Over the last four weeks, we have studied four of the biggest stories in the Bible – those stories in the early chapters of Genesis that set the stage for everything else that would come after them.  Each story – Adam & Eve, Cain & Abel, Noah & the ark and the Tower of Babel – answered some questions about who we are, who God is and what God is like. All of the stories, perhaps especially Noah & the ark, are ones that most people could tell you a fair bit about – except maybe some of the people that Jay Leno finds to ask questions of in those “on the street” interviews.  You know, questions like “can you tell me in what city is the Indianapolis 500 mile race?” and they look at you like you’ve just landed from Mars not having a clue.  With the conclusion of Beach Reads 2, Randy’s summer sermon series, I thought it may be interesting to take a 180 degree turn from the most recognizable stories and look for something a little more obscure just for a change of pace.  So, this week, I set out to find a story in the Bible that’s been overlooked, underutilized and forgotten.

Enter Rizpah.  It’s not one of those biblical names that ever caught on.  We have lots of Adams, Davids, Sarahs, Matthews, even Ruths but not many Rizpahs! Perhaps in 20 minutes, you’ll want to go home and learn more about what went on and figure out how you missed hearing about Rizpah – or, perhaps, in 20 minutes, you’ll just want to go home!  Either way, I hope that by dusting off a Bible story that almost no one knows, we can listen for the word that God has for us today.

Rizpah is a woman mentioned only twice in all of scripture, both times in 2 Samuel.  She is introduced by name in chapter 3 and we learn the rest of what we know about her from chapter 21.  To fully appreciate Rizpah’s story, we have to know a little bit of what was happening at the time.  We know from her introduction that she was a part of the concubine of King Saul.  Usually we think of a woman in a concubine as a mistress or even a prostitute but because Rizpah and Saul had two sons together, sons that would have been heirs to the throne had Saul not been stripped of power, she was a step or two up the ladder.  It is possible, as Saul would have had a number of wives, that Rizpah was a kind of “secondary wife,” actually chosen by Saul as opposed to his royal “show wife” that would have been from a pre-arranged royal marriage.  Best guess is that Rizpah would have been 13 to 15 years old.[1]

During Saul’s tenure as king, he tries to wipe out a group called the Gibeonites. He is mentally unstable and tries unsuccessfully to commit this genocide.  He is stripped of power, eventually dies and David is now the king of Judah. But there is famine and drought that has lasted for three years.  When things get really bad, David asks God why this is happening.  God responds that the famine and drought are due to a “bloodguilt” on the house of Saul for his actions against the Gibeonites.  What David does next sounds like it could be any of us when faced with a bad situation.  We go to God when it gets really bad and when there is an answer, we say, “Okay, thanks God, I can take it from here.”  David does the same thing.  Once David understands from God that things have to be put right with the Gibeonites, rather than going back to God to ask what to do next, David thinks he knows.  He goes to the Gibeonites and asks what he can do to make the wrongs of Saul right with them – what he can do to “atone” for the wrong done to them. 

It is interesting that the word he uses for atone – “kip” - has a religious definition and a political definition.  In its religious context it is the same word found in the Hebrew name for the Day of Atonement – Yom Kippur.  But outside of its religious context, the word he uses is better translated as “cover up.”  When David goes to the Gibeonites, his question is not religious – it is political.  He is asking how he can cover this up.  If he were secretly being recorded, you could see him showing up on an episode of 20/20 in a grainy video asking the Gibeonite leaders, “How can we make this little problem go away?”

They tell him that the situation is so bad that the only retribution can be handing over the remaining seven of Saul’s descendants to be killed. The cycle of revenge is spiraling out of control.  David agrees to their demands and hands over the seven - two remaining sons of Saul and Rizpah and five of Saul’s grandsons. The Gibeonites keep their word and impale (a word that means to tear apart) – impale them on the mountain before the Lord and the seven of them perish together…the passage tells us that they are put to death at the beginning of the barley harvest. And in insult of all insults in the Hebrew culture, the Gibeonites intentionally do not bury the bodies but leave the bodies hanging in the public square for display and deterrence. 

This is where Rizpah re-enters the picture. We don’t know whether she witnessed their actual death – we can hope not for a mother should not have to witness such an atrocity against her sons.  We do know she is near and begins that very day holding vigil over the bodies.

 “Then Rizpah the daughter of Aiah took sackcloth, and spread it on a rock for herself, from the beginning of harvest until the rain fell on them from the heavens; she did not allow the birds of the air to come on the bodies by day, or the wild animals by night.” (2 Samuel 21:10). 

Taking sackcloth, a symbol of mourning, Rizpah does all she knows how to do – pour out her love and grief for her dead sons by mourning for them publicly.  But this is not just a calling at a funeral home.  This is a five month vigil in all types of weather with little time to sleep and little to eat.  And the question the passers-by must have been asking, “Can this one, lowly woman affect change?” We think she is powerless but Rizpah’s actions tell us to think again.

