Parshat Devarim6 min read

David Wanted to Build the Temple and God Said No

Nathan told him to do whatever was in his heart. God woke the prophet that night and sent him back with the opposite answer.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. He Fed the Old Sheep the Thickest Grass
  2. The Trees Moved Without Wind
  3. Uzzah Put Out His Hand
  4. Nathan Came Back the Next Morning With a Different Answer
  5. They Quoted the Trees Back at Him
David Wanted to Build the Temple and God Said No Click for full size

He Fed the Old Sheep the Thickest Grass

Before any of it, there was a boy in the sheepfolds who sorted his animals by their teeth.

He took the young goats out first and put them on the tips of the grass, which is soft. Then the lambs, and he gave them the middle of the blade. Then the old sheep, and to those he gave the coarse bottom growth, the heartiest part, because an old ewe can chew what would defeat a kid.

Nobody was watching him do it. He was the youngest son and this was the job nobody wanted.

"He knows how to tend My sheep," God said. "He will tend these sheep of Israel."

The Trees Moved Without Wind

David would not begin anything without asking first, and the Philistines learned it in the Valley of the Giants.

They camped there when they heard he had been made king. He put the question to the high priest, got back that he would win, took his army out, came around behind them and broke them in one charge. They went home and came back with three times the men and pitched on the same ground.

This time the answer was stranger. Take the army into the grove they call the Groves of Weeping, near the enemy camp. Do not move. Do not begin the fight. Wait until the trees of the grove start moving with no wind blowing on them, and when the trees move, go.

So an army stood in a grove in silence, watching branches, waiting for the air to do something impossible.

The trees moved. David went. The Philistine ranks broke on the first shock and he chased them the whole way to Gaza, stripped the camp of a great weight of gold, and destroyed their gods where they stood.

Uzzah Put Out His Hand

Then he went for the Ark.

They brought it out of the house of Aminadab on a new cart and let their own brothers and children walk beside the oxen and draw it. David went in front. The whole nation came behind him with hymns and trumpets and cymbals, dancing on the road.

At the threshing floor of Chidon the oxen shook and the Ark went over on the cart, and Uzzah, who was not a priest, put out his hand to hold it steady. He was dead before it settled. They named the place the Breach of Uzzah and they were still calling it that generations later.

David stopped the procession. If that is what a hand does, he thought, then the thing is not coming into my city, and he turned it aside to the house of a Levite named Obededom and left it there. Three months. In three months a poor man became so rich that people came to look at his house and went away envious.

David heard, took his courage back, and went to get it. Seven companies of singers went in front. He played the harp himself and danced in the street with them.

His wife Michal, Saul's daughter, watched from inside and laughed at him. Later she said it plainly: a king of your size, dancing like that, uncovering yourself in front of the servant girls and the handmaids.

"I am not ashamed to do what is acceptable to God," he told her, "who chose me over your father and over everyone else. I will play again. I will dance again. It does not matter to me what the handmaids think, or what you think."

She had no children by him.

Nathan Came Back the Next Morning With a Different Answer

His own house was cedar, high, worked by the best builders he could pay. The Ark was under a tent he had pitched for it.

He put it to Nathan the prophet, who told him to do whatever was in his mind, since God was with him in everything. David went to bed intending to build.

God came to Nathan that same night and sent him back with the other half of it. The intention was taken kindly. Nobody before him had even thought of building a house for God. But he would not build it, because he had made many wars and was defiled with the slaughter of his enemies. After his death, in old age, at the end of a long life, a son of his would take the kingdom and build the house, and that son would be called Solomon.

David went to the Ark and put his face on the ground. Then he thanked God for it. Not for the Temple. For being lifted out of the sheepfolds, for the throne, for the promise that the throne would hold after him. He sang, and got up, and went about his day.

The son had another name too. They called him Jedidiah, beloved of the Lord, and the word attached itself to everything in that orbit. The house was called beloved. The men who built it were called beloved. Even the tribe whose ground it stood on was called beloved, Benjamin, who dwells in safety, covered all the day, resting between His shoulders. For that house a lyre was made, and every man who gave anything toward it had his name cut into the wood.

They Quoted the Trees Back at Him

Centuries later the Assembly of Israel brought the old campaigns up in an argument.

"You fought our wars for us. It is written, then the Lord went out before you." That verse is the grove. That is the sound in the branches with no wind in them. "And You said You would keep doing it. And now they say, God does not go out with our armies. How long, Lord? Will You forget us forever?"

The answer came back as a question.

"Have I forgotten you? You forgot Me. Have I hidden My face from you? You turned your faces away from the Sanctuary. You gave Me your backs and not your faces. In this world I have hidden My face from you. Not always. They shall see eye to eye when the Lord returns to Zion."

