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David and Goliath in the Valley of Elah
1 Samuel 17
An anonymous shepherd boy defeats the Philistine giant against all odds
See page 318 for visitor information.
Where Are We?
The brook of Elah seems to have been a strategic artery between Israelite and Philistine territory. The five Philistine cities—Gaza, Gath, Ashkelon, Ashdod, and Ekron—lay on the southern coastal plain, to the west. The Israelite population was firmly ensconced in the highlands to the east (if visibility is good you may be able to make out the city of Bethlehem on the ridge in the distance). The powerful Philistine army was determined to break through the Israelite chain of mountain settlements in order to take control of the Kings’ Highway, a major thoroughfare of the ancient Middle Eastern road system. The brook of Elah marked the passageway through the lowlands toward the Judaean foothills, which the Philistines hoped to capture on their thrust eastward. The western part of the brook was already in their hands, as was the city of Azekah, the flat hilltop boasting a lone tree visible directly in front of you, on the western side of Route 38. The Philistines had advanced as far as Socoh, an ancient city on the hill behind you to the right, along the continuation of Route 375. (Socoh, a bare hilltop today, is known popularly as Givat HaTurmusim, or Lupine Hill. In the early spring the entire hill is covered with wild purple lupines, attracting hoards of weekend traffic.) Saul and his army were camped further east along the creek bed in order to block the Philistine advance eastward into Israelite territory via the brook of Elah.
When you’ve gotten your bearings on Socoh and Azekah, carefully descend down into the bed of the brook of Elah. Walk through the creek bed, away from the road, until you reach the deposits of stones left by the winter rains draining through the brook on their way to the Mediterranean. The length of your walk will vary, depending on the previous winter’s rainfall and the number of visitors seeking stones like David’s who have arrived before you. Find a place to sit and read the story.
The Context
Samuel, the last of the judges, was educated as a priest and was also a prophet. He managed to convince the Israelites to abandon the practices of idol worship that they had adopted from their Canaanite neighbors. Immediately afterward the Israelite army successfully repelled an invasion by the Philistines, their most threatening enemy (1 Sam. 7:1–14). Samuel, charismatic and controlling, kept both the Israelites and their enemies on a short leash, but the Philistines loomed menacing on the horizon.
Until Samuel, nearing old age, set up his two corrupt sons to succeed him. Thinking ahead, the people of Israel realized that the moment Samuel disappeared from the scene and those two bozos took charge, the delicate balance he had maintained would fall to pieces in the face of the Philistine menace. Foreseeing a regression to the chaos and lawlessness that had characterized most of the era of the judges, the Israelites petitioned Samuel to appoint a king—an undisputed leader who would raise a standing army and command it against the mighty Philistine host (1 Sam. 8:1–5).
Fig. 8.1. The brook of Elah in the dry season
With both reluctance and understanding, God chose Saul to inaugurate the monarchy. Although a modest peasant from Israel’s smallest tribe, Benjamin, once filled with the spirit of the Lord Saul became a charismatic leader, his aura bolstered by his commanding height. God’s choice of Saul seemed to convey the message that even the most unassuming man can be king over Israel—as long as it’s in partnership with God.
As Israel’s first divinely appointed monarch, Saul seemed to have potential. His father is described as “a man of substance” (1 Sam. 9:1), and Samuel announced that “there is none like (Saul) among all the people” (1 Sam. 10:24). “God gave him another heart” (1 Sam. 10:9), transforming him from a simple peasant into an instrument of God’s will.
Fig. 8.2. Stones in the brook of Elah
However, Saul was deeply insecure about his ability to fulfill the role that had been thrust on him. As the story progresses, we watch Saul as, again and again, he makes the wrong decision under pressure, disappointing Samuel, his soldiers, his family members, and of course, God.
Saul’s worst mistake, from which there was no turning back, was to ignore the Lord’s instructions. Samuel relayed God’s specific orders to Saul to destroy Amalek, the ancient and deadly enemy of Israel, but he didn’t deliver the goods (1 Sam.15:1–9). When God saw that Saul had not listened He was filled with remorse for having chosen him as king (1 Sam. 15:10–11). He withdrew His support from Saul and the first monarch of Israel became persona non grata. Samuel, the reluctant midwife of Israel’s monarchy, took Saul’s inadequacy very, very hard—so hard that he couldn’t bear to see him again after the bitter and final disappointment of the Amalek fiasco (1 Sam. 15:34–35).
