Introduction

In case you were unaware, there are four women listed in the genealogy of Christ in the beginning of Matthew: Tamar (Gen 38), Rahab (Josh 2), Ruth, and “the wife of Uriah,” or Bathsheba. The story of David and Bathsheba in 2 Samuel 11-12 is often read as a major condemnation of David’s character, and Bathsheba is harshly castigated for her actions, upheld as a negative example.

The older, evangelical tradition can often blame Bathsheba for “causing” David to “fall” into adultery, never mind the reality that adults are all responsible for their actions and choices. But if we read the text of Samuel closely, David is never characterized as a perfect human. Far from it, for he is a womanizer, brash, boastful. This interpretation of misplaced blame is severely lacking, and fundamentally misogynistic.

However, there has been a turn in scholarship in recent years, especially following the #MeToo movement, which has sought to amplify and center the voices of victims, which interprets the tale of David and Bathsheba of one that is nought but of terror, rape, and a straightforward abuse of power. I, however, am going to argue that this more recent position is an over-correction and an imposition of a modern-day world view.

Rather than empowering women, this interpretation places an unnecessary strain on a text that does not ultimately wish to warn us against an abuse of power. There is enough terror and sexual abuse in the Hebrew Bible, and there is no need to utilize David as an example of an abuse of power, particularly when there are so many other clearer instances of this elsewhere. Not to mention that such texts are outright depressing, and can be triggering to hear discussed ad nauseum, especially by scholars who can get lost in the theoretical and forget about real life.

Finally, regarding Bathsheba’s “fault,” the very points of contention for which Bathsheba is excoriated in commentaries can in fact be used rather as a credit to her character and cleverness—just as it is with all the women who are mentioned in Christ’s genealogy. (All translations below are my own.)

Assault and Terror in the Hebrew Bible

In 2 Samuel, the pericope of David and Bathsheba is conspicuously silent on the relations between them. In contrast to this, there are two other cases in which women are raped, one being Dinah, the daughter of Jacob (Gen 34); the other being David’s own daughter Tamar, by his son Amnon (2 Sam 13). Both of these cases have in common a clear reaction of grief to the traumatization and cultural shaming of the women who were victimized.

In Genesis 34, although Dinah is not given a voice of her own, her brothers are “grieved and angry” (v. 7). Simeon and Levi act swiftly to avenge her by killing every male in the city of Shechem, “on the third day, when they were still hurting” (v. 25). In the case of the second biblical Tamar, after she is assaulted “she took ashes upon her head, and tore the long robes she was wearing, and lay a hand upon her head and went away, crying aloud” (v. 19). Only after two years is Absalom able to avenge her, her and he has his servants kill Amnon (2 Sam 13:23-29).

The only record we have of the sexual encounter between David and Bathsheba, on the other hand, is in 2 Sam 11:4: “And David sent messengers and fetched her, and she came to him, and he lay with her.” Although the word here I translated as “fetched” could alternately be translated as “seized,” or “took,” there is nothing in the context to suggest it was a violent taking of Bathsheba to bring her to David, nor does the ancient Greek translation use a violent word, but rather the common, neutral word meaning “to take.” I do not think it is simply because David is using his power for selfish ends that the text is lacking any sort of grief or indication of affliction or traumatization.

Redeeming Bathsheba

There are several details in the text which I would like to point out that have been used to denigrate Bathsheba, which I think can be instead interpreted in the general tradition of biblical women using their very limited means in a clever and cunning way in order to secure a future for themselves. If you are not familiar with the other three women, I highly recommend reading their stories with this in mind! The circumstances each of these women find themselves in are exceedingly difficult, and they take actions that could be seen as simply morally wrong.

However, rather than being used as an illustration of a bad example, these women, particularly by being mentioned in an otherwise male-only genealogy, are honored for their bravery and brains. Each of them finds themselves in a real life-or-death situation, without a man to properly care for them and ensure their health and flourishing. They take drastic measures in dire circumstances and in the end, through their shrewdness find themselves folded into the ancestry of Jesus Christ! There is nothing I can think of that would honor or praise these women more highly.

Bathsheba’s Home Life

The odds are stacked against our heroine. We know that she is the wife of Uriah, a mercenary soldier who comes from the Neo-Hittites, a people skilled in warfare originating in northern Syria and southern Anatolia. (Wright, Jacob L., David, King of Israel and Caleb in Biblical Memory, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 82-83.) This is the only detail we have about her familial status—she is childless. In this society, women had no rights or property, and so were wholly dependent on both their husbands as well as any children they may have, particularly the firstborn sons, if they were so fortunate as to have a son.

