The Politics of a Pillow Text: 1 Kings 2:13-18
Introduction: Reading Between the Lines
We live in a sentimental age, an age that has great difficulty understanding the raw and often brutal realities of political power. We like to imagine that the personal realm and the political realm are two entirely separate countries with well-guarded borders. But in the ancient world, and particularly in the court of a king, the personal was always political. Who you married, who you dined with, and what you asked for in private could be an act of loyalty or an act of treason.
This is the world we enter in our text. The succession crisis is over. David is dead, Solomon is on the throne, and Adonijah, the failed usurper, has been granted a conditional pardon. He is to live a quiet life, and all will be well. But a rebellious heart is never quiet for long. It is always probing, always looking for a crack in the wall, always seeking a way to reassert its claims. Adonijah's rebellion did not die when his party was broken up; it simply went underground. It has now resurfaced, not with an army and trumpets, but with a polite, seemingly reasonable, and deeply personal request.
What Adonijah does here is a masterclass in pious manipulation. He approaches the most powerful woman in the kingdom, the queen mother Bathsheba, with words as smooth as butter, but with war in his heart. He wants something. He wants a girl. But in the high-stakes game of thrones, asking for a particular girl can be the same thing as asking for the crown. We must learn to read the political landscape of the Old Testament, not because we want to play these kinds of games, but because we need to understand the nature of sin. Sin is rarely honest about its intentions. It comes to us, as Adonijah comes to Bathsheba, feigning peace, mouthing pieties, and asking for just one little thing. But that one little thing is often the key to the whole kingdom.
The Text
Then Adonijah the son of Haggith came to Bathsheba the mother of Solomon. And she said, "Do you come peacefully?" And he said, "Peacefully." Then he said, "I have something to say to you." And she said, "Speak." So he said, "You know that the kingdom was mine and that all Israel expected me to be king; however, the kingdom has turned about and become my brother's, for it was his from Yahweh. So now, I am making one request of you; do not turn me away." And she said to him, "Speak." Then he said, "Please speak to Solomon the king, for he will not turn you away, that he may give me Abishag the Shunammite as a wife." And Bathsheba said, "Very well; I will speak to the king for you."
(1 Kings 2:13-18 LSB)
A Question of Peace (v. 13)
The scene opens with a confrontation loaded with history.
"Then Adonijah the son of Haggith came to Bathsheba the mother of Solomon. And she said, 'Do you come peacefully?' And he said, 'Peacefully.'" (1 Kings 2:13)
Adonijah, the son of Haggith. The Spirit of God includes this detail for a reason. He is not just any man; he is the son of a different wife, a rival claimant. He comes to Bathsheba, the mother of the king. She is not just any woman; she is the queen mother, a formal position of immense honor and influence in the ancient Near East. This is a political meeting from the first moment.
Bathsheba is no political amateur. She was at the center of the storm during the succession, and she knows that a defeated enemy is still an enemy. Her first words are not "How are you?" but rather a demand for a declaration of intent: "Do you come peacefully?" This is the question a gatekeeper asks a stranger at the city walls. It is a challenge. She is guarding her son's throne, and she knows Adonijah just tried to steal it. His presence is, by definition, a disturbance of the peace.
Adonijah's response is, of course, "Peacefully." This is the first and most obvious lie in a conversation that will be full of them. He comes with the word "peace" on his lips, but his intent is to stir up trouble, to test the king's authority, and to make a play for the throne. This is how the devil works. He comes to us peacefully. He offers a truce. He suggests a quiet conversation. But his goal is always war.
Pious Camouflage (v. 14-16)
Adonijah then lays the groundwork for his request with a speech that is a marvel of greasy piety and political maneuvering.
"So he said, 'You know that the kingdom was mine and that all Israel expected me to be king; however, the kingdom has turned about and become my brother's, for it was his from Yahweh. So now, I am making one request of you; do not turn me away.'" (1 Kings 2:15-16)
Let us dissect this masterpiece of manipulation. First, he says, "You know that the kingdom was mine." He begins by reminding Bathsheba of his claim. As the eldest living son of David, he had the claim of custom. He is subtly asserting that he was the legitimate heir who was wronged. Second, he adds, "and that all Israel expected me to be king." This is a veiled threat. He is reminding her that he had, and perhaps still has, popular support. He is hinting at a faction that is still loyal to him.
