Growing up in the Tabernacle with Israel’s last judge: Samuel
Touring Philistia with the Ark of the Covenant
Witnessing the rise and fall of Israel’s first king: Saul
Slaying Goliath with a shepherd boy named David
Discovering from David how not to raise a family
F rom Michelangelo’s David to Steven Spielberg’s Raiders of the Lost Ark, the characters and stories of 1 and 2 Samuel continue to find expression in our world. Part of this enduring appeal is a consequence of the period covered by these books: Israel’s transition from tribal rule to a centralized monarchy. Such transitions are seldom easy, and rarely, if ever, “pretty.” As a result, the Books of Samuel are filled with all the things that make for front-page news and blockbuster movies: scandal, betrayal, murder, and redemption.
In this chapter, you meet the individuals and experience the events of 1 and 2 Samuel in order to understand their contribution to the biblical drama, as well as to appreciate their impact on ancient and modern religious belief.
1 and 2 Samuel ultimately get their name from these books’ first protagonist. This is a fitting tribute to a man whose impact on the religious and political life of Israel reverberates throughout its history. Apart from the great figure of Moses, Samuel’s tenure as prophet, priest, and judge is unique. Samuel witnesses the demise of a priestly dynasty, and the birth of a political one. Even in death Samuel remains God’s prophet, and his legacy leaves an indelible mark on Israel’s national identity.
When 1 Samuel opens, we find ourselves on a religious pilgrimage to God’s sacred tent (called the Tabernacle) with a man named Elkanah and his two wives, Peninnah and Hannah (yes, “two wives” — we discuss the Hebrew Bible’s perspective on polygamy in Chapter 6). Adding to the normal tensions of any family vacation (including a chorus of “Are we there yet?” from the children), Peninnah, who has many children, passes the time by ridiculing her childless “co-wife,” Hannah. So upon their arrival, a miserable Hannah slips away from the family to pray at the entryway of the Tabernacle.
In her prayer, Hannah promises that if she has a child, she will dedicate him to God. Although she only mentions that a razor will never touch his hair, the dedication she refers to is a “Nazirite vow” (see Numbers 6), which includes, among other things, refraining from alcohol. Therefore, it’s ironic that while Hannah is praying, the High Priest (Israel’s religious overseer) at the Tabernacle, Eli, comes up to her and accuses her of being drunk. Why? People in the ancient world usually prayed audibly, especially at holy sites. Eli, however, observes Hannah’s lips move, “but he couldn’t hear her voice.”
In an example of wordplay, Hannah assures Eli that she is not drunk but is rather “pouring out” her soul to God. Realizing that Hannah is telling him the sober truth, Eli says, “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant your request.” Hannah takes this as confirmation that God has heard her prayer, and leaves rejoicing. Soon afterwards Hannah does conceive, and gives birth to a son whom she names Samuel, which appropriately means “God hears.”
After Samuel is weaned (perhaps as old as 3 to 6 years), Hannah takes him to the Tabernacle and gives him to Eli for the service of God. For her devotion, God eventually rewards Hannah with five additional children. Yet, this is not the last time Hannah will see her beloved Samuel. Every year when Hannah makes religious pilgrimage to the Tabernacle, she brings him new clothes. Now that’s a good mom.
Had Hannah known the kind of environment into which she was placing her son, she may have had second thoughts. The Bible informs us that Eli’s two sons were “wicked men.” Not only do they eat sacrifices intended for God, but they have sex with women at the entrance of the Tabernacle. Now that’s bad. Eli, too, is less than admirable. Although he disapproves of his sons’ actions, he fails to remove them from their priestly offices and even becomes fat on their stolen sacrifices. As a result, one day a mysterious “man of God” shows up at the Tabernacle with some bad news: Eli and his children will soon die.
Samuel, by contrast, demonstrates that he is a person worthy of his calling. As the text reports, “Samuel continued to grow in physical stature and in favor with the LORD and with people” (1 Samuel 2:26). As an expression of this favor, one night Samuel is awakened by a voice calling his name. Running to Eli, Samuel says, “Here I am.” Eli, though no doubt a loud snorer, replies, “I didn’t call you. Go back to sleep.” This routine happens three times, and finally Eli realizes that God must be calling his young protégé. After telling Samuel what to do if he hears the voice again, Eli sends him back to bed. When Samuel does hear the voice again, he answers, “Speak, for Your servant is listening.” God informs Samuel that He will soon cut off Eli’s priestly dynasty. The next morning, Eli insists on hearing what God had told Samuel. Eli, for all his faults, receives the news quite nobly: “He is the LORD. Let Him do what is good in His eyes” (1 Samuel 3:18).
It is commonly thought that a woman’s worth in the ancient world was based largely on her ability to bear children. Yet, in the Bible, the women who are unable to bear children are often times more loved than the women who can. In the case of Hannah, it is actually her husband, Elkanah, who feels insecure and “devalued” by her discontent at not having children: “Aren’t I worth more to you than ten sons?” he asks. Despite Elkanah’s attestations of love, Hannah wants a child of her own.
