'Now the Lord had told Samuel In his ear a day before Saul came,
saying, 16, To-morrow, about this time I will send thee a man out of
the land of Benjamin, and thou shalt anoint him to be captain over My
people Israel, that he may save My people out of the hand of the
Philistines: for I have looked upon My people, because their cry is
come unto Me. 17. And when Samuel saw Saul, the Lord said unto him,
Behold the man whom I spake to thee of! this same shall reign over My
people. 18. Then Saul drew near to Samuel in the gate, and said, Tell
me, I pray thee, where the seer's house is. 19. And Samuel answered
Saul, and said, I am the seer: go up before me unto the high place; for
ye shall eat with me to-day, and to-morrow I will let thee go, and will
tell thee all that is in thine heart. 20. And as for thine asses that
were lost three days ago, set not thy mind on them; for they are found.
And on whom is all the desire of Israel? Is it not on thee, and on all
thy father's house? 21. And Saul answered and said, Am not I a
Benjamite, of the smallest of the tribes of Israel? and my family the
least of all the families of the tribe of Benjamin? wherefore then
speakest thou so to me? 22. And Samuel took Saul and his servant, and
brought them into the parlour, and made them sit in the chiefest place
among them that were bidden, which were about thirty persons. 23. And
Samuel said unto the cook, Bring the portion which I gave thee, of
which I said unto thee, Set it by thee. 24. And the cook took up the
shoulder, and that which was upon it, and set it before Saul. And
Samuel said, Behold that which is left I set it before thee, and eat:
for unto this time hath it been kept for thee since I said, I have
invited the people. So Saul did eat with Samuel that day. 25. And when
they were come down from the high place into the city, Samuel communed
with Saul upon the top of the house. 26. And they arose early: and it
came to pass about the spring of the day, that Samuel called Saul to
the top of the house, saying, Up, that I may send thee away. And Saul
arose, and they went out both of them, he and Samuel, abroad. 27. And
as they were going down to the end of the city, Samuel said to Saul,
Bid the servant pass on before us, (and he passed on,) but stand thou
still a while, that I may shew thee the word of God.'--1 SAMUEL ix.
15-27.
Both the time and the place of the incidents here told are unknown. No
note is given of the interval that had elapsed since the elders'
deputation. All that we know is that on the previous day Samuel had had
the divine communication mentioned in verse 15, and that some days are
implied as spent by Saul in his quest for his fathers asses, Equally
uncertain is the name of the city. It was not Samuel's ordinary
residence; it was in the 'land of Zuph,' an unknown district; it was
perched, like most of the cities, on a hill; it had fountains lower
down the slope, and a 'high place' farther up, where there was a
building large enough for a feast. How strangely vivid the picture of
this anonymous city is, and how we can yet see the maidens coming down
to the fountains, the wearied travellers toiling up, and the voluble
abundance of the directions given them!
I. The first thing we have to note is the premonitory word of the Lord.
Observe the picturesque and forcible expression, 'had uncovered the ear
of Samuel.' It is more than picturesque. It gives in the strongest form
the fact of a revelation, both as to its origin and its secrecy. It is
vain to represent the transition from judgeship to monarchy as a mere
political revolution, inaugurated by Samuel as a fore-seeing statesman.
It is misleading to speak of him, as Dean Stanley does, as one of the
men who mediate between the old and the new. His opinions and views go
for just nothing in the transaction, and he is simply God's instrument.
