Do not judge by appearances (1 Samuel 16; Narrative Lectionary for Pentecost 19)

A discussion of the Narrative Lectionary passage from 1 Samuel 16

The narrative passage proposed by the Narrative Lectionary for this Sunday (1 Sam 16:1–13) comes from the period of time when Israel was ruled by a king. The story of the choosing of the first king, Saul, is told in 1 Sam 9; his rule runs through this narrative until the last chapter of this book, 1 Sam 31.

As I have noted before, although these narratives have the appearance of being historical, they are actually ancient tales which were told and retold, passed on by word of mouth and then written down, because of their enduring significance for the people of ancient Israel. Scholars call such stories “myths”, meaning that they convey something of fundamental importance. (We might best define myth as “a traditional story, usually associated with the time of origins, of paradigmatic significance for the society in which it is told”.)

See more on the nature of these stories at 

The picture of Saul, the first man chosen to be king in Israel, demonstrates the flaws of this system of leadership. His reign was characterised by turbulence and opposition; as early as chapter 13 there are signs of the problems that there were in his leadership. After defeating the Philistines, and being impatient for the prophet Samuel to arrive, he went ahead with a burnt offering, in contradiction to the command of God. “You have done foolishly; you have not kept the commandment of the Lord your God, which he commanded you”, Samuel berates the king (1 Sam 13:13). This is not the behaviour expected of a person leading the chosen people of God!

The prophet Samuel foreshadows the coming turmoil under Saul’s leadership, telling him that “the Lord would have established your kingdom over Israel forever, but now your kingdom will not continue” (1 Sam 13:14). In the passage offered by the lectionary for this coming Sunday (1 Sam 16:1–13), we learn that because the rule of Saul is fraught with difficulties, a significant change is on the cards. 

Pushed by the words of the prophet Samuel, Saul confesses his sin (1 Sam 15:24, 30). Samuel announces to him  that “the Lord has rejected you from being king over Israel” (15:26) and declares, quite dramatically, “the Lord has torn the kingdom of Israel from you this very day, and has given it to a neighbour of yours, who is better than you” (15:28).  

The narrator of this story engages in an interesting theological exploration at this point. Samuel is clear about God’s intentions: “the Glory of Israel will not recant or change his mind; for he is not a mortal, that he should change his mind” (15:29). This God had explicitly chosen Saul, who said he was “only a Benjaminite, from the least of the tribes of Israel, and my family is the humblest of all the families of the tribe of Benjamin” (9:21). 

God had chosen David, this least and most humble person, to serve as ruler over the people, to “save my people from the hand of the Philistines” (9:16). He would rule form40 years—the biblical,way of saying “for an awfully long time”—and exert great power. We might note that this “least-become-greatest” dynamic prefigures some of the teaching of Jesus, a descendant of David, a millennia later.

Samuel, exercising his prophetic leadership, had assured the people, “there is no one like him among all the people” (10:24); but some in the crowd were doubtful, saying, “how can this man save us?”, and they despised him (10:27). Paradoxically, these men had insight into the character of Saul which the Lord God himself failed to perceive at this time.

However, a little later, the narrator of this story muses that “the Lord was sorry that he had made Saul king over Israel” (15:35). This is regret, but seemingly not quite a full change-of-mind. It does, however, paint the divine in a rather human way; an action undertaken that does not bear fruit for us as anticipated can indeed generate regret.

Elsewhere in Hebrew Scriptures, the matter of a change-of-mind for the divine is explored. Jeremiah instructs the people, “amend your ways and your doings, and obey the voice of the Lord your God, and the Lord will change his mind about the disaster that he has pronounced against you” (Jer 26:13). In the tale of Jonah, when God saw the repentance of the people of Nineveh, “God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it” (Jon 3:10). 

The prophet Amos petitions God, such that “the Lord relented concerning this; ‘it shall not be,’ said the Lord” (Amos 7:3, 6). And in the story of the Golden Bull, Moses implores God to “turn from your fierce wrath; change your mind and do not bring disaster on your people”, and so the Lord repents (Exod 32:12–14).

We might wonder: is the regret that the narrator perceives in the divine (1 Sam 15:35) strong enough to chasten God in future actions, so that there will be no need for a divine change-of-mind?

For more on this topic, see

As Saul relinquishes his role, Jesse steps onto the stage; one of his eight sons will sit on the throne. It has been a bitterly-fought transition, and Samuel was saddened by the course of events. But the voice of God pushes him on, to step into his role in the transition taking place; and so the prophet faithfully anoints Saul’s successor. 

We should remember that, in the a Christian canon, the two books that tell of the rule of Saul and then David are named, not after those kings, but after the prophet, Samuel—who held and exercised great power, as the story shows, in that he is attuned to God’s voice and speaks God’s words to the people. We saw this dynamic clearly articulated in the earlier narrative (1 Sam 3) on the Sunday after Trinity Sunday (Pentecost 2).

So Samuel follows God’s advice: “do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Sam 16:7). This verse is often quoted by people of faith when reflecting on the importance of inner conviction and commitment to God.

This narrative portrays a God who sees and deals with the heart of human beings (v.7). The heart is important to God because of its directional role: “the good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks” (Luke 6:45). In like manner, Proverbs 4:23 states “keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life”.

There is a danger here, of course; the outward actions of people are indeed important, and the claim that God’s focus is solely on our “heart” can be deceptive. Both our inner nature and our outer actions are significant; they each point to our faith and express our discipleship.

Indeed, it is worth remembering that, in the Hebrew language—the language in which this narrative was written—the word translated as heart is לֵבָב, lebab. It’s a common word in Hebrew Scripture, and is understood to refer to the mind, will, or heart of a person—words which seek to describe the essence of the person. It is sometimes described as referring to “the inner person”. The word appears 248 times in the scriptures, of which well over half (185) are translated as “heart”. It has a strong connotation of indication “the whole of a person’s being”. That’s what God is focussed on; that’s where faith is shown and discipleship is lived out.

For more on this, see 

So Jesse brings his sons before Samuel. But which son is it to be? Samuel first offers a sacrifice to God (15:2–5), in the expectation that what he does next will be in accord with the will of God. Samuel had his own ideas, based on appearances; God reprimands him, now telling him to focus on the heart—the very core of the being of the chosen one, the whole of that person’s being (16:7). After receiving all of Jesse’s sons in order (16:8–10), Samuel exercises his prophetic discernment, selecting the youngest son, David, to be the new king (16:11–13). 

God confirms this choice by gifting David with the spirit: “the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward” (16:13). Openness to new ways and new possibilities has led to this defining moment.

Ironically, when Samuel first sees David, the narrator introduces him with the description, “he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome” (16:12)—precisely the elements of “outward appearance” that we were told earlier that the Lord does not consider. Even the careful crafter of this story gets caught!!

Speak, for your servant is listening (1 Samuel 3; Narrative Lectionary for Pentecost 18)

The two books of Samuel and the early chapters of 1 Kings recount the development of the monarchy in Israel, with stories of Saul, David, and Solomon, the first three men charged with the responsibility of leading Israel and ensuring that there was justice in the land. We have four passages proposed by the Narrative Lectionary at this point of the cycle, beginning this Sunday with 1 Sam 3:1–21.

These stories also engage us with the lives of prophets, Samuel and Nathan—men who were called to speak the word of God. This week we hear about the call of the young Samuel. We are told that as Samuel grew up, “the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground; and all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord” (1 Sam 3:20–21). Years later, Nathan is commissioned by “the word of the Lord” to “go and tell my servant David, ‘thus says the Lord’” (2 Sam 7:4–5). That is the role of the prophet—to listen to what God says to them, and then to speak forth the word of the Lord to the people of their society.

Samuel, Nathan, and other prophets were particularly called to speak truth to the king and to recall them to the centrality of their role, to ensure that God’s justice was a reality in Israelite society (Isa 42:1–4; 61:1–2;  Mic 3:8). We see this when Nathan confronts David (2 Sam 12), when Elijah confronts Ahab and the priests of Baal (1 Ki 18), when Isaiah advises Hezekiah (2 Ki 20), and when Josiah consults Huldah (2 Ki 22; 2 Chron 34).

As we pay attention to the details of the stories, let us remember that these stories are not “history” as we know it today. Rather, they are ancient tales told and retold, passed on by word of mouth and then written down, because of their enduring significance for the people of ancient Israel. Scholars call such stories “myths”, meaning that they convey something of fundamental importance. (We might best define myth as “a traditional story, usually associated with the time of origins, of paradigmatic significance for the society in which it is told”.)

See more on the nature of these stories at 

Identifying the stories in the narrative books of the Hebrew Scriptures as myths doesn’t mean they are “not true”—rather, it means that we need to read them, not as historically accurate accounts, but as stories which convey fundamentally important ideas. These stories were valued by people of ancient times. They may well offer us, in our own times, insights and guidance of value.

