The Sin of David: A Commentary

Firstly, they highlight the dangers of idleness and the lack of mortification of the senses. David, who had shown such generosity, nobility, and chivalry while leading an active life and being persecuted, fell into the gravest sins when he reached the peak of glory and was established in a high position. Instead of going to war, he stayed at home, indulging in the pleasures of a well-served table, after which he took a nap. He neglected the control of his senses, particularly his eyes, which are the windows through which death enters the soul. He lingered to look at a woman in inappropriate attire; passion immediately ignited in his heart, so fervent that he secretly sent for the beautiful woman with the intention of marrying her. When he knew she was married, he committed adultery with her and then tried to attribute the child conceived from him to the legitimate husband. When the loyalty of this man thwarted his plans, he did not hesitate to accuse him of a crime of an undefined nature, condemned him to perish without investigation or judgment, and pushed cynicism to the point of making him carry his own death sentence.

Saint Gregory insists on the necessity of guarding one’s eyes. The saints are all the more careful about themselves, he says, because they would be ashamed to be moved by the slightest feeling of fleeting delight. That is why Job said: "If my eye has followed my heart." In this way, he restores the discipline of outward movements through the firmness of inner vigilance; so that if his heart were to give in to forming some illicit desire, at least his eyes, being restrained by strict discipline, would refrain from looking at what should not be desired.

Just as temptation is often provoked by the eyes, it sometimes happens that, when it has given rise to an evil thought in the heart, it forces the eyes to serve it outwardly. It was not because he desired Uriah's wife that David looked at her attentively; rather, he desired her because he looked at her without caution. Thus, it happens, by a just judgment of God, that the one who is negligent in guarding his outward eyes is justly blinded in his inner eye. Often, it happens that lust dominates inwardly, and then the possessed spirit forces the outer senses to serve its ends, like a tyrant: it forces the eyes to serve its pleasures, and thus it opens, so to speak, the windows of light to the darkness of blindness. That is why holy men, when they feel pressed by the dangerous delight of sin, close their eyes in fear that through them, the beauty of visible things might penetrate their spirit, and that this seductive sight might strengthen the evil thought. If one neglects to carefully guard his eyes, the impurity inside soon passes into actions.

Now let us listen to Saint Ambrose explaining why it is necessary for Saints to sometimes succumb to temptation:

Saints, he writes, have sometimes fallen because they are human; they have fallen more due to the weakness of our nature than the desire to sin. But they rise up more vigorous to run, facing greater battles under the sting of shame; so that it is understood that their fall not only was not an obstacle but rather brought new stimulants to their zeal. Because they were set before us for imitation, God ensured that they also sometimes fell. For if they had lived a life untouched by any vice, amidst all the dangers of the present life, they would have given us, who are weaker, reason to believe they were of a superior and divine nature, and that they could have nothing in common with sin. This belief would have diverted us from seeking to resemble them, as if we were not of the same nature as them. God therefore allowed His grace to abandon them momentarily, so that their life would be a rule to imitate, and we could take them as models, not only to maintain innocence but also to do penance. Thus, in reading about their falls, I see that they have known human weakness. And believing this, I think they can be imitated.

Let us now address the allegorical interpretation of this adventure. Because it completely reverses values and will seem implausible to those not familiar with the mystical sense of Scripture, we will present it under the authority of three of the greatest Doctors of the Roman Church: Saint Ambrose, Saint Augustine, and Saint Gregory the Great.

Is there a darker action than David's, asks Saint Ambrose, and a conduct more loyal, more innocent than Uriah's? However, if we look at the mystery, nothing is holier than what the sinner David did, and nothing more unfaithful than what the innocent Uriah did.

"It's a sin if we follow the historical sense," says Saint Ambrose, "but a mystery if we consider the figurative sense; a fault committed by a man, but a Sacrament accomplished by the Word."

The same note is found in all subsequent Doctors. For them, David is the figure of Christ, the King of heaven, falling in love with the sinful human soul, represented by Bathsheba, whom the demon --- Uriah --- made his wife. Christ takes her away from this unworthy husband and introduces her into His kingdom of glory.

David was wandering in his house... What is this house of Christ, asks Saint Ambrose, but the one He spoke of: "In my Father's house, there are many rooms." While He dwelled in this royal palace, He saw human nature, all naked, had pity on her, and loved her. She was indeed naked because the demon's cunning had stripped her of the garments of virtue she received at birth. It is unlikely that a woman would have dared to uncover herself like this in front of the king's palace and wash there, as if there was no other place where she could perform her ablutions! It does not fit, does not suit, does not agree with faith; it does not go with the truth and is repugnant to reason. Such a lascivious, impudent woman would have rather been despised by the king; he could not have loved her. If she had no restraint in front of a man, shouldn't she at least have feared the king's gaze? And wouldn't his servants have made her disappear before their master saw her?

Since this cannot agree with faith, let us seek who is truly naked; namely, the human condition, stripped of all its natural garments, deprived of the cloak of immortality and the veil of innocence.

Indeed, one is naked who has been deprived (of grace) by his fault and sin. The first sinner of our race - if only he had been the only one! - did not feel he was naked until he had failed. But after committing the fault, he saw he was naked. If he sought to cover himself with leaves, it was because he had become aware of his nakedness. Thus, he became naked to himself when he became guilty of a crime. In him, the entire human condition has been laid bare, by the succession of nature; it has now become subject, not only to sin but to misery...

(This stripped human nature) is what Christ saw (from heaven) and loved: for Christ loves the holy soul. Jesus loved Lazarus and Mary. Christ loved His Church, even though she was still naked, even though she had no garment of virtue to cover herself.

...Let us now learn how the Church purified herself... how she washed herself in front of the house of Christ. It was while John was baptizing in the Jordan. He said, "For me, I baptize you in water, for repentance. But he who comes after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit." Thus, the crowd being baptized for repentance was seeking Christ, very close to His house, to attain grace. The Church asked John for Christ, saying: "Make me known the one my heart loves." She recalled that He was the object of her desire, the cause for which she washed herself.

"I am black as the tents of Kedar, but I am beautiful as the curtains of Solomon." There you have the reason why she washes: it is because she is black, but because she is beautiful, she does not fear to be seen all naked... So Christ saw her... He who searches the hearts and minds, for whom nothing is hidden, nothing is covered. He saw His Church all naked; He saw her and loved her, saw His beloved naked, and, because He is the Son of charity, He fell in love with her.

For us, let us understand that if we want the King of kings to look upon us and desire to draw us to Him, we must imitate Bathsheba's gesture, lay our conscience bare before Him, remove all the veils under which pride would hide the faults that shame prevents us from confessing, and wash our stains with those tears that Saint Benedict so insistently recommends, which are nothing other than sincere contrition.

- Dom Jean de Monléon, Le roi David, Histoire Sainte, t. 5,