Also interesting is how often in the Bible women who are initially barren end up giving birth to children who play important roles in Israel’s history: Abraham’s wife, Sarah, gives birth to Isaac, who embodies the fulfillment of God’s promises to her and Abraham that through them a great nation would be born (see Chapter 5); Isaac’s wife, Rebekah, gives birth to Jacob, whose children go on to become the progenitors of the twelve tribes of Israel (see Chapter 6); Jacob’s wife, Rachel, gives birth to Joseph, whose actions in Egypt secure the survival of Jacob’s other sons, and of many peoples besides (see Chapter 6); and, in the present narrative, Elkanah’s wife, Hannah, gives birth to Samuel, who goes on to become one of Israel’s greatest leaders. This pattern continues in the New Testament, where the barren Elizabeth gives birth to John the Baptist, the forerunner of Jesus’ ministry (see Chapter 18); and Mary, who is not merely barren, but a virgin, gives birth to Jesus, who, according to the New Testament, is Israel’s long-awaited savior (see Chapter 18). In fact, Mary’s words of praise after hearing she will bear Jesus (Luke 1:46–56) borrow heavily from Hannah’s prayer of praise for her son (1 Samuel 2:1–10). Thus, in the Bible, a woman need not be a mother to be of value, but if God wants you pregnant, nothing can prevent it.
Meanwhile, on the larger sociopolitical stage, Israel is at war with its archenemies, the Philistines, who have just defeated Israel at a place called Ebenezer (yes, where Scrooge gets his name, though Dickens spells it differently). The Israelites realize that to defeat their enemy they need to pull out the big guns, which means bringing the Ark of the Covenant into battle.
The Ark of the Covenant was the visible manifestation of God’s presence among His people, and was believed to make Israel invincible in war. Thus, when the Philistines hear the shouts from the Israelite camp upon its arrival, they say, “A god has come into their camp!” Although fearful, the Philistines determine to fight bravely and march out to meet their fate. To the shock of everyone, including the Philistines, they rout the Israelites and loot their camp — including the Ark.
When Eli, who is now 98 years old, obese, and blind, hears the news of the Israelites’ defeat and the death of his sons, he is devastated. However, when he hears of the Ark’s capture, it is more than he can handle and he falls back in despair, breaks his neck, and dies. When Eli’s daughter-in-law hears the news of her husband’s death and of the Ark’s demise, she goes into premature labor and dies, but not before giving birth to a son, who is given the name Ichabod (from whom Ichabod Crane gets his name), which means “no glory” — the glory of Israel, the Ark of the Covenant, is gone.
Israel is now at one of its lowest points since its slavery in Egypt. Its longtime religious leader is dead, and its most sacred relic is in the hands of its bitterest enemy.
To better understand what happens to the Ark after its capture, its important to know that Philistia was composed of a Pentapolis (Greek for “five cities”): Ashdod, Ashkelon, Gaza, Gath, and Ekron. Each of these cities had its own “king” and central temple. The Philistines, now in possession of the Ark, first take their prize to Ashdod, placing it in the temple of their god, Dagon.
The Ark’s placement in Dagon’s temple symbolized Dagon’s supremacy over Israel’s god, as it was believed one’s god gave victory in war. However, in demonstration of God’s supremacy, the next morning the priests of Dagon find Dagon’s idol lying on its face in front of the Ark. Puzzled, the Philistines restore the statue to its upright position. The next morning, Dagon is again prostrate in front of the Ark, only this time his head and hands are broken off, symbolizing his powerlessness before the Ark. Because there were no college fraternities at this time to blame, the Philistine’s knew that Dagon’s humbling must be due to the power of Israel’s deity. As further demonstration of God’s power, the Philistines break out with tumors or, as the King James Version translates it, “hemorrhoids.” With Preparation-H in short supply, the people of Ashdod wisely give the Ark to their neighbors in Gath, who soon also have difficulty sitting down for extended periods of time. They conclude that the Ark would make the perfect gift for their friends in Ekron. Ekron, however, has caught on to this trick and refuses Gath’s “generous” offer.
The Philistines soon realize that they and their gods are no match for the Ark, and they decide to return it to Israel. Placing the Ark on a cart drawn by two cows, the Philistines send the Ark on its way. When the Israelites see it coming, they rejoice, and upon its arrival, priests take the Ark and place it on a large stone. Then, using the cart as wood for a fire, the priests offer sacrifice to God by slaughtering the two cows (some thanks). Yet, because this was before the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark, the Israelites didn’t fully appreciate the Ark’s power, and 70 curious villagers decide to take a peek inside (bad idea), and they’re struck dead.
Eventually, the Ark is transported north to Kiriath-Jearim, where it resides for 20 years until David transports it to Jerusalem, its last known resting place (see Chapter 10 for the scoop on what became of the Ark of the Covenant).
With Eli’s death, the care of the Tabernacle, as well as the religious and political leadership of Israel, falls to Samuel. And Samuel performs all of these tasks admirably. However, Samuel’s sons, like his predecessor’s sons, are “morally challenged.” In particular, they accept bribes to influence their legal decisions. Not wanting to be ruled by Samuel’s corrupt sons, and wanting “to be like all the other nations,” Israel demands a king.
