What does an ancient widow named Rizpah have to teach us about handling grief, and even current world events? More than you might imagine.
In a sinful world, war is inevitable for nearly every generation (until the return of Jesus). When nations fight against nations, death results. Innocent people suffer and grieve. Additionally, thanks to our 24/7 global news, people in nations far from war may still feel bombarded by conflicts happening on the world’s other side.
Despite being informed about these wars, often in great detail, we are generally left feeling helpless to make any difference. Most of us know we can pray, and we understand that it is not without effect. Yet, aside from that, we feel powerless to influence world leaders and decision-makers. This is why we would be wise to learn from Rizpah.
Rizpah is a little-known Old Testament figure, someone who has less worldly power than most of us could ever imagine. She was a woman, a concubine, a mother, and eventually, a bereaved and broken human, yet her actions in grief influenced the most powerful leader of her times.
We first hear about Rizpah in 2 Samuel 3, where she is the object of a dispute between two men, but it’s a dispute about power, not romance.
When a king dies, there is often great maneuvering for power in the wake of grief and transition. This is what Israel experienced following the death of King Saul. God’s anointed, David, reigned in Hebron and over the tribe of Judah. His reign was challenged, though, because of Abner, son of Ner, the commander of Saul’s army, who installed one of Saul’s sons into power. For two years, Ish-bosheth, the fourth son of Saul, ruled over the rest of Israel, so there was conflict in the nation.
In 2 Samuel 3:6-7, we read, “While there was war between the house of Saul and the house of David, Abner was making himself strong in the house of Saul. Now Saul had a concubine whose name was Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah. And Ish-bosheth said to Abner, “Why have you gone in to my father's concubine?” (ESV)
While not denying the charge, Abner took offense at Ish-bosheth’s accusation, which was essentially a question of loyalty. Sleeping with Saul’s concubine was a move toward claiming power and position in the kingdom, a step toward the throne. Abner may have been signaling that he was the true power behind the current occupant of the throne.
While the story is about jockeying for power, Rizpah is clearly viewed as nothing more than a pawn.
Abner betrayed Ish-bosheth to join David but was killed by Joab. Ish-bosheth was subsequently murdered, as well, and David assumed the reign of all Israel in 2 Samual 5. We don’t hear about Rizpah again until 2 Samuel 21.
In 2 Samuel 21, Israel was enduring a three-year famine. When David asked God why the famine persisted, he learned the famine was a consequence of the blood guilt on Saul’s house for putting the Gibeonites to death. In the days of Joshua (Joshua 9), the Gibeonites had tricked the Israelites into promising they would not put them to death. Subsequent leaders of Israel respected this promise, but we learn in this chapter that Saul had breached the agreement, killing Gibeonites (descendants of the Amorites).
Learning this, David approached the Gibeonites to atone for Saul’s actions and end the famine. The Gibeonite leaders wouldn’t be paid off with silver or gold but demanded blood for blood. They asked, “let seven of his (Saul’s) sons be given to us, so that we may hang them before the Lord at Gibeah of Saul, the chosen of the Lord.” And the king said, “I will give them” (2 Samuel 21:6 ESV).
While this sounds horrific (and it is), David had seen much bloodshed in his times as a warrior and as king. Now, he saw his people dying for lack of food. It may have seemed a lesser sadness for the seven sons of Saul to lose their lives than for countless others. David turned over five sons of Merab (some manuscripts say Michal), daughter of Saul (grandsons of Saul), along with Rizpah’s only two sons, Armoni and Mephibosheth “and they hanged them on the mountain before the Lord, and the seven of them perished together.” (v. 9)
Rizpah was now bereft and stripped of all earthly power. She was the former concubine of a dead king—essentially his widow, with even less social standing. She had likely suffered abuse in Abner’s machinations to grasp power. And now she had lost her only comfort, her last role—and, in a society where children were the only social safety net, her only means of survival. What possible influence could she have?
The people would come to see that Rizpah had lost much, but she had not lost her humanity.
While to the Gibeonites and even to David, the seven sons had become merely bargaining chips to settle a disagreement, to Rizpah, they were young men who had been loved in life and who were deserving of greater dignity than to be eaten by birds.
So, Rizpah covered the rocks with sackcloth, and for around five months (from harvest until the early rains), “she did not allow the birds of the air to come upon them by day, or the beasts of the field by night.” (v. 10) Rizpah grieved publicly, without shame. She had cared for her sons in life, and now she cared for them in death. While the public may have been horrified for a day or so at the hanging, they might have quickly moved on with their lives, except that this mother refused to let her sons be forgotten.
David had been known for his prowess in battle but also for his respect for life. Even after King Saul had hunted David for months, David refused to rejoice at the news of Saul’s death. He also ensured Abner was properly mourned even though he’d put Ish-bosheth on an opposing throne. This situation of the seven sons was arranged to end the famine, but there, the bodies hung in full view, exposed to the elements, and Rizpah would not let anyone forget that they weren’t just corpses; they were sons who had been cherished and loved.
David heard reports of Rizpah’s activities, which must have moved him. He ordered Saul and Jonathan’s bones to be gathered together with the bones of these seven sons and given proper burial together.
“And after that, God responded to the plea for the land” (v. 14). God didn’t end the famine when the Gibeonites made their arrangements with King David. Instead, He showed mercy to the land when they were buried. Who knows how long they may have remained hanging at the mercy of birds and beasts had it not been for the love, devotion, and stubborn refusal to forget of this one “powerless” mother.
My father was a lifelong firefighter and served for over fifty years as a fire chief. I was fully confident in his professionalism and ability to perform rescues from fire, water, and medical emergencies. When my son, his first grandson, was very young, Dad asked if my son could watch a fire department training at a local waterfall.
I agreed but insisted that I would also come along. Dad was initially taken aback. Was I questioning his ability to keep his grandson safe?
My answer was simple. I did not doubt that if my son fell into the river, these first responders could rescue him. However, in the busyness of training, it made sense to have a mother’s eyes on the scene so there would be someone there to yell, “Help! My son has fallen in the river.” Dad had to agree.
Millions of people pass through this world. We may be overlooked by most, but when there is someone who loves us and acknowledges our life and our death, it testifies to others that our lives matter.
In times of war, as the numbers of the dead grow, we may begin to lose sight of the lives behind those numbers. When the loved ones of hostages, victims, soldiers, and even leaders tell us their stories, we are reminded of the human cost of politics, conflict, and war.
Rizpah reminds us that when we love and lose the ones we love, God does not reject our mourning. He may even use our grief to remind those in power that their decisions affect not numbers but humans—humans with families, dreams, hopes, and purpose.
God never loses sight of us. To Him, we are never just a number. Nor are we bargaining chips in conflict. We are much-loved individuals, and He counts the very hairs on our heads.
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This article is part of our People of Christianity catalog that features the stories, meaning, and significance of well-known people from the Bible and history. Here are some of the most popular articles for knowing important figures in Christianity:
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