So we read and ponder these stories from old once again, in our time, because we believe that there is wisdom and guidance in the dynamics we see at work in this ancient society. We pay attention to them because we believe that the same Spirit who anointed the kings, and who called and equipped the prophets, is the very Spirit who today meets us, calls us, and equips us.

This Sunday, the Narrative Lectionary offers us a narrative that recounts the call of the young boy, Samuel, to the role of prophet (1 Sam 3:1–21). Samuel was the designated prophet whose wisdom guided the people in the early period of the monarchy. This story from the early years of Samuel’s life instructs us as we hear it in later times, to listen to God’s voice, and to respond with obedience. 

Young Samuel was in the temple, where the elderly Eli was priest. In the evening, while the lamp was still burning, Samuel hears a voice. The voice simply calls his name. “Here I am”, Samuel responds when he hears that voice. He is sure that it is Samuel who is speaking to him—there is nobody else around. Three times, he hears “Samuel”; and three times, he responds “here I am” (vv.4,6,8). 

Samuel had been thinking that it was Eli speaking to him; but it was not the priest, it was the voice of the Lord. The story conveys a sense of confusion and unknowing. This reflects something of the uncertainty that people of faith often have with regard to “hearing the voice of the Lord”. 

Indeed, the fragility of living by faith without clear and obvious demonstration of he presence of God is signalled in the opening verse: “the word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread” (v.1). The poor vision of the elderly priest, Eli (v.2), is a second signal of this uncertainty. The priest cannot see; the child hears but does not understand.

Paying attention to the voice of the Lord is a persistent refrain in Hebrew Scriptures. Indeed, the psalmist rejoices in the clarity of God’s voice: “the voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord, over mighty waters; the voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice of the Lord is full of majesty” (Ps 29:3–4). Yet another psalmist recalls the time, in the wilderness, when the people of Israel “grumbled in their tents, and did not obey the voice of the Lord” (Ps 106:25). The people were not always faithful, even though the voice sounded with clarity. They needed reminders of that voice.

In the foundational saga of Israel, Moses is called by the voice of God while tending sheep on Mount Horeb (Exod 3:4). In obedience, he leads the people to freedom—and then informs the people, “if you will listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God, and do what is right in his sight, and give heed to his commandments and keep all his statutes”, then God promises not to inflict them with disease (Exod 15:26). Later, when Moses has delivered to them “all the words of the Lord and all the ordinances”, the response of the people is an affirmative “all the words that the Lord has spoken we will do” (Exod 24:3).

A number of the prophets indicate that they are impelled to declare “the word of the Lord” to a sinful people because they have heard, and are obedient to, “the voice of the Lord”. Isaiah hears the voice of the Lord calling him: “whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” (Isa 6:8). Isaiah is given words of woe to pronounce over the people (Isa 6:9–13); he warns the leaders of Israel, “listen, and hear my voice; pay attention, and hear my speech” (Isa 28:23). 

His fellow-southerner, the shepherd Amos, opens his words with the bold declaration, “the Lord roars from Zion, and utters his voice from Jerusalem” (Amos 1:2), before he launches into his long series of oracles against the surrounding nations (Amos 1:3—2:3) and then against Judah and Israel (Amos 2:4–16).

The image of the lord as a roaring lion is used also by Joel, “the Lord roars from Zion, and utters his voice from Jerusalem, and the heavens and the earth shake” (Joel 3:16), while in another oracle he says, “the Lord utters his voice at the head of his army; how vast is his host!” (Joel 2:1). Joel’s words of judgement penetrate to the heart of the evil of the people: the coming day will be “a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness!” (Joel 2:2), and so he calls the people to “return to [the Lord] with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing” (Joel 2:12–13).

Micah also declares, “the voice of the Lord cries to the city (it is sound wisdom to fear your name)” (Mic 6:9) before he lambasts the people for their wickedness: “your wealthy are full of violence; your inhabitants speak lies, with tongues of deceit in their mouths” (Mic 6:12; the whole damning oracle is 6:9–16).

Called as a youth by “the word of the Lord” (Jer 1:4–8), Jeremiah hears the assurance, “I have put my words in your mouth” (Jer 1:9); the prophet later instructs the people, “amend your ways and your doings, and obey the voice of the Lord your God, and the Lord will change his mind about the disaster that he has pronounced against you” (Jer 26:13). Again, he tells them, “obey the voice of the Lord in what I say to you, and it shall go well with you, and your life shall be spared” (Jer 38:20). Eventually, the people affirm, “whether it is good or bad, we will obey the voice of the Lord our God to whom we are sending you, in order that it may go well with us when we obey the voice of the Lord our God” (Jer 42:6).

In the return from exile, both Haggai (Hag 1:12) and Zechariah (Zech 6:15) rejoice that Israel “obeyed the voice of the Lord their God”; but Daniel laments that his people “have not obeyed the voice of the Lord our God by following his laws, which he set before us by his servants the prophets; Israel has transgressed your law and turned aside, refusing to obey your voice” (Dan 9:10).

And yet, various prophets had hesitated when first hearing “the voice of the Lord”. The initial response of Moses is “who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” (Exod 3:11), followed by a series of further objections that he raises (Exod 3:13; 4:1; 4:10). Amos explains to the priest Amaziah how his call had surprised him: “I am no prophet, nor a prophet’s son; but I am a herdsman, and a dresser of sycamore trees” (Amos 7:14).

Isaiah seeks to excuse himself from the prophetic task: “I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips” (Isa 6:5). Jeremiah objects, “truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy” (Jer 1:5). A number of the prophets are, initially at least, reluctant spokespersons for the Lord God.

By contrast, in the story told in 1 Sam 3, after hearing his name spoken by the Lord for a third time, Samuel responds with a declaration of obedience: “speak, for your servant is listening” (v.10). This was just as the priest Eli had instructed him (v.9). Here, Samuel demonstrates careful listening, patience, openness to what he encounters, and complete obedience to that voice.

Just beyond the passage set by the lectionary, the narrator indicates that what will follow will be dramatic and compelling; it will “make both ears of anyone who hears of it to tingle” (v.11). The immediate drama which les ahead will tell of punishment for the sins of the house of Eli. Young Samuel is given his first commission: tell his patron Eli about what lies in store for him. Samuel, in fear and trembling, dutifully does so (v.18); Eli recognises the word of the Lord in the voice of the prophet, and accepts his fate. 

The pattern of Samuel’s life is thus set: he will need to summon inner strength, demonstrate commitment to the cause, use clarity of speech, and model integrity of life. The fact that the young Samuel already demonstrated these qualities may well be why this story is remembered and retold. These two stories from the early years of Samuel’s life are remembered in order to instruct those who hear them in later generations, to listen and to obey, to be brave and focussed. And so we, in our time, are to hear the story, reflect on it, and respond appropriately.

In due time Hannah conceived and bore a son (1 Samuel 1; Pentecost 26B) 

The lectionary does some curious things. Sometimes it offers us passages which have been chopped up into small bits, excerpts from a longer narrative. Sometimes it leaves out just a verse or two, usually because it seems to be expressing something “difficult” or “distasteful” to modern sensibilities. Many times, it provides us week-after-week of stories about men, and leaves out so many of the stories in the Bible about women. 

We have experienced all of this over the last five months, since the Festival of Pentecost, as we have read and heard stories and poems and songs: twelve weeks of narrative telling of the days of the prophets Samuel and Nathan, with the kings Saul, David, and Solomon; and then eleven weeks largely of poetry from the Wisdom Literature.

Now, for the last-but-one Sunday in the long season stretching out after Pentecost, the lectionary does another strange thing. It takes us right back to the beginning of the narrative sequence, to the story which tells of the arrival of Samuel into the world. We meet Hannah right at the start of this passage, as the childless wife of Elkanah, whose other wife, Peninnah, had been blessed with children,  both sons and daughters.

A depiction of Hannah, Peninnah, and Elkanah,
from a 15th century illuminated manuscript

In a culture where children were seen as blessing from the Lord, this left Hannah in a difficult situation. Although Elkanah gave Hannah “a double portion, because he loved her, though the Lord had closed her womb” (1 Sam 1:5), nevertheless Peninnah “used to provoke her severely, to irritate her, because the Lord had closed her womb” (1:6)—to the extent that “Hannah wept and would not eat” (1:7).