Perhaps you know the much more current, but strangely similar, story from Buenos Aires, Argentina.  From 1976 to 1983, a military dictatorship gripped Argentina. During that time, many opposed to the dictatorship were murdered or simply “disappeared.”  While the government admitted to 9,000 of the disappearances, some estimate the number to be closer to 40,000.  On Thursday, April 30th, 1977, some mothers of young men who had disappeared congregated and marched in the Plaza de Mayo in Buenos Aires to show their solidarity and demand answers. These women, along with family, friends, fathers, brothers, sisters, and supporters have congregated every Thursday since to continue their vigil and continue in their attempt to find what became of their children during what is now known as The Dirty War.

Every Thursday at 3:30pm, rain or shine, The Mothers of the Plaza Mayo – sometimes known as The Mothers of the Disappeared gather in the center of the Plaza in their ongoing fight. Recognizable by their white kerchief head scarves, each stitched with the name of one missing, they gather and march with signs – patiently allowing tourists to photograph them and often talking about their lives, their missing children, and the future. During the 30 year anniversary of the military coup, Las Madres – The Mothers were one of the most recognizable political voices on hand. They have vowed to continue to appeal to the government for answers.[2]

In 1987, with the release of their Joshua Tree album, the rock band U2 brought more light on the issue with the single – Mothers of the Disappeared written by U2 lead singer Bono.

Midnight, our sons and daughters
Were cut down and taken from us.
Hear their heartbeat
We hear their heartbeat.

In the wind we hear their laughter
In the rain we see their tears.
Hear their heartbeat, we hear their heartbeat.

Night hangs like a prisoner
Stretched over black and blue.
Hear their heartbeats
We hear their heartbeats.

In the trees our sons stand naked
Through the walls our daughters cry
See their tears in the rainfall.[3]

Since Argentina, “Mothers of the Disappeared” groups have formed in El Salvador, Northern Ireland, Iran and more recently, in Mexico.  In 2009, on the day of the United States presidential inauguration, women of Juarez, Mexico staged a caravan through that violence-ridden city.  A new group of mothers of disappeared young women brought public attention to the cases of daughters who have gone missing since January, 2008. Holding a rally at the downtown cathedral, the mothers demanded their daughters be returned home alive. [4]

The Mothers in Argentina helped topple a dictator. In Mexico and Iran, the fight goes on.  Thousands of years ago, this mother, Rizpah, gets the attention of the new king David and shames him into taking action.  David recognized the genuineness of her emotion and he orders the removal of the bodies in order to give them the dignity of a proper burial.  We don’t know what was going on in David’s mind but I’d like to believe his heart was moved at this point, early in his kingship, so that from this point on, David could truly be called a man of God – so that he could say in the very next chapter of 2 Samuel, “The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge.  I call upon the Lord who is worthy to be praised.” (2 Samuel 22:2-4).

“When David was told what Rizpah had done, David went and took the bones.  He brought up from there the bones of Saul and the bones of his son Jonathan; and they gathered the bones of those who had been impaled.  They buried the bones in the tomb of his father Kish.  After that, God heeded supplications for the land.” (2 Samuel 21:11-14 summary).

“After that, God heeded supplications for the land.”  After David listened to God through one as insignificant as Rizpah, only then did the famine and drought come to an end – God heeded the supplications for the land.  One lowly woman, doing what was right, doing all that she knew to do, changed the mind of a king and the plight of a people.  What caused this cycle of retribution to break did not come from someone with power but from someone with none. 

Paula Gooder rightly says that this short, neglected story has much to teach us about acting and listening.  It is impossible to know whether Rizpah expected to achieve anything by her actions.  It simply may have been an expression of love and grief.  Whatever her intentions, their effect cannot be denied.  By acting courageously out of genuine love, Rizpah changed the policy of a mighty ruler and prevented the escalation of violence and revenge.  Rizpah did what she could with love and gentleness in impossible circumstances and transformed a situation driven by hatred.[5]

Her demonstration of love and gentleness reminded David that he had been acting in the interest of power and not in the interest of love.  How many people do you know have their head turned by power – to reach the pinnacle of their profession, only to be really lonely even while surrounded by a lot of people. 

This is a story with a message for those with power – those who relate more to David – to let love rule.  This is a story for those with no power – those who relate more to Rizpah – to do the things that you know how to do, the things that you know are right – no matter how insignificant the act might be.  You have the power to affect change.  And here’s the secret that no one seems to understand - most often it is those who move with love and gentleness – powerless or not - that affect the most change.  Paul said it in his letter to the Philippians after recognizing two other people that you’ve never heard of and others that don’t even get named.  “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near.” (Philippians 4:4-5).

So, the word for today is this – ask God for guidance then listen carefully.  If you find yourself in a position of power, do not lose sight of God’s calling for you and be able to admit when you are wrong.  If you feel you are powerless, act with love and persevere with courage.  Know that you have more power than you know – power to change the mind of a king, to topple the government of a dictator, and – powerless or not – you show God’s message to the world.