The soldier awoke before dawn, as had been his custom for probably the last twenty years. He stretched his sore back and rubbed his eyes. He stood up and went in search of somewhere to wash his face. Uriah found a small cistern by the kitchen, where he did his best to wash up.
“Prince Uriah,” he heard a man’s voice behind him.
Uriah wiped the water from his face and turned to face one of the palace guards, a man who looked too tired to be called one but who nonetheless wore the uniform of a guard.
“Peace, soldier,” Uriah nodded, then waited. When the man failed to continue, Uriah spoke, “Speak. Do you have a message?”
The palace guard nodded, “Yes, sir. Yes, I do. King David desires your presence immediately.”
“Good,” Uriah grunted. Finally, he could discuss business with the king, and then be gone back to his men. It had taken far too long already. “Take me to him.”
Uriah was led up a set of stairs that seemed to go on forever; he was half-way expecting them to end at a door opening onto the clouds of heaven, but instead the stairway came to an end, and the nameless, sleepy guard opened the door onto a solid stone rooftop. There, leaning against a short wall, head lowered in thought, stood David. In the gray half-light before dawn, the king looked ancient, old and tired, not the young man Uriah had once fought alongside. Uriah stepped through onto the rooftop and approached David.
“My King,” Uriah spoke.
“Peace, Uriah,” David turned to look at the soldier. His face looked tired, indeed, and worried.
“The war,” Uriah began, hoping to bring some amount of joy to that face, “goes well. We have received few casualties ourselves, but…”
King David turned around to stare out across the rooftops once again. Uriah let his sentence trail off. The King was obviously not going to discuss military matters at this moment.
“I wish that you would join me here for the morning prayers, Uriah,” David said. He smiled, and continued, “Then we will discuss a few things, the war… There is much to discuss…”
David turned to look across the rooftops of Jerusalem once again. Uriah followed, letting his eyes travel across the great City of David, God’s-eye-view. In the pre-dawn light, he picked out the rooftops surrounding the market district. Uriah could see the military barracks off close to the wall. He saw the open space surrounding the tabernacle, the future home to the temple. As if on purpose, he found his eyes drifting towards a low, unremarkable rooftop. There, on that rooftop just a long arrow-shot from the palace, were collected all varieties of household items: water pots, baskets, what looked like old rugs and ropes tossed in a corner. Uriah started. He squinted his eyes. Those were his ropes, his rugs, his water pots and baskets! That was his rooftop, his house. And beneath that rooftop, in that house, was his wife. A smile crept across his face, and his heart swelled with longing to visit her. It had been over three months since he had last seen her. And here he was, so close.
But my men suffer in tents, Uriah gritted his teeth and clenched his hand into a determined fist. Until they are resting at home with their own wives, I will suffer with them.
The call to prayer came across the rooftops of Jerusalem, a clear and haunting voice, startling Uriah out of his thoughts. Uriah knelt beside King David, facing the tabernacle, and stilled his heart as the echoes drifted off into the desert air. He let a deep breath out, realizing suddenly that he had been holding it, tense and angry, for quite some time, and rose to his knees. He focused his mind on one of King David’s own poems, mouthing the words he had memorized years ago:
For youFor you, God in Zion, stillness is praise.
And to you the vow will be performed.
Hearer of prayer,
To you all mortals will come.
Evil things are strong against me
But, as for our sins, you cover them.
So happy is he whom you select and bring near.
He will dwell in your courts.
We will be filled with the goodness of your house,
Your holy temple.
Uriah’s quiet, slow thoughts were gracelessly interrupted by an ugly, choking, sobbing noise coming from his right. King David was crying! Big, ugly sobs were coming from his mouth, bubbling out like the cries that might escape a child who desperately wanted to hide them but somehow could not. It was embarrassing, but Uriah, as hard as he tried, could not ignore the loud noises.
Uriah was not sure how long the sobbing had gone on, but his knees had grown sore from kneeling, and the sun had begun to heat up the rooftop by the time David sighed deeply and rose.
“I am sorry, Uriah,” David drew a hand across his face to wipe away his tears. Then, turning back to gaze out across Jerusalem’s rooftops, he said, “I know it’s not fitting for a king, but there are… weighty matters on my heart…”
Uriah stood next to the king. He wished to bring up the subject of the war, to once again attempt to share news of their efforts, but something seemed to usher him towards silence. He merely cleared his throat to indicate he was listening, and he waited for King David to continue.
“Uriah,” David turned to face the man, “you did not go home last night.”
Uriah cleared his throat, “No, my king, I did not.”
“We are friends, Uriah, but you disobeyed an order of the king of Israel. Were you not a friend and a prince, I would immediately have you beaten. Sleeping on the dirt before the palace of the king? And that, too, when your own house is only a few streets away. You’ll make me the mockery of all the gentiles—”
“My king,” Uriah interrupted, forgetting his courtly etiquette. When David failed to bring up the slip, he went on, “I meant no disrespect to you or to the kingdom of Israel, but I will not go to my house, enjoy my wife and my own soft bed, while my general sleeps on a hard cot in a tent, protecting the Chest of God from ambush. I swear this by your very life and the well-being of your soul.”
