swordplay

Abner the son of Ner, and the servants of Ish-bosheth the son of Saul, went out from Mahanaim to Gibeon. And Joab the son of Zeruiah and the servants of David went out and met them at the pool of Gibeon. And they sat down, the one on the one side of the pool, and the other on the other side of the pool. And Abner said to Joab, “Let the young men arise and compete before us.” And Joab said, “Let them arise.” Then they arose and passed over by number, twelve for Benjamin and Ish-bosheth the son of Saul, and twelve of the servants of David. And each caught his opponent by the head and thrust his sword in his opponent's side, so they fell down together. Therefore that place was called Helkath-hazzurim, which is at Gibeon. And the battle was very fierce that day. And Abner and the men of Israel were beaten before the servants of David. (2 Samuel 2:12-17 ESV)

This story has always intrigued me.

Twenty-four guys facing off with each other, simultaneously taking each other by the head and then each stabbing the other in the side in some sort of twisted choreography. The image of choreography is further underlined by the Abner’s challenge to Joab to have the young men rise up and “compete.” The Hebrew is literally “have a laugh, jest, play” (the KJV translates it “play”).

It was a deadly game that ended up spreading through the countryside in the decisive battle of Gibeon.

Looking at this through a “havering lens,” I can’t help but notice some points of instruction for havers as we grapple with truth together.

First off, it is perfectly appropriate for havers to grab each other by the head. This is, in fact, the whole point of havering. To grab each other by the head is to engage in a lively exchange of thoughts. It is passionately thinking together, with word swords flashing and clashing and sparks flying. “Iron on iron,” says the proverb, “and so a man the face of his friend.” It is in such sparring – such “playing” – that we are prepared to fight the real enemy, who is never the person standing opposite you.

We desperately need such tactile, thoughtful engagement with each other. Unfortunately, all too often we rip off ourselves and each other by refusing to do it. We settle for making mincemeat out of each other while absent. We shadow box, thrust and parry, with a missing partner, often in the safe company of sympathizers who with us imagine each crucial blow as we grapple with an invisible man’s head. But true havers don’t box shadows, they lay hands on each other.

Which leads to the second observation: grabbing each other by the head, havers don’t then thrust their swords into each other’s sides – or worse, into each other’s backs. Havers don’t assassinate each other. They don’t turn their discussion forums into sword fields. “Field of Swords” is actually the literal meaning of the name attached to that bloody place by the pool of Gibeon: Helkath-Hazzurim. Peterson calls it “Slaughter Park.” There have been far too many such parks littering the roadside of church history.

Havers, play hard. Lay hands on each other. Grab your fellow haver by the head – and keep your dagger out of his side.