We are presented with these individuals in a narrative which appears to be an historical account of a real ancient family. However, the nature of the text is somewhat different. Jewish scholar Lillian Klein argues that Peninnah “is probably a literary convention, a foil for the independence and goodness of Hannah, and should be regarded as such”. She proposes that “Peninnah represents a woman who accepts social paradigms without examining them, thus acting out the type of jealousy between co-wives known from the matriarchal texts of Genesis.” See her article in the Jewish Women’s Archive at 

https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/peninnah-bible

When we began reading the stories from the book of Samuel, back in June, I proposed that these stories were not to be regarded as  “history” as we know it today. Rather, they are ancient tales told and retold, passed on by word of mouth and then written down, because of their enduring significance for the people of ancient Israel. Scholars call such stories “myths”, meaning that they convey something of fundamental importance. (We might best define myth as “a traditional story, usually associated with the time of origins, of paradigmatic significance for the society in which it is told”.)

See more on the nature of these stories at 

and on the sequence of stories told in Genesis and Exodus, at 

Identifying the stories in the narrative books of the Hebrew Scriptures, including the story of Hannah, as “myths” does not mean they are “not true”—rather, it means that we need to read them, not as historically accurate accounts, but as stories which convey fundamentally important ideas. These stories were valued by people of ancient times. They may well offer us, in our own times, insights and guidance of value.

So we read and ponder these stories from old once again, in our time, because we believe that there is wisdom and guidance in the dynamics we see at work in this ancient society. We pay attention to them because we believe that the same Spirit who anointed the kings, and who called and equipped the prophets, is the very Spirit who today meets us, calls us, and equips us.

A portrayal of Hannah from the series by photographer
James C. Lewis, in which he depicts biblical characters
as they were—as “persons of colour”.

“In due time Hannah conceived and bore a son”, the narrator informs us (1 Sam 1:20a).  The name of the child, in typical biblical narrative style, is Samuel, which she explains as given because “I have asked him of the Lord” (1:20b). After he is born, Hannah sings a wonderful song, praising God for how God has been at work. In this song, she gives thanks for the birth of her son, and praises God especially for God’s care for “the poor”, as she sings how the Lord “raises up the poor from the dust; he lifts the needy from the ash heap” (1 Sam 2:8; also Ps 113:7). Hannah is so grateful for all that God has done, that she offers Samuel to the Lord; “as long as he loves, he is given to the Lord”, she declares (1 Sam 1:28).

My wife has preached a fine sermon on Hannah and her place in this story, for Project Reconnect. See 

For a comparison of the Song of Hannah (1 Sam 2) with the later Song of Mary (Luke 1), see

The child born to Hannah, Samuel, will grow and develop to become a most important figure in the story of Israel. When Samuel was an adult, he served as the “court prophet” alongside the first two kings of Israel—Saul, whom he anointed (1 Sam 10:1) and then David, whom he also anointed (1 Sam 16:13). He spoke wise words concerning the appointment of a king in Israel, warning the people about what such a powerful leader would do:

“He will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots; and he will appoint for himself commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and some to plow his ground and to reap his harvest, and to make his implements of war and the equipment of his chariots. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his courtiers. He will take one-tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers and his courtiers. He will take your male and female slaves, and the best of your cattle and donkeys, and put them to his work. He will take one-tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves.” (1 Sam 8:11–17).

And that, of course, is what successive kings did—especially the third king, Solomon, whose empire was extensive and whose army and court required massive resources to support them. Samuel was a wise prophet, indeed!

Both psalmists and prophets declared that the king was charged with the responsibility of leading Israel and ensuring that there was justice in the land. “Give the king your justice, O God”, the psalmist sings (Ps 72:1), so that they might rule with justice and righteousness (Ps 99:4; Prov 29:4). Isaiah looks to the time when “a king will reign in righteousness, and princes will rule with justice” (Isa 32:1; see also Jer 23:5). But the particular calling of the prophet, chosen and anointed by God, was to speak the word of God to the people—and, when required, to the king. This was a weighty responsibility!

A portrayal of Samuel from the series by photographer
James C. Lewis, in which he depicts biblical characters
as they were—as “persons of colour”.

We are told that as the young Samuel grew up, “the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground; and all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord” (1 Sam 3:20–21). As prophet, Samuel was to listen to what God says to him, and then to speak forth the word of the Lord to the people of his society—and in particular, to speak truth to the king and to recall them to the centrality of their role, to ensure that God’s justice was a reality in Israelite society (Isa 42:1–4; 61:1–2;  Mic 3:8). 

So the story we hear this Sunday stands as a foundational tale for all that transpired in Israel over the coming centuries: in periods of growth and abundance, in periods of conflict and turmoil, through exile and return, through rebuilding and restoring Jerusalem and the Temple. 

Samuel played a pivotal role at the beginning of this sequence; his story, and his words, have been remembered, repeated, recorded, and read over the centuries, because they still speak to us of the importance of justice and integrity in society.

The pattern of Samuel’s life was set from his early years: he would need to summon inner strength, demonstrate commitment to the cause, use clarity of speech, and model integrity of life. He presumably learnt much of this from his own mother, whose dedication in her actions, along with the words of her song, demonstrate these qualities in abundance. The stories from the early years of Samuel’s life (1 Sam 1–3) are remembered in order to instruct those who hear them in later generations, to listen and to obey, to be brave and focussed. And so we, in our time, are to hear the story, reflect on it, and respond appropriately.

For more on the child Samuel, and his call, see

A king forever (Narrative Lectionary for Pentecost 22C; 2 Sam 7)

A king forever. That is the promise of these well-known words in 2 Samuel 7, which we will hear and reflect on in worship this coming Sunday. They are significant words for Jews; they are also significant words for Christians, for they have informed the way that followers of Jesus would talk about him. The words are given initially to David, only the second king of Israel, but the one who would provide descendants to sit on the throne for half a millennium. 

The words of the prophet Nathan, given to him (as he says) by the Lord God, are reported and remembered over those centuries as validation of the power of those kings, even though so many of them “did evil in the sight of the Lord” (as later verses in the historical narratives of Israel report). God stood by those leaders over many generations, consistently reminding the people of their responsibility to adhere to the covenant, affirming them at moments when their faith is evident, and rebuking them at times when that is not the case. 

These words have been remembered further by Christians, who see that in Jesus, God has sent “the King of the ages” (1 Tim 1:17), to whom “belong the glory and the power forever and ever” (1 Pet 4:11; also Rom 16:26; Eph 3:21). This is in accord with the “eternal purpose that [God] has carried out in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Eph 3:11), to lead believers to “eternal life” (Luke 10:25; John 17:3; Rom 5:21; 6:23).

Of course, in those words which Nathan speaks to David, we recognise the play on words that occurs. David understands God to be promising a “house” which is “a house of cedar” (v.7), but God actually intends to establish “offspring after you … his kingdom” (v.12).

The word “house” is used fifteen times in 2 Samuel 7, where it has three different meanings. It refers to David’s palace (vv.1–2), to the temple of the Lord God (vv.5–7, 13), and then to David’s dynasty (vv.11, 16, 18–19, 25–27, 29). The story promises a stable future for generations to come. So the motif of a kingdom that lasts “forever” is linked both with the affirmation that there will be a king “forever”, and also with the belief that the covenant with Israel will last “forever”. That there will be a king “forever” is integral to God’s promise to David that “your throne shall be established forever” (2 Sam 7:16), repeated by the Chronicler, “when your days are fulfilled to go to be with your ancestors, I will raise up your offspring after you, one of your own sons, and I will establish his kingdom … and I will establish his throne forever” (1 Chron 17:11–12).

The kingdom that will last “forever” is introduced by God’s words in 2 Samuel 7, where God promises David that “your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me” (2 Sam 7:16). The Chronicler also repeats this promise, quoting God as saying of David, “I will confirm him in my house and in my kingdom forever, and his throne shall be established forever” (1 Chron 17:14).

Affirmation of a covenant that will last forever is found in a number of psalms. “The Lord our God … is mindful of his covenant forever, of the word that he commanded, for a thousand generations, the covenant that he made with Abraham, his sworn promise to Isaac, which he confirmed to Jacob as a statute, to Israel as an everlasting covenant” (Ps 105:7–10).

The covenant is noted in a number of psalms. “The friendship of the Lord is for those who fear him, and he makes his covenant known to them”, sings the psalmist (Ps 25:14). “I have made a covenant with my chosen one, I have sworn to my servant David”, God sings in another psalm; “I will establish your descendants forever, and build your throne for all generations” (Ps 89:3–4). 

King David as depicted by photographer James C. Lewis
in his series, Icons of the Bible, in which he depicts
key biblical characters as people of colour

In this same psalm, God affirms that, even if the children of David “forsake my law and do not walk according to my ordinances”, God will punish them, but “forever I will keep my steadfast love for him, and my covenant with him will stand firm … I will not violate my covenant, or alter the word that went forth from my lips” (Ps 89:28, 34). That covenant is to last “forever” (Ps 111:9).