Uriah saw David swallow hard. He watched David’s eyes grow distant, almost troubled. At last, the king spoke, “I am honored to hear those words, Uriah.” He paused, licked his lips, and continued, “Come, stay here in Jerusalem one more evening. Tomorrow, I will let you return to battle. I give you my word.”
Uriah nodded, not in agreement but out of submission.
“Now,” David straightened his shoulders, “what of the war? Tell me all the news you can.”
Uriah and David spoke for close to two hours, discussing everything from the good health of the chariot horses to the rusting cook pots that needed replacing. It was refreshing for Uriah to get back to business, to feel useful while away from his men. As he spoke, a glimmer of the warrior-king he had pledged to serve came back to the fattening politician-king, too, bringing a smile to Uriah’s lips. Though David had now lived many months in the soft and comfortable confines of his palace, he was still a warrior at heart, living for the thrill and adventure of conquest. Uriah’s own heart grew excited as he watched the king’s tired eyes flicker with fire as he told of the Ammonites and their attempts on the Chest of God, how their frontlines had been close enough to hurl a spear at the Chest but none dared for fear of angering Yahweh, how a last surge of zeal and courage had led Benaiah ben Taom, Uriah’s standard-bearer, to charge the Ammonite lines with nothing but a flagpole and the wrath of God. Eyes glistening with longing for heroic feats, David and Uriah could easily have been mistaken for twins. It was easy to see how the two had been so willing to work alongside one another for so many years in the field. Both men had the heart of warriors.
With the sun hot in the sky, David at last cleared his throat and excused himself from the conversation, citing diplomatic-political-economic problems requiring his attention. Uriah felt a tinge of pity for the king, trapped far from the battle lines, far from victory, far even from defeat, far from the heroic deeds that were the beginnings of songs. Many men longed to be king, but Uriah had seen too much to desire such a cage.
David stopped just as he opened the door to leave the rooftop. He turned and spoke to Uriah, the weariness returning to his eyes, “Uriah, I…” The king was stumbling for words, his mouth twitching as he searched for what to say. “You… Uriah, you have been a far greater friend and ally than I can ever tell you… I only wish… I wish I were a greater king to you than I have been…” David looked as if he were about to say more, but his mouth hung half open with no words. At last, he spoke, “I will see you for the evening meal, Uriah.”
David quickly turned and walked back into his palace, closing the door behind him. Uriah had the feeling those words were not what the king had intended to say. There was something he was hiding, and Uriah felt uncomfortably worried, not for himself but for the king.
As he turned to follow after King David, Uriah’s eye caught a final glimpse of the rooftop to his own house, igniting a sharp stab in his heart. He forced himself to turn his head away, to continue back into the palace.
If my general cannot see his own wife, then neither will I see mine. In many ways, Uriah was more stubborn than the mule that had taken him to Jerusalem. Besides, the king’s words had opened up a mystery, and Uriah intended to get to the bottom of it all.
As he walked the halls of the palace, Uriah thought through the events of the past few days. He suddenly began to see just how strange the last few days’ events had been, and he was surprised he hadn’t grown suspicious sooner. Uriah had many questions he was certain were all related somehow. Why, for example, had General Joab sent Uriah, one of his leading commanders, to deliver news to King David, news that a simple messenger boy could have delivered just as easily and with less cost to the battle? Why had General Joab been so insistent that Uriah take a few days to rest in Jerusalem, and why did King David bring up the same subject in nearly every conversation? He didn’t need a rest any more than the men who served under him. Though he had quickly brushed the question away earlier, Uriah also wondered how the palace guards had first recognized him at the entrance. Were they expecting him? If so, who had told them he was on his way to the palace? More questions came to Uriah’s mind. If it had been so important to send Uriah with news of the war, then why had the king brushed off Uriah’s attempts at delivering that news? Again, why was he being forced to stay two nights in Jerusalem when he was much more useful in Rabbah? Why even had King David desired to meet him on the rooftop this early in the morning? Surely it wasn’t merely to enjoy each other’s company during the morning prayer. Further, what was the meaning behind the king’s whole emotional outburst? And what had David been planning to say in parting to Uriah? What words could be so difficult for the man to share with his long-time friend and ally in war?
Uriah sat down on a stone bench in the inner garden, his mind tossing from all the questions. He had so many questions and no answers. He didn’t even know where to begin his search. He had suspicions, so many suspicions, and strange feelings, but…
“The message from the general,” Uriah suddenly remembered the scroll he had handed King David. Perhaps the scroll would give him a clue. But where would he find the scroll? Where had David taken it? And how would he, the king’s friend but a mere guest nonetheless, get access to it?
Tags: 2 Samuel, David, honor, Old Testament, sacrifice, Uriah
