David: The Un-Saul

This is the third in a series on the life of David.

In telling the story of David, the Bible devotes a great deal of space to the period when he was “anointed, not crowned.” Presumably, there is a reason for this emphasis. Presumably, this is a crucial period of David’s life, even though he held no official position and, for much of the time, lived as a fugitive, chased from one place to another. It was a miserable time, a hungry time, a friendless and powerless time.

Throughout this period, David’s life revolved around King Saul, who learned to hate and fear him. They were like twin stars, orbiting each other, held in place by the other’s gravity. Saul gave David his first chance. David’s success at that chance—killing Goliath—led Saul into his own personal nightmare. In this bad dream David sought to serve Saul, but Saul sought to kill David—to eliminate his nightmare.

It would be nice if Saul could be neatly summarized as, say, an evil genius like James Bond’s Dr. No, or a tyrant like Mussolini, or a corrupt and greedy leader like (you name him). Saul, however, is none of these. He is hard to sum up, full of contradictions.

Saul’s early career is eerily like David’s. Both men were nobodies, inexperienced at war or leadership, when Samuel found them and quietly anointed them. Both men gained political support due to their military prowess. Saul, however, became weaker and more desperately grasping the longer he lived; while David gained in stature throughout Saul’s reign. Reading the text, we encounter one man going down while the other rises.

We first encounter Saul as he is sent off to find the family donkeys. Saul was extremely good looking, the text says (1 Samuel 9:2), and a head taller than anybody else. He seems to be a likable bumbler, unable to track the donkeys and unaware of who the great leader Samuel is or where he lives. He only approaches Samuel because he hopes he can help him locate his donkeys.

Unbeknownst to Saul, God has told Samuel that Israel’s future king is about to be revealed. When Saul appears on his donkey quest, God instructs Samuel, “This is the one.” It’s a close parallel to David’s anointing, when David is he surprise pick from among his older brothers.

Samuel takes charge of Saul. He brushes aside the donkeys—don’t worry, they have been found—and tells Saul that he and his family line are now the focal point of Israel’s longing. When Saul stammers out a modest demurral, Samuel pays no attention. He takes him to a feast as the guest of honor, and then privately anoints him. As a seal of guarantee, he tells Saul whom he will meet on the road, and what they will say. Saul’s final encounter, Samuel says, will be with a procession of prophets, making wild music as they march along. “The Spirit of the Lord will come powerfully upon you, and you will prophecy with them, and you will be changed into a different person.” (1 Samuel 10:6)

It happened just as Samuel had predicted. Saul, we are told, met the prophets and was a changed man, though nobody else knew it. Samuel called the leaders of Israel to a meeting, where he reminded them of their demand for a king. Without introducing Saul, he led a discernment process that began by narrowing the field by tribe, then by clan, then by individual. How this process worked we are not told, but it was probably using some kind of lottery. Saul’s tribe (Benjamin) was chosen, then his clan, then Saul himself. But when they looked around them, Saul was missing. He had hidden himself among the baggage, and had to be dragged into view. When Samuel presented him as Israel’s new monarch, some of the people shouted, “Long live the King!” But others were skeptical, resisting his leadership.

At this point, what did Saul have in his favor? He was tall and good-looking, and Samuel had declared him the one God had chosen. But he had done nothing—not even found the donkeys.

That changed promptly, however, when word came of an Ammonite gang besieging an Israelite city and demanding, as peace terms, that every male have an eye gouged out. People in Saul’s home town were grief-stricken and helpless at the news, but when Saul came in from plowing, “The Spirit of God came powerfully upon him, and he burned with anger.” (11:6) He mustered a large army (300,000 men) and scattered the Ammonites.

After that, it was obvious to all that Samuel’s (and God’s) choice was right. There were calls to punish the men who had resisted his leadership, but Saul was gracious. “No one will be put to death today, for this day the Lord has rescued Israel.” (11:12) In a great celebration, the whole nation crowned Saul as their king.

**

It was a promising beginning. Fear spoiled it. Saul, having been boosted so high by God’s choice and his Spirit, became obsessed with the fear of losing what he had been given. He forgot that everything came by God’s generosity. Trying to hold on at all costs, he squeezed too tight.

