“In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king's men and the whole Israelite army. They destroyed the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained in Jerusalem.” (2 Samuel 11:1)
One need not have ever soldiered to hear alarm bells in this set of bookends: “when kings go off to war . . . David remained in Jerusalem.” At the very least, the King was not in the field where he was supposed to be. At worst . . . well, it got much worse. The author tells us that “David got up from his bed” and went up to the “roof of the palace,” and that is where he saw the beautiful Bathsheba bathing—doesn’t say anything about moonlight per se, but I think we all get the picture: warm spring night and a restless warrior king—in the rear with the gear instead of in the field where the action is. Danger, Will Robinson, Danger.
There is a counterintuitive dichotomy between the danger in the field (where the enemy is) and the danger of the rear echelon (where, presumably, He is not). The threat to the field trooper is obvious, existential and immediate. The bad guys are the ones who persistently shoot at you when they see you. In the rear, the bad guys are harder to discern. They come in the form of a creeping corruption, on the back of boredom and energy expended in suppression of the warrior spirit that comes downloaded in our DNA.
War is Hell indeed, but at least you get to fight something you can see. But the War behind the War, where the Enemy is a sniper destroying you slowly, hidden behind a jasmine scented screen from the rooftop below your palace. I think I’ll take the field any day. I don’t stand a chance in the rear.
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