I Samuel 8-11 - The Rise of Saul

If this is the David story, why start here? Our expectations of David are framed by the leaders who come before – namely, Samuel and Saul. We start with the people’s demand for a king – so they can be “like other nations.” Israel was never meant to be like the other nations; their very identity was wrapped up in a radical dependence on the steadfast love and faithfulness of the LORD. Here they attempt to shake off those bonds. They reject the One who delivered them from slavery in Egypt for a king who will take their land and conscript their children. In Samuel’s words, “you shall be his slaves” (8:17).

Was it really so wrong for them to want a king? Was the tribal confederacy with its system of judges any better? While Samuel was a good judge, his sons “took bribes and perverted justice” (8:3). Already we’re seeing what happens when sons automatically inherit their father’s role. 

The problem is more complex than it first appears. This is more than a simple indictment of centralized government. We’re told in Judges 21:25 that without a king, “all the people did what was right in their own eyes.”  The book of Judges is a tale of chaotic violence and anarchy. Kings can bring unity when unity is required. They offer the promise of protection, even if they are not always able to guarantee it. The people are quite clear in what they want – “that our king may govern us and go out before us and fight for us” (8:20). Kings also provide convenient targets for blame, but that’s another story.

Be careful when you get what you want. The LORD makes sure that the people are warned and then lets them live with their choice. The relationship between God’s will and human freedom is complicated in I and II Samuel. While the LORD does act to influence outcomes, humans also have room to make real choices. Perhaps this interplay is nowhere better illustrated than in the life of Saul. He’s both tragically set up to fail and responsible for his own choices.

Saul never asked to be king. While out chasing his father’s donkeys, Samuel takes him aside at the LORD’s prodding and anoints him as the next ruler of Israel. Saul is understandably baffled. He says nothing to his family about it. Then when he’s chosen publicly by lot to be king, they find him hiding among the baggage. The next time we find him, he’s “coming from the field behind the oxen” (11:5). It takes a while before he actively grabs the reins of power.

Why did the LORD pick him? Like David, he’s handsome and comes from humble origins. As part of the tribe of Benjamin (the youngest son of Jacob), he comes from “the least of the tribes of Israel” (9:21). That part is not so disturbing; the God of the Old Testament is known for choosing the least likely for greatness. And like David, the spirit of the LORD enters him in startling ways. In chapter 10, Saul shows a capacity for David-like ecstasy and self-transcendence. Saul too dances before the LORD. We’re told in this moment that “God gave him another heart” (10:9). There’s almost heartbreaking potential here.

Yet even at this early date, some are asking: “How can this man save us?” (10:27) To his credit, Saul does not overreact. At the moment of his great triumph over the Ammonites when he could easily take vengeance, he shows remarkable restraint. He even gives credit where credit is due: “Today the LORD has brought deliverance to Israel” (11:13).

The violence we read about in chapter 11 is undoubtedly disturbing. Was butchering a yoke of oxen really necessary to get the people’s attention? Whether or not it was necessary, it worked. The tribes were bound by oath to join in any action needed for the defense of their fellow Israelites. Saul acts decisively here to defend the brutally bullied of Jabesh-gilead, and it appears that the LORD approves. While we are understandably squeamish at any divine “approval” of war, it’s worth noting that this moment is not about conquest. It’s about survival.  Victims of injustice are seemingly allowed to defend themselves. The strong are not free to abuse the weak. (For more on this, see Walter Brueggemann's First and Second Samuel - Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990, p. 88). Of course, defining what is “just” becomes more complicated over time, and the definitions of who is “strong” and who is “weak” will continue to shift.  

What do you notice in these opening chapters? Do you see any signs of trouble to come? Click on “comments” and join the discussion!