We discussed the fact that David, after his one-night stand with Bat Sheva, realized he made a mistake, as reflected in תהילים יז: בָּחַנְתָּ לִבִּי פָּקַדְתָּ לַּיְלָה צְרַפְתַּנִי בַל תִּמְצָא. But he doesn’t realize that this sin will not go away that easily:
The fact that she is pregnant changes everything. It is no longer a casual tryst. The text adds the detail, now, that היא מתקדשת מטמאתה, rather than two psukim before when Bat Sheva is described as אשה רחצת. We now know that she wasn’t simply bathing; she was going to the mikvah after her niddah. The implications of this are obvious: she was not pregnant before, she was in her fertile period when she had relations with David, and this infant must be David’s, not Uriah’s. The halachic background is implied, but necessary: the story makes no sense without knowing the rules that governed the society described.
We may not notice this because we live in the same normative universe. And what’s more, the written Torah does not explicitly require that a niddah go to the mikvah:
The laws of a niddah going to the mikvah are part of תורה שבעל פה. The nomos of תנ״ך is the Torah, not just the תורה שבכתב but תורה שבעל פה as well. As we said last time, reading the story through halachic glasses means that we have to understand the fact that David marries Bat Sheva in the end (and ה׳ approves). This is why חז״ל try so hard to argue that what happens here is not, technically, adultery. It does not mean that it is morally right.
The father of the “literary” side of this approach is Dr. Meir Sternberg:
In 1968, Sternberg (with Menakhem Perry) published an article (in Hasifrut 1, pp. 262-291), “המלך במבט אירוני” (The King Through Ironic Eyes) that was incorporated into his 1985 book, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative. It introduced the idea that the “Documentary Hypothesis”, concerned with the historical origin of Bible stories, was nearly irrelevant to understanding the Bible as a literary text. We have to read the text that we have, not the text that we think we ought to have had. We ought to read the narrative of the Bible in the same way we read any work of literature, and the tools—and the vocabulary—we use are the same. His is not a religious approach, but he acknowledges the interpretations of חז״ל as reflecting this view.
An important part of his approach to literature is the idea of “gap-filling”, “מילוי הפערים”. The text is meant to represent some sort of reality, but only very limited details can be provided. The reader has to fill in the gaps, but in ways that are validated by the text.
I obviously disagree; “reconcil[ing] David’s conduct in the Bathsheba affair with the favorable (and ideologically vital) impression he produces in other parts of Samuel” is exactly how to read the ספר as a whole. Sternberg does violence to the text by pulling out these two chapters and reading them in isolation. And he in fact assumes the same halachic normative universe that we do, though I don’t think he realizes the implications of that:
After David gets the news, Bat Sheva leaves the story, emphasizing again how passive she is throughout. David ignores her and has to decide what to do with Uriah:
Why does David tell Uriah to go home? It seems obvious: he wants Uriah to have relations with Bat Sheva, so the pregnancy can be attributed to Uriah (it’s presumably about 2 months later, but still plausible). Uriah refuses, out of loyalty to his fellow soldiers who are not home on leave. Sternberg, however, brings up a major gap in our understanding: does Uriah know about the David and Bat Sheva affair? Is he really that innocent and idealistic, or is he fighting a subtle battle against his king? The text intentionally doesn’t tell us; there are hints both ways. If he doesn’t know, why doesn’t he go home? The excuse he gives seems like a caricature of the perfect soldier. And his response to David is shockingly chutzpadik:
But if he does know, why doesn’t he say anything? If he is afraid of the king, why does he innocently bring the order for his own murder back to Uriah?
When Uriah will not return home, David changes the plan: he arranges to have Uriah killed:
But that doesn’t make sense. If his goal was to hide the affair from public knowledge, then having Uriah killed will only make the rumors spread faster. Too many of the Israelite soldiers would have to be aware of what happens to him. Sternberg doesn’t have an answer, beyond the idea that David just lost it:
The gemara faults David for his scheme. He is the king; he can justify putting anyone to death if he deems it necessary for state security:
Rav Medan says we are thinking about the whole affair wrong. It’s not about hiding the affair; it’s about protecting the child:
It’s been over 10 years since this prophecy, and David has no new progeny. Once David finds out that Bat Sheva is pregnant, he realizes that it all was really a sign from G-d. This is the promised child. He wants Uriah to go back to Bat Sheva, not to avoid the shame of his affair, but to protect the unborn child. If Uriah, one of his original מרי נפש finds out that his wife was unfaithful, he will likely kill her first and ask questions later, like Yehudah (בראשית לח:כד) ויגד ליהודה לאמר זנתה תמר כלתך…ויאמר יהודה, הוציאוה ותשרף. And if David can’t convince Uriah that the child is his, then he needs to eliminate the risk.
So David doesn’t care whether Uriah knows about the affair or not. He just needs to make sure Uriah thinks it’s possible the child is his (Uriah’s). That will allow the child to survive, and David can decide later how to “adopt” him or otherwise bring him to his destiny.
But then why have Uriah killed in battle and not just assassinate him in Jerusalem? Rav Medan thinks it was David’s way of technically avoiding sinning; if it was Yoav who killed Uriah, then David is innocent. It is the same sort of technicality that absolves David of adultery. He can’t be convicted in an Earthly court. ה׳ will still hold him accountable:
The Maharshal emphasizes that Yoav should have realized that something was amiss when he got the order:
“I was just following orders” is not a defense:
This is codified in the halacha from a pasuk in ספר יהושע :
The contrast is with Saul’s generals who refused to kill the כהנים of Nov:
Yoav gets the message and ostensibly obeys David:
But Sternberg points out that Yoav doesn’t do exactly what David had said. He doesn’t abandon Uriah; he sends an entire platoon to attack the city with Uriah among them. And they all fall. Rav Medan thinks that this wasn’t really a change, that the letter to Yoav must have had more than the single order; the plan was to take רבת עמון and Uriah’s death (as part of the attack) was only a “lucky” side effect:
I think the פשט is more like Sternberg, that David did intend for Uriah to die, abandoned by his troops. Yoav changed the plan to one that unfortunately led to a greater loss of life but led to the ultimate victory. Uriah dies a hero. The battle of Rabbah was like the battle of Midway:
Then we have 8 psukim describing Yoav’s report back to David:
The story that Yoav tells the messenger is pointedly critical. He implies that David is as evil as Avimelech:
But note that David never hears or mentions this story. The messenger changes everything around, in a way that he (the messenger) thinks will make Yoav look better. As a literary technique, then, the parallel between David and Avimelech is only meant for us, the readers. It’s the first hint of criticism in the text against David.
And this theme, of “Warrior King Laid Low by Woman”, also evokes another Biblical hero, that is not mentioned by any commentator that I have seen, except for Leonard Cohen:
The נביא is not absolving David of his sins in any way. כל האומר דוד חטא אינו אלא טועה, but the טעות is in reading the חטא in a too-simple manner.
Then Bat Sheva returns to the story, but not as herself, but as אשת אוריה:
Only at this point is ה׳ explicitly angry, when the child is born. Why? We will have to find out.