Immediately this sets the tension for the scene—a woman married to a professional soldier knows that she must take swift and decisive action in order to preserve her life and wellbeing. Her only option following her husband’s imminent death would be starvation or prostitution. The next detail we learn about Uriah’s character is that he is so set on making a name for himself in battle that he entirely abdicates his responsibility to care for his wife (1 Sam 11:13). When invited to dine with the king back at the palace, he refuses to “go down” to be reunited with her. This sort of decision stands in shocking contrast to the overall ethos of the Hebrew Bible, which emphasizes over and again the importance of progeny and the continuation of the people, and therefore the faith. Bathsheba instead decides for bravery and self-preservation, and in the process, stakes out an everlasting legacy.

The Character of David

David, we know, is a womanizer. His first wife is a woman named Michal; later he marries Abigail; then he has Bathsheba. Bathsheba knows this about the king, and if I may be so bold, she also knows she is a babe. Although Bathsheba is often portrayed as bathing on the roof of her house in verses 2 and 4, this blatant public exposure is not entirely necessary. David spots her while he is taking a walk along the roof of “the king’s house,” or palace, seeing that she is “exceedingly beautiful” (v. 2). My room where I currently live has high ceilings, and when I am up on my bed in my loft, I can easily glance across the street and see directly into the rooms of my neighbors—all their furniture, whether they’re eating or laying on their beds watching Netflix, whatever it is.

Bathsheba would not need to be on her own roof bathing—this is an absurd notion, and because she is performing ritual bathing following her menstrual cycle, this indicates to us that she is a devout woman, and no harlot. (Although another one of the women in Jesus’ genealogy is also a harlot, and another one gained a son through “harlotry,” so the line of what is morally acceptable is not exactly black and white in these circumstances.) Bathsheba could simply have waited until the afternoon sun was beaming into her house, left the curtains slightly parted, and performed her ablutions from the [relative] privacy of her own home. The trap is set.

Ritual Purification after Menstruation

The next important detail in this story is in verse four, given in the NRSV as a parenthetical statement—she was purifying herself after her period. This is outlined in Leviticus 15:28-30—a woman is to wait a full seven days after the last day of her menstrual cycle before she is allowed to rejoin normal life and activities in her home, but only after a ritual bath in a mikvah. The average menstrual cycle takes around 28 days: day one begins on the first day of bleeding, which lasts for 3-5 days; ovulation occurs around day fourteen, and the fertile window lasts several days. The simple math places Bathsheba right at peak fertility in her monthly cycle.

One commentator in a classical exegetical source notes that this window of time was widely known in the ancient world as the most fertile period for a woman. (Smith, Henry Preserved. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Samuel, International Critical Commentary (New York: Scribner, 1899), 318.) Therefore this would have been common knowledge, particularly to the childless Bathsheba, and she seizes her opportunity in a timely manner. In the following verse she sends to inform David that she has, unsurprisingly after their union, become pregnant.

Bathsheba Immortalized

I do not necessarily see an abuse of power here, or really that David has any particularly great power in this situation. It is easy, as we know, for any male to forcibly grab a woman and assault her—David does not need servants to do this dirty work for him, especially considering how strong and mighty he is. 1 Samuel 17:33 names him “a man of war from his youth,” in the same pericope where he slays Goliath, we learn that he also has killed multiple lions and bears to protect the flocks of his father.

Bathsheba knew that she as a childless woman was about to become destitute and homeless as a widow, and acts to find a way to save her own life. The child that results from of her union with David of course dies in infancy (vv. 15b-23), which I personally see as a mercy to the child. It was an illicit and shameful situation, to be sure, and that child would have been marked for life as the child that resulted in the cold murder of his mother’s first husband, a bastard.

The second child to be born of David and Bathsheba is none other than the son who would become king and build the tabernacle to Yhwh—we now know him as King Solomon, to whom is accredited nearly all the wisdom literature in the Hebrew Bible canon. Strictly speaking in terms of the welfare of Bathsheba, her tale is something of an R-rated film with a fairy tale ending. She lives the rest of her days in the palace, becoming the Queen Mother. When framed in this way, one could definitely say—good for her, I am happy for her. Snap in a Z-formation. Call her an empowered woman.

And to speak in more Christian terms, what we see here is the grace of God made manifest in the lives of both David and Bathsheba, taking the imperfect decisions they made and redeeming them far beyond what either of the could have imagined. The choices that both these two people made had eternal repercussions.