King Saul. John C. Holbert

had afflicted his mentor, Eli. But the voice had lost little of its power and terror. After waiting for absolute quiet, Samuel began and was immediately in full prophetic flood.

      “So, you want a king, do you? Let me tell you about kings. In my long years of travel around our land, I have myself witnessed the ways of foreign kings, and I have heard what they are inclined to do. Listen carefully to what I just said. I spoke of the “ways” of these kings, and I used the word that also means “justice” for us. But I warn you that there is only one sort of justice for kings; it is the justice they decide for themselves!”

      At mention of the word “justice,” the grumbling of the delegation from Beer Sheba grew quite audible.

      One of them shouted out, “We have not seen the justice of kings, but it can hardly be worse than the so-called justice of Joel and Abijah, your polluted boys! So make us a king—now!”

      Samuel pretended not to hear the arrogant interruption of his speech; he was not used to interruptions, since they all knew he was God’s only prophet, did they not? With a shrug of his shoulders, and a repositioning of his priestly robe, Samuel went on, convinced that words from him would always trump words from any other human being.

      “I repeat! The ways of the king you want will be as follows: he will conscript your sons for his armies, forcing some of them into his chariots as drivers and the rest to be foot soldiers running in front of the chariots, easy targets for any enemies’ bowmen. A very few lucky ones will be commanders of thousands, thus escaping the first onslaughts of the battle, but many more so-called “lucky ones” will be commanders of fifties who will lead their charges into the very jaws of death. You all know how many of those leaders return to their homes after conflict. Those sons found unfit for battle—those lame or halt or weak or diseased—will not escape his service. They will plow and sow and reap the kingly harvests or they will make his weapons, his swords and bows, his chariot wheels and armor.

      You think your daughters will be spared the all-seeing eye and insatiable greed of the king? He will take them to make the fruity perfumes for his many wives as well as the sweet lotions to mask his human smells when he chooses to lie on his bed or in his bath at any hour of day or night. Some of your daughters he will send to his huge kitchens where in the roaring heat of the many ovens’ blast they will bake his bread and dress his meat and create sweet cakes to adorn his groaning table.

      Those of you blessed with fine fields and vineyards and orchards, listen! He will take them and hand them over to his indolent friends at court. Your vines and your olive trees will never be safe while the king’s appetites are in need of satisfaction. And if he does not confiscate your lands, he will demand a tax on all of it, stealing 10 percent of it all, giving it to his fat, lolling cronies. He will, whenever he wants, take outright any of your male and female slaves that he chooses, as well as the very best of your livestock and pack animals to do whatever work his whims urge him to do. And what he does not steal, he will tax whatever you may have left. My fellow Israelites, you will be his slaves and no longer free. The freedom that YHWH gave to your ancestors at the great sea will disappear, and you will once again return to the slavery of Egypt. And, like of old, you will cry out to YHWH, because of this king whom you have chosen for yourselves. But unlike the days of Egypt, YHWH will give you no answer on that day of your new slavery. You will cry for God until your lips are cracked and your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, but the heavens will be silent. Silent on that day!”

      Samuel was exhausted after this furious speech; his words stopped, his still large chest heaved with the exertion, sweat poured from his face like the fall rains, his thinning hair stuck to his pate in clumps. His priestly garment had slipped from his right shoulder and hung down, touching the hard-packed soil of the speaking ground. He was spent, but also knew that he had delivered a fatal blow to any possible thought of a king for Israel. YHWH had told him to listen to their demands, but YHWH had also said to warn them about the disasters that having a king would surely bring. He had done as YHWH had commanded, as he always did. Once again, Samuel’s words were YHWH’s words; YHWH’s words had poured out of Samuel’s old mouth. The exhausted prophet waited in silence for the people to admit the foolishness of their request for a king. His ears ached for confirmation that his speech had won the day for him and for YHWH, that he would remain as God’s only spokesperson and that YHWH would remain as Israel’s only king.

      But Samuel’s words had sounded rather different to some in the crowd, those men of Beer Sheba who had raised the desire for a king in the first place. Everything that Samuel had said were the evils of a king was in fact the evil of his own sons! They had stolen and bribed and taxed and paid off their friends and lain about in increasing luxury, almost from the first day of their coming to Beer Sheba. But they had no armies or chariots or weapons while the Philistine threat was once again increasing all around them. At least a king would establish a standing army for necessary defense of the land against the cruel pagans. At least a king would be a reliable bulwark who could lead the people as needed. At least a king, unlike these noxious sons of Samuel, would demonstrate real authority, have real power to make decisions that needed making, not would-be likenesses of their much greater father. For the men of Beer Sheba, Samuel’s speech, far from turning them away from their desire for a king, had rather reconfirmed that desire.

      They did not listen to the warnings of Samuel, but listened to the implications of his words for them and their situation. The same man who had voiced desire for a king the previous night in Samuel’s room now spoke again.

      “No! We will not be turned aside! We are now even more determined to have a king over us. That way we will be like all the other nations, solid in leadership, fixed in government, firmly established for the future. Our king will actually lead us, go before us, fight our battles with us! Samuel, you are too old to do all these things we need for the future of our land. Make a king for us, and do it now!”

      This stirring speech fired the rest of the delegation of Beer Sheba to unrestrained shouting, and the citizens of Ramah, and all visitors, soon joined the uproar. The indiscriminate voices quickly coalesced into the cry, “A king! A king for Israel! A king! A king for Israel!” Every face was streaked with joy, both young and old, both man and woman. The word “king” thundered from every throat; it arced into the morning sky; it echoed down the valleys and up the mountains that surrounded the city.

      Only one voice was silent. The great voice of Samuel was stunned in his throat, and though he willed it to cry out against the madness of the crowd before him, he could not summon it to the task. As the bedlam continued, he retreated into the temple, defeated and alone. No one in the crowd saw him leave. Samuel went to the one who had always spoken exactly what he needed to hear, exactly what he himself knew to be true. He entreated the mysterious YHWH. Throwing himself down before the familiar altar, with pain wracking his aging knees and feet, the prophet repeated to YHWH the words he had just heard from the mob outside.

      “They still want a king, O YHWH. I did just as you said. I warned them in the strongest terms I could muster about the horrors of kings, but they still want one. Tell me, my God, what am I to do?”

      And he waited for YHWH’s reply. He fully expected YHWH to commend the work of the prophet, to reiterate God’s feeling of rejection at the hands of the ungrateful people, to command Samuel to go back out and try again to convince the idiots that YHWH was king, and that Samuel was alone YHWH’s prophet. But Samuel this time heard the unexpected from his God. The words were brief and the words were clear, sounding in his head.

      “Listen to their voice; set a king over them.”

      There was this time no talk of warning, no talk of rejection, no commendation for the lifetime ministry of God’s faithful prophet. YHWH said for the third time, “Listen to their voice.” Well, Samuel had listened, but what he had heard had sickened him, infuriated him, disgusted him. Surely, YHWH was just as angry as he about being replaced in the hearts and minds of the people! Surely, YHWH would show forth divine rage against any who would dare to choose a king over YHWH, God of Israel! But the words of YHWH that Samuel heard contained no rage, no disgust, no anger. “Set a king over them,” YHWH had said. Set a king over them? After Samuel’s speech of dire warning against the dangers of kingship, how could he simply go out to the delirious