The people's desire for the king, and God's answer to it, were equally
independent of him. His own ideas were dead against the change, and at
each step in bringing it about the divine causality is everything, and
he is nothing but its obedient servant. It is hopeless to sift out a
naturalistic explanation from the narrative, which is either
supernatural or nothing. Note the three points of this
communication,--God's sending Saul, the command to anoint, and the
motive ascribed to God. As to the first, how striking that full-toned
authoritative 'I will send' is! Think of the chain of ordinary events
which brought Saul to the little city,--the wandering of a drove of
asses, the failure to get on their tracks, the accident of being in the
land of Zuph when he got tired of the search, the suggestion of the
servant; and behind all these, and working through them, the will and
hand of God, thrusting this man, all unconscious, along a path which he
knew not. Our own purposes we may know, but God's we do not know. There
is something awful in the thought of the issues that may spring from
the smallest affairs, and we shall be bewildered and paralysed if once
we get a glimpse of the complicated web which is ever being woven in
the loom of time, unless we, too, can, by faith, see the Weaver, and
then we shall be at rest. Call nothing trivial, and seek to be
conscious of His guiding hand.
The command to Samuel to anoint Saul is no product of Samuel's own
reflection, but comes to him, in this imperative form, before he has
seen Saul, like a commission in blank, in regard to which he has no
option, and in the origin of which he had no share. It was a piece of
painful work to devolve his authority, like Aaron's having to strip off
his robes before he died, and to put them on his son. But there is no
trace of wounded feeling in Samuel. He is true to his childhood's word,
'Speak, for Thy servant heareth,' and, no doubt, he had the reward
which obedience ever has to sweeten the bitterest draught, the reward
of a quiet heart.
The reason as given in the last clause of the verse ought to have made
Samuel's self-abnegation easier. God sets him the example. Israel had
rejected Him, but He still calls them 'My people,' and looks upon them
in tender care, and hears their cry. There is no contradiction here
with the aspect of the concession to the people's wish, which appeared
in the former section. Hasty criticism tries to make out discrepancies
in the accounts, because it does not recognise one of the plainest
characteristics of Scripture; namely, its habit of stating strongly and
exclusively that side of a complicated matter which is relevant to the
purpose in hand, and leaving the other sides to be presented in due
time. The three accounts of the election give three different reasons
for it. In chapter viii., the people put it on the ground of Samuel's
age and his son's unfitness, and God treats it as national rejection of
Him. Here it appears as due, on the part of the people, to their fear
of the Philistines, and on the part of God to His loving yielding to
their cry. In 1 Samuel xii. 12, Samuel traces it to the fear of
Ammonite invasion. Are these contradictory or supplementary accounts?
Certainly the latter. Though Israel had in heart rejected God, and He
gave them a king that they might learn how much better they would have
been without one, it is as true that He lovingly listened to the cry of
their fear, and answered them, in pity and tender care, by giving them
the king whom they desired, and who would deliver them from their
enemies. Let us learn how patient of our faithless follies, and how
full of long-suffering love, even in 'anger,' He is. The same gift of
His providence, regarded in one light, is loving chastisement, and in
another is loving compliance with our cry and swift help to our need in
the shape that we desire, but in both aspects is good and perfect.
Note, too, that God's look is active, and is the bringing of the needed
aid, and that He waits for our cry before He comes with His help.
II. The meeting of Samuel and Saul. They encounter each other in the
gate,--the prophet on his way to the sacrifice, the future king with
his head full of his humble quest. Samuel knows Saul by divine
intimation as soon as he sees him, but Saul does not know Samuel. His
question indicates the noble simplicity, without attendants or
trappings, of the judge's life; but it also suggests the strange
isolation of these early days, and the probable indifference of Saul to
religion. If he had cared much about God's rule in Israel, he could
scarcely have been so ignorant as his servant's words about 'the seer,'
and his failure to know him when he saw him, show Saul to have been. He
had not cared to see Samuel in any of the latter's circuits, and now he
only wants to get some information from a diviner about these
unfortunate asses. What a contrast between the thoughts of the two, as
they looked at each other! Saul begins by consulting Samuel as a
magician; he ends by seeking counsel from the witch at Endor. Samuel's
words are beautiful in their smothering of all personal feeling, and
dignified in their authority. He at once takes command of Saul, and
prepares him by half-hints for something great to come. The direction
to 'go up before me' is a sign of honour. The invitation to the
sacrificial feast is another. The promise to disclose his own secret
thoughts to Saul may, perhaps, point to some hidden ambitions, the
knowledge of which would prove Samuel's prophetic character. The
assurance as to the asses answers the small immediate occasion of
Saul's resort to him, and the dim hint in the last words of verse 20,
rightly translated, tells him that 'all that is desirable in Israel' is
for him, and for all his father's house. He went out to look for his
father's asses, and he found a kingdom. The words were enigmatical; but
if Saul knew of the impending revolution, they could scarcely fail to
dazzle him and take away his breath. His answer is more than mere
Oriental self-depreciation. Its bashful modesty contrasts sadly with
the almost insane masterfulness and arrogant self-will of his later
years. Fair beginnings may end ill, and those who are set in positions
of influence have hard work to keep steady heads, and to sail with low
sails.