DavidTempleJerusalemArkPsalmsKingsMidrash TehillimMosesSolomonTabernaclePrayerSacrificeLevanonKingshipMekhiltaSifrei
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From the tradition

Sources

4 sources

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.4-5Antiquities 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 never went to war without consulting God first. According to Josephus in Antiquities of the Jews, this was the defining principle of his military career. And when the Philistines came to destroy him at Jerusalem, it was prophecy, not strategy, that won the day.

The Philistines had seized the Valley of the Giants just outside the city. David asked the high priest to inquire of God, received assurance of victory, then attacked from behind and routed them completely. They came back with triple the forces. This time, God gave stranger instructions: wait in the Groves of Weeping near the enemy camp and do not move until the trees begin swaying on their own, without wind. When the trees moved, David struck. The Philistines broke ranks immediately and fled all the way to Gaza.

With his enemies scattered, David turned to something that had been neglected since Saul's reign: the Ark of the Covenant. It had sat in the house of Aminadab at Kirjathjearim, essentially forgotten. David assembled priests, Levites, and the entire nation to bring it to Jerusalem in a massive procession, singers, dancers, trumpets, cymbals, and the king himself playing the harp.

Then disaster struck. At the threshing floor of Chidon, the oxen pulling the cart jolted the Ark. A man named Uzzah reached out to steady it. He died instantly. Josephus explains the reason plainly: Uzzah was not a priest, and the Ark could not be touched by unauthorized hands. God struck him down, and the place was called "the Breach of Uzzah" ever after.

David was terrified. He diverted the Ark to the house of a Levite named Obededom, where it stayed for three months. During that time, Obededom, previously a poor man of low standing, became extraordinarily prosperous. When David heard how the Ark had transformed this man's fortunes, he gathered courage and brought it into Jerusalem at last, this time with priests carrying it properly and seven companies of singers leading the way.

His wife Michal, Saul's daughter, watched from a window as the king danced wildly before the Ark. She laughed at him. David's response was sharp: he was dancing for God, who had chosen him over her father, and he would do it again whenever he pleased. Josephus records that Michal bore no children after this confrontation.

Settled in Jerusalem, David looked at his own palace of cedar and felt convicted. The Ark sat in a tent. He told the prophet Nathan he wanted to build God a proper temple. Nathan initially encouraged him, but that night God appeared to Nathan with a different plan: David had shed too much blood in war to build the house of God. That honor would belong to his son, Solomon. David accepted the verdict with joy, not for what he was denied, but for the promise that his dynasty would endure.

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Midrash Tehillim 13:3Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

The ancient rabbis felt that way too. And they wrestled with that feeling in their interpretations of the Psalms, particularly in Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homiletic interpretations of the Book of Psalms.

Psalm 13 begins with a raw, almost desperate cry: "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?" It's a question that echoes through generations, a question we've all probably whispered at some point. But Midrash Tehillim doesn't just leave us hanging in that despair. It digs deeper.

Rabbi Chanina, in this midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), imagines the people of Israel, the Knesset Israel, turning to God with a complaint. "You fought our battles!" they say. "As it is said, 'For then the Lord went out before you' (2 (Samuel 5:2)4). And we expected you would always do so, as it's written, 'And the Lord will go out and fight against those nations' (Zechariah 14:3)." But now? Now, they lament, it seems that "God will not go forth with our armies" (Psalms 60:12). How long, O Lord, will this be?

Then comes the twist. God's response isn't what they expect. "Have I forgotten you?" God asks. "No," comes the reply, in essence. "You have forgotten me!"

Ouch.

It’s a tough love kind of moment. The Midrash doesn't shy away from it. It quotes (Psalm 106:21): "They forgot their savior God." And it continues, "Have I hidden my face from you? You have hidden your face from me!" The proof texts come thick and fast: "And they turned their faces away from the Sanctuary of the Lord" (2 Chronicles 29:6) and "And they turned their backs, not their faces, to me" (Jeremiah 32:33).

Turning your back on something sacred. Turning away from the source of your strength and comfort. We can all relate to that, can't we? Times when we felt disconnected, distant. Times when, perhaps, we ourselves were the ones who turned away.

But the Midrash doesn't end there. It offers a glimmer of hope. God acknowledges the present reality: "In this world I have hidden my face from you." But then comes the promise: "But in the future… 'For they shall see eye to eye when the Lord returns to Zion' (Isaiah 52:8)."

That phrase, "eye to eye," is so evocative. It suggests a moment of perfect clarity, of complete understanding, of restored connection. It's a future where the perceived distance between us and the Divine dissolves.