God, however, seemed to take this setback in stride. “Get over it,” he admonished the bereft Samuel, perhaps gently reminding him that no one is perfect. “How long will you grieve over Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel? Fill your horn with oil and set out. I am sending you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have decided on one of his sons to be king” (1 Sam.16:1).
Unbeknown to Saul as he arrayed his forces against the Philistines in the Valley of Elah, David, a low-level member of the royal court (1 Sam. 16:14–23), had already been secretly anointed as king over Israel (1 Sam. 16:1–13).
A Case of Royal Amnesia
The contest between David and Goliath is arguably one of the most famous stories from the Bible and certainly one of the most beloved over the ages. The idea of the thundering giant vanquished by the resourceful, pure-of-heart shepherd boy aglow in the power of the Lord has inspired underdogs everywhere. But David’s glorious victory is overshadowed by a bizarre turn of events. In the previous chapter we learned that after his secret anointment David was brought to the palace to serve Saul, first as a musician and then as an arms bearer. We are told, “Saul took a strong liking to (David) (1 Sam. 16:21). Yet King Saul, who sent David into battle following a long conversation (1 Sam. 17:31–40), professed not to recognize the lad as he sauntered off to fight Goliath. “Whose son is that boy, Abner?” (v. 55) Saul queried his defense minister. Was the sun in his eyes? What could possibly explain Saul’s sudden case of amnesia regarding someone with whom he was well acquainted?
A Tale of Two Sources
It’s actually not unusual to find accounts in the Bible that seem to contradict each other. In fact, the entire text is sprinkled with differing versions of the same event. For starters Genesis kicks off with two different creation stories (see Gen. 1 and 2). For another good example, skip ahead to 2 Samuel 21:19, where we’re told that our very same Goliath is slain in battle by a dude from Bethlehem named Elhanan son of Jaare-oregim.
Scholars often clarify these inconsistencies in light of the different sources tapped to compile the biblical anthology as we know it. For example, one explanation is that the two Genesis creation stories, when read together, are complementary versions that flesh out the relationship between God and his human creations. Another explanation is that the two traditions were already sacred and the editor had to include both of them. It is also possible that the ancient editors were simply not bothered by inconsistencies. In the case of the identity of Goliath’s slayer, some biblical scholars have suggested that Elhanan was David’s original given name, before he became king and was renamed David (“beloved”). Others suggest that David’s brother (they correct the text and read “Jaare” as “Jesse”) killed Goliath, but in Samuel the story was attributed to David.
What about the discrepancy exposed when Saul draws a blank on David? One possible explanation is that the editors wanted to present two different stories about David’s debut. In chapter 16 he is introduced as God’s chosen, a gifted soul—the skilled musician and excellent warrior who appears on the scene to serve the king. In chapter 17 he is portrayed in a very different light, as an inexperienced but ambitious young man sent by his father on a delivery run to bring food to his brothers at the battlefield. Many scholars think it was imperative for the editors to present the accepted traditions and thus to create a multifaceted David; they were also convinced that the ancient editors were less concerned with the disparities between the stories.
The “Truth” about Saul
But perhaps, in this case, there is a plausible explanation for Saul’s inability to identify David as he goes out to battle Goliath. Hints abound in the previous chapters when the narrator tells us that Saul exhibits some extremely erratic behavior. Eyebrows were raised when he went into an uncharacteristic ecstatic trance following his anointing as king over Israel by Samuel (1 Sam. 10:10–11). Yet when Samuel summoned all the people for Saul’s official coronation a short while later, Saul never showed up. He was eventually located, hiding among the baggage (1 Sam. 10:17–24). Subsequently, following a frustrating confrontation with the Philistines, Saul became so distraught that he nearly killed his son Jonathan for unwittingly disobeying an order (1 Sam. 14:43–45). If by now the reader harbored any doubts about Saul’s emotional stability, the biblical author dispenses with them unequivocally: “Now the spirit of the LORD had departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the LORD began to terrify him” (1 Sam. 16:14).
Medical professionals have attempted to diagnose Saul’s condition based on the descriptions of his behavior in the text. They have suggested he suffered from depression, bipolar disorder, or hypoglycemia brought on by a malfunction of the pituitary gland (which would also explain his unusual height). While he may very well have suffered from any of those illnesses, Saul was in the throes of an ongoing existential crisis, especially in the wake of his harsh confrontation with Samuel (1 Sam. 13, 15), who told him he had squandered his opportunity to be a successful king.
