Disability Justice in Scripture

The Prophetic Witness of Meribaal Against Unjust Earthly Kingdoms

Happy Thursday Substack friends. I’ve missed hanging in this space but now that my seminary load is lightening for the summer and the kids are in a good spot, I’m excited to spend more time here. One of my favorite things to do in this space is to engage curiously with stories in scripture and interact with them in unconventional ways. I truly believe that by centering vulnerable and marginalized voices in scripture, we get to notice examples of God at work in unexpected ways that we might not notice otherwise.

And since it’s no secret that I’ve spend the past several months deep diving through 2 Samuel, I want to share one of the most important things I’ve learned about my bestie Meribaal/Mephibosheth’s story. Tell me? What do you know about Jonathan’s son? Better yet? Have you ever been taught that the picture of Meribaal, at David’s table in 2 Sam chapter nine is a perfect picture of what the kingdom of God is like? Well, HT, I disagree. And I disagree because I think that when we take a look at Meribaal’s sustained journey in scripture, we’re actually shown a stark contrast between David’s kingdom and the kingdom of God, but we can’t stop reading at chapter nine- we have to connect what happens in chapter 9 with chapters 16 and 19. The language in this is slightly more academic as it was adapted from a seminary paper, but I do hope that it gets your wheels turning!

The Prophetic Witness of Meribaal Against Earthly Kingdoms

Meribaal’s story in scripture is regularly relegated to that of a fleeting character or isolated pericope that is typically contained in Second Samuel chapter nine, but notably, both scholarship and church history have largely failed to interact with his presence in chapter nine as an incomplete part of an ongoing narrative. When developing a biblical theology of the kingdom of God this matters because there’s no shortage of sermons and papers boldly pointing to the chapter nine narrative as scriptural support for statements like “this is what the kingdom of God is like!” but almost all of them end their proof texting there.

Yet when we situate chapter nine within the broader story and consider the entirety of Meribaal’s presence within II Samuel, it’s clear that what may have appeared to be a vestige of the kingdom of God on the surface, upon further examination serves more as a warning of what God’s kingdom is not like qualitatively, rather than an example. So how exactly does the sustained narrative of Meribaal in II Samuel reveal a contrast between David’s kingdom and the Kingdom of God? Here, I will argue that paying attention to Meribaal’s progression through chapters nine, sixteen, and nineteen aids readers in noticing key themes including justice, heirship/inheritance, and wholeness that encourage us to challenge our implicit conceptualizations and treatment of disabled individuals so that we can more faithfully imagine what the kingdom of God is actually like for all believers. First, we’ll pay attention to the exegetical narrative itself, then we’ll discuss the Davidic Kingdom in contrast with the kingdom of God and explore the interpretive significance of drawing contrast here.

The Text:

Readers are introduced to Meribaal (Mephibosheth)[1] in chapter four of Second Samuel. After news arrived of the deaths of Meribaal’s grandfather Saul and father Jonathan (I Sam 31: 2–3) respectively, the house of Saul fled, and five–year–old Meribaal was disabled a result of the chaos (2 Sam 4:4). This brief account not only introduces readers to Meribaal, but it contextualized his disability as an unintended consequence of political turmoil. Meribaal’s disability wasn’t congenital, it was acquired, which is an important detail for understanding Meribaal’s final response to David in chapter nineteen as well as drawing contrast to what the kingdom of God is actually like. But first, let’s pick up with David in chapter nine.

Contextualized by the backdrop of David’s anointing as king of all Israel (2 Sam 5), Jerusalem being named as the capitol (2 Sam 5), the arc being relocated to Jerusalem (2 Sam 6:1–16), Michal’s prophetic rebuke of David’s over–the–top performance (2 Sam 6:20–23), the covenant God makes with David contextualized by heirship and legacy (2 Sam 7:11b–16), we are introduced to David’s “big question” at the beginning of the succession narratives (2 Sam 9:1). In seeking to fulfil the covenant he made with Jonathan in 1 Sam 20 [2], David asks “Is there anyone left in the house of Saul that I can show hesed to for Jonathan’s sake?”

