but David wisely recognizes the way to the future does not go around Mount Gilboa. He goes right up to the top alone.
III. ON MOUNT GILBOA
“You mountains of Gilboa,” David says, “let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields.” Let the land be scourged.
For there the shield of the
might was defiled,
the shield of Saul,
anointed with oil no more.
The shield that was also our own defense and our security. After each battle it was washed with oil to keep it in readiness for the next battle, but now it lies on Gilboa, abandoned, defeated, “defiled . . . anointed with oil no more.” We face the future without the shield we knew and trusted for so long.
Look! See! The bodies of Saul and Jonathan. David summons us to see it all, not to turn our faces aside. Remember their beauty and their strength, now gone, and grieve for all which is lost to us. The king commands us to learn to tell of the pain and the loss. “How the mighty have fallen in the midst of the battle!”
David howls his anguish aloud on the heights of Gilboa. He screams out his loss and pain to whoever will hear. Everyone must hear and everyone must learn of this pain. David’s song is a lament, however, primarily directed to God.
As the theologian Walter Brueggemann writes:
The laments are addressed to someone! And precisely in the presence of God . . . is where the hurtful issues must be dealt with. Nowhere but with [God] does Israel vent her greatest doubt, her bitterest resentments, her deepest anger. Israel knows that one need not fake it alone. In the dialogue [with God], Israel expects to understand what is happening and even to have it changed.
Articulating our pain, we muster hope that the bitter present may be transformed by God’s future. By speaking our wounds, we hope for healing. Write down this lament, orders King David, and teach it to the people so they man know how to speak their hurt. There are not many places where we can speak of painful things and lost things. Too much in our society would comfort us with the false comfort of the world’s answers. But David commands us to go to Mt. Gilboa and to speak with God. Cry to God. To give up the false comfort of the world.
David reminds us that there is a place where our pains and losses are respected and treasured, even also as our joys and triumphs are valued. That is the place of the Lord. The shield of Saul lies defiled on Mt. Gilboa and will not loner protect us, but in crying out our anguish we address ourselves to the One who will be our shield and security for the future.
So cry loudly today. And remember all that we have lost . . . and what God will do in the future. Those who dwell in the Philistine cities of Gath and Ashkelon will misunderstand and will think we are weak. The Philistines will mock, “Where is your God?” But we know that Christ’s words on the cross–“My God, my God, why have Thou forsaken me?”–are sublime and forsage an age of honesty and of victory. I say to you today, we among the tattered dreams on Mt. Gilboa, I call you to serve the only God who really matters. The God who is with us in sadness and in happiness. Grieve with David. Remember. And then conquer your world!