13th Sunday after Pentecost
August 19, 2018
1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14
Our Old Testament reading this morning sounds like a happy
story. Solomon succeeds his father, David, as King over Israel. His reign is
established. And in a dream, God offers Solomon whatever he wants. Open-ended
question, “Ask for whatever you want me to give you.” Solomon talks about his
father’s relationship with God, and then asks for wisdom. God is pleased with his
answer and grants it. After all, this isn’t something that will benefit Solomon
only but all of God’s people under Solomon’s rule. Then, as a bonus, God throws
in wealth and honor, too, and, if Solomon keeps God’s commands like his father
David did, then Solomon will also enjoy a long life. This sounds great, right?
What leader doesn’t want and need wisdom? Plus
the added benefit of wealth, honor, and longevity! Happy story. Or is it? You may have noticed that we
skipped a chunk of chapter 2. You see, the lectionary edited out all the ugly
parts. In those sections we didn’t read was about just how Solomon establishes his kingdom. How do you establish yourself as king? You
kill all other claims to the throne, who in this case, were Solomon’s
half-brothers, some of whom were older than him and, therefore, had a more legitimate
claim to the throne. And Solomon made a couple key political marriages. That’s
how he established his kingdom. It wasn’t a smooth transition where David died
and Solomon was immediately declared King. There was a little more political intrigue
going on behind the scenes.
What I found interesting in preparing for this sermon was
that all of the commentaries I read commented on Solomon’s character. Every
single one felt the need to point out that yes, asking for wisdom was one good
thing Solomon did, but that doesn’t mean that everything he did was good and
wise. Solomon does not get the long life God offered him because he actually
led Israel astray from God and his kingdom gets split up after his death. There are hints of that even in what we read,
about how “Solomon showed his love for the Lord by walking according to the
statutes of his father David, except
that he offered sacrifices and burned incense on the high places.” That
“except” is because those high places were the places dedicated to Baal,
another god. Solomon worshiped God, which is good, but he didn’t worship him in
Jerusalem, where the ark of the covenant was; he worshiped God at another god’s
altar. And really, this just makes Solomon human. Just like any of the rest of
us, he got some things right, like asking for wisdom. And then there are other
things he could have done better.
Let’s start at the beginning. Solomon’s father was David, the shepherd boy who beat
Goliath, the one chosen by God to succeed King Saul. And Solomon’s mother is
Bathsheba. You may be familiar with the story of how David sees Bathsheba
bathing, wants her, takes her, gets her pregnant, and then tries to set up
Bathsheba’s husband so he’d think he was the father of the baby. But her husband
is a good, upstanding soldier who won’t sleep with his wife while his brothers
are in battle. So David puts him on the frontline of the fighting, where he is
killed. Then David takes Bathsheba to his palace. The prophet Nathan calls
David out on what he’s done, and that’s where we get Psalm 51 that we use often
during Lent, because it’s a psalm of confession and repentance. That first baby
Bathsheba carries dies, but the next baby is Solomon. So Solomon is not the
oldest son of David, or even the second or third oldest. He is not set to
inherit the crown. But near the end of David’s life, David decides Solomon
should be the next king. So, Solomon has his father’s blessing, but then has to
establish his rule by killing the other claimants, his half-brothers.
Now, we’re up to chapter 3. As I mentioned, Solomon doesn’t sacrifice
in Jerusalem, where God wants him to worship, but at high places that were holy
to Baal. God seems to tolerate it at least, and appears to Solomon one night
during a dream. Here is something Solomon definitely does right. He could have asked God for
anything! Riches! Deaths of his enemies! World domination! But he asks for
wisdom. He needs help governing and leading God’s people. He’s not afraid to
admit to God that he needs help. He shows vulnerability in this request, which
is not something a king can often show. But he admits to God that he needs help
to be a good king. God gives him the wisdom he asks for, and then also wealth
and honor, and conditional old age. And that’s where our passage ends.