Samuel is scandalized by the thought of appointing a king, likening the Israelites’ request to turning their backs on their true king — God. Yet, when Samuel takes the request to God, he gets a surprising answer:
Listen to the voice of the people . . . because they are not rejecting you, but Me as king over them. Just as they’ve done from the day I brought them out of Egypt, when they abandoned Me and served other gods, so they’re doing now.
—1 Samuel 8:7–8
Therefore, Samuel acquiesces to the people’s (and God’s) request, but not before warning the people about the downside of kings: Kings will recruit your sons for the royal army, require your daughters to serve in the royal harem, and demand you to work on the king’s royal building projects. As usual, the people don’t listen, and, in the end, they get just what they ask for.
The Bible records two stories of how Israel’s first king, Saul, is chosen:
Lost Donkeys (1 Samuel 9–10): God informs Samuel that a young man who is looking for his father’s donkeys will come to him for information. When he does, Samuel is to anoint the man as king.
Dice (1 Samuel 10): Samuel gathers the people together and chooses a king by casting lots (sacred dice used to determine God’s will).
The people are happy with the choice of Saul. He is described as tall and handsome (1 Samuel 9:2), but looks can be deceiving, and a central theme in the Books of Samuel is that a person’s value stems from inner qualities. After becoming king, Saul’s reign starts well — he defeats most of Israel’s enemies — but then things take a turn for the worse.
Just as there are two stories of how Saul became king, so there are two stories of how Saul loses God’s favor and, ultimately, the crown.
Patience is a virtue (1 Samuel 13:1–15): Before engaging the Philistines in battle, Samuel tells Saul to wait for him to return to offer a sacrifice. Saul waits, but then becomes nervous as he sees the troops growing restless. Feeling that he can’t wait any longer, he offers the sacrifice himself. At that very moment, Samuel arrives, and Samuel is extremely put out at what Saul has done. Not only did Saul overstep his prerogatives as king (sacrifice was a priest’s domain) but the fear that precipitated his action demonstrates he doesn’t believe that God is the one who gives Israel its victories. As a result, Samuel tells Saul that his days as king are numbered.
How not to obey God (1 Samuel 15:1–35): Because the Amalekites had attacked the Israelites unprovoked during their wilderness wanderings under Moses (see Chapter 7), God commands the Israelites to attack and kill all of the Amalekites — men, women, children, and even livestock. Israel is victorious, but Saul disobeys God by keeping the Amalekite king, Agag, alive, as well as some of the best livestock. When Saul sees Samuel approaching after the battle, Saul exclaims, “Behold, I have done all that the LORD has commanded!” (Just for future reference, don’t ever lie to a prophet.) Samuel replies, “Then what is this bleating of sheep that I hear?” In response, Saul claims the soldiers took the livestock (another lie), and besides, the animals are for sacrifice (three lies, and you’re out). Neither God nor Samuel is happy with Saul’s prevaricating, and Samuel declares:
Does the LORD delight in burnt offering and sacrifices as much as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice! To give attention [is better] than the fat of rams!
—1 Samuel 15:22
These words express what becomes a constant theme among Israel’s prophets: Right actions (obeying God) are more important than ritual acts (sacrifice).
As Samuel turns to leave, Saul grabs his robe, tearing it. (Again, for future reference, don’t ever touch a prophet’s threads.) Samuel interprets this symbolically: God will “tear” Saul’s kingship from him. Demonstrating he still cares more about his own reputation than obeying God, Saul begs Samuel to stay and honor him “before the people.” Surprisingly, Samuel agrees, but first he must take care of some unfinished business. Summoning the Amalekite king, Samuel delivers some pre-death trash talk that would make even Arnold Schwarzenegger blush: “Just as your sword has made women childless, so shall your mother be childless among women!” Then Samuel kills the Amalekite king with a sword. Although Saul has now lost God’s favor and the backing of Samuel, he remains king for some time. But, to borrow from expressions deriving from the Bible, “the writing is on the wall” and his “days are numbered” (Daniel 5).
Several stories in 1 and 2 Samuel have duplicates. For example, there are two stories about how Saul is chosen as Israel’s first king (losing donkeys in 1 Samuel 9 and chosen by sacred dice in 1 Samuel 10), and two stories about Saul losing God’s favor as king (offering unsanctioned sacrifice in 1 Samuel 13 and sparing an enemy king in 1 Samuel 15). And there are many other examples. Why this repetition? Most scholars think that the stories found in 1 and 2 Samuel were originally discrete traditions that were only later compiled into a single history. Most scholars refer to this compiler as the Deuteronomistic Historian, because his theological views, when he expresses them, reflect teachings from the Book of Deuteronomy. However, this historian didn’t view these duplicate stories as unrelated or contradictory. For example, the historian uses the cases of Saul being twice rejected as king to demonstrate that Saul habitually disobeyed God, which provided all the more reason for God’s selection of David as the next king.
