David bared himself before the Israelites. The whole world was his, because the Ark of the Covenant was his, because the God of the Ark was his. The fixity of things was unfixed and restored, and David bared himself before the world. David was king, and, minus a wife with no need for dancing, the world was good.
One month before his fixture, an envoy approaches the king, timid but trusting, and delivers some unsettling words: the enemy is back. The king bares his brow on the lad, fixes him with a grin, and says, “If there is no enemy, then I am either mad or living in a madhouse.”*
David and his mighty men, as the lord of Judean hills only, were no worry to the Philistines, but David and his mighty men, as the lord of Mt. Moriah and all lands north and south, were worrisome indeed. In this country, the land makes the man, and the Philistines feared such might. King David was fully aware of the enemy, but enemy cannot displace calling, especially that calling bound in covenant.
As sundown approaches, the Israelites are calling their families together for eating, and the King of Israel is approaching his God. Abiathar hands David the ephod, and David inquires of his God, “Shall I go up against the Philistines? And wilt thou give them into my hand?” Such humility for a slayer of giants. Like filtered thunder, Yahweh answers, “Go up, for I will give them into your hand.”
That evening, the uncircumcised Philistines were standing behind rocks and in caves, pissing with their left hands and gripping their uncircumcised gods with their right, and they were not afraid. The waters and the taunts spilled through their camp the night-long, and in the morning, they gathered their swords into their sheaves, strapped on their grieves, and prepared to desecrate Israel. They looked down on the Valley of Rephaim, and their mouths watered at the spoil that would soon lie before them, and at the valley that their gods would call home.
A Philistine officer paces to the east side of the ridge, peers to his right and left, ducks off behind a crag, and drops his garments. Before the water hits the ground, an Israelite sword lops off his foreskin, and the mighty men of Israel spill into the Philistine camp like the rain of seven seasons. David and his men storm into their camp and hack everything that smells of desecration, both men and gods.
That evening, the Israelites consecrated the hill by making a fire of Philistine idols, and the foul wood whipped and cracked in the fires, and David worshiped his God. He yelled out to his men, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God, the Lord is One, and whoever dares to call Him by any other name is like a man without seed.” The men roared, and David continued, “Yahweh has broken through our enemies like a hand through water, and they will have no children to speak the names of their gods, these gods who now warm our shins and light our faces. How can a god whose image is ashes fight for his people? We shall call this place ‘Baal-perazim,’ for Yahweh is the Master of Breaking-Through.”
The enemy is a fool, and he seeks to avenge the ashes of his gods. He wants to rise from the ruins, and he expects his gods to rise with him.
One week later, and David’s envoy, less timid but more trusting, approached the king. News that the Philistines were returning, news that sent laughter through the mouths of the mighty men. News that sent David to the mouth of God. That evening, David inquired again of God, and God said to him, “You shall not go up after them; circle around behind them, and come at them in front of the poplar trees. And it shall be when you hear the sound of marching in the tops of the trees, then you shall go out to battle . . . .”
At the second watch, David finds a sleeping Joab, having followed his bear-ish grunts. For all his resiliency, Joab has trouble commanding sleep, and David finds this amusing. He jogs Joab’s shoulder, dodges Joab’s reflex, and, having wakened him, calls him aside.
“Joab, I told you before that the Lord our God would have us fight again. Now, he has given me peculiar direction. We are to position ourselves behind their camp, beneath the poplar trees. And –“
“Yes, David, I was thinking the very thing. I have a mind for such things. I’ll get the men read—“
“Joab, wait. We’re to wait beneath the poplars—“
“Yes, David, until the mongrels turn their backs, then we—“
“No, Joab. We wait.”
“Fine. We wait. We wait until—“
“We wait until we hear the sound of marching in the treetops. . . . Then we go out to battle.”
Joab stares at David, then past him to the woods – his silence speaks respect more than agreement. He walks off and rouses the men, who all agree that the king should be getting more sleep than he does, but Joab’s voice obligates obedience, and the men position themselves beneath the poplars. Such strange directions, but a silhouette of the king on the hill, eyes turned to the sky, is enough.
The night sky resolved to purple, then crimson, until the night watch was fulfilled, and the air was still, and each man, the king included, stared at silence.
The sound of leather and metal resonates on tree trunks, and the Philistines are advancing on an inefficient Israel, sitting stiffly like trees beneath the leaves. Joab breathes an anxious sigh, and his sigh is trailed by a longer breath, and then the exhale of an entire army, and all of Israel looks at each other, and they spot David, eyes turned to the sky, smiling at the rustling of a host of leaves, flailing like fire, and the leaves are bowing like beneath the weight of marching. A scream breaks on the wind, and the mighty men know it as a Philistine cry. They rise from their stoop, quit the canopy of poplar, and witness the enemy flailing and falling on the left and the right, and blood-stained leaves cover the ground. The host of the Lord is before them, and what it leaves alive, David and his men strike down from Gibeon even as far as Gezer.
And the fame of David, and of his Lord, went out into all the nations.
*from The Second Coming, Walker Percy
the "filtered thunder" image is wonderful
Posted by: amy at February 14, 2004 06:41 AMAnd the pious was shoked by such a move during his half-time show.
Posted by: daniel silliman at February 14, 2004 01:02 PMI've wanted to live in a greenhouse since reading that.
Posted by: Gypsy at February 14, 2004 04:05 PM