The ultimate message, then, is that God will stand by the leaders of Israel, punishing them, forgiving them, loving them at each step along the way. A promise to sustain a king and a kingdom “forever”, by virtue of a covenant that lasts “forever”, undergirds this reality for the people of Israel. The modern nation state of Israel has adopted this confident assertion, although without any critical appreciation of the context and the purpose of this promise in antiquity. The dreadful results of this unthinking adoption of the mantra that “God is always with us” is playing out in the many deaths, injuries, and sadness that is taking place in Gaza, even today.

Of course, in the traditional understanding of Christianity, the “forever” component has been taken up in the application of 2 Samuel 7 to Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus is acclaimed as “Son of David” in the Synoptic Gospels (Mark 10:47–48; 12:35; Luke 3:31; 18:38–39; and especially in Matt 1:1, 20; 9:27; 12:23; 15:22; 20:30–31; 21:9, 15; 22:42). This claim is also noted at John 7:42; Rom 1:3; 2 Tim 2:8; Rev 3:7; 5:5; 22:16). The heritage of David lives on in these stories.

This particular son of David, as Christian understanding develops, was understood to be king “forever”; “he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1:31–33). The covenant that he has renewed and enacted with the people of God is “forever” (Heb 9:15; 12:20); and the kingdom that he proclaimed and for which we hope will also be “forever” (2 Pet 1:11). 

In the late first century document that we know as letter to the Ephesians, for instance, the resurrected Jesus is seen as seated at the right hand of God “in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named” (Eph 1:20–21). That place of authority for Jesus is envisaged as stretching into eternity, “not only in this age but also in the age to come” (1:20), and as encompassing all places, for God “has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things” (1:22). 

The global and eternal rule of Christ is here clearly articulated. The statement by the writer that God “seated [Jesus] at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion” (1:20–21) has inspired the development of the imagery of Christ as Pantocrator (Greek for “ruler of all”) in Eastern churches, both Orthodox and Catholic.

Jesus Christ Pantocrator
(detail from a mosaic in Hagia Sophia, Istanbul)

This line of thinking has culminated in the festival of the Reign of Christ, which has been celebrated in the Roman Catholic Church since it was introduced by Pope Pius XI in 1925. It has since been adopted by Lutheran, Anglican, and various Protestant churches around the world, and also, apparently, by the Western Rite parishes of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia. 

1925 was a time when Fascist dictators were rising to power in Europe.  I have read that “the specific impetus for the Pope establishing this universal feast of the Church was the martyrdom of a Catholic priest, Blessed Miguel Pro, during the Mexican revolution”; see Today’s Catholic, 18 Nov 2014, at 

The article continues, “The institution of this feast was, therefore, almost an act of defiance from the Church against all those who at that time were seeking to absolutize their own political ideologies, insisting boldly that no earthly power, no particular political system or military dictatorship is ever absolute. Rather, only God is eternal and only the Kingdom of God is an absolute value, which never fails.”

The scriptures puncture the pomposity of powerful kings, and subversively present Jesus as the one who stands against all that those kings did. This festival provides a unique way of reflecting on the eternal kingship of Jesus. It offers a distinctive way for considering how the kingship bestowed upon David has been understood to last “forever”.

As long as he lives, he is given to the Lord (1 Sam 1–2; Narrative Lectionary for Pentecost 21C)

We continue our readings in the books of scripture which tell of the origins and early periods of Israel. After hearing from Genesis and Exodus, we turn this week and in following weeks to stories in the books of Samuel and the early chapters of Kings. This part of the extended narrative we have in scripture recounts the development of the monarchy in Israel, with stories of Saul, David, and Solomon, the first three men charged with the responsibility of leading Israel and ensuring that there was justice in the land.

Alongside that is the story of Samuel, the first of a long line of prophets, gifted and called by God to declare God’s will to the people of Israel.  The stories in the two volumes of Samuel and the following two volumes of Kings also engage us with the lives of prophets, Samuel and Nathan —men who were called to speak the word of God. “Give the king your justice, O God”, the psalmist sings (Ps 72:1), so that they might rule with justice and righteousness (Ps 99:4; Prov 29:4; Isa 32:1; Jer 23:5). That is what these kings, and their successors, were charged with ensuring.

We are told that as the young Samuel grew up, “the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground; and all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord” (1 Sam 3:20–21). Years later, Nathan is commissioned by “the word of the Lord” to “go and tell my servant David, ‘thus says the Lord’” (2 Sam 7:4–5). That is the role of the prophet—to listen to what God says to them, and then to speak forth the word of the Lord to the people of their society.

Samuel, Nathan, and other prophets were particularly called to speak truth to the king and to recall them to the centrality of their role, to ensure that God’s justice was a reality in Israelite society (Isa 42:1–4; 61:1–2;  Mic 3:8). We see this when Nathan confronts David (2 Sam 12), when Elijah confronts Ahab and the priests of Baal (1:Ki 18), when Isaiah advises Hezekiah (2 Ki 20), and when Josiah consults Huldah (2 Ki 22; 2 Chron 34).

This Sunday the Narrative Lectionary invites us to hear the story which tells of the arrival of Samuel into the world (1 Samuel 1:9–11, 19–20; 2:1-10). We meet Hannah right at the start of this passage, as the childless wife of Elkanah, whose other wife, Peninnah, had been blessed with children, both sons and daughters (1 Sam 1:1–2).

In a culture where children were seen as blessing from the Lord, this left Hannah in a difficult situation. Although Elkanah gave Hannah “a double portion, because he loved her, though the Lord had closed her womb” (1:5), nevertheless Peninnah “used to provoke her severely, to irritate her, because the Lord had closed her womb” (1:6)—to the extent that “Hannah wept and would not eat” (1:7).

We are presented with these individuals in a narrative which appears to be an historical account of a real ancient family. However, the nature of the text is somewhat different. Jewish scholar Lillian Klein argues that Peninnah “is probably a literary convention, a foil for the independence and goodness of Hannah, and should be regarded as such”. She proposes that “Peninnah represents a woman who accepts social paradigms without examining them, thus acting out the type of jealousy between co-wives known from the matriarchal texts of Genesis.” See her article in the Jewish Women’s Archive at 

https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/peninnah-bible

We need to remember that these stories are not to be regarded as  “history” as we know it today. Rather, they are ancient tales told and retold, passed on by word of mouth and then written down, because of their enduring significance for the people of ancient Israel. Scholars call such stories “myths”, meaning that they convey something of fundamental importance. (We might best define myth as “a traditional story, usually associated with the time of origins, of paradigmatic significance for the society in which it is told”.)

See more on the nature of these stories at 

and on the sequence of stories told in Genesis and Exodus, at 

Identifying the stories in the narrative books of the Hebrew Scriptures, including the story of Hannah, as “myths” does not mean they are “not true”—rather, it means that we need to read them, not as historically accurate accounts, but as stories which convey fundamentally important ideas. These stories were valued by people of ancient times. They may well offer us, in our own times, insights and guidance of value.

So we read and ponder these stories from old once again, in our time, because we believe that there is wisdom and guidance in the dynamics we see at work in this ancient society. We pay attention to them because we believe that the same Spirit who anointed the kings, and who called and equipped the prophets, is the very Spirit who today meets us, calls us, and equips us.

“In due time Hannah conceived and bore a son”, the narrator informs us (1 Sam 1:20a). The name of the child, in typical biblical narrative style, is Samuel, which she explains as given because “I have asked him of the Lord” (1:20b). After he is born, Hannah sings a wonderful song, praising God for how God has been at work. In this song, she gives thanks for the birth of her son, and praises God especially for God’s care for “the poor”, as she sings how the Lord “raises up the poor from the dust; he lifts the needy from the ash heap” (1 Sam 2:8; also Ps 113:7). 

Hannah is so grateful for all that God has done, that she offers Samuel to the Lord; “as long as he lives, he is given to the Lord”, she declares (1 Sam 1:28). The song that she then sings is a striking psalm of praise to God (1 Sam 2:1–10); Christian readers will particularly notice the similarities that this psalm has with Mary’s song of praise before Jesus was born (Luke 1:46–55). For a comparison of the Song of Hannah (1 Sam 2) with the later Song of Mary (Luke 1), see 

The child born to Hannah, Samuel, will grow and develop to become a most important figure in the story of Israel. When Samuel was an adult, he served as the “court prophet” alongside the first two kings of Israel—Saul, whom he anointed (1 Sam 10:1) and then David, whom he also anointed (1 Sam 16:13). He spoke wise words concerning the appointment of a king in Israel, warning the people about what such a powerful leader would do:

“He will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots; and he will appoint for himself commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and some to plow his ground and to reap his harvest, and to make his implements of war and the equipment of his chariots. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his courtiers. He will take one-tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers and his courtiers. He will take your male and female slaves, and the best of your cattle and donkeys, and put them to his work. He will take one-tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves.” (1 Sam 8:11–17).