Fear first took over in a battle situation. A large Philistine army invaded, and Saul’s overwhelmed army began deserting. Saul was waiting for Samuel to arrive and conduct a religious service as a prelude to battle. When Samuel didn’t come Saul panicked, making the sacrifices himself. He pushed himself into a role that was reserved for priests, and for his pains was soundly condemned by Samuel. “Your kingdom will not endure,” Samuel said, “…because you have not kept the Lord’s command.” (13:14).

It’s clear that Saul didn’t want to take on the priest’s role. But in fear, he did.

Israel was in desperate condition. The “army” was a volunteer guerrilla force that lacked weapons. The occupying Philistines controlled all blacksmiths, which meant an effective embargo on iron spears or swords. Many Israelites were living in hiding; some actually fled the country because of Philistine aggression. In addition, 1 Samuel 14:21 reveals that some Israelite soldiers had gone over to the Philistine side.

It was no small thing when Saul’s son Jonathan attacked a Philistine outpost and created a panic in the Philistine army. Saul recognized what was happening, rallied the army to attack, and followed up with a massive victory—one that drew men out of hiding to join the attack, and even got the traitor Israelites to opportunistically switch sides.

In the midst of this great triumph, Saul managed to spoil it, however. This is the second major episode of his failure. In his enthusiasm for battle he had sworn that no soldier in his army would eat until the battle was won. To put the kindest construction on it, Saul demonstrated his inexperience in combat, for troops are easily exhausted and need food whenever they can get it. The troops kept the vow, but were famished and exhausted by the end of the day; they gave up pursuing the Philistines because of it, and slaughtered animals for a barbecue without following kosher requirements. Saul set them on a more correct path by organizing a kosher butchery, and then pondered the question whether the army could and should continue the pursuit. When he asked God for guidance, however, he got none. This was evidently Saul’s first experience of the silence of God. He knew something was wrong. Someone had sinned, and Saul swore that however it was—even his own son—would die.

He discovered that his son Jonathan was responsible. He had grabbed a lick of wild honey during the battle. At the time, Jonathan had no idea that his father had forbidden any food. He had been too busy fighting to get the news.

Yet Saul was ready to execute his son. He took another oath on it. The army, however, stopped him—by force, it seems. Saul was made to give in, and also give up on pursuing the Philistines while he had them on the run.

What stands out in the incident is Saul’s awareness of others’ faults—the men eating non-kosher meat, his son Jonathan violating an oath he wasn’t even aware of—but with no consciousness of his own. It doesn’t seem to have occurred to him that it was his hasty vow that led to the others’ violations.

Did fear play a role? I think so. An inexperienced leader, he feared failure and tried to overcompensate, first by making a foolhardy oath, and then by brashly rushing into its enforcement. Saul was a brave and effective general. If he had been content to let his Spirit-given abilities play out, he would have done well. His fear of failure, however, led him to make foolish and hasty miscalculations—to try too hard, to do too much.

His greatest miscalculation, however, came in a third incident—one we find very hard to understand. God sent instructions through Samuel that Saul was to pursue holy war against the Amalekites, a neighboring tribe, and utterly destroy them. Everyone was to die: men, women and children, and even the Amalekites’ sheep, goats, camels and cattle.

Why? Unlike war against the Philistines, this is not presented as a defensive war. Rather, an ancient incident is blamed—the Amalekites’ hijacking of Israel when they were on the long journey from Egypt to Israel.

That hijacking, sinister as it was, happened long before the current generation of Amalekites was born. God’s command is not punishment, but something more like ethnic cleansing. Something about the Amalekites’ very nature is wrong, and must be eliminated.

I’ll say frankly that I have no idea why God would want this. All kinds of excuses and explanations for God’s decision have been offered, and you are welcome to explore them in the many commentaries that have been written on this passage. Personally, I haven’t found any of them convincing.

On the other hand, I don’t believe in the least that this passage proves, as some would suggest, that the Old Testament God is a bloodthirsty tribal god. There are far too many counter indications throughout the Scriptures that he is a God of love and mercy. I am left unable to explain this execution of a people. I don’t want to downplay it or attempt to excuse it. I can only hope and expect that someday I will understand it, perhaps in the life to come.

Saul doesn’t appear to have shared my reservations about God’s command. He carried out the worst of it—the murder of innocent children—without apparent qualms. However, he failed to obey God’s order in two specifics: he didn’t execute the king of the Amalekites, and he didn’t slaughter the best of the animals.

