Commentary - 2 Samuel 13:23-39

Bird's-eye view

This passage is the bloody fruit of a bitter root. Two years have passed since Amnon’s violation of his sister Tamar, and the festering wound in David’s house is about to burst. What we are reading here is the direct, cascading consequence of David’s sin with Bathsheba. The prophet Nathan had told him the sword would not depart from his house (2 Sam. 12:10), and here we see that awful prophecy unfolding. This is not just a story of sibling rivalry gone wrong; it is a story of covenantal breakdown, of a father’s failure to execute justice, and a son’s decision to seize it for himself. Absalom, whose name means “father of peace,” becomes a man of calculated violence. He nurses his wrath for two years, a long time to keep a fire hot, and then orchestrates a public, political assassination of the crown prince. David is manipulated by his own son, his authority is shown to be hollow, and the kingdom is thrown into further disarray. This is what happens when sin is left to fester. It does not die of old age; it metastasizes.

The whole affair is a tangled mess of deceit, bitterness, murder, and grief. Absalom’s revenge is not righteous justice; it is a power play wrapped in the language of honor. David’s grief is profound, but his passivity created the vacuum that Absalom’s violence rushed in to fill. And in the middle of it all is the shrewd, cynical Jonadab, who seems to know everything that is happening but does nothing to stop it. He is the picture of worldly wisdom, able to predict the outcome but utterly powerless to bring about righteousness. The chapter ends with flight and mourning, a family shattered by sin, and a kingdom teetering on the brink. This is a grim portrait of the wages of sin, and a stark reminder that God’s judgments, once set in motion, are terrible and relentless.

Outline

Context In 2 Samuel

We are deep in the second major section of 2 Samuel, which details the troubles within David's own family. This is the outworking of the curse Nathan pronounced in chapter 12. The sin with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah were not private failings with contained consequences. They were public sins that poisoned the well of David's entire household and kingdom. Chapter 13 begins with the rape of Tamar, and David’s response is one of anger, but no action. That failure to render justice is the seedbed for what happens here. Absalom steps into the judicial void left by his father. This event, the murder of the heir apparent, is a crucial turning point. It removes David's firstborn, elevates Absalom in his own mind as an agent of justice and power, and sets the stage for his eventual rebellion against David himself in the chapters to come. The internal corruption of the royal family is now spilling out, and it will soon engulf the entire nation in civil war.

Key Issues

Commentary

v. 23 Now it happened after two full years that Absalom had sheepshearers in Baal-hazor, which is near Ephraim, and Absalom invited all the king’s sons.

Two full years. This is not a crime of passion. This is a crime of patience. Bitterness has a long shelf life. For two years, Absalom has been nursing this grudge, letting it steep like a poisonous tea. He has been watching, waiting, planning. The occasion is a sheepshearing festival, a time of celebration and feasting, much like a harvest festival. It was a natural time for a large family gathering, providing the perfect cover for his intentions. He invites all the king’s sons, which makes the whole affair seem legitimate and festive. But the inclusivity is a sham; it is camouflage for a targeted assassination.

v. 24-25 And Absalom came to the king and said, “Behold now, your servant has sheepshearers; please let the king and his servants go with your servant.” But the king said to Absalom, “No, my son, we should not all go, for we will be burdensome to you.” Although he urged him, he was not willing to go, but blessed him.

Absalom begins his deception with his father. He plays the part of the dutiful, hospitable son. The request for the king to attend is part of the ruse. He likely knew David would decline, as a king’s entourage was a significant logistical affair. But the offer makes Absalom appear generous and honorable. David’s refusal is practical and kind, “we will be burdensome to you.” He is acting like a father, but he is blind to the machinations of his son. He blesses Absalom, which is a bitter irony. He is blessing the man who is about to tear his family apart. David is being played, and his fatherly affection makes him an easy mark.

v. 26-27 Then Absalom said, “If not, please let my brother Amnon go with us.” And the king said to him, “Why should he go with you?” But Absalom urged him, so he sent Amnon and all the king’s sons with him.

Here is the pivot. After the grand invitation is declined, Absalom makes his specific, targeted request. “Let my brother Amnon go with us.” David senses something is off. His paternal intuition flickers for a moment: “Why should he go with you?” This is the crucial moment. David has a chance to stop this, to probe, to question. But he doesn't. The text says Absalom “urged him.” The Hebrew word implies a persistent, forceful pressure. David, the man who faced Goliath, the mighty warrior, gives in to the social pressure of his manipulative son. His passivity here is a direct echo of his passivity after Tamar’s rape. He failed to act then, and he fails to act now. He sends not only Amnon, but all his sons, straight into Absalom’s trap.

v. 28 Then Absalom commanded his young men, saying, “See now, when Amnon’s heart is merry with wine, and when I say to you, ‘Strike Amnon,’ then put him to death. Do not fear; have not I myself commanded you? Be strong and be valiant.”

Absalom now reveals his plan to his own servants. The timing is precise: wait until wine has dulled Amnon’s senses and defenses. This is cowardly, not courageous. He wants to strike when his victim is vulnerable. Notice how he frames the command. He takes full responsibility: “have not I myself commanded you?” He is acting as the authority, the king in this situation. He is usurping his father’s role. He encourages his men to be “strong and be valiant,” using language that should be reserved for righteous battle, not a drunken assassination. He is twisting virtue to serve his vengeful purpose. This is how sin works; it apes righteousness.

v. 29 Thus the young men of Absalom did to Amnon just as Absalom had commanded. Then all the king’s sons arose and each mounted his mule and fled.

