Read: 1 Kings 2

Therefore do not hold him guiltless, for you are a wise man; you will know what you ought to do to him, and you must bring his gray head down with blood to Sheol (1 Kings 2:9, NRSV).

If the only stories you know about David involve harps, shepherds, or smooth stones, David’s deathbed scene is going to come as a bit of a shock.

It starts out like you might expect with pious words spoken to his son and successor, Solomon. David says, “I am about to go the way of all the earth. Be strong, be courageous, and keep the charge of the LORD your God….” But just when you expect David to breathe his last, he doesn’t. In fact, he has quite a lot more to say, and to be honest, some of it is pretty unsavory.

“Moreover…,” he says, and there follows what in any other context would be called a hit list. Joab is first on the list. “Act therefore according to your wisdom,” David tells Solomon with a wink, “but do not let his gray head go down to Sheol in peace.” After a few appreciative words for the loyal Barzillai (2 Sam. 17:27-29), David adds Shimei to the list. David had promised not to kill Shimei for cursing him and throwing stones when David was fleeing from Absalom. Solomon, however, has made no such promise. So, with another ominous reference to Solomon’s wisdom, David says, “you will know what you ought to do to him, and you must bring his gray head down with blood to Sheol” (v. 9).

It sort of makes one wonder what counts as “wisdom” in David’s mind. Clearly it connotes a certain amount of political savvy—and even ruthlessness. So, even as this story forces us to revise our opinion of David, it suggests that we may have to modify the traditional impression of Solomon as well. Wisdom, it seems, is more complicated than our Sunday school teachers may have suggested.

Part of David’s motivation seems to be about settling old scores. A more generous reading would acknowledge that he is trying to make sure Solomon does not inherit all of David’s “baggage” along with the throne. Nevertheless, one bit of baggage threatens to trip Solomon up almost right away.

Adonijah—Solomon’s older half-brother who made an aborted attempt to seize the throne before David’s death—now goes to Solomon’s mother, Bathsheba, to ask for Abishag the Shunammite’s hand in marriage. Abishag, remember, was the beautiful human hot water bottle assigned to keep David warm in his final days. Although the Bible explicitly says that David “did not know her sexually” (1 Kings 1:4), Adonijah runs afoul of the old rule about not sleeping with a king’s concubine unless you’re trying to claim the throne along with the woman. Solomon is not amused, and he has Adonijah put to death.

I’ve always wondered why Adonijah asked for Abishag. Surely, he knew how it would look. So, either this was a really stupid attempt at the throne (as Solomon assumes), or Adonijah was truly in love. I’m just enough of a romantic to think he must have been love; otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken the risk. But whether he dies for love or for politics, he’s dead.

Before the end of the chapter, Joab and Shimei bite the dust as well. One can’t help thinking that “Daddy” would be proud. In any case, the storyteller concludes these blood-soaked chapters with the observation that the kingdom is at last “established in the hand of Solomon.”

And so, the famous “Succession Narrative” comes to an end. The writing is genius, the characters complex, and the politics ruthless. If you were expecting stained glass saints, you were probably disappointed. But if you like reading about the flawed people through whom God sometimes works, you probably loved it. Either way, it’s in the Bible. Our job—with the help of the Holy Spirit—is to decide what on earth to do with it.

Ponder: How did reading the Succession Narrative (2 Samuel 9-20; 1 Kings 1-2) change your impression of David’s character? Of Solomon’s? Of  Bathsheba’s? How did their characters develop over the course of the story?

Pray: Guide us as we struggle to know how to interpret this masterful section of Scripture. Thank you for the person/people who wrote it—and the risks they took to bring us these stories.

Read: 1 Kings 1

[Bathsheba] said to [David], “My lord, you swore to your servant by the LORD your God, saying: Your son Solomon shall succeed me as king, and he shall sit on my throne. But now suddenly Adonijah has become king, though you, my lord the king, do not know it…the eyes of all Israel are on you to tell them who shall sit on the throne of my lord the king after him” (1 Kings 1:17-18, 20, NRSV).

The story of Adonijah gives new meaning to the phrase, “assuming the throne.” Usually it’s reserved for those who actually ascend to a throne. But in Adonijah’s case, it’s more along the lines of that old caution about “when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me.”

Thanks to the deaths of his older brothers, Adonijah finds himself the eldest of David’s sons. He assumes that this makes him the heir apparent, and he begins to act accordingly. Or perhaps he’s not sure of his status and decides to make it a fait accompli. Who could object, after all, if he’s got a general (Joab), a priest (Abiathar), and his own private army gathered around him shouting “Long live the king!”

As it happens, there are a few people who would object, but it would be both difficult and dangerous for them to try to undo the deed once it is done. First among these is King David himself, but he’s not at his best these days. The chapter opens with a description of him “old and advanced in years,” unable to keep warm without the help of a human heating pad. If Adonijah had really been confident about his own claim to the throne, it would have been simple enough to wait for David to die. The fact that Adonijah is not patient enough to wait for this eventuality suggests that he has doubts. Thus the decision to hurry things along.

The fact that David hasn’t gotten wind of the fact that Adonijah has “exalted himself, saying ‘I will be king’” (v. 5), bears witness to the fact that David is out of touch with political reality. He only hears about Adonijah’s ambitions thanks to the prophet Nathan and Bathsheba, who work together to get him the news. Nathan is particularly alert to the danger for Bathsheba and her son, Solomon, since Adonijah is unlikely to want any rivals left alive to challenge his claim to the throne. So, add Bathsheba and Solomon to the list of people who would object to Adonijah’s “assumption.” Better to head this whole thing off at the pass than to scramble for their lives after the fact.

Their strategy works. Roused by their words, David issues a swift series of commands. Before we know it, Solomon is surrounded by shouts of “Long live King Solomon!” When those shouts reach Adonijah and his friends, an understandable chill falls over their festivities. Now it’s Adonijah who fears for his life, and he hurries to seek “sanctuary” by grasping the horns of the altar. He’s not in a position to ask for favors, but he asks for one anyway. “Let King Solomon swear to me first that he will not kill his servant with the sword,” he begs. Solomon, giving us a glimpse of his famous “wisdom,” allows Adonijah to live, but refuses to make any promises.

It hasn’t been pretty, but Solomon has truly assumed the throne. Adonijah will have to lie awake wondering when he’ll pay for his own assumptions.

Ponder: Bathsheba—who can’t seem to catch a break from biblical commentators—is sometimes accused of being a “schemer” in this chapter. What do you think this passage reveals about her character? What would you have done in her position?

Pray: Save us, O God, from selfish assumptions—in ourselves and others.