When Samuel confronted him, Saul pleaded that he had saved the animals for sacrifice. After Samuel kept on the pressure Saul admitted that he had sinned and confessed his true motives: “I was afraid of the men, and so I gave in to them.” (1 Samuel 15:24)

In ancient warfare armies got paid by taking booty from their conquests. Saul’s men would have expected this as their reward for putting their lives at risk. Whether or not Saul even tried to explain the situation to them, we don’t know. He probably just assumed that they would resent being asked to give up their captured goods. That is what fear often does to us: we jump to conclusions.

**

It’s worth recalling that in all three of these incidents, Saul was militarily successful. It was not his failure that did him in, it was his failure to handle success.

When David comes into the picture, we see more of the same. Israel once again seems desperate, and out of the blue a young warrior appears and saves the day. David appears perfectly loyal. He makes no attempt to undermine Saul or to raise his own profile.

What sends Saul into a tizzy is a song. The women serenade the conquering army with a bewitching chant:

Saul has slain his thousands,

And David his tens of thousands.

Saul was furious, and the next day he tried to put a spear through David. Twice David eluded him. Oddly, David is not said to be afraid of Saul; it is the other way around. “Saul was afraid of David, because the Lord was with David but had departed from Saul.” (1 Samuel 18:12) Saul had everything to gain from David, a great and loyal commander, and nothing to fear, but instead he plotted against him.

At first these plots are covert—he sets up David to be killed by the Philistines—but eventually they become overt. He sends men to murder David in his bed. David escapes. Alone and hungry, he begs food from the priest at Nob. The priest kindly helps him. That will end tragically, in the slaughter of all Nob’s priestly family at the hands of Saul. Saul strikes out blindly against anything associated with David.

In a measure of how desperate David is, he seeks refuge with the enemy, the Philistines at Gath. Remember, not very long before he had killed the Philistines’ champion—whose home town was Gath. David would never go to Gath for help, if he had any choice. Yet this act of despair doesn’t work, either. The Philistines immediately suspect him, and he only escapes by pretending to be insane, drooling and babbling.

Hiding in a cave, David is joined by his family members—whose lives are now also at risk from Saul—and a collection of debtors and malcontents. Eventually they number about 400 men, a sort of Robin Hood’s band.

With David exiled in the wilderness, Saul could ignore him. Instead he throws his army into David’s pursuit.

When David hears that the Philistines are attacking Keilah, he wants to mount a rescue mission. His men see this as too risky, but David pursues the question and is told by God to go ahead. He and his men attack the Philistines and rescue Keilah.

Saul immediately thinks that David can be trapped in the walled city. He sends troops, and when David hears that they are coming, he asks God whether the citizens of Keilah, who have just been rescued, will betray him. Yes, they will, God says.

So David and his men again disappear into the wilderness. He and his men are friendless and homeless. What can they eat? Where are they safe? The story of Abigail (1 Samuel 25) is usually told to emphasize Abigail’s sagacity in contrast to her foolish, boorish husband. But the story also reveals David’s hair-trigger temper. Yes, Nabal insults his men when they come asking for hospitality. But David could have brushed off the abuse. Instead, he sets off on a mission to slaughter, not just Nabal, but every male in his household. Abigail’s humble appeal saves David from a bloody retribution that would have stained his soul for life.

Why did David respond so violently to Nabal’s stupid insult? David had no allies, and not enough food. He was desperate. He had no margins. People in that condition fly off the handle.

Saul sends his army to hunt for him. It’s during two of his search-and-destroy missions that we get the most dramatic contrasts between David and Saul.

In the first, Saul goes into a cave to relieve himself. Unknown to him, David and his men are hiding out deeper in the cave. While Saul is squatting, David’s men urge him to attack. David creeps forward and, in the silent darkness, cuts off a piece of Saul’s robe. He refuses to do more. In fact, David feels guilty for even cutting Saul’s robe. “The Lord forbid that I should do such a thing to my master, the Lord’s anointed, or lift my hand against him; for he is the anointed of the Lord.” (1 Samuel 24:6)

David can’t resist following Saul out of the cave, however. He calls out to him, “My Lord the king!” and bows down, face to the ground. Then he shows Saul the piece of the robe, and tries to convince Saul that he intends no harm; in fact, he has refused to hurt him even when he was completely in his power. “May the Lord be our judge and decide between us. May he consider my cause and uphold it; may he vindicate me by delivering me from your hand.” (24:15)

To Saul’s credit, he weeps loudly and calls David “my son.” “You are more righteous than I,” he says. “You have treated me well, but I have treated you badly.” (24:17) “May the Lord reward you well for the way you treated me today. I know that you will surely be king and that the kingdom of Israel will be established in your hands.” (vv. 19, 20) Despite the warm and penitent words, David doesn’t trust Saul. He returns to “the stronghold”—the wilderness fort where he and his men have established camp.