And that, of course, is what successive kings did—especially the third king, Solomon, whose empire was extensive and whose army and court required massive resources to support them. Samuel was a wise prophet, indeed!

Both psalmists and prophets declared that the king was charged with the responsibility of leading Israel and ensuring that there was justice in the land. “Give the king your justice, O God”, the psalmist sings (Ps 72:1), so that they might rule with justice and righteousness (Ps 99:4; Prov 29:4). Isaiah looks to the time when “a king will reign in righteousness, and princes will rule with justice” (Isa 32:1; see also Jer 23:5). But the particular calling of the prophet, chosen and anointed by God, was to speak the word of God to the people—and, when required, to the king. This was a weighty responsibility!

We are told that as the young Samuel grew up, “the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground; and all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord” (1 Sam 3:20–21). As prophet, Samuel was to listen to what God says to him, and then to speak forth the word of the Lord to the people of his society—and in particular, to speak truth to the king and to recall them to the centrality of their role, to ensure that God’s justice was a reality in Israelite society (Isa 42:1–4; 61:1–2;  Mic 3:8). 

So the story we hear this Sunday stands as a foundational tale for all that transpired in Israel over the coming centuries: in periods of growth and abundance, in periods of conflict and turmoil, through exile and return, through rebuilding and restoring Jerusalem and the Temple. 

Samuel played a pivotal role at the beginning of this sequence; his story, and his words, have been remembered, repeated, recorded, and read over the centuries, because they still speak to us of the importance of justice and integrity in society.

The pattern of Samuel’s life was set from his early years: he would need to summon inner strength, demonstrate commitment to the cause, use clarity of speech, and model integrity of life. He presumably learnt much of this from his own mother, whose dedication in her actions, along with the words of her song, demonstrate these qualities in abundance. The stories from the early years of Samuel’s life (1 Sam 1–3) are remembered in order to instruct those who hear them in later generations, to listen and to obey, to be brave and focussed. And so we, in our time, are to hear the story, reflect on it, and respond appropriately.

For more on the child Samuel, and his call, see

Do not judge by appearances (1 Sam 15–16; Pentecost 4B)

In the lectionary during the weeks after Pentecost, we hear stories from the period of time when Israel was ruled by a king. The story of the choosing of the first king, Saul, is told in 1 Samuel 9; his rule runs through the narratives told from this chapter until the last chapter of this book, namely, 1 Samuel 31.

As I have noted before, although these narratives have the appearance of being historical, they are actually ancient tales which were told and retold, passed on by word of mouth and then written down, because of their enduring significance for the people of ancient Israel. Scholars call such stories “myths”, meaning that they convey something of fundamental importance. (We might best define myth as “a traditional story, usually associated with the time of origins, of paradigmatic significance for the society in which it is told”.)

See more on the nature of these stories at

The picture of Saul, the first man chosen to be king in Israel, demonstrates the flaws of this system of leadership. His reign was characterised by turbulence and opposition; as early as chapter 13 there are signs of the problems that there were in his leadership.

After defeating the Philistines, and being impatient for the prophet Samuel to arrive, he went ahead with a burnt offering, in contradiction to the command of God. “You have done foolishly; you have not kept the commandment of the Lord your God, which he commanded you”, Samuel berates the king (1 Sam 13:13). This is not the behaviour expected of a person leading the chosen people of God!

The prophet Samuel foreshadows the coming turmoil under Saul’s leadership, telling him that “the Lord would have established your kingdom over Israel forever, but now your kingdom will not continue” (1 Sam 13:14). The passage offered by the lectionary for this coming Sunday, 1 Sam 15:34—16:13, follows soon after. Here, we learn that because the rule of Saul is fraught with difficulties, a significant change is on the cards.

Pushed by the words of the prophet Samuel, Saul confesses his sin (1 Sam 15:24, 30). Samuel announces to him that “the Lord has rejected you from being king over Israel” (15:26) and declares, quite dramatically, “the Lord has torn the kingdom of Israel from you this very day, and has given it to a neighbour of yours, who is better than you” (15:28).

The narrator of this story engages in an interesting theological exploration at this point. Samuel is clear about God’s intentions: “the Glory of Israel will not recant or change his mind; for he is not a mortal, that he should change his mind” (15:29). This God had explicitly chosen Saul, who said he was “only a Benjaminite, from the least of the tribes of Israel, and my family is the humblest of all the families of the tribe of Benjamin” (9:21).

God had chosen David, this least and most humble person, to serve as ruler over the people, to “save my people from the hand of the Philistines” (9:16). He would rule for 40 years—the biblical way of saying “for an awfully long time”—and exert great power. We might note that this “least-become-greatest” dynamic prefigures some of the teaching of Jesus, a descendant of David, a millennia later. (See Mark 9:33– 37; Matt 11:11; 18:1–5; 23:11–12; Luke 7:28; 9:48; 22:24–27).

Samuel, exercising his prophetic leadership, had assured the people, “there is no one like him among all the people” (10:24); but some in the crowd were doubtful, saying, “how can this man save us?”, and they despised him (10:27). Paradoxically, these men had insight into the character of Saul which the Lord God himself failed to perceive at this time.

However, a little later, the narrator of this story muses that “the Lord was sorry that he had made Saul king over Israel” (15:35). This is regret, but seemingly not quite a full change-of-mind. It does, however, paint the divine in a rather human way; an action undertaken that does not bear fruit for us as anticipated can indeed generate regret.

Elsewhere in Hebrew Scriptures, the matter of a change-of-mind by the divine is explored. Jeremiah instructs the people, “amend your ways and your doings, and obey the voice of the Lord your God, and the Lord will change his mind about the disaster that he has pronounced against you” (Jer 26:13). In the tale of Jonah, when God saw the repentance of the people of Nineveh, “God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it” (Jon 3:10).

The prophet Amos petitions God, such that “the Lord relented concerning this; ‘it shall not be,’ said the Lord” (Amos 7:3, 6). And in the story of the Golden Bull, Moses implores God to “turn from your fierce wrath; change your mind and do not bring disaster on your people”, and so the Lord repents (Exod 32:12–14).

We might wonder: is the regret that the narrator perceives in the divine (1 Sam 15:35) strong enough to chasten God in future actions, so that there will be no need for a divine change-of-mind?

For more on this topic, see

As Saul relinquishes his role, Jesse steps onto the stage; one of his eight sons will sit on the throne. It has been a bitterly-fought transition, and Samuel was saddened by the course of events. But the voice of God pushes him on, to step into his role in the transition taking place; and so the prophet faithfully anoints Saul’s successor.

We should remember that, in the a Christian canon, the two books that tell of the rule of Saul and then David are named, not after those kings, but after the prophet, Samuel—who held and exercised great power, as the story shows, in that he is attuned to God’s voice and speaks God’s words to the people. We saw this dynamic clearly articulated in the earlier narrative (1 Sam 3) on the Sunday after Trinity Sunday (Pentecost 2).

So Samuel follows God’s advice: “do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Sam 16:7). This verse is often quoted by people of faith when reflecting on the importance of inner conviction and commitment to God.

Writing in With Love to the World, Sione Leaaetoa says, “behind the narrative is a God who sees and deals with the heart of human beings (v.7). The condition of our hearts is more important to God than what we do for God outwardly. Our heart is important to God because it can very much affect everything we are and do, as stated in Luke 6:45, “the good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks”. In similar vein, Proverbs 4:23 states ‘keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life’.”

There is a danger here, of course; the outward actions of people are indeed important, and the claim that God’s focus is solely on our “heart” can be deceptive. Both our inner nature and our outer actions are significant; they each point to our faith and express our discipleship.

Indeed, it is worth remembering that, in the Hebrew language—the language in which this narrative was written—the word translated as heart is לֵבָב, lebab. It’s a common word in Hebrew Scripture, and is understood to refer to the mind, will, or heart of a person—words which seek to describe the essence of the person. It is sometimes described as referring to “the inner person”. The word appears 248 times in the scriptures, of which well over half (185) are translated as “heart”. It has a strong connotation of indication “the whole of a person’s being”. That’s what God is focussed on; that’s where faith is shown and discipleship is lived out.

For more on this, see

So Jesse brings his sons before Samuel. But which son is it to be? Samuel first offers a sacrifice to God (15:2–5), in the expectation that what he does next will be in accord with the will of God. Samuel had his own ideas, based on appearances; God reprimands him, now telling him to focus on the heart—the very core of the being of the chosen one, the whole of that person’s being (16:7). After receiving all of Jesse’s sons in order (16:8–10), Samuel exercises his prophetic discernment, selecting the youngest son, David, to be the new king (16:11–13).