The deed is done, just as planned. The efficiency is chilling. The reaction of the other brothers is immediate panic. They flee. They don't fight back, they don't apprehend Absalom, they simply run. This shows the shock and terror of the moment, and it also reveals the disunity among the brothers. There is no solidarity here. It is every man for himself. The royal family is not a band of brothers; it is a collection of rivals who have just witnessed the murder of the crown prince by another of their own.

v. 30-31 Now it was while they were on the way that the report came to David, saying, “Absalom has struck down all the king’s sons, and not one of them is left.” Then the king arose, tore his clothes and lay on the ground; and all his servants were standing by with clothes torn.

Bad news travels fast, and it often gets worse in the telling. The initial report is the worst imaginable scenario: a complete massacre. David’s reaction is one of utter devastation. Tearing clothes and lying on the ground were signs of the deepest grief and horror. He believes he has lost all his sons in one fell swoop. This is the harvest of his own sin, come home to roost in the most terrible way. His servants mourn with him, but the king is prostrate, crushed by the weight of a catastrophe he helped create through his earlier inaction.

v. 32-33 But Jonadab, the son of Shimeah, David’s brother, answered and said, “Do not let my lord suppose they have put to death all the young men, the king’s sons, for Amnon alone has died; because by the intent of Absalom this has been set since the day that he violated his sister Tamar. So now, do not let my lord the king take the report to heart, saying, ‘all the king’s sons have died,’ for only Amnon has died.”

Jonadab reappears. He was the one who gave Amnon the wicked advice that led to the rape of Tamar. Now he shows up as the voice of calm, cynical reason. He knows exactly what has happened and why. “Amnon alone has died.” How does he know? Because he understands the darkness of the human heart, his own included. He knew this was coming. He says it was in Absalom’s heart, or literally on his mouth, “since the day that he violated his sister Tamar.” Jonadab saw the murder brewing for two years and apparently said nothing to the king. He is a man who is shrewd about evil but does nothing to promote good. He corrects the facts for David, but his words offer no real comfort, only the cold confirmation of a long-expected tragedy.

v. 34-36 Then Absalom fled. And the young man who was the watchman raised his eyes and looked, and behold, many people were coming from the road behind him by the side of the mountain. And Jonadab said to the king, “Behold, the king’s sons have come; according to your servant’s word, so it happened.” As soon as he had finished speaking, behold, the king’s sons came and lifted their voices and wept; and also the king and all his servants wept very bitterly.

Absalom is now a fugitive, the first consequence of his act. Just as Jonadab predicted, the other sons appear. The watchman sees them coming, and Jonadab points it out with a self-satisfied, “See, I told you so.” The arrival of the sons confirms the partial truth: it was not a massacre, but an assassination. The relief that some are alive is immediately swallowed by the grief over the one who is dead, and the manner of his death. The weeping is universal and bitter. This is a family imploding. The sound of their weeping is the sound of God’s judgment on the house of David.

v. 37-38 Now Absalom had fled and went to Talmai the son of Ammihud, the king of Geshur. And David mourned for his son every day. So Absalom had fled and gone to Geshur, and was there three years.

Absalom flees to Geshur, which was his mother’s homeland. He is seeking asylum with his maternal grandfather, a pagan king. He is now an exile, cut off from his people and his inheritance. Meanwhile, David mourns “for his son every day.” Which son? The language is ambiguous. He is mourning Amnon, his murdered firstborn. But surely he is also mourning Absalom, his murderous, exiled son. He is caught in an impossible grief. The text repeats that Absalom was in Geshur for three years, emphasizing the length of this separation and the unresolved state of affairs.

v. 39 And the heart of King David was consumed with going out to Absalom; for he was comforted concerning Amnon, since he had died.

This is a fascinating verse about the psychology of grief and love. The sharp pain over Amnon’s death begins to fade, as it must. He “was comforted concerning Amnon, since he had died.” Death has a finality that, over time, allows for a measure of peace. But the situation with Absalom is an open wound. David’s heart, or spirit, longed to go out to Absalom. He is torn. He loves his rebellious, murderous son. This is the heart of a father. But he is also the king, who must uphold justice. This tension between David the father and David the king will dominate the next several chapters. His longing for his son, unchecked by a commitment to justice, will eventually lead him to make foolish decisions that endanger his entire kingdom.

Application

First, sin that is not dealt with through repentance and justice will always bear bitter fruit. David’s passivity after Tamar’s rape was not kindness; it was a dereliction of duty. He failed to judge, so Absalom appointed himself judge, jury, and executioner. When fathers, pastors, or civil magistrates fail to render justice, they create a vacuum that vigilantism and vengeance will rush to fill. We must deal with sin swiftly and biblically, or it will grow into a monster that devours our families and churches.

Second, bitterness is a patient poison. Absalom waited two years. He smiled at his brother, ate with him, and all the while was plotting his death. This is a sober warning to us. Do not let the sun go down on your anger (Eph. 4:26). A grudge that is nursed becomes a murderous hatred. We are commanded to forgive as we have been forgiven. To refuse to do so is to plant a root of bitterness that will defile many (Heb. 12:15).

Finally, we see the tragic love of a father for a rebellious son. David’s heart longed for Absalom. This is a dim reflection of our Heavenly Father’s heart for us. While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. But God’s love does not compromise His justice. He did not simply overlook our sin; He judged it fully and completely at the cross. David’s weakness was that his paternal affection overrode his kingly duty. God’s glory is that His fatherly love and His kingly justice met perfectly in the person of His Son. Our response must be to flee from our own sin and take refuge in the one who satisfied God’s justice on our behalf, so that we might be welcomed into His family, not as exiles, but as sons.