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Ryan Reynolds
Hey, it's Ryan Reynolds here for Mint Mobile. Now, I was looking for fun ways to tell you that Mint's offer of unlimited Premium Wireless for $15 a month is back. So I thought it would be fun if we made $15 bills. But it turns out that's very illegal. So there goes my big idea for the commercial. Give it a try@mintmobile.com Switch upfront payment
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Narrator
See terms previously.
Joab
People, there is only one woman I want.
Production Announcer
Ah.
Narrator
Tamar. Absalom.
Joab
Sister Tamar.
Widow from Tekoa
Your half sister.
Narrator
You dog, you.
Joab
I can't eat. I can't sleep. Every night I see her, I feel like I'm dying.
Narrator
And take her. Amnon had taken Tamar with lust and violence. Now Absalom would take Amnon with silence and patience. Vengeance. His best served cold. Absalom pressed the tip of his blade closer to Amnon's throat. A drop of blood trickled down his chest.
Joab
Would you really return my evil with evil? Why? What would Father say when he finds out you killed him?
Narrator
Firstborn.
Absalom
Oh, I can't wait for Father to hear about this. When he hears of this night, I want him to feel it in his chest like a spear. David knew what you did. And he was outraged. Or so he said. But he did nothing. Nothing.
Narrator
Absalom. Amnon's blade flicked in his hand. He rose and stepped back, eyes locked on Amnon's. Then, with a tilt of his chin, he signaled his men to strike. The blades all descended at once. Finally, justice.
Absalom
Tell the others that Amnon is dead.
Narrator
Let them fear.
Absalom
Let them run. Let the house of David know what happens when they cross me and my home.
David
Absalom is to be exiled from Jerusalem if he dares step foot in my city. If I so much as hear the hooves of his donkeys cross my gates, he shall die. Mark it, Benaiah. Let the walls know he is banished.
Ryan Reynolds
Hey, it's Ryan Reynolds here from Mint Mobile. Now, I was looking for fun ways to tell you that Mint's offer of unlimited Premium Wireless for $15 a month is back. So I thought it would be fun if we made $15 bills. But it turns out that's very illegal. So there goes my big idea for the commercial. Give it a try@mintmobile.com switch upfront payment
Mint Mobile Announcer
of $45 for three months $90 for six months or $180 for a 12 month plan required $15 per month equivalent to taxes and fees. Extra initial plan term only greater than to gigabytes. Me slow when network is busy. See terms.
Narrator
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Narrator
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Joab
Let's go.
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Narrator
For three years, David's grief haunted the palace's stones. Like a ghost. He ruled still. Decrees were made, judgments passed. But his heart was absent, locked somewhere far away in Geshur, exiled alongside his son, David moaned each night, pining after Absalom. His emotions were like a flooded river, soaking the rest of the palace with melancholy. Day by day, Joab's patience for the king's whining wore thin. He and Jashabim were in the halls outside David's chambers, listening to the muffled cries from the other side of the door.
Joab
He's like a child.
Narrator
Jashabim shrugged, not disagreeing. He lost his firstborn, and now his most capable heir is banished. Cut him some slack.
Joab
I've refused to cut him slack. He's a grown man and this is all his fault anyway. He let Amnon get away with defiling his own daughter. He let Absalom's anger fester in secret. And speaking of Absalom, he was banished by David's own decree. It's idiotic and nothing more than a glorified timeout. Then, by all means, say something.
Narrator
Tell him he's being a baby. See how that goes.
Joab
I will.
Narrator
Joab opened the doors to the king's chamber. Without warning or tact, David was crumpled on the floor, eyes red from tears.
Joab
David, this is pathetic. Why do you torment yourself?
David
Have some compassion, Joab. I've lost three sons. First Bathsheba and I lost a baby. Then Amnon is murdered, and now Absalom
Joab
is is you mourn the living like the dead. Bring Absalom home and end this.
Narrator
David, seated near the window, plucked a grim note from his harp. He was a pathetic sight, a shell of his former Glorious self.
David
And if I did, what would I say? What father banishes his son and then greets him as if no time has passed? As if blood were never spilled? As if justice and mercy were the same thing?
Joab
It doesn't have to be poetry, David. Invite Absalom back. Tell him you were wrong, and then bring him back into the fold. You don't want Absalom stewing as your enemy. We've seen what happens to those he hates.
David
Perhaps I'll see nothing.
Narrator
Joab's jaw clenched. He had heard all this before in a dozen different forms, all circling the same cowardice.
Joab
You are the king. You do not have the luxury of silence.
Narrator
But David did not move. He returned to his lyre and plucked another sad note.
Joab
Pathetic.