God informs Samuel that, because of Saul’s disobedience, it is time to look for a new king. God sends Samuel to Bethlehem, a small village in Judah, where he is to find a man named Jesse, whose son will be Saul’s successor.
When Samuel finds Jesse, he asks to meet Jesse’s sons. Seeing Jesse’s eldest, who is both tall and handsome, Samuel is certain he’s the one. God, however, tells Samuel that He doesn’t measure a person by his or her stature or appearance, “but the LORD looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). Soon all of Jesse’s sons are paraded before Samuel, but none match the job description. Samuel, perhaps feeling he has the wrong Jesse, asks, “Are these all your sons?” Jesse informs Samuel he has one more son, but he’s the youngest and out watching the sheep. “Go get him,” Samuel requests. When David arrives, God tells Samuel, in effect, “He da’ man,” and Samuel anoints him as Israel’s next king.
Like Elvis, David’s musical talents elevate him from obscurity to the limelight, where he will one day be the undisputed king. David’s ability to play the lyre, an ancient string instrument resembling a small harp, was renowned throughout Israel, and tradition claims that David wrote many of the Bible’s psalms, which are religious poems set to music (see Chapter 15).
The Bible says that, because of Saul’s wrongdoings, God sends an evil spirit to torment him. As music “soothes the savage beast” (this is not in the Bible, but certainly apropos here), Saul seeks a musician to calm his nerves. Ironically, the musician called to assist the king turns out to be David, the boy who would one day be king. David’s playing has the desired effect, and for his service David is rapidly promoted to become Saul’s armor bearer.
The story of David and Goliath, in which a young boy defeats a mighty warrior, has become the epitome of the victorious underdog. Here’s the story.
The Israelites are in yet another battle with the Philistines. Only this time, there is no fighting going on. The reason? The Israelites are afraid because the Philistines’ have changed the terms of engagement. The Philistines offer to become Israel’s slaves if they can defeat their champion in one-on-one combat. The only problem is that their champion, whose name is Goliath, is huge. We mean really huge. According to the Hebrew Bible, Goliath is about 9 feet, 9 inches — making even the tallest NBA superstar look puny in his presence. (The Greek text places Goliath’s height at a “miniscule” 6 feet, 9 inches — still a pretty mean center on most ancient NBA teams.) Goliath, realizing his advantage, taunts Israel everyday, badmouthing both the nation and God. Desperate, Saul offers to anyone who might kill Goliath his daughter in marriage, wealth, and even tax-exemption. Even with the tax break, no one accepts, and Goliath taunts Israel in this regard for 40 days.
Meanwhile, back in Bethlehem, Jesse summons David from the flocks to look into the welfare of his brothers, who are serving in the Israelite army. When he arrives at the Israelite camp and hears Goliath’s taunts he is outraged that no one has enough confidence in God to stand up to this “uncircumcised Philistine” (now that’s hitting below the belt). David asks Saul to let him take Goliath’s challenge. Admiring David’s courage, Saul agrees and gives David his royal armor — an ironic gesture, for those who know David will one day be king. For now, however, Saul’s battle duds are way too big for the young David, and he decides to face Goliath sans armor (and, according to Michelangelo, sans clothes — an interesting battle tactic; see Chapter 25).
As Goliath sees the armor-less David approach he can’t believe his eyes: “Am I a dog, that you come at me with sticks?” David replies:
You come at me with a sword, spear, and javelin; but I come at you in the name of the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel’s armies, whom you’ve defied!
—1 Samuel 17:45
David certainly wins the battle of words, but the battle of brawn has yet to take place. Running toward Goliath, David puts a stone in his sling and, after achieving the desired velocity, lets it fly, hitting Goliath squarely in the forehead. Goliath falls, and while the giant is unconscious, David rushes over to him, picks up his mammoth sword, and cuts off his head.
When the Philistines see their champion is dead, rather than live up to their end of the bargain by becoming Israel’s slaves, they run for their lives (and their freedom). However, the Israelites make pursuit and rout them.
One question that arises from the biblical text is “Who killed Goliath?” David, of course, is the most famous giant slayer. But according to 2 Samuel 21:19, a man named Elhanan also killed Goliath. So, who dunnit?
Three explanations have been given for this apparent discrepancy:
Both David and Elhanan killed giants from Gath named Goliath (very unlikely).
A man named Elhanan killed Goliath and later tradition linked the event to the more famous David (possibly).
David and Elhanan are one and the same person, “David” being a throne name, and “Elhanan” being his real name (compare the case of David’s own son, King Solomon, whose “real” name is Jedidiah).
Because Angela Lansbury is no longer taking cases, we’ll let you decide.
After David defeats Goliath, the Israelite women go around the streets singing, “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.” Though Saul is praised, David is more so, and kings, like aged Broadway stars, don’t like to share the spotlight. So one day, while David is playing his lyre, Saul picks up his spear and throws it at David, but misses his target. Saul then comes up with a more cunning plan to kill his rival.
