King Saul. John C. Holbert

her way to the place of washing, carrying her son on her hip with shoulders squared and back straight, though she was surely not the youngest woman in the village.

      When the time for the yearly pilgrimage to Shiloh came around, Hannah told Elkanah that she would not go with him this year! She actually defied her husband in this!

      “When I wean him, he will go with us to Shiloh, but not before,” she said with a withering glance in the direction of Peninnah and her many children.

      And she strode right back into the tent, not bothering to see them off.

      Elkanah, much impressed with his formerly despondent wife, said to her retreating back, “Do what seems best to you; wait until you have weaned him. May YHWH establish his word!”

      But those who heard him say that were not clear whose word he meant, YHWH’s or Samuel’s. Given what the boy became, it could have been either.

      Of course, Hannah knew that when she took Samuel to Shiloh, she would have to leave him there to fulfill her vow to YHWH. She was in no hurry to do that, so delayed the weaning as long as she comfortably could. But in the boy’s fourth year, it was time for them to go. There was no doubt that she was going to do what she had promised, but her preparations for the trip were slow and as deliberate as she could make them. The lively Samuel played nearby with his favorite toy, a carved wooden bear, while his mother packed some simple food into her bag of skin, finally scooping Samuel into her arms. He was not old enough to know that this would perhaps be the last time he would see this village and its familiar smells and sights, but Hannah vowed silently that she would see her son as often as possible. She had already devised a plan to do so.

      In addition to the lunch of bread and dates, Hannah selected the finest of the family’s best bulls—a huge and expensive offering—along with an entire bushel of flour and a full skin of wine and began the trip to Shiloh. Little had changed since her last time there, that time when she had been favored by YHWH. The temple had not changed at all; it was still unimposing on its tiny rise and still dark and smoke smelling within its one room. But this was to be the place of her son’s new life, so she went to it immediately. Outside, at the spot of sacrificial slaughter, she killed the bull, prepared it for proper sacrifice, and mixed wine and flour into a paste. Then holding tight to her son’s hand, she moved toward the dark room of the tiny temple and placed the sacrificial food on the crude altar, while she uttered the old words of thanksgiving to the God from whom she had asked the child, that same God who had heard her plea.

      “Praise to you, O YHWH, ruler of the universe, who gives us fruit of the vine, grain from the fields, and children from our womb!’

      The last phrase of the prayer she said with special energy and gladness. All the while, the young Samuel stood wide-eyed in the dim room, surrounded by the smells of meat and smoke and wine, mesmerized by the ancient words pouring forth from his beloved mother.

      When the prayer ended, Hannah turned from the altar and led her son to the old priest, Eli, who was sitting in his usual place by the front entrance to the sanctuary. She wondered silently to herself whether the fat old man had moved from the spot in the many moons since first she saw him! His blind eyes were fixed on some horizon only he saw, his priestly robes filthy with spilled wine and blotched with grease stains of meat. He seemed no more alert to her now than he was all that time ago, but he was the priest and she had made the vow. She gave the speech she had practiced again and again but was still reluctant to say. She spoke loudly in case the old man’s ears worked no better than his eyes.

      “Oh, my lord! As you live, my lord, I am the woman who was standing with you here many suns ago, praying to YHWH. You said I was drunk, but I was not. For this child with me I prayed that day. YHWH clearly has given to me what I asked.” The priest was startled from his reverie by the shouted words, his face turning toward the unwelcome sound.

      But now came the hard words, nearly choking her as they came out.

      “Now I offer him to YHWH all of his days; he is now offered to YHWH forever.”

      Eli was silent, pointing his withered hands toward the sound of Hannah while she and her son prostrated themselves before him, falling down in religious devotion before YHWH’s priest. The truth was that the old man did not remember the woman, or her vow, or the fact that he had accused her of being drunk those moons ago. There were so many worshippers, so many desperate people. Eli had been priest for countless years, and his eyes were no longer clear, his mind no clearer. He rummaged around in his heart for some recollection, some clue that could remind him of what this obviously fervent woman was talking about, but he was blank. He decided to say nothing so as not to reveal his confusion.

      Hannah expected something from Eli, some sign, some blessing or other. She did not expect that the aging priest would be overjoyed to be given charge of a young boy. And she had heard that Eli’s own grown sons were scoundrels, bribe-takers, defilers of sacrifices in the sanctuary itself, even having illicit sex with some of the women who served the temple. She would not be surprised if Eli might be reluctant to assume the responsibility of another boy when his own were such a disgrace to him. But she had made her vow, and she would keep it. Eli would simply have to mentor her son.

      She waited in vain for him to say something, anything, but he was mute. But Hannah had things to say; her heart was full both of joy for the gift of her son and sadness that she was about to leave him with this doddering priest. But her prayer welled up and burst into the dank air of the sanctuary, saying much more than even she expected.

      My heart exults in YHWH!

      My power rises up in YHWH!

      My mouth opens wide against my enemies,

      as I rejoice in your victory.

      There is no Holy One like YHWH,

      no one besides you,

      no rock like our God!

      Warriors’ bows break,

      while feeble ones grow strong.

      Those who were comfortable have sold themselves for bread,

      while hungry ones grow fat with spoil.

      Barren ones have borne seven,

      while the one with many children fades.

      YHWH kills and brings to life,

      sends to Sheol and raises up from there.

      God protects the feet of the faithful,

      while the wicked shall be cut off in darkness;

      surely not by strength alone is anyone strong.

      The silent priest listened to her prayer in shock. This woman had taken her experience of the birth of her child and had turned it into a claim that YHWH was about to turn the world upside down! The strong are weak; the weak are strong. The warriors’ bows become useless while the unarmed gain strength. The rich grow poor and the poor grow fat. What gives a simple, arrogant female the right to utter such nonsense in the house of YHWH? And why does she wish to saddle me with her brat? She has filled his ears with this twaddle since he was born, I wager, and how am I to train him in the ways of the priests if his mind is so muddled with these revolutionary thoughts?

      Eli had half a mind to tell the creature to shove off and to take her sniveling child with her. But she had vowed to leave him, or so she said, so he was trapped. If he refused to raise the boy, he was, at least possibly, denying YHWH’s word, a word that was always mysterious in any case. But if he accepted the child—well, what mischief might he bring? Eli was simply too tired and confused to say no, so when the family left, Elkanah, Peninnah and her many children, and Hannah, Samuel was left behind. Eli felt with his aging hands for the little boy and wondered whether he had made a mistake. Too late! He would have to deal with him now. He grabbed his tiny hand and half led and half followed him to the small priestly quarters at the back of the dark sanctuary. Samuel whimpered a bit, fearful of the terrifying and fat and blind old man, but he did not cry aloud. He sensed, even at his very young age, that crying would do him no good with Eli.

      He got to his tiny room and