Narrator
Joab left the room with fire in his chest. Jasherbeam caught him in the halls. So how did it go? Joab stormed out of the palace. Absalom had always struck him as a man too dangerous to befriend, but too brilliant to ignore. He had always possessed a fire that Joab both admired and feared. Unlike his father, Absalom did not weep. He acted. And so would Joab. David sat on his throne, hearing the complaints and petitions of his subjects. One by one, the people of the city passed before him, laying their woes before the king. He was once a man of decisive action, but now he seemed more a relic of regret than a ruler of might. Then came the woman from Tekoa. She was veiled in black ash, pressed into her hair and garments torn with the practiced hand of mourning. She flung herself to the ground before David's feet, her cries sharp and deliberate.
Widow from Tekoa
Save me, O King. Please, I beg you. Have mercy.
David
Speak. Make your case, and if justice can be had, I'll see it done.
Widow from Tekoa
I am a widow, my lord. My husband is dead, buried with his kin. All I had left were my two sons until quirrel and rage turned one upon the other. Now one is dead, and the people demand the life of the one who remains. They seek justice, aye, the but justice will leave me childless, destitute, a name forgotten among my husband's house. You are wise and all knowing. What am I to do?
Narrator
David's jaw tightened. The tale struck too close. It twisted itself around memories he'd buried for three long years. He rose from his seat and descended the steps of the dais like a father, not a king.
David
Return to your home. You have my protection. No one shall harm your son.
Narrator
But the woman pressed further. Her voice trembled.
Widow from Tekoa
Even though he is guilty of murdering his brother, Will you truly forgive such a thing?
David
The circumstances demand leniency.
Widow from Tekoa
Swear it, my king. Swear that my son will not be harmed, that the Blood Avenger shall not have him.
David
As the Lord lives, not a hair on your son's head shall fall to the ground.
Narrator
The woman sank to the ground again, hands outstretched.
Widow from Tekoa
Your words are balm to a wounded soul.
Narrator
The woman turned to leave, but then spun around once more.
Widow from Tekoa
May I speak once more, my king? Would you humor a poor old widow?
Narrator
David gave a sweet, slow nod, sensing the shift in wind.
Widow from Tekoa
You have graciously offered forgiveness for my son, who is guilty of murdering his brother. Why then have you judged yourself unworthy of the very mercy you offer? You spare my son, but your own son, Absalom, remains banished, lost across the border of Geshur. You, my king, have shown wisdom. Let that wisdom be turned inward. Let your banished son return.
Narrator
The court was still. David did not rise or speak. He watched her carefully, his eyes narrowing like a hawk spotting movement in tall grass. The woman was clearly nervous and then turned to leave.
David
Stop.
Narrator
The woman froze.
David
Come closer.
Narrator
She obeyed, her hands shaking. David stepped down to her, his voice low and razor sharp.
David
How much?
Widow from Tekoa
I beg your pardon, my king. How much what?
David
How much did Joab pay you to come here today and spin this tale, my king?
Widow from Tekoa
Yes. Yes, it's true. Yes, my king. Joab bade me come and speak, but the words are true nonetheless, are they not? Please don't punish me. I was following Joab's command.
David
Enough. It's fine. Leave me. Joab waits outside. Send him to me.
Narrator
The woman fled, and moments later, Joab entered.
Joab
It's truly wonderful that you still listen to the grievances of your citizens, good king.
David
You're bold, Joab. Bolder than you have any right to be.
Joab
You weren't listening to reason, so I figured pulling on your heartstrings was the only way to get through to you.
David
You thought you could trick me?
Joab
I figured either way you'd be stirred enough to have an actual conversation with me. Do I need to beg for forgiveness?
Absalom
No.
David
You merely gave voice to what I would not admit to myself.
Joab
Now there's the wise king I know and love.
Narrator
David rose to his feet and walked to the window, looking out over the city of David, his city, his kingdom, and yet somehow not his own anymore.
David
Go. Bring the prince home.
Narrator
Joab's relief was visible. Then he did something unexpected. Joab fell prostrate, hands to the floor before the king.
Joab
May the Lord bless the the king, and may his mercy echo in the Halls of Israel.
Narrator
David peered down at Joab, confused and moved. For all Joab's hard edges, he had a soft heart for the safety and integrity of Israel. Joab stood, saluted, then departed at once, setting out for Geshur to retrieve the lion David had loosed and tried in vain to forget. The prince was coming home. And with him, a storm. The wind swept through the high gates of Jerusalem as if summoned for spectacle alone. Absalom, son of David, rode like a conqueror returned from war. He was draped in silk and adorned in finery, a breastplate of gold scale, armor catching the sun like fire on water. Not a wrinkle touched his robe. Not a blemish marred his face. His long curls flowed freely behind him. From the gates to the plaza. The people shouted his name. Absalom. Absalom. And he drank in their adoration like sweet wine. His smile was a polished blade honed for performance. No air of David stirred the hearts of the people like Absalom did. His charm was effortless, his pride infinite.
