Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

People often ask: “Was David gay?” The question is simple, but the answer is unfortunately complex.

Before examining this question, I wish to make some preliminary remarks about the nature of hermeneutic interpretation as an enterprise of human thought. The comments below are selected from my new book, “Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation (Genesis 1-3).” The issues we shall soon examine have great relevance for how we approach any biblical passage. In the interest of brevity, I have left out some of the longer footnotes so we can focus primarily on the text that is before us.

• With all the literature that has been written on Genesis, this commentary was written utilizing two fundamental interpretive sets of guidelines: exegesis and eisegesis.[1] Exegesis involves a process by which one draws out a meaning or meanings from a text. In contrast to exegesis, the process of eisegesis is a way of reading or imposing a pre-existing interpretation onto the text, especially whenever it supports a predetermined position,[2] custom, or conclusion.[3] To borrow a famous analogy from R. Yaakob Kranz[4] (1741-1804), the process of eisegesis is analogous to a person shooting a bull’s-eye. One way involves using skill to hit the center of the target. The other method involves shooting at a random target and then painting concentric circles around wherever the arrow lands. For this reason, eisegetes are often criticized because they sacrifice objectivity for the sake of subjectivity. One could argue that if there is such a thing as an “objective truth” and an objective standard of right and wrong given by the Tanakh, then eisegesis and subjectivism must be marginalized in favor of exegesis.

• Although eisegesis may seem arbitrary because of its inherent subjectivity, it does permit readers to situate themselves within the text, allowing for certain moral and practical lessons to be deduced and applied. No sermon would ever have the power to inspire a faith community if it did not convey a strong eisegetic message. Eisegesis allows for the text to remain practical and relevant.[5] If the Torah is truly as its name implies—a book of spiritual “instruction”—then its message must transcend the original context of its historicity to reveal a pathway for readers of every generation to experience the Divine. Unlike an exegetical approach, eisegesis allows the text to speak to new situations, thus acknowledging that the sacred text is polyvalent. It behooves a modern interpreter to integrate both exegetic and eisegetic approaches. Any new conceptual applications ought to find its grounding in an exegetical way within the text, i.e., its historical context, language and cultural background, rabbinic models of interpretation, and so on. Albeit such a concept may not be explicitly expressed, nevertheless, its meaning is certainly intimated by the text’s more subtle nuances.

• One might well argue that the distinction between these two categories is not as great as it may seem, since texts are inevitably read in the light of the reader’s beliefs system. Indeed all exegesis involves a certain degree of eisegesis, then paradoxically—exegesis is eisegesis . . . [6]

Thus far, we have tried to demonstrate the importance of reading the Scriptures through our unique interpretive lenses. The dialogical relationship each of us has with the Bible will yield different results and will produce a different kind of interpretive understanding of a text. In simple terms, we all want someone in the Bible we can identify with.

Our original question about David and Jonathan’s love has intrigued me ever since I taught the book of Samuel in the yeshiva. There is a famous quote from Oscar Wilde, who describes David’s love for Jonathan as, “the love that dare not speak its name.” This phrase comes actually from Lord Alfred Douglas in his poem, “Two Loaves.”

To begin with, it is impossible for a contemporary reader to logically answer this question. The reader inevitably cannot be completely impartial because each individual approaches a text with a certain bias and predisposition to begin with. Those individuals who view homosexuality as an “abomination,” would never think to impute such behavior to someone as beloved as David. Gay theologians and interpreters approach the same biblical text with a special “hermeneutic of suspicion.” For them, there is a possible hidden message that must be extracted from the biblical narratives.

Some scriptural support for this theory derives from a number of passages pertaining to David’s great love of Jonathan. Part of this theory is also based on the idea that soldiers in times of war often developed erotic love for one another, which was especially the case in Greek society, where homosexual love was openly accepted. However in ancient Israel, homosexual love was never something Israelites would openly talk about because of the traditional stigmas associated with homosexuality. In light of this, the biblical narrators were careful to suppress the details of their relationship.

Given what we now understand about psychology, there seems to be a credible case for suggesting that David may have been bisexual in nature.

Consider the verses in question:

I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan;

greatly beloved were you to me;

your love to me was wonderful,

surpassing the love of women.