Saul tells David that he wants him to marry his daughter, Michal. But before giving his daughter away, Saul asks David for a “bride price” — a little demonstration of David’s ability to provide for the family. “Bring me 100 Philistine foreskins,” Saul requests. Saul’s plan is that David will die trying. But much to Saul’s chagrin, David returns with 200 Philistine foreskins! (Our wives, to their relief, only got rings.) David then marries Michal.
Saul continues his attempts to kill David, but the combination of David’s agility and the help of others — even Saul’s children, Michal and Jonathan — David always escapes. In one incident, Saul falls for the oldest trick in the book. Michal puts a pillow and clothes under the blankets and says that David is sick in bed while David escapes out the back (1 Samuel 19:11–17). In another incident, Saul goes into a cave to relieve himself before continuing his hunt for David. David, as it turns out, is in the cave, and quietly sneaks up to Saul and cuts off the end of his . . . are you ready for this . . . garment. By not killing Saul, David shows he has no ill will toward his father-in-law. Also, David sets a good example. As David says, “The LORD forbid that I should lay a hand on . . . the LORD’s anointed” (1 Samuel 24:6). Saul, for all his faults, is God’s chosen king. David will be king one day, and he doesn’t want to set a bad example of how to treat kings you don’t like.
Although Saul says he’s sorry for trying to kill David, it is only a matter of time before he is at it again. In one bloody event early in this process, Saul finds out that David has been to the Tabernacle where he and his men were given food and a weapon (Goliath’s sword, which David had deposited there). The priests are unaware that David is on the run, as he tells them he’s on a mission from Saul. However, Saul thinks they are working in collusion with David, and he orders that all the priests be killed. Saul’s army, however, is unwilling to do it. But an Edomite named Doeg, who has no allegiance to this deity, doesn’t hesitate to do the deed. Only one priest escapes: Abiathar, the son of the High Priest. As he has nowhere else to run, Abiathar, like Friar Tuck of Robin Hood lore, joins David and his merry band of outlaws.
Because of David’s status as an outlaw, he is forced to rob from the rich and give to the poor — the poor, in this case, being David and his followers.
The most famous case of David’s Robin Hood antics involves a rich man named Nabal, who refuses to pay David for protecting his flocks (a sort of ancient “protection” racket). In response to his refusal, David vows to kill those in Nabal’s house who “urinate against the wall” (1 Samuel 25:22), an expression referring to men of military age (because men employed walls for partial privacy when going to the bathroom). When Nabal’s wife, Abigail, hears of her husband’s foolish response to David’s request, she intercepts David and flatters him, presenting him with gifts. She tells him that her husband is just like his name: Nabal, which means “fool.” David is persuaded by Abigail’s words and returns to his camp.
When Abigail arrives home, she puts off telling her drunken husband of his near-death experience until “the wine left him,” a euphemism for urination. When she does tell him, he has a seizure and dies. Thus, David’s words that those who urinate against the wall will die come true, only in an unexpected way. As Abigail is now “available,” David marries her. (Yes. David had more than one wife. One of the perks of being the up-and-coming king.)
But marriage doesn’t settle David down — he remains on the run for some time, even living for a year and four months with Israel’s archenemy, the Philistines. Although this may be viewed as traitorous activity, the biblical authors present David as having little choice in the matter — this is one of the few places he can escape from Saul’s murderous intentions. David and his men even go on several raiding parties into Israel. However, the Bible is careful to point out that David actually tricks the Philistines in this regard. Instead of attacking Israel, David and his men go elsewhere and then bring back war spoils they claim are from Israel. But when the Philistines begin making war preparations for a massive attack against Israel, David finds himself in somewhat of a bind because he doesn’t want to attack his own people. Thankfully, not all the Philistine kings trust David, and they refuse to let him participate in the war, lest he change sides in the heat of battle. Although David is spared, Israel will not be.
Samuel eventually dies, and the whole country mourns his passing (1 Samuel 25:1). Adding to their grief, a huge battle against the Philistines looms on the horizon and, without Samuel, Saul is unable to determine whether God intends to give the Israelites victory. Saul realizes there is only one way to get an answer: Ask his old buddy Samuel. You’re thinking, “But you just said he’s dead?” True, he is, but this doesn’t seem to matter, because in the ancient world (as well as today) there are those who claim to be able to contact the dead. The real problem in Saul’s case is that he outlawed contacting the dead some years ago. Saul doesn’t want to be seen going against his own law. Therefore, he disguises himself and secretly visits a medium at the city of Endor (not the Ewok planet).
The “witch of Endor,” as she is sometimes called (though not in the Bible), summons Samuel, but when she sees him she realizes that the man making this request is Saul, and she fears for her life. Saul assures her that he won’t kill her and asks her to tell him what she sees. She says it’s Samuel, who has a question for Saul: “Why have you disturbed me!?!” (Apparently the afterlife isn’t too bad.) When Samuel hears the reason — that Saul wants to know the winner of the upcoming Israelite-Philistine bout — he reminds Saul that God has rejected him as king and concludes, “Tomorrow you and your sons will be with me.” Needless to say, this is not very good news to Saul.