And I think it’s important that we note that David ignores the most obvious answer to that question because it sheds light on the lengths David is willing to go to avoid on of the core attributes of God’s hesed– reconciliation. Who is left in Saul’s house? David’s wife, Michal.[3] Instead, however, David’s advisors seeks out one of Saul’s servants Ziba (9:2), who reveals that there is a descendant of Jonathan who is alive and hiding on the eastern side of the Jordan. David’s court’s retrieves Meribaal (a choice that was devoid of agency or choice given the power dynamic) [4] and delivers him to David (9:5–6) as David for concocts a plan for how he will make a show of showing hesed. At first, David appears to display magnanimity and good–will towards Meribaal as he both reveals the covenant, he made with Meribaal’s father prior to his death, and his decision to return Saul’s lands to Meribaal which has passed into David’s hands as bona vacantia, upon discovering that a member of the former family was alive [5] as fulfillment of this covenant.

Meribaal recognizes his own status as a political enemy through his usage of the phrase “dead dog,” [6] and goes to great lengths to suggest he’s not a threat to David. but ultimately, by no action of his own, Meribaal goes from being the exiled descendant of a deposed king, to an honored citizen, owner of property, and assigned to the kings table with the snap of David’s fingers, and Ziba, Saul’s former servant is similarly elevated in prominence to Meribaal’s servant. [7] Chapter nine closes with a seemingly picture–perfect snapshot of A benevolent king with a wide grin and a thumbs up posed next to a disabled Meribaal flourishing at the king’s lavish table (9:10–13). But this isn’t where the story ends.

      We pickup with Meribaal and Ziba in chapter sixteen, where, in response to Absolom’s conspiratorial revolt in chapter fifteen, David dramatically flees (15:16). Surrounded by chaos and uncertainty, an opportunistic Ziba capitalizes on the situation[8] and attempts to ally himself with the king both by simultaneously proving himself to be useful(16:1–2), and falsely accusing Meribaal of treason(16:3–4); an act which directly incriminated Meribaal with the most serious of offenses, plotting against the king.[9] David responds to Ziba’s accusations by giving that entire rightful inheritance to Ziba, based on a crafty lie, an act that would have been a “flagrant breech of custom, essentially confiscating a paternal estate from its owner and granted it to another in reward for his political aid. Notably, this is the first time that the Bible records the outright confiscation of a paternal estate by the king as a response to unconfirmed charges of treason.”[10]

Because David accepts the guilt of Meribaal on the basis of a false accusation, in the absence of the accused, thus judging the crime without a trial, David violated one of the most important Torah principals to hear and examine every case (Ex 23 1–2; Dt 1, 13, 14, 17). Meribaal’s status is once again upended as he now goes from an honored citizen at the kings table to stripped of his possessions and possibly pursued by the king on account of the severity of the crime he’s been convicted of committing.[11] Ziba however continues his climb up the social ladder, taking everything that was once Meribaal’s and no longer loyal to Saul or Meribaal, has aligned himself squarely with David. It’s important that we connect this portion of Meribaal’s story with the chapter nine pericope, because now we can see that the seemingly perfect picture of flourishing that many attribute to what the kingdom of God is like, has been snatched from Meribaal unjustly by the very person who arranged it, a situation many vulnerable people similarly find themselves in when their usefulness to the people with power is no longer more valuable than what someone else can offer.

