Music and lyrics by Katy Pratt
Written for the “Sinners & Saints” sermon series
There are two “Tamars” that we know of in the Old Testament. Tamar & Judah in Genesis 38 and Tamar, King David’s daughter, in 2 Samuel 13. This song was written with the latter Tamar in mind, but the Tamar in Genesis is technically Tamar’s great-great-great-grandmother, so they are both a part of the same family tree! :)
In Hebrew, the name Tamar means “date palm tree,” “sweet,” “at ease.” The meaning of “palm tree” in Hebrew means “victory; triumph,” “peace; eternal life.” Palm trees were an important symbol in Jewish culture, and we remember too that Jesus was welcomed into Jerusalem before He was crucified with the people waving palm branches and shouting, “Hosana!” Both of the women in Genesis 38 and 2 Samuel 13 carried those meanings with them in their name.
In Genesis 38, Tamar’s story reflects one of a lot of waiting. And waiting. And more waiting. Until she did not want to wait anymore and took matters into her own hands. In 2 Samuel 13, Tamar’s story reflects one of defilement and then in turn, she also entered a life of desolation and waiting.
In 2 Samuel 13, Tamar was deceived and violated by her half-brother Amnon. After this violation, Scripture says he was filled with anger towards her, and he had her literally thrown out of his tent. Tamar asks a question before Amnon’s abuse, and while it was directed towards Amnon, maybe part of it was a rhetorical question in the face of the violation she was about to endure. Her question in verse 13 asks, “What about me? Where could I get rid of my disgrace?” This question stuck out to me because how often, at the precipice of or in the wake of sin, do we ask this rhetorical question “Where can I go to take this shame?”
Scripture tells us that Tamar lived the rest of her days as a desolate woman in the house of her brother Absalom (2 Samuel 13:20). In chapter 13 of Thom Gardner’s book “Healing the Wounded Heart,” Thom helps us understand Tamar’s story and what she must have felt. She considered herself desolate and ruined. In her desolation she felt empty and alone, and I venture to believe that she felt unseen (see 2 Samuel 13:21-14 about King David’s response). Believing that she was ruined, Thom shares that she felt “no longer pure in her own estimation. She was unfit for normal human relationships.” She was broken, asking the question, “where can I go to take this shame?”
In the Psalm 32:7, David wrote, “You are my hiding place; You will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.” Shame usually makes us want to hide ourselves—or, at the very least, it makes us attempt to stuff the shame down, hide it away, and even live life in denial of the shame that may be holding on to us. The answer to Tamar’s question about where to go to take our shame is the safety of the true Hiding Place.
As I meditated on this story, I thought of Jesus. “Where did You go to take my shame?” He went to the cross. He died, hanging on a tree, to save our Family Tree. “Palms traded for thorns”—the palm tree symbol of victory and triumph just days before was replaced with a disgraceful and painful crown of thorns. He experienced the weight of all desolation, all disgrace, all sin. He died to be our Hiding Place.
I love the show “The Chosen,” and my favorite episode is the very first one where Jesus heals Mary Magdalene and calls her by her true name. Jesus calls us by name, our true selves, and draws us out of desolation, takes our shame to the cross, and is always our Hiding Place so that we do not need to hide ourselves away. I wonder if both Tamar in Genesis 38 and Tamar in 2 Samuel 13 yearned for that Hiding Place in the midst of their waiting, their pain, the shame they carried, and to be called their true name: “at ease, victory, triumphant.”