The next day, and in keeping with Samuel’s prediction, the Israelites are routed by the Philistines, and many of Saul’s sons, including Jonathan, the crown prince, die in battle. Saul himself is mortally wounded and asks his armor bearer to finish the job so that the Philistines won’t capture and torture him. The armor bearer refuses to kill God’s anointed king, and Saul is forced to take his own life by falling on his sword. When the Philistines arrive, they cut off Saul’s head and take it and his armor to the temple of their god.
Thus, at the end of 1 Samuel, Israel is at a critical juncture in its national history. Their last judge, Samuel, is dead, as is their first king and most of his sons. What happens next will be crucial for the nation’s survival.
The story of Saul conjuring up Samuel’s ghost is very important for understanding conceptions of the afterlife in ancient Israel, a topic that is noticeably underplayed in the Hebrew Bible. The abode for the deceased in the Hebrew Bible is typically called Sheol, a word that seems to derive from a word meaning “to ask.” Thus, some have suggested that the dwelling of the dead is named after the practice of seeking advice from the deceased (as Saul does with Samuel). Although the exact character of Sheol is not entirely clear, it seems to have been a shadowy place where spirits dwelled — not too unlike the Greek notion of Hades, which is the word used to translate Sheol in the Greek translation of the Bible. Samuel’s statement that Saul and his sons would be with him (1 Samuel 28:19) seems to suggest that spirits dwell together in Sheol, though Samuel’s words may simply be a euphemism for death.
That Samuel’s spirit could be called back to this world indicates that humans maintain their identity and self-consciousness after death. Although later writings in the Hebrew Bible develop the notion of the afterlife (for example, see Daniel 12:1–2), it is not until the Apocrypha and the New Testament that we get more detailed descriptions of life after death. In these works hell is described as a place of fire and torment, while heaven is a place of beauty and peace. Taking the biblical evidence together, some theologians understand Sheol to be the place for souls to dwell after death but before the “final resurrection” of the dead, when everyone will be judged and the wicked will go to eternal condemnation while the righteous will go to eternal life.
At the beginning of 2 Samuel, David finds out about Saul’s and Jonathan’s death and famously laments, “Oh, how the mighty have fallen!” (2 Samuel 1:25). And of Jonathan in particular, David says, “I grieve for you, my brother Jonathan. You were precious to me. Your love was exceedingly wonderful to me, surpassing the love of women” (2 Samuel 1:26) — so close was their bond of friendship.
Things now get pretty messy as David sets out to secure his throne.
The man who brings the news of Saul’s death, along with Saul’s crown and royal amulet, expects David to reward him. After all, he’s literally giving David the crown of Israel. He even tells David that he ultimately killed Saul, because when he found Saul he was barely alive and asked to be killed before the Philistines came upon him. Despite the “favors” performed by this man, David commands that he be executed for killing “God’s anointed.”
Although Saul is dead, David does not immediately become king over Israel, because the northern tribes make Saul’s son, Ishbaal (sometimes called Ishbosheth), their king. Eventually, though, Ishbaal’s general, Abner, realizes that David is the better man and offers to bring Ishbaal’s forces to David. David’s general, Joab, however, feels Abner is too dangerous to be trusted and kills him in treachery.
Not long after this, Ishbaal also meets his end when two soldiers sneak into his room while he’s asleep and cut off his head. As in the case of Saul’s death, when the men report to David what they did, rather than reward them, David has them killed for their treachery. Yet, because of their treachery, David is now the undisputed king of Israel.
David’s first strategic move as king of both Judah and the northern tribes of Israel is to move his capital from Hebron, which is in Judah, to Jerusalem, a city previously not belonging to either Judah or the northern tribes and which was on the border between both the north and the south. Thus, David’s choice of Jerusalem as capital is somewhat analogous to the choice of Washington D.C. as the capital of the United States. In both cases, the capital is on the border of the north and south and did not belong to any one tribe or state. David also solves a religious dilemma. Two groups of priests wanted the esteemed position of Israel’s High Priest. One group, whose leader was Abiathar, seems to have traced its lineage back to Moses. The other group, whose leader was Zadok, traced its lineage to Aaron. David solves this problem by appointing both priests as High Priest.
David’s culminating strategic move is to transfer the sacred Ark of the Covenant and Tabernacle from Kiriath-Jearim to Jerusalem. However, this is tricky, and David runs into some problems.
Saul’s son and successor is called Ishbosheth in the Books of Samuel. Yet, in the Books of Chronicles he is called Ishbaal. So what’s his name? It’s Ishbaal, a name that means “man of Baal.” Because Baal was the name of the Canaanite storm god, the compiler of the history of Samuel changed his name to Ishbosheth, which means “man of shame.” Does this mean Saul worshiped Baal? Maybe. But, because “Baal” can also mean “lord” or “master,” these names may also refer to Israel’s God. To a later editor, however, using the title Baal for God was distasteful given its connection to the Canaanite storm god.