Solomon wanted to rule wisely and render the best
decisions for his kingdom. Seeking to live wisely is a process of constant
discernment. What’s best? What will happen if I do this? What about that? Who’s
affected? How are they affected? There are a lot of factors to take into
consideration. Very few things in life are purely good or bad. And the line
runs right down the middle of every human heart. That’s why the commentators
want to present a whole portrait of Solomon, not just his wise side. The line
between good and evil isn’t between groups or countries, good guys and bad
guys, cowboys and Indians; the line is in the middle of every human heart. Each
of us are capable of being wise; each of us have
moments when we’re foolish. There are times we do a better job of loving our neighbor, there are times when we ignore the cry
of the needy. That’s why we need confession, too, just like David. We need
God’s help, too, just like Solomon. We seek to live wisely. Who doesn’t? We all
want to live well and make good decisions. We all want to say words that are
loving and healing and helpful. And the right choice isn’t always the easy one
or the popular one or even the first one you think of. We all need wisdom.
This past week I read a novel about
a group of friends the summer before their senior year of high school.[1]
One of the friends throws a party, with drinking, which the parents know about.
The parents figured it was safer because then no one would be driving, everyone
was welcome to spend the night, and it kept the kids all in one place. They’d
done it many times before and there had never been any problems, until this one
night. This one night a few of the kids decide to leave the party and go to
McDonald’s. They don’t even make it out to the main road. Four of the kids die;
one survives, the one who was sober, the only one who was wearing a seatbelt,
the only one who recognized that the driver had had too much to drink to get
behind a wheel. But she didn’t want to be “that person” who makes a big deal
out of it. He said he was fine to drive; she decided to take him at his word.
The novel is told from her perspective and does a really good job at wrestling
with her feelings, her guilt, her trying to figure out if this one bad decision
made her a bad person, if it defined her whole life. She grieved that it
defined the lives of her friends who died, when she knew that there was so much
more to them. She ultimately decides that the parents were good people who made
a series of bad decisions that led to them allowing and enabling underage
drinking. And as she eventually forgives herself for her role in everything,
she determines that she is a good person, who made one very poor decision.
That’s what I mean by the line
between good and evil running down the middle of all of our hearts. We want to
take people at their word when they say they’re okay to drive. We tend to
succumb to peer pressure, at any age, and don’t want to make a big fuss about
something when no one else is. We get away with bad decisions so often that we
don’t think much of the next bad decision, because we assume we’ll get away
with it, too.
Solomon is known as a great king,
renowned for his wisdom and his wealth. He’s the one God chose to build the
temple in Jerusalem. Yet Solomon marries women from other religions who lead
him away from God. He doesn’t seem to apply his God-given wisdom in all areas of his life. Solomon was a
great king, yet also dangerously flawed. He’s hard to put in any one category,
other than, he’s human.
Today there is a strong tendency to
emphasize a strong divide between right and wrong, black and white, good and
bad, to the point that we demonize those we consider bad. Whether a political
party or a religion or wherever else a line may be drawn, and there are so many
places a line can be drawn: a TV channel, what kind of car you drive, where you
do your shopping, what you believe about a particular issue, we tend to draw a
line between groups. We find this tendency in movies, on TV, in sports, even in
church, sometimes. This person is good; that person is bad. The truth is a bit
more nuanced. Solomon was good in many ways, and he was not in other ways. He
followed God in some things, he didn’t in other things. The same is true of us.
We are wise about some things; we’re wise-asses in other things. Yet the Lord
can redeem all things, make all things new. No one action defines your whole
life, because Jesus already did that. The most defining moment of your life
happened 2,000 years ago on a hill in Calvary. You are loved. You are forgiven.
You are called to go and do the same. Love God, love your neighbor, love
yourself. Forgive God, forgive your neighbor, forgive yourself. That’s living
wisely.
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