Genre: The qînâ - according to the NIB, David’s song is a lament or dirge known in Hebrew as the qînâ , a type of song in honor of the death that recites past accomplishments of the one/s honored, offered often in the second person. True to form, we find no lapses or sin charged to these fallen heroes, though much could have been included, judging from the earlier tempestuous relationship between David and Saul (1 Samuel 16-31). This type of funerary lament differs from our more familiar psalmic laments in at least one way: there is not anticipation of deliverance by the prayer in the qînâ, for death blocks any hope of change or restoration.

Walking Through The qînâ - in verse 21, David returns to the place where Saul died-the mountains of Gilboa-and speaks to them calling curses down on them; in verses 22-24, David shifts to the memory of Saul and Jonathan as being magnificent warriors for Israel. The imagery is that of animal sacrifice-the valor of these two was like a sacrifice offered up to God. In life and death Saul and his son were not parted-the implication suggests that they were never divided; in verses 25-27, David focuses on his personal relationship to Jonathan. Certainly the words speak to the great pleasure and graciousness that he found in Jonathan. Such love was not only personal, but political in character as well, as NIB points out: Jonathan’s love for David found expression in the surrender of his claim to the throne (18:4), and the verb "to love" appears often in connection with covenant partners to indicate commitment.

Recall a moving eulogy you’ve heard. Perhaps it was one said of a national figure or someone beloved in your faith community or a family member who died. What made that eulogy so memorable?

What eulogy would you want said of you?

Recall the deaths and funerals of John F. Kennedy or Martin Luther King, Jr., or England’s Queen mother or yet another prominent person. Describe some of your own feelings as you watched the funeral procession. The strange sense of unity and community as the loss bound people together.

If you’ve had the opportunity to visit the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington DC, recall the more private yet deep mourning that you may have observed on the black granite that contains the names of every American military person lost in the Vietnam war. Imagine the endless lines that have searched the wall to find their comrades and pay tribute.

Shift to the text and suggest the truth of lament-that it is just as important to sing of our hurts as it is to sing of our triumphs. Only as we mourn and acknowledge the depth of our loss can we be open to God’s new thing in our midst.

David’s singing is a model for the church. Ours should be a place where we can bear the painful reality of death. David teaches us that we cannot move to joy, renewal, and praise too soon. We must make a place for our pain. The poetry of pain gives way to renewed hope of a kingdom of David.

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[1] The New Interpreter’s Bible II (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1998), page 1205.
[2] Ibid, page 1208.
[3] Ibid, page 1209.