Then comes the spiritual trump card. "However, the kingdom has turned about and become my brother's, for it was his from Yahweh." This is designed to sound like humble submission to the divine will. It is oleaginous. He is coating his ambition in the language of providence. He is trying to present himself as a man who has accepted his fate and bowed to God's decree. But if he truly believed the kingdom was Solomon's from Yahweh, he would not be there. He would be at home, living quietly as a worthy man. Instead, he is using God-talk as a smokescreen for treason. This is the essence of hypocrisy: using the vocabulary of heaven to advance the agenda of hell.
Having presented himself as the wronged-but-piously-resigned prince, he makes his appeal: "do not turn me away." He is trying to put Bathsheba on the defensive, to make it seem that refusing him would be unkind or unjust.
The Treasonous Request (v. 17)
Finally, the true purpose of his visit is revealed.
"Then he said, 'Please speak to Solomon the king, for he will not turn you away, that he may give me Abishag the Shunammite as a wife.'" (1 Kings 2:17)
To the modern, sentimental ear, this might sound like a simple, romantic request. Adonijah, the defeated prince, just wants to settle down with a beautiful girl. What could be the harm in that? But in the political context of the ancient Near East, this request was a declaration of war. Abishag the Shunammite was the young woman who had cared for David in his old age. She was his last concubine, a member of the royal harem. And in that world, to possess the king's harem was to possess a claim to his throne.
This was an established and unambiguous political principle. We saw it with Adonijah's own brother, Absalom. When Absalom drove David from Jerusalem, his counselor Ahithophel gave him this advice: "Go in to your father's concubines, whom he has left to keep the house. Then all Israel will hear that you have made yourself a stench to your father, and the hands of all who are with you will be strengthened" (2 Samuel 16:21). Taking the king's women was the ultimate public statement that you were the new king.
Adonijah knew this. Bathsheba knew this. And Solomon would certainly know this. This was not a request for a wife; it was a request for a political asset. It was a test. If Solomon granted the request, he would appear weak and foolish, signaling to Adonijah's old supporters, like Joab and Abiathar, that the new king's grip was loose. Adonijah was attempting to gain a foothold from which he could launch another bid for the crown. He was asking for the keys to the kingdom under the guise of asking for a girl.
A Shrewd Mother's Gambit (v. 18)
Bathsheba's response is brief and, on the surface, compliant.
"And Bathsheba said, 'Very well; I will speak to the king for you.'" (1 Kings 2:18)
Why does she agree? Has she been fooled by his pious act? Is she a naive woman taken in by a manipulator? Not at all. Her initial question, "Do you come peacefully?" shows that her guard was up from the beginning. Bathsheba is playing a much smarter game. She knows precisely what Adonijah is doing. She recognizes the treason in his request instantly.
Her agreement is not an endorsement. It is a trap. By agreeing to take the request to Solomon, she is flushing Adonijah's plot out into the open. The rebellion was lurking in the shadows, cloaked in polite words. Bathsheba knows that the best way to deal with such a threat is to drag it into the light of day before the king. She is not being naive; she is being a wise and loyal queen mother. She is handing her son the evidence he needs to deal with this lingering threat once and for all. She is forcing Adonijah to make his treasonous request official, and she knows exactly how the wise king, her son, will respond.
Conclusion: No Rival Thrones
This little domestic drama is a profound illustration of how rebellion against a rightful king operates. It seldom announces itself with trumpets. It comes peacefully, reasonably, and piously. It asks for just one small concession, one little compromise. It wants Abishag, not the throne, or so it says.
Solomon, the son of David, the prince of peace, is a type of Christ. He is the one to whom the kingdom belongs "from Yahweh." Adonijah is a type of our old man, our sinful nature. He has been defeated and deposed by the true king, but he has not given up his claims. He still believes the kingdom is his. And so he probes our defenses, looking for a way back in. He comes to us with "reasonable" requests. "It's just a small thing. God is gracious. Surely the king will not turn you away."
He asks for Abishag. He asks for that one little indulgence, that one pet sin, that one corner of our lives we want to keep for ourselves. But the true King knows that to grant that request is to legitimize a rival claim. Christ will have no rivals on the throne of our hearts. His kingdom is not established by compromise, but by judgment. The throne must be secured, and that means all treason, no matter how politely it is phrased, must be exposed and executed.
The security of Solomon's kingdom required the death of Adonijah. And the security of Christ's kingdom in our hearts requires the death of our Adonijah. We must, by the Spirit, put to death the deeds of the body (Romans 8:13). We cannot give a place to the deposed usurper. We cannot grant his requests. We must, like Bathsheba, drag his treasonous whispers into the light of the King's presence and let the true King deal with them. For our King is wise, and He will establish His throne in righteousness, and of His peace there will be no end.