The procession accompanying the transfer of the Ark to Jerusalem is filled with music, shouting, horns, song, dance, and partial nudity — courtesy of David. But before getting to the nudity, tragedy strikes the parade when the Ark begins to totter on the cart carrying it and a man named Uzzah reaches out his hand to steady it. For his concern, he is struck dead by God. This puzzling event even enrages David, but the message is clear: “Don’t mess with the Ark.” Uzzah, as innocent as his actions may have been, did not take the holiness of the Ark seriously enough. Moreover, as its travels in Philistia demonstrated earlier, the Ark of the Covenant is more than capable of taking care of itself. So Uzzah should have let it be.
Okay, now to the nudity. When David decides to resume the parade (three months later), he puts on an ephod (a sacred undergarment resembling a nightshirt), and dances before the Ark with all his might. When the parade finally enters the city, the Ark is taken to the Tabernacle, and a feast is held. That evening, when David returns home, Michal, David’s wife, is not in a partying mood: “How the king of Israel has distinguished himself today, by exposing himself today before the eyes of his virgin maids as a vulgar man would shamelessly uncover himself!” (2 Samuel 6:20). Apparently, David’s dancing in only a night shirt revealed more than Michal wanted him to reveal. David, who feels innocent in the matter, rebukes Michal for her affront of his character. The story concludes, “And Michal, the daughter of Saul, had no child until the day of her death” (2 Samuel 6:23). That is to say, because she is so concerned about David exposing himself, he will never do so again in her presence.
David, now residing in a beautiful palace, decides he wants to upgrade God’s house from a mobile home (Tabernacle) to a state-of-the-art estate (Temple). As it turns out, though, God prefers the Tabernacle, and, furthermore, David’s hands are too bloody from all his wars to build such a sacred building. However, God appreciates David’s intentions, and, in a play on words, God tells David that although he won’t build God a house, God will build him a “house” in the form of a dynasty. God even promises David that his dynasty “will endure forever” — a promise referred to as the Davidic Covenant.
God’s promise to David that his dynasty would last forever is cut short when, in 586 B.C.E., the Babylonians destroy Jerusalem. As a result, later prophets understood God’s promise to mean that He would again raise up a descendant of David to rule over Israel, only this new king would usher in a kingdom that, as God promised, would never end. This belief became known as the Messianic Expectation, from the Hebrew word meshiach, which means “anointed one.”
David is now at the top of his game, having received an eternal covenant from God and having securely established his kingdom by unifying its religion and leadership and defeating Israel’s enemies. But, as the old saying goes, “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” And David falls hard.
The story of David and Bathsheba begins with a notice intended to prepare the reader for trouble: “It was spring, when kings go out to war” (2 Samuel 11:1). David, however, stays home, sending his general Joab in his place. Spring is also the time when birds and bees are in full swing, and trouble is on the horizon — the kind of trouble that arises from greed, lust, and arrogance.
Late one afternoon, David strolls along the palace roof and spies a beautiful woman bathing. This is not an ordinary bath, but a ritual bath a woman takes after menstruation. This is vital information for the story, because she is clearly not pregnant at this point. David asks his assistant who the woman is, and he is informed that her name is Bathsheba (bath is Hebrew for daughter, having nothing to do with her activity when David sees her). She is the wife of a man named Uriah, one of David’s trusted soldiers now out in the field.
David summons Bathsheba to his chamber, and one thing leads to another, and he breaks two of the Ten Commandments: David covets his neighbor’s wife and commits adultery. David soon adds a third violation to the list.
Shortly thereafter Bathsheba sends a message to David: “I am with child.” David quickly devises a plan, and truth be told, it’s a clever one.
David summons Uriah home from the battlefield. After asking him about the war, David instructs Uriah to go home and “wash your feet” (2 Samuel 11:8), here a euphemism for sexual intercourse. Instead, Uriah sleeps at the door of the palace and does not go home. When questioned about this the next day, Uriah tells David that he won’t go home and enjoy himself while Israel and the Ark remain on the battlefield. (Finally, we meet a righteous person in the Bible, and he’s ruining everything!) Actually, Uriah’s statement is an unintended rebuke, because David is at home and not fighting. Moreover, he’s not just enjoying himself while others are out fighting for his kingdom, he’s enjoying himself with the wife of one of those fighting for his kingdom.
Rather than give up on his plan, David gets Uriah drunk, thinking the alcohol will loosen him up a little, and will result in Uriah going home to sleep with his wife. But still, Uriah will not go home.
Because Uriah won’t go along with David’s plan, David writes a letter instructing Joab to place Uriah on the front lines, then have the other troops withdraw, exposing Uriah to the enemy. When Uriah arrives back at the front, he gives Joab the letter, who does as it instructs.
When Bathsheba finds out that her husband is dead, she mourns for the requisite time and then marries David. Their child, a son, is eventually born, and David, it seems, has gotten away with murder and adultery.
One day, David’s trusted prophet, Nathan, comes to him to inform him of a tremendous injustice that has taken place in his kingdom. It seems a rich man with countless sheep killed the only sheep of another man in order to feed a visitor. Making it worse, the man with the only sheep dearly loved it, even treating it as a member of the family. David is outraged, and says that the rich man who took the poor man’s sheep deserves to die. Nathan looks David straight in the eye and says, “You’re that man!” (2 Samuel 12:7). David unknowingly condemned himself, the parable’s rich man. David had many wives, but he took Uriah’s only wife.