By the time we skip ahead to chapter nineteen where Meribaal reappears following the termination of Absolom’s revolt, Ziba was one of the first to accompany David home, reveling in his newly acquired status. A disheveled Meribaal greets David at the gates of Jerusalem (20:24) and in response to David’s inquiry of why Meribaal failed to flee with David, Meribaal tells him that he was intentionally abandoned (20:26) and accuses Ziba of slander (20:27) while saturating his response with courtly etiquette.[12] David responds by altering his prior conviction  against Meribaal, a partial, yet still unjust restoration, and declares that both Ziba and Meribaal will divide the land(20:29). In this declaration, justice for Meribaal is permanently deferred, and we can observe that the lengths he went to avoid reconciliation with Michal directly resulted in a very physical failure to reconcile Meribaal’s rightful land inheritance in full, and according to Jeremy Schipper, the reader can interpret Meribaal’s parting words (20:30)as expressing relief that an unhinged and suspicious David did not immediately opt to eliminate his political enemies upon his return.[13]

Meribaal’s presence in the text ends with Meribaal prophetically petitioning David to leave the land whole, even if Ziba is the permanent caretaker, citing that “the king came back home safely,” an important nod to a fate that he himself did not get to experience as a child who fled violence and was permanently disabled as a result. Already, Meribaal is reflecting upon the situation with kingdom eyes that David doesn’t possess, but make no mistake, there’s no hesed happening here. David’s treatment of Meribaal from his initial exploitation of Meribaal to his final abdication of exercising justice on his behalf reveal a sharp contrast between the operations of the Davidic monarchy within that situation, and our conceptualizations of the kingdom of God based on scripture that cannot go unnamed.

Themes and Observations

In this section we will observe themes within the text and draw specific contrasts. Concerning David’s invocation of the phrase hesed specifically, we must acknowledge that is the alleged motive for the relationship between David & Meribaal, and while scholars like Stoebe argue that it is “not possible to convey precisely hesed’s semantic range… with only one English word,”[14] we can see that David understands how “those bound in a covenant (including the one between him and Jonathan) were committed to the exercising of hesed to the weaker party in the contract.”[15] But because hesed between people is typically practiced in the context of a relationship, it is curious that David does not choose to do it within the existing relationship of Michal. It’s almost as if he wants to gain political goodwill for appearing to show hesed, while rejecting to do so in the way it would have made the most sense. At this point in David’s reign, he’s no stranger to making decisions that benefit him strategically in an effort to gain favor from his subjects. And in a similar way that a hypothetical church public relations department upon noticing a surplus in the budget might decide that a good way to spend the funds in a way that might be mutually beneficial, is to have a disabled or chronically ill family as the picture perfect focal point of their giving campaign, David seeks to capitalize on Meribaal’s vulnerability as Jonathan’s disabled son, and convince him of how this arrangement could be good for both of them. And it’s no surprise that Meribaal’s response is apprehensive and ambiguous. He doesn’t have a choice, after all.

So, when David’s own Psalm 23 is subsequently invoked as support of this very idyllic image of the kingdom of God where inclusion and welcome are kingdom values (and to an extent I agree) it’s important to look at this picture from all sides. Many disability and liberation scholars point to this table as a model of both our eschatological imagination [16], and our conceptualizations of mutually and belonging,[17] after all. But in evoking the imagery of Psalm 23 in the context of 2 Sam 9, we see David not God preparing a feast before his own enemies, one where he holds all the power, and gains all the sympathy points for the tokenization of the disabled enemy he’s flaunting before his court. And as someone who knows this tokenization first hand, I would argue that the kingdom of God contrasts with this picture because in the kingdom of God where the last and least are first, disabled people hold their power and agency at the table, where their voices aren’t merely tokenized, but their dignity is affirmed fully, something David in chapter nine fails to do.  

When observing disability in literature including the biblical text, typically there are two common ableist tropes that authors default to when communicating disability, according to disability justice advocate Amy Julia Becker.[18] On one end of the spectrum, the disabled character is reduced to a tragedy of their circumstances, on the other, a triumph over them. In this story we see both, and it is only when we look outside of those extremes and seek to connect with the fullness of Meribaal’s humanity (a humanity in which he cannot be reduced to his disability) that we can understand both the complexities of this relationship, but also the muddiness of David’s motives. But again, if we don’t keep reading, we’ll think the story ends here when it doesn’t.