Of course, this is an often-encountered dynamic in the Hebrew Scriptures: Abel’s offering was preferred over his older brother Cain; the younger of twins, Jacob was chosen over Esau; Joseph was favoured over his 11 older brothers; Ephraim was favoured over his older brother Manasseh; and the younger Moses took the lead over Aaron.

God then confirms this choice by gifting David with the spirit: “the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward” (16:13). Openness to new ways and new possibilities has led to this defining moment.

Ironically, when Samuel first sees David, the narrator introduces him with the description, “he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome” (16:12)—precisely the elements of “outward appearance” that we were told earlier that the Lord does not consider. Even the careful crafter of this story gets caught!!

Screenshot

With Love to the World is a daily Bible reading resource, written and produced within the Uniting Church in Australia, following the Revised Common Lectionary. It offers Sunday worshippers the opportunity to prepare for hearing passages of scripture in the week leading to that day of worship. It seeks to foster “an informed faith” amongst the people of God.

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Give us a King, like other nations (1 Sam 8–10; Pentecost 3B)

1 Samuel 8:4–20 is the passage offered by the lectionary for this coming Sunday. It is the second in the sequence of Hebrew Scripture passages that we are reading through the first half of the long “season after Pentecost”, from May to August. The passage addresses an issue that was important in ancient Israel; that is important in modern-day Israel/Palestine; and that is important, also, in all nations around the world today.

This Sunday we will hear the beginning of a process—debate about having a king as a ruler—that culminates, at the end of August, with an account of Solomon, the wisest, most powerful, and perhaps most damaging king of all. That makes this ancient text potent in the contemporary situation, where Israel is engaged in a life- and-death struggle with Hamas, where megalomania amongst leaders in Russia, North Korea, China, and even the USA predominates, and where too many countries around the globe suffer under dictatorial, repressive regimes.

The passages selected today focus on the issue of power. Precisely: what kind of power in leadership is acceptable in Israel? should Israel be ruled by a king? For centuries, judges had led the people, determining what was right and what was wrong. The book of Judges tells of a string of such judges, men who worked hard to recall the people to their covenant with the Lord God: Othniel (Judg 3:9), Ehud (3:15), Shamgar (3:31), an unnamed prophet (6:8), Gideon (6:11–18), Tola (10:1), Jair (10:3), Jephthah (11:1; 12:7), Ibzan, Elon, and Abdon (12:8–15), and Samson (13:24–25; 16:28–31).

And, of course, it most famously tells of Deborah, “a prophetess, wife of Lappidoth, [who] was judging Israel; she used to sit under the palm of Deborah between Ramah and Bethel in the hill country of Ephraim; and the Israelites came up to her for judgment” (Judg 4:4–5).

However, the impact of the efforts of these various judges was merely transitory; the people returned again and again to their sinful, idolatrous ways. “The Israelites did what was evil in the sight of the Lord” (initially at 2:11, repeated at 3:7) is a recurring refrain throughout the book of Judges. It signals that the people reverted to their evil ways after Othniel (3:12), Shamgar (4:1), Deborah (6:1), Jair (9:6), and Abdon (13:1).

As a result, we are told that the people were “given into the hands” of their enemies on each of these occasions (3:8; 4:2; 6:1, 13; 10:7; 13:1). The horror perpetrated by Jephthah, offering his own daughter as a burnt offering (11:29–40), and the deceit and arrogance of Samson (16:1–31) exemplify this sinful streak.

In the final chapters of the book, details are given of the evil deeds of various people: the mother of Micah, who made an idol of cast metal (17:1–6); the men of Gibeah, who raped the Levite’s concubine (19:22–25); the Levite himself, who cut his concubine into twelve pieces (19:27–30); and then the attacks on the Bejaminites by the other tribes of Israel (20:1–48). The book draws to its end with the mournful conclusion, “in those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes” (21:25).

So it is made clear in the narrative constructed in the book of Judges, that Israel’s downfall was that it was not ruled by a king, as other nations surrounding Israel were. A king could maintain justice and ensure equity within the society of Israel. And a king could marshal the forces needed to repel invaders and stand resolute against the sinful ways that would be imposed upon the nation by those who did not fear the Lord God.

So the elders of Israel press for change; we can understand why. However, the prophet who has been called by God, Samuel, is attuned to God’s voice on this matter, and so he rejects this request. But the people persist with their request—their demand, even. And so it is that God, in a striking reversal of opinion, decides to have a change of mind about kingship. God pushes Samuel to accept this change.

The lectionary this coming Sunday offers us excerpts from the lengthy section of 1 Samuel where this matter is considered (1 Sam 8—11). The matter is first raised in the request made of Samuel by the people: “appoint for us, then, a king to govern us, like other nations” (1 Sam 8:5). The revolution comes, chapters later, after various points of view have been canvassed.

The lectionary selection for this Sunday offers us “A Dummies Guide to Kings in Israel”—that is, a series of “bites” [1 Samuel 8:4-11, (12-15), 16-20, (11:14-15)], some of which are optional (placed in parentheses). After the initial request, it includes the resistance of Samuel to this proposal (8:12–18) and the persistence of the people in pressing their request: “the people refused to listen to the voice of Samuel; they said “No! but we are determined to have a king over us” (8:19–20).

The full text of 1 Samuel provides reports of the back-and-forth that transpires, which the lectionary omits. It skips to a final optional reading of a further short section (11:14–15) which reports the outcome: “all the people went to Gilgal, and there they made Saul king before the Lord in Gilgal”.

The appointment of a king was obviously a matter of some controversy in ancient Israel; the compiler of the Deuteronomistic History (of which 1 Samuel is a part) devoted a significant amount of space to it, taking pains to include conflicting views about this matter. And, as we read these texts with the benefit of hindsight, we know that a king was ultimately appointed. This led to the later establishment of the Davidic dynasty, which became important in the claims later made about Jesus of Nazareth, recognised as Son of David.

So, of course, the person (or persons) chronicling the history of Israel in what scholars now call the Deuteronomistic history will tell the story with this outcome in view. The end result shapes how the story is told.

Writing in With Love to the World, Elizabeth Raine observes that “Israel looks for a leader to win battles and guarantee their security. It is a black-and-white understanding of the King; a figure military strength and political power. This is not the same as the way the prophet saw the role of King”. The people want power. The prophet warns of corruption. The people want victory. The prophet warns of failing to ensure justice.

And a clear thread in Hebrew Scripture would come to be that the king was called by God and anointed by God’s prophet to ensure that justice and righteousness were found in the land of Israel (Ps 72:1; 99:4; 1 Ki 3:28, 10:9; Isa 11:1–9; 32:1). That, at least, became the ideology for kingship in Israel; the reality, as we see in the stories selected for future weeks, was often different.

Elizabeth continues, “The story calls us to examine where we are placing our allegiances, and move to transformation, that process of repentance and renewal in which we turn back to God in every area. Whilst such self-examination is no doubt painful, it is also the only way to ensure we remain connected with God’s life-giving Spirit. As more and more people make the shift to a faithful allegiance that ensures that God’s Kingdom will be realised here on earth, we will hopefully see the reality of justice, peace, and love spreading in our world.”

To close, I offer two reflections on how this ancient story might speak to us today. The first perspective is that this story, about the desire for a powerful leader, and the dangers of pushing an agenda of power over all other matters, is a direct challenge to the way that the leaders of the modern state of Israel are conducting themselves in the long-enduring conflict with the Palestinians, who share an equally just claim to the land that was bequeathed to Jews in 1948. I have reflected at more length on this matter at

and my colleague Chris Budden has offered good insights into this conflict at

The second perspective is that this story is the first in a series of stories from ancient days which address a pressing contemporary issue: how to bring about effective change within the community of faith. It is something we all know about today, as society changes and the church occupies a different place in that society. How do we listen for God’s voice in this context? How do we advocate for effective change? I have written further on this dynamic at

and

With Love to the World is a daily Bible reading resource, written and produced within the Uniting Church in Australia, following the Revised Common Lectionary. It offers Sunday worshippers the opportunity to prepare for hearing passages of scripture in the week leading to that day of worship. It seeks to foster “an informed faith” amongst the people of God.

Speak, for your servant is listening (1 Sam 3; Pentecost 2B)

For three months—the first half of the long season “after Pentecost”—the lectionary offers a sequence of passages which comprise some key narratives from the books of Samuel and the early chapters of Kings. These stories recount the development of the monarchy in Israel, with stories of Saul, David, and Solomon, the first three men charged with the responsibility of leading Israel and ensuring that there was justice in the land. “Give the king your justice, O God”, the psalmist sings (Ps 72:1), so that they might rule with justice and righteousness (Ps 99:4; Prov 29:4; Isa 32:1; Jer 23:5). That is what these kings, and their successors, were charged with ensuring.