Enter David
Jesse was blessed with eight boys, seven of whom were paraded before Samuel for inspection. Samuel was immediately drawn to Eliab, the eldest of the brood and a handsome specimen of male attributes. “But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Pay no attention to his appearance or his stature, for I have rejected him. For not as man sees [does the LORD see]; man sees only what is visible, but the LORD sees into the heart’” (1 Sam. 16:7). We learn that David, the youngest of the brothers, was handsome without being tall, hinting at an inner radiance that projected outward—a man after God’s own heart (1 Sam 13:14).
Perhaps here God was suggesting that he had failed with Saul and that Saul never had the right stuff. A king who is tall, drop-dead gorgeous, and a gifted warrior may impress the subjects (and the enemies), but ultimately it’s what’s inside that counts. God equipped Saul with his spirit, but evidently Saul never had what it took to be a successful king—that is, an innate, organic confidence in God’s power to use him as a tool.
So when we finally meet Saul a while later, encamped on the battlefield in the Valley of Elah opposite the Philistines, he was in a bad way. Moody and dejected, he showed no leadership before his troops. For forty days Goliath had challenged the Israelite army, and although Saul was the tallest man in Israel and probably a Benjaminite expert with the slingshot himself, he made no move to engage the giant because he was just as intimidated as his soldiers.
Saul, obviously desperate, summoned David, who made the extraordinary claim that he could defeat the Philistine. Saul perfunctorily explained how unevenly matched David was against Goliath, sounding not like a stern father figure reprimanding a loose cannon but rather like a teacher hoping his star pupil would disprove his argument.
David spoke with the confidence of a person enveloped in the presence of God. His aura was so powerful that Saul, king of Israel, recognized immediately that this was the man who had been chosen by God to replace him. Yet he found it humanly impossible to internalize this resignation. Locked in a struggle between resentment and acknowledgment of David’s rising star, Saul could not come to terms with the inevitable unfolding of events. His sudden amnesia can perhaps be explained as the expression of an emotional breakdown while David left behind Saul’s armor and weapons and turned to approach Goliath with his character alone. When Saul asked Abner, “Whose son is that boy?” his right-hand man and military expert, unwilling to expose the king’s vulnerability, played along. “By your life, Your Majesty, I do not know” (v. 55). Saul remained behind—rejected, defeated, humiliated, and no longer in his right mind.
The king’s emotional instability would worsen in the days ahead. As his sanity unraveled, he would aim to pin David to the wall with his spear as David played the harp (1 Sam. 18:10–11). He would fly into a rage over Jonathan’s friendship with David and attempt to murder his own son (1 Sam. 20:30–35). He would grow so single-mindedly obsessed with hunting down and eliminating David (1 Sam. 23–27) that he would neglect the imminent Philistine military threat and disregard the affairs of his kingdom.
Postscript: The Underdog Question
Over centuries the story of David and Goliath has warmed hearts, inspired countless meditations, and lifted innumerable dejected souls. Who among us has not, at some point, faced a menacing Goliath? Who doesn’t love to cheer for David, the quintessential underdog, and delight in his victory against the odds? The much-loved Israeli pop song by the band Kaveret, “Goliath,” which took first place in the 1975 hit parade, sums up the story in one unforgettable line:
(He [David] nailed him right in the bangs).
There’s just one problem: According to some, David wasn’t an underdog. For those who seek natural explanations for miraculous events in the Bible, a careful reading suggests a different conclusion. Moshe Dayan, perhaps Israel’s most famous general, wrote that David was young, not particularly tall, and an inexperienced warrior. However, according to Dayan David was neither naive nor weak. He collected intelligence on his enemy, established exactly whom he was up against, and chose his weapons accordingly. It was impossible to ignore David’s calculated advantages as he stood before Goliath: he was agile and mobile, while Goliath was weighed down with heavy armor. Goliath was expecting hand-to-hand combat, while David fired lethal ammunition from a distance. As explained in Moshe Dayan’s The Spirit of the Fighters, David identified Goliath’s weak point, his unprotected temples, and chose the right moment to turn his disadvantages into victory.
Indeed, the David and Goliath story is discussed in detail by Malcolm Gladwell in his 2013 book David and Goliath, which analyzes the classic misunderstandings of advantages and disadvantages. He claims that for ages, this story has been fundamentally misread and that David wasn’t actually the underdog.
So, are you convinced? Most of us love this story in its traditional reading, with its message of eternal hope for the weak. Go tell one hundred thousand Israelis at two Kaveret reunion concerts in summer, 2013 singing, “He nailed him right in the bangs” that David wasn’t an underdog.