Continuing on, Ziba’s capitalization on the chaos of Absolom’s rebellion sheds important light into the realities disabled individuals in the context of political upheaval. Typically, marginalized people experience the effects of violence in compounded ways, and Meribaal’s story is an example of this– the most vulnerable are the first to fall through the cracks and be left behind. Not only is he abandoned and betrayed by his own servant before David violates the Torah in his judgement against him, but he’s also been rejected, stripped of his support system, and robbed of dignity of being belonging to the people who swore to show him covenantal lovingkindness, revealing the shallowness of David’s words. And the injustice of David relegating him from a recognized heir to a traitor of the crown without as much as a hearing, is the exact opposite of how God’s kingdom operates. Because when hesed is real, and our ethic of welcome is selfless rather than self–serving, and we truly value the dignity and belonging of all image bearers, we aren’t quick to prioritize political loyalty over covenantal love, even under stress. In the kingdom of God, image bearers aren’t expendable when they are no longer useful or when their presence is no longer advantageous to the people with power. Belonging isn’t contingent, nor is it rescinded. God doesn’t play a game of cosmic take–back the moment He feels threatened but he proves to be safe, trustworthy, and tenderhearted towards the vulnerable over and over– And it isn’t for show.

By the time Meribaal greets David at the gates, everyone’s true colors and priorities are revealed. Ziba is hungry for power and status. David shows the matter little importance, and Meribaal’s last words, after David’s silencing attempt, is for the land to remain whole. Concerning the land specifically, the fact that David ever recognized the legal right of Saul’s descendant to the family lands underscores the cultural importance of keeping land within the family (see Lev 25,8–55; Dt 25, 5–9; Ruth 4,1–14; 1 Kings 21,3; and many other instances). But I would argue that Meribaal’s petition is not as much about the land itself in the same way that Jonathan’s covenant with David was never about land, but a prophetic rebuke to David that if he leaves the land divided, the covenant between David and Jonathan is as good as broken too. And this covenantal violation foreshadows not only Solomon’s later judgement in 1 Kings 3:16–28, but also of the division of the entire kingdom under Rehoboam.[19]

This overarching theme of covenantal violation and culpable shalom breaking on the part of David paints a picture of a hesedless kingdom for the most vulnerable victims of violence. And the saddest part, is that unless we live in right relationship with the Meribaals of the story and are regularly proximate to them, most of us might never notice. In the same way many of us fail to acknowledge the ableism deeply ingrained in our culture and society, we gawk at the gorgeous table, and forget to look behind when disabled people seeking safety are left behind. And worse, we often speak ill of their need for dependence and insult their inability as if our own perceived independence isn’t its own malady. And just as quickly as we fall for the photo op, forget to notice who we’re leaving behind when chaos calls, too often, like David, we neglect to make it right when that needed reconciliation might involve repenting, repairing, and restoring brokenness.

In closing, it matters that we tell Meribaal’s whole story, not just the pretty part we like to see, because when we talk about living in right relationship with disabled people, imagining a just world, and daydreaming about what the kingdom of God is like for all of us, ultimately, God’s kingdom isn’t the Davidic kingdom “new and improved,” but it’s completely otherworldly. In Matthew’s gospel Jesus talks about inheritance in the context of his own kingdom where the extent that his followers are committed to caring for the vulnerable in their midst is akin to showing God the same love, and I would argue hesed, to God himself (Matt 25:40). By carefully examining all the instances of Meribaal in Second Samuel and piecing together the entire narrative instead of focusing on isolated fragments, we can better envision an accurate picture of how the kingdom of God is good news for those amongst us who intimately understand the shortcomings of earthly kingdoms.

