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David Died With Unfinished Business and Left It to Solomon

Joab had shown the officers the letter that killed Uriah, and it was in David's own hand. That is the debt the old king handed his son.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Letter Joab Kept
  2. Do Not Let His Gray Head Go Down in Peace
  3. The Oath That Was David's and Not Solomon's
  4. The Other Side of the Ledger
  5. Solomon Settled the Accounts in His First Year

They piled clothes on him and he stayed cold. They found Abishag of Shunem to lie against him and he stayed cold. David was seventy years old and going, and he sent for Solomon, and what he had to say came in two halves. The first half was the covenant. Be strong. Be a man. Keep what God gave you, walk in his ways, hold to the commandments written in the Torah of Moses, and the throne stays in this family for as long as there is a family. The second half was unfinished business, and it came as a list of names.

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The Letter Joab Kept

The first name was Joab, who had run David's wars for thirty years and killed the people David could not be seen killing.

He had killed two men in peacetime. Abner came in under terms and Joab took him aside in the gateway and put a knife in his belly. Amasa came out to meet the army and Joab took his beard in his right hand as if to kiss him and opened him up with the sword in his left. Both of them died on David's own peace, and the blood went onto David's belt and into his sandals, and no one arrested anybody.

Then Uriah the Hittite died at the wall of Rabbah, and the generals came to Joab in a body, because they had counted the dead and the arithmetic pointed at their commander. They wanted to know why he had put a man that far forward and then pulled the line back. Joab did not argue. He produced a letter and let them read it. It was the king's order, in the king's hand, carried to the front by Uriah himself.

David's word for all of it, at the end, was that Joab had been too strong for him. He had never been able to reach him, and he was not going to reach him now.

Do Not Let His Gray Head Go Down in Peace

"You are a wise man," David told his son. "You know what to do. Do not let his gray head go down to the grave in peace."

He had chosen every word. He did not say kill him. He said do not let him die easy, and he said it to a man who would understand the difference, and then he moved to the next name on the list. There was a reasoning under it he did not bother explaining to Solomon: he could have forgiven Joab and let the account stand open into the next world, and he preferred that Joab pay here, where the payment ends.

The Oath That Was David's and Not Solomon's

The second name was Shimei son of Gera, a Benjaminite out of the house of Saul, who had come down the ridge above the road to Mahanaim while David was running from his own son, and walked along above him throwing stones and kicking dust down on the column, shouting that David was a man of blood and God was collecting. Abishai asked permission to go up and take his head off. David said leave him.

When the rebellion broke and David came back over the Jordan, Shimei was waiting at the ford. He threw himself flat and begged. Abishai asked again. David swore to him by God that he would not die by the sword, and he never touched him, and he kept that oath for the rest of his life.

"You know what he did to me," he told Solomon. "He cursed me with a grievous curse. Do not hold him innocent. Bring his gray head down to the grave with blood."

The oath had been sworn by David. Solomon had sworn nothing.

The Other Side of the Ledger

Not every name was a debt owed to him. Barzillai the Gileadite had come to Mahanaim while David was in the field with no supplies, no baggage, and no certainty of a throne to go back to, and had brought him beds and wheat and honey and cheese and fed the whole company at his own cost, when there was nothing whatever to gain by it. "Show kindness to his sons. Let them eat at your table. We did not do him a favor first. We are paying back what we owe his father."

Then he stopped talking, and died, having reigned seven years and six months in Hebron and thirty-three years in Jerusalem.

Solomon Settled the Accounts in His First Year

Joab heard what was coming and ran for the Tabernacle. He got both hands on the horns of the altar and refused to let go. Solomon sent Benaiah, who stood over him and told him to come out, and Joab said he would die where he was. Benaiah went back for instructions and came back with them and killed him holding the altar.

Shimei was given a house in Jerusalem and one rule: cross the Kidron Valley and you die that day. He agreed. He lived quietly for three years. Then two of his slaves ran off to Gath and he saddled a donkey and went to fetch them, and came home with his property, and Solomon called him in and had him killed that afternoon.

David went into the ground under Jerusalem with more wealth than any king of that country had ever buried. A thousand and three hundred years later the high priest Hyrcanus, besieged by Antiochus and needing to buy an army off his walls, opened one room of the tomb and carried out three thousand talents, and the siege lifted. Herod opened a different room later and took what was in it. Neither of them found the kings. The bodies had been laid under the floor so carefully that a man could stand inside the sepulchre with a lamp, with his hands full of David's silver, and never know where David was.


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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Antiquities VII.15Antiquities of the Jews (Josephus)

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Antiquities of the Jews, trans. William Whiston · Public Domain

David knew he was dying. Cold had settled into his bones so deeply that no amount of clothing could warm him. So he summoned Solomon and gave him the kind of deathbed speech that kings give, part blessing, part warning, part hit list.

"I am going to my grave," David told his son, "and to my fathers, which is the common way all men must go, from which it is no longer possible to return." There is something raw in how Josephus records it. No euphemisms. No gentle metaphors. Just a dying old warrior staring at the end.

The charge itself was twofold. First, the high road: be righteous toward your subjects and religious toward God. Keep the commandments that Moses delivered. Do not let any passion or favoritism lead you to disregard the Torah. If you obey, the kingdom stays with our family forever. If you disobey, you lose God's favor in everything.