Absalom
Keep singing, Israel, from your lips to God's ears.
Narrator
Behind him rode his wife and their three sons, followed by a small entourage. They were a family sculpted from marble, too perfect to be real, too poised to be trusted. The royal family stood in front of the gates to welcome him. But one face was absent. David, King of Israel, did not descend the hill to greet his son. He remained within the walls of his house, curtains drawn. Pride, grief, guilt, all warred within him. For two full years, the son of David dwelled in Jerusalem, honored by the people, adored by the streets, but barred from his father's presence. He waited in a manner fit for a prince. But it was not enough. Not for Absalom. Introducing Meta Glasses. Hey, Meta, any last minute tables for two tonight?
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Narrator
July sale@blinds.com 3 years in exile, 2 years ignored 7 years of silence and slight Absalom turned slowly from his window, clasping his hands behind his back.
Absalom
Shall the heir of Israel be treated like a leper? Am I to sit like a ghost in my father's side city, invisible and unheeded? Am I not a son? Am I not a prince?
Narrator
A low growl of frustration escaped his lips. He summoned one of his attendants. With a flick of his fingers, he summoned his servant, who approached with trepidation.
Absalom
You go to Joab. Tell him the son of the king calls for him. If David will not open his doors, perhaps Joab will move him to action. And if not, then let him see what silence earns a man in my house.
Narrator
The servant bowed again and departed at once, feet nearly silent against the tiled floor. The road to Joab's home meandered past fields and vineyards. It was a quiet place. Joab's land, his prize after years of war and loyalty, nestled peacefully between two hills like a secret kept safe from the clamor of the city, a home for a soldier grown weary of blood. The servant stopped a few paces away and knelt, dust swirling around his knees. My lord Joab, I come on behalf of my master Absalom, son of David, Prince of Israel.
Joab
What does he want?
Narrator
He bids you come to him. He wishes for you to speak to the king on his behalf. Joab waved him off before the boy could finish.
Joab
No. I've done enough for Absalom, not some mage who can grant his every wish. I got him back into this city, did I not? That was no small feat. Let him make his peace with David himself.
Narrator
No errand boy. The servant bowed once more, lips pressed tight, and turned back toward the estate. The boy brought the news with trembling lips. My lord Joab has refused your request for meeting. Absalom listened, then said nothing. He turned to the window sill, nodded once and said, side, did you know
Absalom
my fields are beside Joab's?
Narrator
Yes, my lord.
Absalom
Burn his side.
Narrator
Pardon me. Absalom turned. His smile was cruel, his eyes alight with fire.
Absalom
Take a torch. At dawn, set Joab's field ablaze.
David
My lord.
Absalom
Force, when used wisely, gets results. Go.
Narrator
So the servant rose before first light. He smeared animal grease along the edge of Joab's barley fields, then lit a torch. The flames swallowed the field, two weeks from harvest, gone in a roar of fire and smoke. The dry summer winds fed the inferno, and by the time Joab burst from his house roaring commands, it was too late. Ash filled the sky. His harvest lay in ruin, and in its place only the echo of Absalom's laughter. Joab kicked open the door with fury in his eyes and fire on his tongue.
Joab
You little rat.
Narrator
Joab flipped the first piece of furniture he could see. Absalom turned impassive.
Absalom
Good morning, Joab.
Joab
Of all your petty, twisted schemes, this one tops them all. You burned my fields like a petulant child.
Narrator
The Prince of Israel did not flinch at Joab's outburst. He simply sipped from a silver cup, then set it softly upon the table. His voice was soft, smooth, almost tender.
Absalom
Come now, Joab. Calm your nerves. Men at your age shouldn't get so worked up. Have a seat.
Narrator
Joab hesitated. The rage had not left him, but the calm in Absalom's eyes made him wary. He sat slow and stiff. Servants arrived, placing warm bread and wine before the commander. Joab did not touch it. Absalom leaned forward.
Absalom
Tell me, Joab, why was I brought out of exile?
Narrator
Joab said nothing, his jaw clenched.
Absalom
Geshur was peaceful. My flocks multiplied. My sons grew strong. I lacked for nothing. Yet I was summoned home. And for what to do? To sit in silence, to rot within while David pretends I don't exist?
Joab
You know why you haven't been invited back to the palace? You murdered the king's son.
Absalom
I executed the king's justice, just as you should have carried out yourself. By the way, you and I both knew what Amnon was. A disgrace, a brute, and worse.
