David intoned this lamentation over Saul and his son Jonathan. (He ordered that The Song of the Bow be taught to the people of Judah; it is written in the Book of Jashar.) He said:
Your glory, O Israel, lies slain upon your high places!
How the mighty have fallen!
Tell it not in Gath,
proclaim it not in the streets of Ashkelon;
or the daughters of the Philistines will rejoice,
the daughters of the uncircumcised will exult.
You mountains of Gilboa,
let there be no dew or rain upon you,
nor bounteous fields!
For there the shield of the mighty was defiled,
the shield of Saul, anointed with oil no more.
From the blood of the slain,
from the fat of the mighty,
the bow of Jonathan did not turn back,
nor the sword of Saul return empty.
Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely!
In life and in death they were not divided;
they were swifter than eagles,
they were stronger than lions.
O daughters of Israel, weep over Saul.
2 Samuel 1:17-24 – NRSV
David excelled at poetry and singing before he became king. So it is only natural that at a time of sorrow that he would turn to his strengths to express the depth of his feelings. Although there is a certain amount of irony in this lament, I don’t believe that such was David’s intent.
David remembers the good, the strength in these two men. He cannot have forgotten the painful politics, the random raids, the chases through the desert wilderness, or the sound of Saul’s spear shaft singing past his ear. Yet David does not sing about the famous spear of Saul. He celebrates his fonder memories: the mighty warrior, the relentless foe, their speed and strength in battle. Remembering the loss of Saul and Jonathan brings to mind the true enemies of God’s people, not the squabbles between them.
How will your survivors remember you? What images will come to mind when your spouse, your children, the boys, or your co-workers remember you? What will be the weapons, the tools, the instruments that they remember in your hands? Just as it is too late to speak the unspoken to someone who has died, it is too late to change the image that our survivors have of us, even in that last eulogy.
Think about it.
Grace and peace,
Ron