The second incident is almost, but not quite, a duplicate. Once again Saul is hunting for David. Once again, the local people have betrayed David and told Saul where to find him. This time David goes to Saul’s camp and, with one of his men, sneaks inside the perimeter. They go right up to where Saul is sleeping. Abishai, David’s companion, wants to spear Saul where he lies, but David says no. “Who can lay a hand on the Lord’s anointed and be guiltless?”

Instead, David takes Saul’s spear and his water jug, and creeps out of the sleeping camp. From a nearby hill he calls down to Abner, Saul’s army chief. “Where are the king’s spear and water jug that were near his head?” (1 Samuel 26:16)

“Saul recognized David’s voice and said, ‘Is that your voice, David my son?’”

David pleads eloquently for Saul to stop pursuing him. “What have I done, and what wrong am I guilty of? … Now do not let my blood fall to the ground far from the presence of the Lord.” (26:18,20)

Saul replies, “I have sinned. Come back, David my son. Because you considered my life precious today, I will not try to harm you again. Surely I have acted like a fool and have erred greatly.” (v. 21)

David responds that he will trust in God’s protection, for God “rewards every man for his righteousness and faithfulness.” But he declines Saul’s offer to accompany him home.

**

Saul, as revealed in these two incidents, is well aware of his own guilt. He confesses it in a heartfelt, perhaps sentimental way in front of his army. Evidently, however, his fear outweighs his conscience. He keeps reverting to the desire to destroy David.

Despite Saul’s penitent words, David stays in his wilderness fortress. He doesn’t trust Saul. He has come to understand that Saul is in the grip of irrational fears.

Not once but twice, God puts David in a position to kill Saul. Why doesn’t David take advantage of Saul’s vulnerability? He not only doesn’t take it, he speaks reverently of “the Lord’s anointed.”

It sounds crazy. He, David, is “the Lord’s anointed.” He must know that God has rejected Saul. Why not act as the Lord’s instrument? Why not kill Saul and be done with this torment?

Undoubtedly, David’s men and his family wondered the same thing. It’s not clear how David would have answered them. What is very clear is his deep reverence for the sovereignty of God. He believes that God’s choice of Saul must be respected, and that his own anointing does not constitute a permission slip to bring about his own coronation. He will wait. He will trust God to vindicate him.

Fear did not master him. He is the opposite of Saul in this respect. He trusted in God. He was unwilling to assail or assault any person whom God had chosen.

**

After their second close encounter, David and Saul parted, never to see each other again. David, concluding that “one of these days I will be destroyed by the hand of Saul” (1 Samuel 27:1), returned to his enemies the Philistines. This time he and his 600 men were accepted as mercenaries. Achish the king of Gath saw David as an outlaw who had permanently broken ties with Israel. David played a double game, raiding other tribes for the Philistines but making sure they never found out that he never raided Israel. His scheme nearly backfired when he was called into the main Philistine army as they went to war against Israel, but fortunately for David, other generals in the army distrusted him and sent him away. He was saved from having to fight his own people.

Saul, on the other hand, left his imagined enemy—David—and confronted his true enemy, the Philistine army. When they invaded once again, Saul “was afraid; terror filled his heart.” (1 Samuel 28:5) He sought God’s guidance, but “The Lord did not answer him by dreams or Urim or prophets.” (28:6)

Saul told his men to find him a medium, who could communicate with the dead. The funny thing about this request is that Saul himself had banned such consultation, making it punishable by death. Nevertheless, Saul found a medium, persuaded her to do her work, and asked for Samuel. If he could not reach God, he thought the next-best thing was the man who talked to God.

When Samuel appeared—or seemed to appear, for only the woman “saw” him or “heard” him—Saul prostrated himself. He laid out to Samuel the terrible dilemma he was in—that the Philistines were attacking and God had turned away. Samuel—or “Samuel”—was not sympathetic. He told Saul it was exactly as he had predicted, that his string had run out, that he and his army would lose the battle and he and his sons would die.

“Immediately Saul fell full length on the ground, filled with fear.” (28:20) For most of his monarchy, Saul had been ruled by fear. It was so until the end. When the battle came, his sons were killed, he was wounded, and, fearful of Philistine torture, he killed himself.

