King Saul. John C. Holbert

the farm chores were done, Saul loved to climb one of the hills that bordered Kish’s land, sit on the top, gazing at the meadows down below. He wanted to be alone. Here on the top of the mountain, he could feel small in the face of the great land of mountain and valley spread all around him. Here he was not singled out for size; here he thought about his life and YHWH, creator of earth and sky. His father taught his boys well the stories, laws, and poems that made up the traditions of the ancestors. Saul loved all religious things; he reveled in the sacrifices the family made, especially when they took the day-long journey east to Gilgal and its hallowed shrine, a much more impressive place than the small shrine in Gibeah. He rejoiced in the singing of the psalms of the faith, some new compositions, and some borrowed and changed from the ancient Canaanites whose descendants still lived in the hills to the north. Saul, himself, loved to sing, his rich bass regularly heard above the smaller voices of his brothers and friends. He studied the laws of Israel carefully, attempting to understand their modern applications. He especially loved the account of the Exodus from Egypt, how YHWH had defeated the vast armies of pharaoh after saving the chosen people from certain defeat at the Sea of Reeds, a marshy lake of uncertain location far in the west. He thrilled at the exploits of the great Moses who had led the reluctant and often terrified and foolish Israelites to that sea, through it, and beyond it toward the land of promise, part of which Saul now was seeing and living in. He loved the tale of the gift of the law at the smoking and heaving mountain of Sinai, how Moses brought the tablets of that law down from the mountain, only to shatter them in anger when he witnessed the orgy of idolatry centered on the molten calf, created by Aaron, and worshipped by those same people, who had been saved from bondage by YHWH. He shook his great head always when he heard these stories; he just could not imagine how his ancestors had so quickly rejected the freedom of YHWH, turning instead to a ridiculous pathetic little calf of gold. If he had been there, he thought, he would have joined Moses in melting that disgusting idol and would have readily force-fed the golden liquid down the throats of those ingrates!

      Saul often felt that he was closest to his God when he was alone on his favorite hill, remembering the stories of the past. And he was convinced in his heart that he had a special destiny from that God; why else would YHWH have made him so tall? Why else could he eat and work like four men? Perhaps he was to be a priest in some shrine or other? Perhaps he should wait to see if he received a word as a prophet? The prophet Samuel was very old, and Saul had heard that Samuel’s sons were not going to succeed their father in the tasks of ruling Israel. Why not he? Why not the tallest and most handsome man in the land? Yet, Saul knew he felt most free, most contented when he was alone, away from staring eyes, away from the foolish stories that his size or his good looks had spawned. How could he lead anyone when he felt uncomfortable in the presence of even a few people? Whatever God’s plan for him was, he hoped it would not include being looked at by a crowd of gawking strangers. And after he had sat alone for some time on the hill, he hurried home to his family before the sun set, because he had no wish to trouble Kish or his mother or his brothers. Saul was a good boy, and could be trusted to be at the place he said he was going to be at the time he had said. Even if YHWH did not have any special task for him, he would be perfectly content to live out his days on the farm, perhaps taking over for Kish when his days for rough work were over.

      One day, Saul’s younger brother, Asaph, who was responsible for the pack animals of the farm, the donkeys and the two golden Egyptian camels, had forgotten to reattach the gate rope, and all of the donkeys, all eight of them, had wandered off in the night. This was a catastrophe for any farm, for without the donkeys the grain sales in the nearby towns would be impossible. The grain would rot in the barns, and the family, deprived of the proceeds of the sale, would go hungry in the winter to come. They had to be found! But Asaph, who felt miserable for his mistake, was far too young to send on such a trip. Donkeys could have wandered many miles in any direction. The light rain in the night covered their tracks, making the possibility of quick discovery unlikely. It could be a trip of many days, and one always had to be concerned about bands of thieves quick to take advantage of a poorly defended group of travelers. Also, columns of Philistine warriors were always searching for new ways to breach the defenses of Israel and were a constant danger. There was only one of Kish’s sons who should go on the search, and that was Saul. His size was an obvious advantage; few thieves would risk a confrontation with such a man, and the cowardly Philistines would think more than twice before attacking Saul. They had a champion of their own, named Goliath, who was reputed to be even taller than Saul, which was probably an exaggeration, but perhaps suggested why they would be reluctant to take Saul on. Saul, the very tall and powerful Israelite, like Goliath, the very tall and powerful Philistine, would be difficult if not impossible to defeat in open combat. So, Saul was chosen by Kish to go hunt for the donkeys. The plan pleased Saul, since a journey into the wilderness promised some possible adventure and released him, however briefly, from the sometimes monotonous drudgery of daily work on the farm.

