Agonizing Victories
2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33
Rev. Monte Marshall
Here’s a blast from the past that some of us in this room are old enough to remember: the opening segment of ABC’s Wide World of Sports. A ski-jumper is zooming down the ramp, picking up speed, then suddenly loses control, veers off the course, tumbles down the mountain with arms, legs and skis flailing, his body slamming into the hard-packed snow, until finally, he crashes into a fence on the edge of the course. And while we’re watching this, announcer Jim McKay’s voice utters a now famous phrase, “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.”[1]
And that’s often how it is with sporting events and sometimes with life. Victories are frequently thrilling and defeats are usually agonizing. But sometimes, the opposite is true, especially amid the messiness of life’s complications and ambiguities. In life, you see, sometimes even victories are agonizing.
A case in point: As many of you know, I spent five years on the staff of the Admiral Nimitz Museum in Fredericksburg, TX. I’ll never forget the experience I had one day while I was leading a school group on a tour of the museum. A woman happened to overhear my presentation on the battle of Tarawa, the costly assault by U. S. Marines on a tiny Pacific island that took place in November, 1943.
When I was done with my commentary, the woman came to me and said that her father, who was just around the corner, was a veteran of the Tarawa campaign. She asked me if the kids could meet her dad. I agreed, so we circled up around this aging World War II veteran.
The gentleman introduced himself to the kids. I mentioned to him that we spoke a lot about Tarawa during our school tours and even remembered one of the Medal of Honor recipients who had died during the battle—a man named Bill Bordelon from San Antonio. The man then said that he had known another Medal of Honor recipient from Texas who had also lost his life on Tarawa.
As he started to talk about this other man, he stopped in mid-sentence. I’ll never forget the look that came over his face and the far-off gaze of his eyes as he suddenly recalled events too painful to remember. He was so overcome by emotion, that he couldn’t continue. He simply excused himself and walked away.
Now I have no doubt that this veteran of Tarawa was thrilled by the outcome of World War II. He was on the winning side, after all. And just in case you missed it, yesterday was the 70th anniversary of the unofficial end of World War II. But for this veteran, and for countless others like him, their reality is not quite so simple because the end of World War II was not just a thrilling triumph—it was also an agonizing victory. It was an agonizing victory because the suffering was so intense and the losses so profound. And the pain was still being felt more than fifty years after the fact.
Well, as we heard a moment ago in this morning’s scripture reading, the book of 2 Samuel tells the story of a time when King David won an agonizing victory that cost him the life of his son, Absalom. This sordid tale began when Absalom’s sister Tamar was raped by Absalom’s half-brother Amnon (who was, by the way, David’s eldest son and the heir to the throne). Absalom then arranged for Amnon’s murder--an act which not only avenged his sister’s rape, but also made him the heir to the throne.
David sent his son into exile for three years and then refused to see him for two more years after Absalom’s return to Jerusalem. Absalom’s reaction to his father’s rejection was to move to Hebron, organize a military force, and launch a rebellion against his father. Absalom wanted his father dead and in the beginning, the revolt was so successful that David had to flee Jerusalem for his life.
But David was not done. It was from the eastern side of the Jordan River that David mustered an army and sent his troops into battle against Absalom’s forces. Even so, David’s love for his son caused him to issue strict orders to his three commanders: “Deal gently with young Absalom for my sake.”
Well, in the forest of Ephraim, Absalom’s troops were defeated, but in defiance of David’s orders, Absalom was captured and executed.
When the first of two runners arrived to announce the victory to the king, David wanted to know: “Is young Absalom safe?” The first runner lied and said: “I do not know.”
When the second runner arrived—the Cushite referenced in this morning’s text—he also announced the good news of victory. But David still had only one question: “Is young Absalom safe?” The runner said: “May all the enemies of the ruler and all rebels intent on harming you have the same fate as that young man.”
While others experienced the thrill of victory, “David was deeply shaken and went up to the roof chamber over the gate and wept, crying out as he went, “My child! Absalom, my son! My child Absalom! If only I had died instead of you! Absalom, my son, my son!”
Do you see what I mean? David’s victory over Absalom was an agonizing victory—a triumph forever tempered by the king’s intense grief over the loss of his son.