Narrator
Joab looked away. He had no defense. Joab would have done the same thing in Absalom's shoes. He did long ago to Abner. Absalom leaned in again, his voice as smooth as silk.
Absalom
If I am still guilty, then bring me before the king. Let him judge me. If he finds guilt, let him have my head. I will not resist. But if he has truly forgiven me, as your little actress from Tekoa helped him believe, then let him look me in the eyes. Let him face me.
Narrator
Joab stared at the young man. His arrogance grated at him, but beneath it was something sharp, dangerous, and true. Finally, the old warrior slave, he reached across the table and gulped all the wine in the goblet.
Joab
Very well. I will speak with the king.
Narrator
He stood to leave, but as he reached the threshold, he glanced back.
Joab
I expect repayment for my fields.
Narrator
Joab raised his cup with a half smile.
Absalom
Send the bill to the treasury. After all, it was for the good of the realm.
Narrator
Joab groaned and left without another word. The white stallion's hooves clacked against the stone as Absalom rode through the streets of Jerusalem, basking in the adoration of the crowd. The people loved him. How could they not? With his golden skin and gleaming robes, his lion's mane of black curls, he looked at every inch the king he wished to be. When he reached the gates of the palace, Absalom dismounted and let the rains fall. He walked through the gardens where he had once played as a boy, through the corridors lined with the old war banners, beneath high stone arches that bore the weight of his father's legacy. And there, upon the throne of Israel, sat David. Absalom walked forward without haste, his steps measured and silent. In the heart of the room, he stopped. For a moment. Neither father nor son spoke. The stillness between them was heavy as iron. Then Absalom fell to his knees. He spread his arms wide, his face turned to the ground. A single tear traced his cheek as he whispered, father, I am here. Forgive me. It was a perfect performance. David rose slowly at first, then with sudden urgency, he descended the steps of his throne. When he reached his son, he dropped to his knees and gathered him into his arms, tears spilling freely.
David
I forgive you, my son. Welcome home.
Narrator
He kissed Absalom's brow like he had when he was a child and held him tight, not knowing that in his embrace he had welcomed a viper into his own house. Absalom embraced him in return, warm, devoted, smiling into his father's shoulder. The stage was set. Let the game begin.
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This prey.com production is only made possible by our dedicated team of creative talents. Steve Cattina, Max Bard, Zach Shellavager and Ben Gammon are the executive producers of the Chosen People. Narrated by Paul Coltofianu Characters are voiced by Jonathan Cotton, Aaron Salvato, Sarah Seltz, Mike Reagan, Steven Ringwald, Sylvia zaradoc, Thomas Copeland Jr. Rosanna Pilcher and Mitch Leschinsky. Music by Andrew Morgan Smith Written by Aaron Salvato, Bree Rosely and Chris Baig. You can hear more prey.com productions on the prey.com app, available on the Apple App Store and Google Play store. If you enjoyed the chosen people, please rate and leave a review.
Host: Pray.com
Date: July 9, 2026
Episode Theme:
This episode delves into one of the Old Testament’s most searing family dramas: the bitter conflict between King David and his son Absalom. Through compelling narration and voice acting, the episode explores themes of injustice, guilt, fatherhood, vengeance, forgiveness, and the consequences that ripple outward from unresolved pain. The story is presented as a living, breathing narrative, not just ancient history—demonstrating its emotional complexity and modern resonance.
The episode reimagines the tragic arc of King David and Absalom, focusing on the aftermath of Amnon’s crime against Tamar, Absalom’s violent retaliation, his subsequent exile, and the fraught road toward an uneasy reconciliation. The podcast moves fluidly between inner monologue, dialogue, and dramatic action, layering biblical events with psychological insight and emotionally charged performances.
Amnon’s Obsession:
Absalom’s Response:
David’s Reaction:
David’s Mourning:
Joab’s Frustration:
The Woman of Tekoa’s Plea:
Resolution:
Absalom’s Impatience:
Ultimatum:
The episode is intense and brooding, mixing biblical gravitas with modern storytelling technique. Characters are multilayered; dialogue is searing and poetic, the narration alternately grandiose and intimate. The episode is not merely a retelling, but an emotional excavation—inviting the listener to reflect on how wounds, pride, and the search for justice can shape (and distort) family and nation.
David & Absalom’s Struggle is a vivid and psychologically astute retelling that highlights the dangers of unresolved wrongs—how failures of justice and communication can spiral into generational tragedy. It’s a story of power, pride, and a father’s inability to heal what he has broken. The episode leaves listeners with the uneasy sense that reconciliation, when unaccompanied by honesty and real forgiveness, may only set the stage for further disaster.