Tea With King David

“…a son of Jesse the Bethlehemite who understands playing on the harp, a prudent man, a man of war, wise in speech, handsome, and the Lord is with him” (I Samuel 16:18, OSB).

King David, like Alexander the Great, is a superb conqueror. Like Cardinal Richelieu, he is calculating and devious. David is duplicitous like Claudius, adventurous like Jason, and passionate like Don Giovanni. Like Odysseus, he fakes insanity. Like Joan of Arc, he emerges from nowhere, combining innocence with ardor, challenging established norms. Like Napoleon’s Marshal, Joachim Murat, he defects for a time. Like Che Guevara, he wages guerilla war with a band of outlaws in the wilderness. Like Caravaggio, he is both a sublime artist and a skilled swordsman. Like King Lear, he is betrayed by his children.

Who would not wish to have tea with such a king?

The problem is that 3000 years separate us from King David. What could we have in common after all these centuries?

Indeed, if we were to invite his nemesis, Goliath, for high tea, for example, no one living in the entire Middle East today would understand his language, practice his faith, or share his strange customs. No one! Goliath spoke a now-extinct non-Semitic Indo-European language with faint Greek roots. He was a polytheist worshipping gods called Dagon, Baal, and a whole group of half-animal, half-human deities. His religion was an offshoot of the Canaanites, and many in his community believed in human sacrifice, lewd rites, unrestrained orgies, and sacred prostitution. His diet included pork, and he drank copious amounts of wine and other alcoholic spirits. His civilization left no significant landmarks, citadels, laws, or codes. Philistine was one of many ancient but insubstantial tribes that shone briefly on the stage of history and departed without leaving a rack behind. Undernourished with culture, their legacy is monumental uncouthness.

But what about King David?  

If we were to meet King David, the first thing that would strike us as being amazing would be that we could converse in Hebrew. No doubt, a different Hebrew – like old English in the Anglo-Frisian group of West Germanic languages to modern ears – but Hebrew, nonetheless. His Biblical faith would be precisely the one the one we practice. His dietary customs would fully conform with those observed in religious households today. He would know Bethlehem: he was born there. He fought battles throughout the land and visited places such as Hebron, Ramah, Gibeon, Gath, En Dor, and Mount Gilboa. He knew Jerusalem quite well as he conquered it and brought the Ark to the city to bear his name. Just as we can walk the Old Testament Lands on a journey through the Five Books of Moses, we can walk in Jerusalem, following his footsteps, knowing the significance of each dance, each citadel, and each stone.

Although he did not observe all the Commandments, King David would know the Books of Moses by heart. He would lament that just as Moses was not allowed to enter the Promised Land; he was not permitted to build the Temple because of the blood on his hands. But he would find solace in buying the consecrated Mount Moriah for 600 shekels, thus enabling his son Solomon to complete the task as the prophets had foretold it. He would explain that from the beginning of Jewish history, the patriarchs recognized the spiritual power of the Mount, where Abraham climbed to offer Isaac to the Lord, and where Jacob dreamt of a ladder going to heaven. This is the place, he would say, where God’s presence is felt more powerfully than another lieu on earth.

After all these centuries, we, the remnants of the Jewish People, are still profoundly moved by his lamentations, open the gates of heaven with his prayers, imagine his shadow on the High Walls of Jerusalem, hear the echoes of ancient Israel in his lyre, and delight in his poetry. His legacy lives on, connecting us to our cultural and historical roots.

Yet, an unprecedented global assault on the historical roots of the Jewish people united in the same land with the same faith, language, customs, and kings from times immemorial is in full swing. This assault, particularly in the aftermath of the October 7 genocide, is a cause for grave concern and demands our immediate attention.

As Alexander Solzhenitsyn observed, ‘To destroy a people, you must first sever their roots.’ But David reminded us that Israel’s roots go deep and cannot be deracinated. He would have made this observation 3000 years ago, and we are still here, resilient and proud, with roots growing deeper into the land, for ours is an Odessey without end.