Then came the low road, the unfinished business David was too old or too politically constrained to handle himself. Joab, the army commander, had murdered two righteous generals, Abner son of Ner and Amasa son of Jether, out of pure jealousy. David admitted outright that Joab "hath been too hard for me, and more potent than myself, and so hath escaped punishment hitherto." He left the method to Solomon's judgment.

He also gave instructions about two others. Barzillai's son deserved honor and generous treatment, a debt of gratitude for his father's loyalty during David's flight from Absalom. And Shimei son of Gera, who had cursed David and thrown stones during that same flight? David had sworn not to kill him. He told Solomon to "seek out some just occasion, and punish him." The oath was technically kept. The intent was unmistakable.

David died at seventy. He had reigned seven and a half years in Hebron over Judah, then thirty-three years in Jerusalem over all Israel. Josephus's eulogy is among the most generous in the Antiquities: a man of extraordinary valor who led from the front, never commanding others into danger he would not face himself. Prudent, moderate, merciful to the suffering. Righteous and humane. Guilty of only one crime in his entire reign, the matter of Uriah's wife (2 Samuel 11).

He was buried in Jerusalem with immense wealth sealed inside the tomb. How immense? Josephus offers proof: thirteen hundred years later, the high priest Hyrcanus, besieged by the Seleucid king Antiochus, opened one chamber of David's sepulcher and pulled out three thousand talents, enough to buy off an army. Later still, Herod the Great opened another chamber and took even more. But neither man ever reached the actual coffins. The bodies of the kings lay buried so deep and so cleverly that even those who entered the tombs could not find them.

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Legends of the Jews 5:6Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Sometimes, there's a little unfinished business to take care of. And in the case of King Solomon, that unfinished business came in the form of his father, David’s, final instructions.

Being Solomon, inheriting not just a kingdom, but a to-do list from beyond the grave. And right at the top of that list? Dealing with Joab.

Joab wasn't just some random guy. He was David's right-hand man, his top general. According to some accounts, he even had the intellect to head up the Academy, the bet midrash (house of study), a place of Torah scholarship! He had all the qualities needed to lead in ancient Israel. But here's the thing: even the most capable people can make some serious mistakes.

Joab? Well, he'd made a few doozies.

We're not just talking about a little white lie or a missed deadline. We're talking about murder. Two murders, actually: Abner and Amasa. The blood was on his hands. But according to the biblical narrative, that wasn't all. He was also suspected of arranging the death of Uriah the Hittite, and even worse, he used David's own letter – the one that sealed Uriah's fate – to cover his tracks! for a second. Betrayal on multiple levels.

Now, you might be thinking, why didn't David just deal with Joab himself? Why leave it to Solomon? The text hints that David may have considered forgiving Joab. But, and this is key, David wanted Joab to atone for his sins in this world. Why? So that Joab might be spared punishment in the world to come. A fascinating concept. That earthly consequences could somehow lighten the spiritual load in the afterlife. We see that concept echoed in the Talmud.

So, Solomon, fresh on the throne, had a heavy task before him. He had to balance justice, mercy, and the wishes of his late father. It was a test of his wisdom, right from the start. What would you do?

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Kohelet Rabbah 9:1Kohelet Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

It’s a thought that runs through the heart of Ecclesiastes, that most enigmatic of biblical books. And it pops up especially vividly in the verse from (Ecclesiastes 2:9): “I grew great, and increased more than all who were before me in Jerusalem; my wisdom, too, was sustained in me.”

Who is the speaker here? Well, tradition tells us it's King Solomon himself, the wisest of all men. But Kohelet Rabbah, a fascinating collection of rabbinic interpretations of Ecclesiastes, latches onto that idea of surpassing those who came before. It asks a pretty direct question: "Who was before him in Jerusalem? Was it not David his father?"

The Rabbis then dive into a clever little thought experiment. They introduce a concept: "a maneh son of a half-maneh." Now, a maneh was a unit of currency, a hundred dinars. So, what does this mean metaphorically? It refers, the Rabbis say, to a great person whose father was... unremarkable. Someone who rose to prominence despite their parentage.

Who fits this bill? The text gives us a few examples. On, son of Pelet; Balak the son of Beor; and even Hezekiah, son of Ahaz. These were figures who, in their own ways, exceeded the expectations set by their fathers. The text even throws in Bilam, a non-Israelite prophet, into the mix. (The text notes, "the son of Tzipor" when referring to On, son of Pelet.)

But then, Kohelet Rabbah pivots. It introduces another category: "a maneh son of a maneh." Someone great, who also had a great father. Here, we find Ira, the son of Ikesh (one of David's warriors!), and, crucially, Solomon himself. So, in this reading, Solomon isn't necessarily better than his father, David. He's just... equally great, continuing the legacy.

What about that second part of the verse? "My wisdom, too, was sustained in me." Here, Rabbi Aha offers a poignant interpretation. Solomon, reflecting on his life, says that all the Torah he learned in his adulthood kind of... dissipated. Faded away. But the Torah he learned in his youth? That remained with him.

Isn’t that a powerful idea? That the foundations we build early in life, the lessons we absorb when we're young, are the ones that truly stay with us? It’s a reminder to value those formative years, to cherish the knowledge we gain when our minds are most open and receptive.

So, what does this all mean? Perhaps Kohelet Rabbah is inviting us to consider the complexities of legacy. Are we destined to be defined by our parents? Or do we have the potential to forge our own path, to surpass expectations? Maybe, just maybe, the greatest wisdom lies in recognizing the value of both: the foundations laid by those who came before, and the unique contributions we make ourselves.

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