King Saul. John C. Holbert

the tiny witticism how humans could be considered more worthy than donkeys. The servant had an idea that might solve their problem and was somewhat surprised that his master had not thought of it, too. It came to him that they were barely a short walk from that Ramah, Samuel’s hometown. If the prophet was still in Ramah, as some said he was, he perhaps had gone to his house to recover from his harrowing fight about his future, the future of his sons, and the future of the land. If he was there, Joseph knew what they could do. Joseph played coy with Saul at first as he revealed his plan.

      “A small way ahead is the town of Ramah. There is a man of God there who is greatly honored by everyone.”

      Well, Saul of course knew at least by reputation whom Joseph meant—the man of God was Samuel—and the fact was that not everyone did honor him as before, as the recent conflict there had made all too clear. Though Saul had never actually seen the prophet, he like all Israelites, scattered throughout the hill country, knew his power and his great actions for all the people. Samuel was far and away the most famous man in the land.

      “Everyone knows that whatever he says always comes true.”

      Saul knew that to be so; Samuel had long claimed that his words were in fact YHWH’s words, and Saul had no reason to doubt the prophet in this; he had been leading the land in every way for well over fifty winters, long before Saul had been born.

      “Let’s go into Samuel’s city; perhaps he can tell us about this journey we have been on.”

      Saul thought it was an odd way to say that they should ask the great Samuel to perform some divining trick to help them find the lost animals. Did not the famous man have more important things to do than find lost objects for anyone happening to wander by his town? Still, Saul would gladly receive help with the dumb beasts, since he was heartily sick of the chase.

      “Even if Samuel is in the city, what can we bring in the way of payment? I assume that mighty soothsayers like Samuel do not do their magic for nothing. We have no food, no present, no gift of any kind. I suggest we move on to Gibeah, and tell Kish that the donkeys are nowhere to be found.”

      But Joseph fumbled in his robe and produced, very surprisingly, a tiny quarter-shekel silver piece. Saul at first was irritated that Joseph had not mentioned this bit of money earlier, since Saul had thought they had spent all they had in the fruitless search. His second thought was that no decent seer would work his wonders for such a paltry sum, but he decided that they had little to lose in the attempt. The famous man, both seer and prophet, might be insulted; but, then again, after his recent confrontation with an increasingly divided people, he might be anxious for the simple task of divining a few strayed beasts. Success might help his reputation and soothe his bruised ego.

      “Very well, “ said Saul, “let’s go,” and with that the two of them entered the gates of Ramah.

      The town was typical in design. Its walls were a mixture of undressed stones and mud, slightly higher than the height of a normal man; Saul, of course, could see over them easily. The streets were a warren of shorter and longer passageways, dotted on both sides by minute mud-brick huts, roofed with palm and large tree branches, doors covered with woven rugs among the richer places, sheep’s hides on those meaner hovels. The dry streets were thick with dust, dotted with the dung of many sorts of beasts, peopled by shouting children, harried women, and sweating men, a great mass of confusing smells and sights, all familiar to anyone entering a village in the poor land of Israel. Ramah was built into the side of a hill, the better to protect itself from attack from the rear. The wall needed only to be built around half the place, the other half well guarded by the rocky outcrop that formed both its backdrop and its rear guard. The lowest part of Ramah was at the entrance gate; all who came there found themselves immediately walking uphill into the city.

      Saul and Joseph moved directly toward the city center, as always marked by the well, the gathering place, the community center, the origin of news and gossip along with the life-giving water that made the city possible at all. Of course, cities live on more than water; news and gossip are as life giving and important as the fresh liquid that flowed forth from the ancient well that supplied water even in the driest of seasons. As the strangers approached the well, some lively girls came to draw some water. There were three of them, two veiled, but one whose dark eyes flashed in admiration at the sight of the giant and handsome young man, accompanied by his much smaller, and much less interesting, servant. Saul smiled at the dark-eyed one, appreciating her own beauty and energy, drinking in the obvious flirting, with its not-so-hidden promise of future pleasures. Kish’s lost donkeys briefly clip-clopped from his mind, as his vision filled with those dark eyes and the striking face from which they gazed.

      “Is the seer here?” he asked, not attempting to hide his obvious pleasure at the woman and her companions. Saul imagined that these young women would not be all that interested in the magic of the soothsayer, but the reputation of Samuel made it certain that they would know whether or not he was at home today. As Ramah’s most famous resident, his activities would be known by nearly everyone.

      But the answer he received from the women was certainly different than he had expected. They fairly bubbled with excitement and let loose a torrent of words, many of which had little to do with the simple question he had asked.

      “Yes! There he goes just ahead of you! (They pointed vaguely toward the hill.) He has come to the city just today, because the people have a sacrifice today, and, of course, the great Samuel is the only one who can lead the ritual. Close to the entrance to the city, back from where you have just come, you can find him, before he goes up to the holy high place to eat. (Now they pointed the other direction!) The people will not eat until he comes, because he alone can bless the sacrifice. After that, those eat who are called. Now go up there! You will meet him right away!”

      And with a gaggle of giggles the three hurried away, though they had forgotten completely to fill their water jars. Saul was very confused by what they had said. They first said that Samuel could be found up at the high place of sacrifice but had then gone on to say that he was at the moment near the gate of the city, the place from which Saul and Joseph had just come. And, anyway, why would they bother to tell Saul, a complete stranger, anything about the protocol of the sacrificial event? What did he care about who was invited to the sacrifices of Ramah? What interest did he have in the order of the events, who participated and who did not? He only wanted his donkeys, and the powerful magician might hold the key.

      Saul and Joseph headed toward the sacrificial place, guessing that the great man might be there, walking deeper into the town, moving ever higher up the hill. Just then, they saw Samuel move directly toward them. Though neither Saul nor Joseph had ever seen the famous prophet, they knew him immediately. He seemed impossibly old, his face marked by deep crevasses, his beard nearly white, though somewhat yellowed now, his notorious eyes still sharp, albeit growing milky and clouded. Though he was on his way to the high place, as the girls had said, when he saw Saul and Joseph he came straight toward them. And he had a noticeable frown on his deeply weathered face, for unknown to Saul, Samuel knew all too well who he was. The prophet would gladly have searched for the stupid beasts, even if it took a whole moon, rather than do what he now felt forced to do.

      3

      How the great Samuel had been chosen prophet by YHWH became legendary, though his beginnings were far more ordinary. Indeed, the thought that Samuel of all boys would one day be Israel’s great prophet and priest and judge, and would both make and depose the first of Israel’s kings, and would crown the second, would have brought gales of laughter from those who witnessed his start in the pathetic village of Ramathaim-Zophim in the remote hills of Ephraim. He had been born to a long-barren woman named Hannah, the second wife of a minor landowner named Elkanah. Elkanah’s first wife, Peninnah, was marvelously fertile, always an important attribute in a woman, and gave her husband son after daughter after son, almost yearly. But poor Hannah could have no children. As a barren wife, her status dipped lower and lower until the community looked with more fondness on some of their productive livestock than on the increasingly sad and frustrated Hannah. Elkanah, too, was increasingly frustrated. YHWH knows he had tried to give Hannah a child, but it had simply not happened, and he was ready to give her up as an empty vessel, a dry tree, a woman without a future with him or anyone