1 Kings 2

1 Kings starts out with seat-gripping suspense—indeed, I think heaven’s angels must have been gripping the edge of celestial clouds as they peered over, knocking wings to try to get the best view. “Now King David was old and advanced in years….”

And we sigh and buckle down (or prop open our eyes to make it look like we’re awake) and get ready for a long chronicle of history…. Yet, reading Robert Alter’s The Art of Biblical Narrative (1) helps me learn how to pay attention to the literary aspects of this story that make it a thrilling drama.

It is only a chapter in a larger story; the contextual overarching question of 1 Kings is: Will God be faithful to his promise? Will Israel be faithful to God? How is God advancing his kingdom against the forces of evil in this time period, the clash that began in the Garden of Eden? To David, he had expounded on his ever-unfolding, ever-grace-abounding promise. In this time of redemptive history, the promise took the form of always having a man on the throne of  David (2 Sam. 7).

The author begins with a crucial problem. No stalls, no delays, no slow introduction. Crisis from verse 1: “Now, David is old and advancing in years…” Furthermore, the decrepit, doddering David (the author’s brief but artful description of David leaves no doubt that he is becoming senile and inept which enhances the sense of impending calamity) has failed to arrange for who would succeed him on the throne, putting the whole kingdom in jeopardy. Moreover, national Israel was God’s ambassador to the nations, the means by which he would work his redemption so that his glory would fill the earth and the nations bow down before him. How would God fulfill his promise to David to always have a man on the throne? How would he fulfill his greater promise of redemption and covenant faithfulness to Israel?

The suspense increases as we see a threat emerge—Adonijah exalts himself (1 Kings 1:5) and thus decides to set himself up as king. The author sends signals adumbrating a threat. He includes deliberate literary parallels with Absalom’s previous, disastrous usurpation (2 Sam. 15). Once again, we see David’s ignorance as the plot is carried out behind his back. Hebrew authors often give very little description of characters, and when they do, it is often significant. Here, "handsome" and "second-born after Absalom" heighten the similarities. Actions and events echo: a feast; sacrifices; a reunion of powerful men of the kingdom; and like Absalom, Adonijah also had chariots and 50 men to run alongside of him—down to the exact number. We cannot miss the parallel to Absalom… Not a good thing. Will this overthrow God’s promise? Is this who God wants on the throne, this self-exalting man (1 Kings 1:5)? (Furthermore, 1 Chronicles 22:9 makes it clear that God had intended Solomon to be king). Still in David's lifetime, there is an obstacle in the fulfilling of God's promises....

In an artful dialogue (2), Bathsheba and Nathan unmask Adonijah’s conspiracy. The story-line parallel to Absalom is broken—once again we hear the trumpets proclaiming a king, as they did in 2 Samuel 15:10, but instead of heralding the usurper, they gladly announce the true king, Solomon.

Adonijah flees to the temple to seek refuge. We are told he “fears” Solomon. So much so, in fact, he never directly addresses Solomon. As Alter argues, the Hebrew writers convey  much of their narrative through dialogue, and silence may be significant. So why is Adonijah silent? We can only speculate. Perhaps he is too fearful, this self-exalting man who, once his bubble is burst, has nothing under it to sustain him. His personal idol/epi-desire smashed, he has no words and no courage, only fear. Perhaps his silence is also an ominous warning of a coming time when he will enter the silence of death, without breath to utter words.

Again, from a literary standpoint of looking at the dance of dialogue and narration, we find it interesting that one of the principle characters remains silent—Solomon himself. He is not heard until the very end when he addresses Adonijah.  Why is the author reticent about including Solomon’s words, actions, thoughts? There can be multiple interpretations. Perhaps, though, it is to emphasize that he did nothing in his own strength and power to achieve the throne. Unlike Adonijah, who is given many words and verbs to secure the throne in his own power, the Lord is the one moving things for his purposes—and his purpose was that Solomon be on the throne. Solomon could not later say, “I did this.” It was the Lord.

We, the readers, breathe a sigh of relief. There seems to be some answer—the Lord’s chosen and beloved is on the throne. Yet, in the Hebrew love of complexity and suspense, it ends with an “if”— An "if" first of all to the fate of Adonijah: “IF he will show himself a worthy man, not one of his hairs shall fall to the earth, but IF wickedness is found in him, he shall die” (v. ). Is he still a threat? Is he wicked enough to threaten the throne once more? An "if" in regards to Solomon: will Solomon prove faithful? Is he the true Davidic king?

How does a literary reading inform our theology? Why do we heed authorial portrayals of characters, dialogues, actions assigned, silences and lacunas, motifs and more? In this passage, a literary reading reminds us of the big picture in the context—God is involved in history as it plays out in individual lives. Second, it reminds us we are not too unlike these people. Reading this as a drama reveals people with complex, complicated actions and words and emotions and intentions and motives—just like us.

The literature also shows us patterns—a pattern of Absalom that is repeated in Adonijah. The patterning suggests how Satan is continually working and scheming to undermine God’s plans—and this pattern of self-aggrandizement, self-protruding power-grasping, usurping can still threaten God’s kingdom today. It is all something we need to be aware of, and like Nathan and Bathsheba, defend God’s kingdom. The patterning points us to the way God works in history. Here, however, the pattern begins similarly, but is resolved differently. God may respond in different ways—but he does respond to whatever our situation is. The patterning, above all, reminds us again and again to reflect and recall God’s wonders in the past, so when we come against Satan’s threats, we are reminded of the recollectable and recallable patterns; God is faithful and will be faithful once again. Once again, we see God’s promise, and a threat to it, and it resolved by God’s working—in different ways, and in different times.

Although more could be said, for me, finally, it points to God’s sovereignty and power to carry out his grand plan of redemption. A literary reading highlights the passivity of Solomon, and thus highlights God’s work. We know very, very well the words “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts” (Zech. 4:16, ESV) and “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted” (Mat. 23:12 ESV). But we need to be reminded of it again and again. Adonijah serves as a pointed example. He is an example of an anti-king, one not fit to be king of God's redemptive, holy people. And ultimately, the kingly office was a type for Christ. Christ, the one who humbled himself, who, though being in the form of God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped. Our True King.

NOTES

(1) Robert Alter, The Art of Bibilical Narrative (Basic Books, 1981).
(2) As discussed by Robert Alter—you’ll have to read his book; he discusses that aspect of this story only, but my blog is original.