**

For the longest time, David is friendless and vulnerable and must wander in the wilderness. He has no palace; he lives in a cave, or in a wilderness hideout under all weather. What stands out in this long narrative is David’s refusal to advance his cause by force, and his persistent refusal to do harm to “the Lord’s anointed,” even as “the Lord’s anointed” tries to kill him. Notably, David never refers to himself as “the Lord’s anointed,” but he often refers to Saul that way—even when he knows that Saul has been rejected, and that he has been chosen to replace Saul. He does nothing against Saul, even when he has a golden opportunity.

Who can imagine doing likewise? If somebody is trying to kill me, I am likely to fight back. David would not. He believed that God would work his will without David needing to move it along. He was willing to wait and to trust God. Evidently he saw mysterious and sacred qualities in the (discredited) leader whom God had once chosen.

And David’s son? Jesus’ life is certainly an echo of David’s. For Jesus was born into Israel, where the “anointed”—the temple, the priests, the altar—had been chosen by God as his means of salvation. Jesus knew that he represented a new covenant that would rise up and eclipse the old system. Furthermore, he knew that the old system—or its representatives—wanted to kill him.

He would not touch them. He spoke to them sharply, and truthfully. He warned that the temple would be torn down. (Matthew 24:1) But he never laid a hand on the representatives of the old order, or threatened violence. On the contrary, he was respectful. He told Peter to pay the temple tax. (Matthew 17:27) When he saw a poor widow giving sacrificially to the temple offering, he didn’t condemn it as oppression, but admired it as generosity. (Luke 21:1) A man with leprosy whom Jesus healed was told to go to the priest to give thanks. (Matthew 8:4)

For it was temple, priest and altar that had, for many generations, by God’s own anointing, represented God to the people. Jesus might have deprecated them to his disciples, might have organized a boycott, might have announced that they were out of date and that God had moved on. He didn’t.

(Notably, Jesus showed no such solicitude for the web of legal requirements that had grown up around the law. When asked why his disciples didn’t keep the ceremonial requirements of Sabbath, he referred to David, who had eaten the (unlawful) tabernacle bread when hungry and in fear for his life. “I tell you that something greater than the temple is here.” (Matthew 12:6))

Like David, Jesus wandered from place to place. He had “nowhere to lay his head.” He depended on charity for food. Like David, he had been anointed king, but no king ever held fewer prerogatives.

Nor did Jesus do anything to seize power. That’s the burden of his temptations. Satan offers him opportunity to demonstrate that he is God’s Son, the anointed. He can make bread from stones, leap from the temple unharmed, assume the power and splendor of the kingdoms of the world. He doesn’t choose to do it. It’s not God’s timing. (Luke 4:1-13) He will later make bread out of nothing, walk on water, and assume “all authority in heaven and on earth.” But all on God’s calendar.

Part of the horror of Holy Week is that his tormentors, those who track him down to kill him, include God’s anointed ones—priests. To defend their standing (and to defend the Temple, they would say) they will arrest him and rig a trial. They will see him tortured to death. They live in fear that he will replace them.

When they send soldiers to arrest him, he tells his disciples to put up their weapons. He will not fight them. It’s an exact echo of David’s words to his men when they had Saul in their grip. “Put your sword back in its place,” Jesus said. “Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels?” (Matthew 26:53) Jesus could have annihilated his enemies. He had them in his power.

Like the citizens of Keilah, rescued by David but ready to surrender him to Saul’s army, so the people of Jerusalem, who rejoiced in Jesus’ entry, were willing to give him up when he was on trial. (They either kept their peace or chanted, “Crucify him!”)

They were all ruled by their fears. They saw how much they had to lose and they were frantic to keep it. Jesus was also afraid, but he was not ruled by his fear. He trusted in God. He trusted all the way down—even to death. God had anointed him. God would see him triumphant.

**

Let’s admit that it’s very odd behavior. Who is willing to be executed without making any attempt to defend himself? Who doesn’t seek to explain himself when on trial for his life?

And yet, it echoes the pattern followed by David, the great king, when he was pursued through the wilderness by the very man he sought to serve. And it is not so different from what Paul recommends to all of us: “As far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord. … Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” (Romans 12:18-21)

1 Peter says much the same thing: “Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.  …When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly.” (1 Peter 2:21-23)