David stands in shock as Nathan continues to deliver God’s message. David’s dynasty will continue, but he will receive a threefold punishment:
The sword will never leave David’s house, meaning that David’s family will be undone by violence.
Someone will take David’s wives and sleep with them in public, because David took his neighbor’s wife in secret.
The child (unnamed) from his adulterous affair will die.
The third punishment comes true first, though Bathsheba and David will have another son, Solomon. The next two punishments come to fruition shortly afterwards, as David’s family gradually falls apart.
Similar to sausage production, the politics of an ancient monarchy are more appealing when you are unaware of what’s on the inside. In the narratives following David’s “indiscretion” with Bathsheba, readers are offered a rare glimpse into the inner workings of a royal family. And it’s not pretty.
David’s oldest son, Amnon, is the crown prince, but he will not live long enough to reach the throne. His trouble begins with his infatuation for his beautiful half-sister Tamar, which makes him “sick” with love. Amnon’s cousin, Jonadab, who is described as very wise, gives some very unwise advice. He instructs Amnon to feign illness and then ask his father to allow Tamar to nurse him back to health. When they are alone together, Jonadab schemes, Amnon is to sleep with her (read: rape her). Amnon foolishly does as Jonadab instructs. However, when David learns of Amnon’s actions, he does nothing, leaving the punishment to another: Tamar’s full-brother, Absalom.
Two years later, Absalom decides to throw a party, only this is no ordinary celebration, but rather, a sheep-shearing festival! Think about this for a minute (but only for a minute): abundant alcohol, hundreds of raucous young men with shears, and thousands of sheep. These parties were so out of control that they made the wildest fraternity parties of today seem as tame as tea and crumpets at four. Amnon gets drunk, and not ordinary drunk, but sheep-shearing-festival drunk. Then, according to plan, Absalom’s men jump Amnon and kill him. Fearing reprisal from his father, Absalom flees Israel. However, eventually David and Absalom are reconciled, and Absalom returns to Jerusalem.
Absalom doesn’t waste time in Jerusalem waiting for David to die so he can become king. He rises early every morning and stands at the city gate, the center of action for a biblical city. When people pass by on their way for a judgment from King David, Absalom promises them that if he were king they would receive a more favorable decision. Eventually, Absalom steals the hearts of the Israelites from David with these tactics and his good looks.
After winning the hearts of the majority of Israel, Absalom declares himself king, and David is forced to flee Jerusalem. As one of his first “acts of state,” Absalom sets a tent up on the palace roof in Jerusalem (the same spot from which David first saw Bathsheba) and sleeps with David’s concubines in broad daylight. This action fulfills Nathan’s prophecy that because David took another man’s wife in secret, someone would take his in public.
Eventually, though, David’s forces defeat Absalom’s, and Absalom is forced to flee from battle. However, while Absalom is escaping by mule, his long hair gets tangled in a tree, and he is left hanging there. When Joab finds Absalom, he orders him killed, even though David gave strict orders that no harm should come to his son.
When David hears of Absalom’s death, he is very upset, and famously mourns, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!” (2 Samuel 18:33).
Near the end of 2 Samuel, we are treated to a beautiful song composed by David (2 Samuel 22) — a song that finds echoes in many of the psalms ascribed to this king (see Chapter 15). Then we hear David’s parting words, as he reflects upon his life and reign (2 Samuel 23). This seems a fitting end to the story of David, only it’s not the end.
As 2 Samuel draws to a close, David makes a very bad decision — he takes a census of Israel. Why is this a bad decision? David’s census is for the purpose of determining the number of able-bodied soldiers in Israel, which reflects a lack of trust in God as Israel’s ultimate protector. Even Joab, the commander of David’s army, warns David not to take a census. But David insists. In response, God sends a deadly plague against Israel, thereby weakening the very thing David is trusting in: the population.
When the curtain closes on 2 Samuel, David sits securely on his throne in Jerusalem. Yet, this security has come at a price, because three of his sons (Amnon, Absalom, and Bathsheba’s first son) are now dead as the fallout from his adulterous affair with Bathsheba. And the killing is not over, as further civil war and political assassinations will continue in the opening chapters of the next book: 1 Kings.
1 and 2 Samuel leaves you asking why God would choose a man as king, even promising him an enduring dynasty, whose track record is far from, let us say, clean. The answer seems to be found early in David’s life, when God first tells Samuel He is looking for another king. As Samuel tells Saul, “The LORD has chosen someone after His own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14). It seems then, for all his faults, David has a “heart” for God.
In support of this conclusion, we see a marked difference between Saul’s and David’s responses when confronted for their sins. Whereas Saul prevaricates to avoid guilt and cares more about being “honored before the people” than doing right (outward appearances), David simply says, “I have sinned against the LORD” (inward attitude). Although David is far from perfect, he ultimately wants to please God, and his tainted example has served as an example to others that “if God could love and forgive a sinner like David, perhaps there’s hope for me.”