Come to think of it, the cost is always high when victories are won through violence—whether in World War II or David’s civil war again Absalom. And frankly, this is one aspect of the story that qualifies the sympathy I might otherwise feel for David’s loss. Yes, Absalom was his son. Yes, David loved his son. Yes, David sought mercy for his son. But when David responded to his son’s violence with counter-violence, he unleashed forces that could not easily be controlled. From the moment David took that decision, the life of his beloved Absalom was at risk.
And lest we forget, David was not the only parent to suffer the loss a child to this violence. According to the story, 20,000 of Absalom’s soldiers were killed in battle. While the story only takes direct note of David’s grief, the backstory implies grief upon grief for untold loved ones because of the losses incurred on both sides. This is the reality of war.
And this is the story of David’s agonizing victory, but it’s not the only story on this theme in the scriptures. When we look to the gospels, we once again see violence being used to acquire and to protect power, but there’s a new factor to consider. Jesus is on the scene—the one remembered as David’s descendant. In him—and in the reign of God he proclaimed—we see an end to the pattern of confronting violence with counter-violence. Instead, Jesus meets violence with love. And according to the gospel story, love wins!
But again, it is an agonizing victory that involves the suffering, crucifixion and death of Jesus. But this time, it’s not violence directed against violence—it’s violence directed against love.
The gospel stories of Jesus’ resurrection proclaim love’s triumph, but the reality of suffering and loss that led to love’s triumph is never minimized. For example, in the gospels of Luke and John, both evangelists portray the risen Christ with the wounds of his abuse still visible on his resurrection body—thus providing a poignant reminder that in those moments when love triumphs, the victories are often agonizing because of the great price paid in suffering and even in death.
Now we know something about agonizing victories, don’t we? Even though most of us have never been through anything remotely comparable to the experience of that elderly Tarawa veteran, we still know something about agonizing victories, don’t we?
Consider this one example: We all thrill at the triumphs of the Civil Rights Movement—Brown vs Board of Education, the desegration of public schools, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, and more—and yet, we still feel the ache of suffering and loss as we remember the horrors of slavery, the lynchings, Jim Crowe, the assassinations of Medgar Evers and Martin Luther King, Jr., the three murdered Civil Right workers named Chaney, Goodman and Schwerner, the loss of 4 little girls killed in a church bombing, the blood spilled on the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, the nine killed in Charleston at the Emmanuel AME Church, the Black lives still at risk on our nation’s streets. We know something about agonizing victories, don’t we?
All of this is to say that as we work for the triumph of unconditional love and justice in our day and time, we had best be prepared for the cost—for the suffering—and for the loss.
Methodist Bishop Peter Storey of South Africa, a leader of the anti-apartheid movement in his country that dismantled an oppressive system of racial injustice, preached in this sanctuary a little over a week ago at the opening worship service of Gather at the River. He spoke of the suffering and loss that often accompanies movements of liberation.
He also addresses this theme in his book, With God in the Crucible, with a story about a German bishop in the Lutheran church named Scarf. Bishop Scarf was a colleague of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and was, like Bonhoeffer, imprisoned by the Nazis during World War II. After the war when the Soviets occupied East Germany, Bishop Scarf championed those they persecuted. This landed him once more in a prison cell.
Released finally to West Germany, Bishop Scharf again incurred the wrath of the state. He was concerned by what he heard about the way the infamous Baader-Meinhof terrorist gang was being treated by the West German authorities. He began to visit them in prison.
Needless to say, the welfare of terrorists in prison was not a fashionable or popular cause. But this time, Bishop Scharf was not imprisoned for his compassionate acts. Instead, he suffered ostracism and rejection.
Peter Storey once met with Bishop Scarf. Bishop Storey writes: “When we sat down together, I looked at this person who, for the sake of people he hardly knew, had lived a life of great hardship. I asked him for advice about offering a [faithful] witness in times of deep injustice. He thought for a long moment.” [He then proceeded to name three of four basic requirements for a faithful Christian witness.] “’And what is the fourth?’ I asked.
“The old man’s tone indicated he was simply stating the obvious: ‘Suffer,’ he said.”[2]
“[T]he thrill of victory and the agony of defeat” seems an appropriate phrase to apply to sporting events and sometimes to life. But it’s also true, that amid the messiness of life’s complications and ambiguities, there are times when even victories are agonizing.
So dear friends, as we follow Jesus in working for the triumph of God’s unconditional love and justice in our day and time, we had best be prepared for agonizing victories that will come at a cost in terms of suffering and loss. So courage is required. And best of all, God is with us no matter what. Thanks be to God.