So, what does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a reminder that our relationship with the Divine isn’t a one-way street. It requires our attention, our intention, our willingness to face the sacred. And perhaps, in those moments when we feel forgotten, it's worth asking ourselves: who turned away first? But also, it's a reminder that even when we feel distant, the possibility of reconnection, of seeing "eye to eye," always remains.

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Midrash Tehillim 84:2Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

The ancient sages certainly did. And they explored that feeling deeply in their interpretations of scripture, the midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary). to one such exploration from Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homilies on the Book of Psalms.

The passage focuses on the verse, "How beloved are your dwelling places, O Lord of hosts!" (Psalm 84:1). But what is it about those dwelling places that makes them so beloved?

The Midrash Tehillim offers a fascinating answer: it's about connection, contribution, and lasting legacy. It suggests that God, in his infinite wisdom, fashioned a lyre specifically for the Beit HaMikdash, the Temple in Jerusalem. The idea is that anyone who contributed to the Temple's construction or upkeep would have their name inscribed upon this lyre.

The midrash then quotes (Isaiah 66:6), "A voice of uproar from the city, a voice from the Temple!" The sages interpret this as referring to the good deeds performed both within the city and within the Temple itself. Every act of kindness, every offering, every prayer… all contributed to the sacredness of the space and the connection between God and humanity.

That our actions, our contributions, literally resonate within the very fabric of the holy place.

But the love doesn't stop there. According to the midrash, not only is the Temple itself "beloved," but so are those who built it. The text points to (2 (Samuel 12:2)5), which tells us, "And they called his name Jedidiah (beloved of the Lord)." Jedidiah, means "beloved of the Lord" in Hebrew. It's a name that embodies the special connection between the builders and the divine.

And it goes even further! Even those who dwelled near the Temple, within its territory, were considered "beloved." (Deuteronomy 33:12) says, "Of Benjamin he said, 'The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him; he covers him all the day long, and he dwells between his shoulders.'" The tribe of Benjamin, whose territory included Jerusalem, was thus embraced in this circle of divine love.

The midrash concludes by referencing (Psalm 60:7), where David says, "That your beloved may be delivered." So the Temple, its builders, and its inhabitants are all enveloped in God's love and protection.

What does this all mean for us? Perhaps it's a reminder that our actions, no matter how small they may seem, can contribute to something greater than ourselves. That our connection to sacred spaces, whether physical or spiritual, is nurtured through our involvement and our devotion. And that, in turn, we too can become "beloved," part of that enduring legacy of faith and good deeds.

What kind of lyre are we building with our lives? And what name will be inscribed upon it?

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Midrash Tehillim 78:18Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

The story of David, the shepherd who became the king of Israel, is far more complex and inspiring than any simple rags-to-riches story.

The Book of Psalms, traditionally attributed to David himself, resonates with so many because it speaks to the heart of the human experience. And according to Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Psalms, David’s journey from tending flocks to leading a nation was no accident. It was all part of a Divine plan.

“And he built his sanctuary like high palaces.” That's a verse from Psalm 78. Midrash Tehillim connects this verse directly to David’s humble beginnings. when David was just a shepherd, minding his father’s sheep, he sang Psalm 22.

What exactly does it mean that God “chose David his servant and took him from the sheepfolds,” as the verse says? What's the significance of these “sheepfolds?" Rabbi Yehoshua HaKohen (a priest) offers a beautiful interpretation. He explains that David's shepherding wasn't just about keeping the sheep safe; it was about understanding their individual needs.

He would take the young goats and feed them the tender tips of the grass – the easiest to digest. The lambs got the middle part of the grass, and the older, stronger sheep were given the heartiest part. David understood that each creature had different requirements, and he tailored his care accordingly. This wasn't just random feeding. This was compassion in action. This was leadership in miniature.

And that’s where the Divine enters the picture. God saw this, this innate understanding and compassionate nature in David, and declared, “Since he knows how to tend my sheep, he will tend these sheep of Israel.” It’s a powerful moment, echoing the prophecy in (Jeremiah 3:15): “And I will give you shepherds after My own heart, who will feed you with knowledge and understanding."

God recognized in David a leader who would care for his people not with brute force or blind authority, but with empathy and wisdom. David’s ability to discern the needs of his flock foreshadowed his ability to lead and nurture the nation of Israel.

What seemingly small acts of kindness and understanding might be shaping our own destinies? What hidden qualities are being observed, preparing us for roles we can’t even imagine yet? Perhaps, like David, our journey to greatness begins not in palaces or positions of power, but in the quiet, everyday acts of compassion and care.

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