These stories also engage us with the lives of prophets, Samuel and Nathan—men who were called to speak the word of God. We are told that as the young Samuel grew up, “the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground; and all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord” (1 Sam 3:20–21). Years later, Nathan is commissioned by “the word of the Lord” to “go and tell my servant David, ‘thus says the Lord’” (2 Sam 7:4–5). That is the role of the prophet—to listen to what God says to them, and then to speak forth the word of the Lord to the people of their society.

Samuel, Nathan, and other prophets were particularly called to speak truth to the king and to recall them to the centrality of their role, to ensure that God’s justice was a reality in Israelite society (Isa 42:1–4; 61:1–2; Mic 3:8). We see this when Nathan confronts David (2:Sam 12), when Elijah confronts Ahab and the priests of Baal (1:Ki 18), when Isaiah advises Hezekiah (2 Ki 20), and when Josiah consults Huldah (2 Ki 22; 2 Chron 34).

As we pay attention to the details of the stories, let us remember that these stories are not “history” as we know it today. Rather, they are ancient tales told and retold, passed on by word of mouth and then written down, because of their enduring significance for the people of ancient Israel. Scholars call such stories “myths”, meaning that they convey something of fundamental importance. (We might best define myth as “a traditional story, usually associated with the time of origins, of paradigmatic significance for the society in which it is told”.)

See more on the nature of these stories at

and on the sequence of stories told in Genesis and Exodus, at

Identifying the stories in the narrative books of the Hebrew Scriptures doesn’t mean they are “not true”—rather, it means that we need to read them, not as historically accurate accounts, but as stories which convey fundamentally important ideas. These stories were valued by people of ancient times. They may well offer us, in our own times, insights and guidance of value.

So we read and ponder these stories from old once again, in our time, because we believe that there is wisdom and guidance in the dynamics we see at work in this ancient society. We pay attention to them because we believe that the same Spirit who anointed the kings, and who called and equipped the prophets, is the very Spirit who today meets us, calls us, and equips us.

We begin with a narrative that recounts the call of the young boy, Samuel, to the role of prophet (1 Sam 3:1–10). This series of narratives from Samuel and Kings provide insights into the leadership of the people of Israel in the crucial years when a key transition was taking place, moving from a group of invading tribes, consolidating into a coherent kingdom. Prophets and Kings provided leadership in challenging times.

Samuel was the designated prophet whose wisdom guided the people in the early period of the monarchy. This story from the early years of Samuel’s life instructs us as we hear it in later times, to listen to God’s voice, and to respond with obedience. Young Samuel was in the temple, where the elderly Eli was priest. In the evening, while the lamp was still burning, Samuel hears a voice. The voice simply calls his name. “Here I am”, Samuel responds when he hears that voice. He is sure that it is Samuel who is speaking to him—there is nobody else around. Three times, he hears “Samuel”; and three times, he responds “here I am” (vv.4,6,8).

Samuel had been thinking that it was Eli speaking to him; but it was not the priest, it was the voice of the Lord. The story conveys a sense of confusion and unknowing. This reflects something of the uncertainty that people of faith often have with regard to “hearing the voice of the Lord”.

Indeed, the fragility of living by faith without clear and obvious demonstration of he presence of God is signalled in the opening verse: “the word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread” (v.1). The poor vision of the elderly priest, Eli (v.2), is a second signal of this uncertainty. The priest cannot see; the child hears but does not understand.

Paying attention to the voice of the Lord is a persistent refrain in Hebrew Scriptures. Indeed, the psalmist rejoices in the clarity of God’s voice: “the voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord, over mighty waters; the voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice of the Lord is full of majesty” (Ps 29:3–4). Yet another psalmist recalls the time, in the wilderness, when the people of Israel “grumbled in their tents, and did not obey the voice of the Lord” (Ps 106:25). The people were not always faithful, even though the voice sounded with clarity. They needed reminders of that voice.

In the foundational saga of Israel, Moses is called by the voice of God while tending sheep on Mount Horeb (Exod 3:4). In obedience, he leads the people to freedom—and then informs the people, “if you will listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God, and do what is right in his sight, and give heed to his commandments and keep all his statutes”, then God promises not to inflict them with disease (Exod 15:26). Later, when Moses has delivered to them “all the words of the Lord and all the ordinances”, the response of the people is an affirmative “all the words that the Lord has spoken we will do” (Exod 24:3).

A number of the prophets indicate that they are impelled to declare “the word of the Lord” to a sinful people because they have heard, and are obedient to, “the voice of the Lord”. Isaiah hears the voice of the Lord calling him: “whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” (Isa 6:8). Isaiah is given words of woe to pronounce over the people (Isa 6:9–13); he warns the leaders of Israel, “listen, and hear my voice; pay attention, and hear my speech” (Isa 28:23).

His fellow-southerner, the shepherd Amos, opens his words with the bold declaration, “the Lord roars from Zion, and utters his voice from Jerusalem” (Amos 1:2), before he launches into his long series of oracles against the surrounding nations (Amos 1:3—2:3) and then against Judah and Israel (Amos 2:4–16).

The image of the lord as a roaring lion is used also by Joel, “the Lord roars from Zion, and utters his voice from Jerusalem, and the heavens and the earth shake” (Joel 3:16), while in another oracle he says, “the Lord utters his voice at the head of his army; how vast is his host!” (Joel 2:1). Joel’s words of judgement penetrate to the heart of the evil of the people: the coming day will be “a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness!” (Joel 2:2), and so he calls the people to “return to [the Lord] with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing” (Joel 2:12–13).

Micah also declares, “the voice of the Lord cries to the city (it is sound wisdom to fear your name)” (Mic 6:9) before he lambasts the people for their wickedness: “your wealthy are full of violence; your inhabitants speak lies, with tongues of deceit in their mouths” (Mic 6:12; the whole damning oracle is 6:9–16).

Called as a youth by “the word of the Lord” (Jer 1:4–8), Jeremiah hears the assurance, “I have put my words in your mouth” (Jer 1:9); the prophet later instructs the people, “amend your ways and your doings, and obey the voice of the Lord your God, and the Lord will change his mind about the disaster that he has pronounced against you” (Jer 26:13). Again, he tells them, “obey the voice of the Lord in what I say to you, and it shall go well with you, and your life shall be spared” (Jer 38:20). Eventually, the people affirm, “whether it is good or bad, we will obey the voice of the Lord our God to whom we are sending you, in order that it may go well with us when we obey the voice of the Lord our God” (Jer 42:6).

In the return from exile, both Haggai (Hag 1:12) and Zechariah (Zech 6:15) rejoice that Israel “obeyed the voice of the Lord their God”; but Daniel laments that his people “have not obeyed the voice of the Lord our God by following his laws, which he set before us by his servants the prophets; Israel has transgressed your law and turned aside, refusing to obey your voice” (Dan 9:10).

And yet, various prophets had hesitated when first hearing “the voice of the Lord”. The initial response of Moses is “who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” (Exod 3:11), followed by a series of further objections that he raises (Exod 3:13; 4:1; 4:10). Amos explains to the priest Amaziah how his call had surprised him: “I am no prophet, nor a prophet’s son; but I am a herdsman, and a dresser of sycamore trees” (Amos 7:14).

Isaiah seeks to excuse himself from the prophetic task: “I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips” (Isa 6:5). Jeremiah objects, “truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy” (Jer 1:5). A number of the prophets are, initially at least, reluctant spokespersons for the Lord God.

By contrast, in the story told in 1 Sam 3, after hearing his name spoken by the Lord for a third time, Samuel responds with a declaration of obedience: “speak, for your servant is listening” (v.10). This was just as the priest Eli had instructed him (v.9). Here, Samuel demonstrates careful listening, patience, openness to what he encounters, and complete obedience to that voice.

Just beyond the passage set by the lectionary, the narrator indicates that what will follow will be dramatic and compelling; it will “make both ears of anyone who hears of it to tingle” (v.11). The immediate drama which les ahead will tell of punishment for the sins of the house of Eli. Young Samuel is given his first commission: tell his patron Eli about what lies in store for him. Samuel, in fear and trembling, dutifully does so (v.18); Eli recognises the word of the Lord in the voice of the prophet, and accepts his fate.

The pattern of Samuel’s life is thus set: he will need to summon inner strength, demonstrate commitment to the cause, use clarity of speech, and model integrity of life. The fact that the young Samuel already demonstrated these qualities may well be why this story is remembered and retold. These two stories from the early years of Samuel’s life are remembered in order to instruct those who hear them in later generations, to listen and to obey, to be brave and focussed. And so we, in our time, are to hear the story, reflect on it, and respond appropriately.