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So, tell me? What stands out? What feels uncomfy? What other lingering questions do you have?

Let’s keep the conversation going in the comments.

As always, thanks for being here and supporting my work. The BEST ways to do that right now are to subscribe to this platform, share this if it resonates, and hang with me over on IG and Threads in between (@lizadaye).

Blessings for the mayday ahead.

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[1] While I recognize that there is significant ongoing debate about the name and renaming of the character we’re discussing, for the purpose and scope of this paper I will be referring to him almost exclusively as Meribaal unless quoting other sources in which he is referred to as Mephibosheth.

[2] 1 Sam 20:14–17 “’While I am still alive, extend to me the hesed of the Lord, or else I will die. Don’t ever cut off your hesed to my family, not even when the Lord has cut off every one of David’s enemies from the face of the earth and called David’s enemies to account.’ So, Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David. Jonathan once again took an oath with David because he loved him. In fact, Jonathan loved him as much as he did his own life.” Importantly, this covenant has nothing to do with land or inheritance, but the hesed of the LORD.

[3] If David chosen to sire an heir through his wife Michal as an act of hesed to fulfill the covenant with Jonathan, that child would have possessed the legal right to the property in question. Additionally, in the absence of an heir, there is precedent that Michal herself could have also petitioned for the legal right to the land. In his refusal to show hesed to her given their complicated history, this perspective shed’s light into David’s potential motives Zafrira Ben–Barak“Meribaal and the System of Land Grants in Ancient Israel.” Biblica, vol. 62, no. 1, 1981, 81––82

[4] The word used “to take” laqach, is the same word later used when David “takes” Bathsheba, another clue that perhaps this relationship should be read with a critical eye towards inescapable power dynamics.

[5] Ben–Barak, “Meribaal and the System of Land Grants in Ancient Israel.,” 84

[6] “The term ‘dead dog’ occurs only three other times in the bible and all within the Deuteronomistic History. In all three cases, it is used in reference to someone who is a political enemy of the king” and in the context of potential usurpation. See Jeremy Schipper “‘Why Do You Still Speak of Your Affairs?’: Polyphony in Mephibosheth’s Exchanges with David in 2 Samuel.” Vetus Testamentum, vol. 54, no. 3, 2004, pp. 347–48

[7] Ben–Barak, “Meribaal and the System of Land Grants in Ancient Israel.” 77

[8] Mauchline, John. 1 and 2 Samuel. (Greenwood, S.C.: Attic Press, 1971.) 242

[9] IBID., 84

[10] IBID., 85

[11] IBID., 87

[12] Jeremy Schipper “‘Why Do You Still Speak of Your Affairs?’: Polyphony in Mephibosheth’s Exchanges with David in 2 Samuel.” Vetus Testamentum, vol. 54, no. 3, 2004, 350

[13] S. Lasine, “Judicial Narratives and the Ethics of Reading: The Reader as Judge of the Dispute Between Mephibosheth and Ziba,” Hebrew Studies 30 (1989), 59–60

[14]  Earnst Jenni, and Claus Westermann, eds. Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson Publishers, 1997) 450

[15] Nelson Glueck, and Gerald A. Larue. Hesed in the Bible. Edited by Elias L. Epstein. Translated by Alfred Gottschalk. Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1967) 23

[16] Amy Kenny My Body Is Not a Prayer Request: Disability Justice in the Church (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Brazos Press, 2022) 222

[17] Ada María Isasi–Díaz, “Kin–dom of God: A Mujerista Proposal,” in In Our Own Voices: Latino/a Renditions of Theology, ed. Benjamin Valentin (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2010), 171–90.

[18] Amy Julia Becker, “Magnified Humanity: Why Disability in Literature Matters” Calvin Festival of Faith and Writing 2024 (Calvin University, Grand Rapids April 13, 2024)

[19] Shabbat. 56. (Jerusalem: Talmudic Press, 2020)