Women of 2 Samuel: a counterpoint of lament

by Caroline Wickens.

2 Samuel tells tales of guerrilla warfare across Israel and Judah, as David gradually establishes himself as the dominant leader for the territory and sets up his capital in Jerusalem. It is a distressing account of violence and death, moving from broad-brush stories of major battles to intimate focus on deaths such as that of David’s son Absalom, killed while caught by his hair in an oak-tree (18:9 – 15).

I want to pay attention to three stories with named female protagonists: Michal, Tamar and Rizpah. All are associated with the royal houses, but are vulnerable because of their gender. Michal is Saul’s daughter and David’s wife. Tamar is David’s daughter and Rizpah is Saul’s concubine. My core question is: why are these stories recorded in a narrative focusing on the development of kingship, rather than forgotten?

When David is still an up-and-coming rival to Saul, Michal becomes his wife and is in love with him (1 Samuel 18:28)[1]. Once David becomes Saul’s full-blown enemy, Michal is taken from him and given to Paltiel, a reliable supporter of Saul (1 Samuel 25:44), perhaps because she helped David escape from a trap Saul set for him. When David becomes king, he demands Michal back, and as she journeys back towards her first husband, Paltiel follows her, weeping (3:16). Michal’s own altered feelings are made plain when David enters Jerusalem, dancing before the ark of the Covenant. She despises him (6:16) and expresses her contempt (6:20), while he gives as good as he gets. The story ends bitterly: ‘Michal had no children to the day of her death’.

Tamar’s story is told in 2 Samuel 13. She is tricked and raped by her half-brother Amnon, who then rejects her. She finds refuge in the home of her full brother Absalom, where she lives ‘a desolate woman’. The story goes on to tell how Absalom kills Amnon in revenge before dying in turn in the succession struggles between David’s many sons.

Rizpah’s two sons are among a group of seven of Saul’s sons put to death on David’s orders to avenge a wrong done to the Gibeonites and end a famine (21:8). The bodies are not buried but left exposed[2], and for about six months Rizpah stays alongside them, protecting them from wild animals and birds of prey until David finally relents and allows the remains to be buried (21:14).

These stories raise many questions among scholars. How far is Michal responsible for her isolation?[3] Why does David take no action to protect his daughter Tamar either before or after her rape?[4] What motivates Rizpah in her difficult, lonely vigil?[5] My focus, however, is on the interface between these stories and the wider narrative of 2 Samuel with its seemingly relentless focus on battle. Are these shards of women’s experience intentionally recounted to offer an alternative perspective on violence?

The three stories create space to describe the women’s use of voice and agency. Michal is resourceful and proactive in arranging David’s night-time escape from her father through a window (1 Samuel 19:11–17). Years later, looking through another window (6:16), reclaimed as one token wife among others by a man she now despises, she can no longer act to change the situation but is only able to speak in ways which reduce her status even further. The violence of dynastic change robs her of both agency and voice; perhaps the ‘nuclear option’ of childlessness is her only remaining option for rebellion.

Tamar’s status as a virgin princess is high, in a patriarchal context where marriageable royal women are valuable assets. Amnon’s assault robs her of her dynastic standing and attacks her personal dignity and self-worth. Her words begin with appalled rejection of his intentions – 13:12 uses a strong negative imperative three times. There is a painful lessening of resistance in 13:13 until she is ready to consider marriage to her abusive half-brother as a better option than disgrace. Finally, she is speechless, using her body to express her tragedy as she tears her rich robe, puts ashes on her head and weeps aloud (13:19) –a ‘desolate woman’ in the face of violence and abuse[6].

Rizpah’s hilltop vigil begins in April, with the barley harvest, and continues through the heat of summer to the coming of the rains in October. Her silent, determined protest makes huge demands on her physical and mental resilience. How much risk and determination it takes for an ex-concubine of the wrong king to get her concerns for justice heard!

 All three stories name as a consequence of violent conflict the breakdown of communication between powerful and powerless people. They suggest that it is well-nigh impossible, in the context of war, for calls for justice from the margins to be heard; voice and agency are lost. By opening a way into the lived experience of these three women, they sketch an alternative perspective which pays attention to the suffering endured by those caught up in struggles beyond their control. Through including these stories in a narrative of war and dynastic violence, the narrator of 2 Samuel invites us to honour and lament these women and all who endure similar situations, and to remember that they are children of God.