      Kish also chose an especially clever slave named Joseph to go with him. Joseph had been named after the wily son of Jacob, the trickster, and over the years of his time with the family had proven to be a great help to Kish when it came to keeping accounts straight, assuring that crop yields remained high, and running the everyday upkeep of the farm with skill and absolute trustworthiness. Joseph did talk a great deal; one could quickly weary of his interminable stories. Still, he was a worthy man, very short, balding, but honest in all things. Saul and Joseph left the next morning at dawn, Saul riding one of the camels, towering high over the diminutive Joseph who lead the other one, laden with supplies good for many days. Such an odd pair they made! The giant Saul, riding high over the desert landscape and Joseph, walking behind, often hidden in the huge shadow that Saul and his camel cast on the ground. But that shadow was often to Joseph’s advantage. He paced his walking to use Saul’s immensity to block out the blazing sun. It made the journey considerably more pleasant, and Saul did not know that he was the source of such ease for the clever slave. Joseph walked in Saul’s shadow with a smile on his face.

      Donkeys are not fools, so they will not simply wander off blindly in any direction. Saul well knew the story of Balaam, an ancient prophet who was saved from acting against the chosen people by, of all things, a talking donkey! Saul had obviously never heard Kish’s donkeys speak, but he never underestimated their natural cleverness. Unlike the absurd sheep, they had more in mind than the next blade of grass. During those times when Saul sat alone on his favorite mountain and thought about the stories, laws, and songs of his tradition, he could not help but laugh when he remembered some priest piously intoning “YHWH is my shepherd.” If YHWH is shepherd, then I am sheep, thought Saul, and that makes me about as smart as a hill of slippery shale! Religion and its ideas were not always so serious!

      Donkeys were surely smarter than sheep, but they, unlike the wondrous camel, must drink every day, so Saul reasoned that the eight strays would move toward familiar water holes. And since Saul and Joseph knew all the watering places for many days’ walk around, they figured that the search would not last long. They first moved in a northeasterly direction toward the territory of Ephraim, higher in the hills where there were several places for water, but the donkeys were not there. They pushed on ever higher and found themselves in the part of Ephraim known as Shalishah, now nearly three days from home. The walking and riding were hard, the footing difficult on the dry shale that covered the hills. Joseph’s camel was often reluctant to continue, and needed to be coaxed and goaded over and over. Camels may be very helpful beasts, but they are not known for their easy willingness to follow orders, so Joseph shouted himself hoarse on the second and third days of the trip, urging, pleading, demanding, begging the filthy beast to get going. Too often, its four thin legs would splay out in a rigid position and it would not budge. There was nothing for it at those times but to take a break and wait for the shaggy thing to make up its own mind to carry on. This slowed the search, and made both Saul and Joseph anxious and frustrated the further they got from Gibeah.

      Saul was a basically silent boy, while Joseph knew a thousand stories and was always anxious to share them with anyone who would listen and even with those who cared not to listen at all. He especially loved to brag about his namesake, the great Joseph, son of Jacob, savior of Egypt and ultimately Israel, too. So on the fourth day of the search for the lost donkeys, and after Joseph’s disgusting camel had once more refused to continue up a steep and slippery slope, dropping onto its belly with its four legs akimbo, Joseph screamed