2 Sam. 1:26

Centuries before the term “homosexuality” even existed in the ancient lexicons of Israel, the phrase “surpassing the love of women,” could easily be understood euphemistically as a love between men. Another biblical passage might also be a source for this conjecture:

• Then Jonathan made a covenant with David, because he loved him as his own soul. ⁴ Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that he was wearing, and gave it to David, and his armor, and even his sword and his bow and his belt (1 Sam. 18:3-4).

Saul’s violent behavior toward his son Jonathan is reminiscent of how “straight” fathers react when they discover that their sons are “gay.” When I was working on my doctorate, many of the gay participants in our collegiate group related similar experiences once they told their fathers that they were homosexual. After Saul learns that Jonathan acquiesced to David’s request to excuse himself from the New Moon meal, Saul explodes with anger:

• Then Saul’s anger was kindled against Jonathan. He said to him, “You son of a perverse, rebellious woman! Do I not know that you have chosen the son of Jesse to your own shame, and to the shame of your mother’s nakedness? ³¹ For as long as the son of Jesse lives upon the earth, neither you nor your kingdom shall be established. Now send and bring him to me, for he shall surely die.” (1 Samuel 20:30-31).

The perspective of the gay theologians and other advocates of this position can yield this type of understanding, but the reader should be aware that eisegetical readings offer merely one way of looking at the text. Evangelical and Orthodox approaches have every right to view the text differently—ultimately, the interpretive process says more about us than it does about the scriptural text.

Regardless how one parses the text, one thing is clear: David’s personal life never gets over the death of his friend Jonathan. David becomes an emotional wreck and his relationship with the women in his life suffers immeasurably because of his loss of Jonathan.

[1] The term exegesis comes from the Greek ἐξαγεσθαι ex (“from”) and hēgeisthai, (“to lead out” or “to interpret”) while the etymology of eisegesis derives from the Greek εἰσαγεσθαι (ei=“in”) and geisthai “to lead in”).

[2] The Sages referred to this process as אסמכתא (asmachta = “a Scriptural support”) and utilized אסמכתא as a means of deriving meaning and support for any given rabbinic viewpoint. See R. Yosef Zevin’s Talmudic Encyclopedia Vol. 2, s.v. אסמכתא, 105-107.

[3] As a result, exegesis tends to be objective when employed effectively, while eisegesis is regarded as highly subjective. One who practices eisegesis is known as an eisegete; someone who practices exegesis is known as n exegete. The term eisegete is often used in a derogative fashion by religious academics.

[4] R. Yaakob Kranz is better known as the “Dubna Maggid.”

[5] Like the Bible and Talmud, the text of the American Constitution rivals these Judaic classics in terms of the sheer number of commentaries and interpretations that have been written on it. The debate among bible scholars concerning exegesis and eisegesis has an interesting parallel with respect to how modern scholars interpret constitutional law. Both these great works require methodical interpretation and re-interpretation. Painstaking detail is devoted to examining the phraseology and context of both texts: an awareness of past interpretations a prerequisite for deciding new cases of law. When reexamining the issues posed by the text, scholars of both disciplines must show a willingness to ask new questions of old codes. Religious scholars—Jewish, Catholic, Liberal Protestant, or Biblical fundamentalists—frequently debate the “original intent” of the biblical writers in much the same fashion. For an excellent study from a theological perspective on this important subject, see Jaroslav Pelikan’s Interpreting the Bible and the Constitution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004). Legal scholar James A. Whitson writes, “According to O. Holmes, textual language does speak its own conventional meaning, which can and should be interpreted without any special regard for the author’s subjective consciousness^, For Holmes, it is only the autonomous meaning of textual language that can be objective, and it is to the appeal of authorial consciousness which leads to interpretive subjectivism” (Constitution and Curriculum: Hermeneutical Semiotics of Cases and Controversies in Education, Law and Social Sciences [London: Taylor and Francis, 1991], 145. (See Oliver Wendell Holmes, “The Theory of Legal Interpretation”, Harvard Law Review, Vol. 12 (1899), 417-420.

[6] Michael Leo Samuel, “Birth and Rebirth Through Genesis: A Timeless Theological Conversation (Genesis 1-3)” (Tamarac, FL: Aeon Publishing, 2010), 41-42.