But in all Israel there was none to be so much praised as Absalom for his beauty from the sole of his foot even to the crown of his head there was no blemish in him.
Absalom is back in Jerusalem, and the record pauses to describe him: the handsomest man in Israel, flawless from head to toe. Scripture says little about how people look. So why measure this man only by his surface?
Absalom comes home from exile unchanged. When commentators look for something to praise in him, all they find is a description of his body.
But he is still Absalom; wherever or however we see him, he is himself. His taste remains in him, and his scent is not changed, even though he had now returned from exile. He comes home the same self-willed Absalom, the servant of his own passions and of them only. "Who is lord over us?" is the language of everything he does. Everything that can be said in any way of commendation is, like Saul before him, about his good looks. We have no account of him beyond this of his beauty.
One writer sets Absalom's flawless body next to Isaiah's picture of the inner man.
Absalom's physical appearance was so attractive that he drew the attention of all the people. "From the sole of his foot to the crown of his head there was no blemish in him." Of his body this was true. But Absalom ought to have known that spiritually "from the sole of the foot even to the head, there is no soundness in it, but bruises and sores and raw wounds" (Isa. 1:6). He was evidently proud of the growth of his hair also, since he let it grow for a year before cutting it. Long hair is a glory to a woman, but a shame to a man (1 Cor. 11:14-15). It is meant to signify subjection, but with Absalom this was only hypocrisy.
Beauty is not evil in itself. But in a man who has drifted from God, it turns dangerous.
At this point we are told of the great beauty of Absalom. It is one of the miseries of a soul away from God that every natural gift becomes evil instead of good. Among these gifts, none is more ensnaring than personal beauty. Simply because it is external, it is the thing most surely appreciated both by its owner and by those around him. Even against our better judgment, it is hard to believe that this fair exterior does not truly represent the soul within.
The praise itself did damage.
Absalom was a remarkably handsome man. We can well understand such a handsome boy and young man being greatly spoiled by such praises.
Israel had already taken one king chiefly for his looks. The same instinct stirs again here.
Next the Spirit of God gives us the description of the person of Absalom. There was everything to attract the eye. There was everything to meet the natural desires of anyone who would want the best-looking man in Israel to be king. Nature had worked this way before in the choice of Saul. It worked the same way again with Absalom.
Some writers see the portrait pointing forward, to a ruler still to come.
Surely both of them are pictures of the beast, the wilful king of the last days. And will he not be decked out with the same beauty in the flesh? Will he not have his gifts and fine proportions all to admiration? Will he not be perfect in every subtle attraction and form of beauty, like the serpent in the garden?
Absalom's looks were the asset he used. But they only worked at a distance.
Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel. He came in by flatteries and took over David's place in their thoughts and affections. He was a good-looking man, well suited to captivate the crowd. But his beauty and his flattery had no effect on those who were close to David. When the messenger came saying, "The hearts of the men of Israel are after Absalom," it became clear who was for David.
In the Song of Songs the bride reaches for a word Absalom could never earn.
Natural beauty may be found in someone in whom violence and corruption are most pronounced, as we read of Absalom. In the Beloved there was more than the absence of blemishes — He is altogether lovely.
- Surface. "No blemish" describes his skin, not his soul. Isaiah 1:6 uses the same head-to-foot sweep for a body with no soundness in it.
- Snare. Away from God, a natural gift turns against its owner. Beauty most of all, because both its owner and everyone around him prize it.
- Spoiled. Praise spoiled the handsome boy. His long hair should have meant subjection; in him it was hypocrisy.
- Sway. Looks and flattery won the crowd. They had no power over the men who stood near David, and that showed who truly belonged to him.
- Standard. Absalom had no blemish; only the Beloved is altogether lovely. Having no faults is not the same as being lovely.
And when he shaved his head (for it was at every year's end that he shaved it, because it was heavy on him, therefore he shaved it), he weighed the hair of his head at two hundred shekels after the king's weight.
Between the note on Absalom's flawless looks and the list of his children sits a strange piece of bookkeeping. A young man cut his hair once a year and weighed the clippings. The commentators read this small detail as a window into the man who would soon try to take his father's throne.
One writer reads the yearly weighing as visible proof of what beauty was doing to Absalom:
Here we are told of Absalom's great beauty. It is one of the miseries of a soul away from God that every natural gift becomes evil instead of good. Among these gifts, none is more ensnaring than personal beauty. Being purely external, it is the thing most surely appreciated both by the one who has it and by those around him. Even against our better judgment, it is hard to believe that a fair exterior does not truly represent the soul within. Absalom was certainly conscious of his power in this respect — who that has it is not? His vanity shows in the long allowed growth and the weight of his thick hair.
The verse measures the hair "by the king's weight." That phrase names one of two shekels used in the Old Testament:
Note that two shekels are mentioned in the Old Testament. One is according to "the king's weight," probably the standard shekel used for all ordinary business. The other is called the "shekel of the sanctuary," of which it is said, "the shekel is 20 gerahs." This perhaps implies that the common shekel was different. Michaelis says that the proportion was 5 to 3, the business shekel being the smaller.
The weighing itself is the point. One writer links the yearly ritual to what long hair was meant to say about a man:
He was evidently proud of the growth of his hair too, for he let it grow a year before cutting it. Long hair is a glory to a woman but a shame to a man (1 Cor. 11:14-15). It is meant to signify subjection, but with Absalom this was only hypocrisy. He was so proud of its luxuriant growth that he weighed it when he cut it! Its weight came to about five and a half pounds. Philippians 3:19 speaks of such people, those who "glory in their shame."
Commentators differ over the number itself. The Hebrew letters for twenty and two hundred look alike, so one writer reads the figure as twenty and treats two hundred as a copyist's slip (Arno Clemens Gaebelein).
The hair and the flawless body are all the record gives us to praise:
He comes home the wilful Absalom still, the servant of his own passions and of them only. "Who is lord over us?" is the language of everything he does. His tongue was his own. "No God," he says in his heart continually. Everything that can be said in any way of commendation is, like Saul before him, about his good looks in the flesh. We have no account of him beyond this of his beauty.
The description explains Absalom's pull on the nation. It also repeats an older mistake, the choice of Saul:
Next the Spirit of God gives us the description of the person of Absalom. There was everything to attract the eye. There was everything to meet the natural desires of anyone who would want the best-looking man in Israel to be king. Nature had done its work earlier in the choice of Saul. It was repeated again with Absalom.
The hair he weighed and admired appears once more in the story — hanging in a tree:
He hangs in the tree, another Lot's wife to be kept in constant remembrance. He had taken and set up for himself a pillar in the king's valley and called it by his own name, because he had no son to keep his memory alive on earth. But the Lord was now giving him another and a very different memorial — a memorial of shame, not glory. His body was thrown into a pit in the forest, and a great heap of stones was piled on him. All his glory was tarnished. He was hanged by the hair of his head, which had been his boast in the flesh. Instead of a pillar to his own name, he is made a pillar to us — a witness to the shame and ruin of turning away from God.
- The gift. Beauty was a real gift, but in a soul away from God every natural gift turns evil instead of good.
- The weighing. He cut his hair each year and put it on the scales. That is vanity made measurable — glory placed in what should have marked subjection.
- The standard. "The king's weight" was the everyday business shekel, not the sanctuary shekel. Absalom used a merchant's scale on himself.
- The record. Beyond his looks, Scripture has nothing to commend in him — a man whose tongue was his own and who said in his heart, "No God."
- The end. The hair he boasted in hanged him, and the pillar he raised to his own name is now a memorial of shame instead of glory.