After David gives his kingdom and his plans for the בית המקדש to Shlomo, he passes on. We don’t have any details of his death.
דברי הימים expands a bit on this.
The gemara explains that דברי שמואל הראה ועל דברי נתן הנביא ועל דברי גד החזה refers to the ספר שמואל that is extant today.
Presumably more prosaic histories existed:
But all we have today are the ספרי הקודש.
The gemara fills in some details of David’s death, aggadically:
David knows he is going to die if he is distracted. Why would he be so intrigued by the rustling trees that he would take the chance to go look? Rabbi Shlomo Ezagui (King David and the Angel of Death) makes an interesting connection. There is one episode in ספר שמואל where David hears rustling tree tops: at the very beginning of his reign, in his war of independence against the Philistines:
The aggadah looks at the dialectic in David’s life, between David the warrior and David the scholar. When he loses focus on what is truly important and goes back for a moment to his “glory days” as the David of (שמואל א יח:ז) הִכָּה שָׁאוּל בַּאֲלָפָו, וְדָוִד בְּרִבְבֹתָיו, at that moment his life is over.
So the Bavli says that David died on Shabbat. The Yerushalmi has a different opinion:
The context of that is proving that חג שבועות has תשלומין, that one can offer the קרבנות of יום טוב during the week after, if they weren’t brought on יום טוב itself. The text, describing the coronation of Shlomo, says, (דברי הימים א כט:כא): וַיִּזְבְּחוּ לַה׳ זְבָחִים וַיַּעֲלוּ עֹלוֹת לַה׳ לְמׇחֳרַת הַיּוֹם הַהוּא. Why למחרת? אמר רבי יוסי בירבי בון: דוד מת בעצרת, והיו כל ישראל אוננין והקריבו למחר. The Yerushalmi doesn’t prove that David died on שבועות; רבי יוסי בירבי בון simply cites a tradition. But that doesn’t inherently contradict the Bavli:
Which can never happen in our current calendar, but is possible if ראש חודש is determined by בית דין. Nonetheless, Tosfot points out that the Yerushalmi cannot hold that David died on Shabbat:
So we have an aggadic מחלוקת between the Bavli and the Yerushalmi. We need to take aggadot seriously, but what does this mean? I think the question is how do we remember King David: do we associate him with Shavuot or with Shabbat? What would that mean?
Shavuot in the Torah is not זמן מתן תורתינו but חג הקציר:
The Chasam Sofer explains why Shavuot does not have a חול המועד:
Every יום טוב has a mitzvah for חול המועד: חמץ or סוכה. The mitzvah for “חול המועד” of שבועות is לקט ופיאה, the gifts to the poor. And so there is no איסור מלאכה as there would be on a real חול המועד. Shavuot is a יום טוב of בין אדם לחבירו.
Shabbat is different. Shabbat is בין אדם למקום.
And it is interesting that both are mentioned as the day that the Torah was given:
But they are different. On שבת we celebrate our relationship with הקב״ה through the Torah. The celebration of מתן תורה of Shavuot is specifically with others:
So the two talmuds present us with a choice of eulogies. Looking back on the life of David, do we see him (and his relationship with Torah) as שבת or שבועות: do we remember his relationship with הקב״ה or with כנסת ישראל? The answer, of course, is: yes.
We can’t talk about facing death, the concept that the universe will continue to exist without us, without talking about Heidegger. An important part of his philosophy was the idea of Sein-zum-Tode, ”Being-toward-Death“, that we spend out lives getting closer to not being alive, and we need vorlaufende Entschlossenheit translated as (George Pattison, Heidegger on Death: A Critical Theological Essay) a “resolute[ly] running ahead toward death”, being aware of it and facing that fact squarely on. In fact, we can only look at what a life means when we can look back on it after it ends and we can look at it as a whole.
Heidegger has his own answer, but the question isn’t new. ספר קהלת is all about dealing with this, and how to avoid nihilism (nothing matters) in the face of death. ספר תהילים sometimes deals with this:
And the answer is that ה׳ is eternal , and our connection to ה׳ gives our finite lives meaning:
Let’s look at that perek.
It starts with a call to the נפש:
There are two perakim that start with ברכי נפשי את ה׳, “O my soul, praise G-d”. The one we are more familiar with is תהילים פרק קד, which we recite on Rosh Chodesh:
That perek is a celebration of creation, and of Man’s role in the world as a creator as well:
We looked at that perek in High Technology. Our perek, תהילים קג, is about the relationship of G-d to human beings.
In a sense, these two perakim reflect the two descriptions of creation in ספר בראשית. Rav Soloveitchik, in The Lonely Man of Faith, calls the two “Adam the first” and “Adam the second”. “Adam the first” is the אדם of פרק א:
His role is to conquer. He is what Rav Soloveitchik calls “majestic man”.
“Adam the second” is the אדם of פרק ב:
His role is to serve, and to do that with others. Rav Soloveitchik calls him “covenantal man”.
Part of the difference is how the two view community.
And he cites קוהלת:
Covenental man is different.
And so נפש means different things, and saying ברכי נפשי את ה׳ has very different implications.
To Adam the first, human existence is just an epiphenomenon of biology and biology is just an epiphenomenon of physics.
If Adam the first addresses his own נפש, his personified existence, as in תהילים פרק קד, it is just a metaphor. And if that נפש ends, it’s just part of the natural world.
Death for Adam the second is different.
With that introduction, let’s look at תהילים פרק קג.
There are five verses directly addressing נפשי, realizing that we are imperfect and mortal, and it is only through ה׳'s חסד that our existence has meaning.
The simile of כנשר is interesting. Rashi says it’s just an image of molting and rejuvenating, but there is a deeper midrash.
It is the legend of the phoenix.
Rabbi Slifkin says the tenor of the metaphor is the Jewish people as a whole:
But here it is the individual, by the grace of G-d, overcomes death, whether literally through תחיית המתים or as part of Soloveitchik’s covenantal faith community.
The perek then describes ה׳'s חסד.
The story of Adam the second is the story of sin and punishment, the חטא עץ הדעת. How can an imperfect human being exist in the face of infinite divine perfection? The answer is, in this perek, ה׳'s forgiveness. רחום וחנון ה׳; ארך אפים ורב חסד. When the psalmist says יודיע דרכיו למשה, he is talking about the שלש עשרה מידות.
But that forgiveness requires work on our part. יודיע דרכיו למשה; לבני ישראל עלילותיו refers to us following in דרכי ה׳.
The psalmist continues on this theme, that our existence is proof of ה׳'s רחמים:
Death does not mean that life is meaningless, when our lives are part of חסד ה׳ מעולם ועד עולם.
And therefore, ברכי נפשי את ה׳, my life force praises G-d, as part of an eternal creation.