I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me (2 Sam 7; Advent 4B)

During this season of Advent, the lectionary offers a selection of biblical passages designed to help us in our preparations, building to the climactic moment of Christmas Day, when we remember that “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).

These scripture passages have include a sequence of excerpts from the Hebrew Scriptures—largely from the book of Isaiah—which orient us to the saving work of God, experienced by faithful people in Israel through the ages. These scripture passages inform us as to how God might be understood to be at work in the story of Jesus. For my part, I don’t read these Hebrew Scripture passages as “predictions” pointing to Jesus. Rather, I consider that the prophets and psalmists of ancient times were addressing their own situations, not peering into the distant future.

How I read these passages is not in a simplistic prophecy—fulfilment pattern. That is too crass, and it pays no respect at all to the wisdom of faithful people in ancient Israel. Rather, I read these passages as testimonies to the way that faithful people of old understood and experienced God to be at work in their own times, in their own lives. What they wrote—the word of the Lord for their own time—has been repeated and remembered, retold by word of mouth and written onto scrolls which, over time have become recognised as important, influential, even inspired words of wisdom.

So whilst the Hebrew Scripture passages tell us of how God had been at work in years past, they are retained as relevant words which provide guidance and direction for understanding how God would presumably be at work in later times, in the times of Jesus, and indeed in our own times today. When we read and hear and ponder these ancient words, we are opening our hearts and minds to the guidance of God’s Spirit, instructing us in our lives of faith today.

For the fourth Sunday in Advent, we are offered a well-known passage from 2 Samuel; the message that the prophet Nathan receives from the Lord God, which he is instructed to convey to King David (2 Sam 7:1–11, 16). Curiously, the lectionary omits the final comment of the narrator, “in accordance with all these words and with all this vision, Nathan spoke to David” (2 Sam 7:17).

It is worth understanding where this passage comes in the narrative flow of events, for it occurs at a critical time in the story of the people of Israel. In earlier chapters, the prophet Samuel had (somewhat reluctantly) anointed Saul as king in Israel (1 Sam 10:1). This was done in obedience to a direct word of the Lord to Samuel: “I will send to you a man from the land of Benjamin, and you shall anoint him to be ruler over my people Israel. He shall save my people from the hand of the Philistines; for I have seen the suffering of my people, because their outcry has come to me.” (1 Sam 9:16).

However, in the midst of his battles with the Philistines, Saul eventually kills himself, when he sees how hopeless the situation has become (1 Sam 31). The early chapters of 2 Samuel recount the antagonism and chaos of the ensuing days, as “the people of Judah … anointed David king over the house of Judah” (2 Sam 2:4). However, “there was a long war between the house of Saul and the house of David”; during the course of this war “David grew stronger and stronger, while the we Bw ww c house of Saul and and became weaker and weaker” (2 Sam 3:1).

At this point in the story, David recognises an incongruity: “I am living in a house of cedar, but the ark of God stays in a tent”, he tells Nathan (2 Sam 7:2). The implication is that David is now about to redeploy the carpenters and masons whom King Hiram of Tyre had earlier provided for him to build his own house (2 Sam 5:11), and commission them now to build a house for God to live in (2 Sam 7:5).

So the Lord God directs the prophet Nathan to intervene, reminding him that “I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle” (2 Sam 7:6). Samuel is to inform David that God does not need a house to be built for his residence. Rather, God will create a “house” for David; but that house will not be a cedar lodge of multiple rooms, but a royal dynasty with a lineage of monarchs.

The wordplay on “house” is at the heart of this passage. In Hebrew, the word bayith can equally refer to a structure built for people to live in, or to a collection of people living together as a household or related as a family group. That is the same as the English word “house”, which can refer to a domestic structure or a family group. While David yearns to build a structure to house the Lord God—a temple—the intentions of God for David are rather that he will build a family—a dynasty—which will ensure the security of the nation in future generations.

God promises David that he will make him the first in a line of men to rule over Israel—indeed, God promises that “I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever” (2 Sam 7:13). So confident is the Lord God about this promise that he repays it; “your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me; your throne shall be established forever” (7:16).

I think the thrice-repeated claim “forever” is hyperbolic grandstanding; the united kingdom that David inherited from Saul and bequeathed to Solomon did not last “forever”. In less than a century, the kingdom was divided; in another two centuries, the northern kingdom had been defeated and there were no rulers in the line of David, and within another one-and-a-half centuries the southern kingdom had met the same fate.

Later generations would cling to that promise and interpret it in various ways. The narrator of 1–2 Samuel and 1–2 Kings tells of the continuation of this promise over the centuries. Whoever edited the final version (sometime in the Exile, is the best guess) would have known that the promise did not actually last “forever”; yet they retained that claim in the narrative of 2 Sam 7. The promise had been made; even knowing that it was not carried through in history, that story still was to be told.

Various psalms follow suit, celebrating that God “shows steadfast love to his anointed, to David and his descendants forever” (Ps 18:50), bestowing blessings on David forever (Ps 21:6; 45:2), ensuring that “your throne, O God, endures forever and ever” (Ps 45:6), and offering prayers for the king, “may he be enthroned forever before God” (Ps 61:7), “may his name endure forever” (Ps 72:17).

Similarly, even whilst in exile, the prophet Jeremiah celebrates the promise that “David shall never lack a man to sit on the throne of the house of Israel” (Jer 33:17). However, as the prophet surveys “the towns of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem that are desolate, without inhabitants, human or animals” (Jer 33:10), he considers, at least fleetingly, the consequence that David “would not have a son to reign on his throne” (Jer 33:21).

(Nevertheless, the oracle ends with a reversion to the hope that God “will restore their fortunes, and will have mercy upon them”, v.26; earlier, Jeremiah had spoken of the “righteous Branch” who would “spring up for David”, v.15. Indeed, all the exilic prophets hold strongly to the hope of a restored and renewed kingdom.)

However, the definitive break of the line is clearly envisaged at the same time, during the exile, by one of the psalmists, in Psalm 89. Initially, in this psalm, the psalmist declares that “your steadfast love is established forever” (v.2), notes that God’s “hand shall always remain” with David (v.21), and affirms that “his line shall continue forever” (v.36).

And yet, that psalmist continues, “you have spurned and rejected him; you are full of wrath against your anointed” (v.38), “you have removed the scepter from his hand and hurled his throne to the ground” (v.44). The psalm ends with lament: “Lord, where is your steadfast love of old, which by your faithfulness you swore to David?” (v.49).

Clearly, “forever” did not mean for all time, in some aspects of the developing Jewish understanding. The period of exile was indeed the catalyst for consideration of how a Jewish nation might continue; from this time onwards, many Jews continued to practice their religion in the Diaspora, right through to the present. But their practices and customs changed, developed, adapted. And as the sages of the people grappled with ways to live out their faith in a healthy way in those dispersed contexts, they developed various reassessments of the previously strong links between the king, the covenant, and the Lord God. “Forever” did not mean “forever”.

And yet in Christianity, the promise was seen to be still valid; indeed, the Christian claim is that it was continuing in Jesus. The angel Gabriel tells the pregnant Mary that the child she will bear “will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (Luke 1:33). The writer of the letter to the Hebrews quotes Psalm 45:6 and applies it directly to the Son: “your throne, O God, is forever and ever” (Heb 1:8), while the author of Revelation foresees that when the seventh angel blew his trumpet, “there were loud voices in heaven, saying, ‘The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord
and of his Messiah, and he will reign forever and ever’” (Rev 11:15).

So the inclusion of this story in the readings for Advent 4 is, no doubt, because of the Christian understanding that Jesus stands in the line of David, as the shepherd of his sheep, and as the one who rules over the house of God in an eternal kingdom that will never end. (Quite uncharacteristically for me, I have here combined ideas from a number of biblical texts into one harmonised theological statement. This is what systematic theology often does.)

David, the shepherd boy, is anointed as King and designated as the head of a house that will provide leaders stretching into the future in a kingdom that will “be made sure forever before me” (2 Sam 7:16). Jesus is claimed to be of the house of David (Luke 1:27; Matt 1:20) and is acclaimed as “Son of David” (Mark 10:47–48; Matt 20:30–31; Luke 18:38–39), a title that is especially emphasised elsewhere in Matthew’s Gospel (Matt 9:27; 12:23; 15:22; 21:9, 15). The title, for Jewish hearers of those early Gospels, signals the belief that God is at work through this person, Jesus, to guide and lead the people of God.

This Hebrew Scripture passage, like others we have read and heard during Advent, thus orients us to the saving work of God, experienced by faithful people in Israel through the ages, which is later claimed by followers of Jesus to have been manifested in his life. For that reason, we hear it during this Advent season; not as a prophecy which was fulfilled by Jesus, but as a testimony to the ways of God which continue from aeons ago into the present time.