III. The feast. Up at the high place was some chamber used for the
feasts which followed the sacrifices. A company of thirty--or,
according to another reading, of seventy--persons had been invited, and
the stately young stranger from Benjamin, with his servant (a trait of
the simple manners of these days), is set in the place of honour, where
wondering eyes fasten on him. Attention is still more emphatically
centred on him when Samuel bids 'the cook' bring a part of the
sacrifice which he had been ordered to set aside. It proves to be the
'shoulder' or 'thigh,' the priest's perquisite, and therefore probably
Samuel's. To give this to another was equivalent to putting him in
Samuel's place; and Samuel's words in handing it to Saul make its
meaning plain. It is 'that which hath been reserved.' It has been 'kept
for thee' till 'the appointed time,' and that with a view to the
assembled guests. All this is in true prophetic fashion, which
delighted in symbols, and these of the homeliest sort. The whole
transaction expressed the transference of power to Saul, the divine
reserving of the monarchy for him, and the public investiture with it,
by the prophet himself. The veil was intentional, and intentionally
thin. Cannot we see the flush of surprise and modesty on Saul's cheek,
as he tore the pieces from the significant 'shoulder,' and hear the
whispers that ran through the guest-chamber?
IV. The private colloquy. When the simple feast was over, the strangely
assorted pair went down to Samuel's house, and there, on the quiet
house-top, where were no curious ears, held long and earnest talk. No
doubt Samuel told Saul all that was in his heart, as he had said that
he would, and convinced him thereby that it was God who was speaking to
him through the prophet. Nor would exhortations and warnings be
wanting, which the old man's experience would be anxious to give, and
the young one's modesty not unwilling to receive. Saul is a listener,
not a speaker, in this unreported interview; and Samuel is in it, as
throughout, the superior. The characteristic which marked the beginning
of the Jewish monarchy was stamped on it till the end. The king was
inferior to the prophet, and was meant to take his instructions from
him when he appeared. Saul was docile on that first day, when he was
half dazed with his new prospects, and wholly grateful to Samuel; but
the history will show us how soon the fair promise of concord was
darkened, and how fiercely he chafed at Samuel's attempted control.
One can fancy his thoughts as he lay in the starlight, on the
house-top, that night, and gazed into the astounding future that had
opened before him. Had there been any true religion in him, it would
have been a wakeful night of prayer. But, more likely, as the event
proves, the ambition and arrogance which were deep in his nature,
though hitherto undeveloped, were his counsellors, and drove Samuel's
wisdom out of his head.
As soon as the morning-red began to rise in the East, Samuel sent him
away, to secure, as would appear, privacy in his departure. With simple
courtesy the prophet accompanied his guest, and as soon as they had got
down the hill beyond the last house of the city, he bids Saul send on
his servant, that he may speak a last word to him alone. Our text stops
before the solemn anointing, and leaves these two standing there, in
the fresh morning, type of the new career opening for one of them. What
a contrast in the men! The one has all his long life been true to his
first vow, 'Speak, for Thy servant heareth,' and now has come, in
fulness of years, and reverenced by all men, near the end of his
patient, faithful service. His work is all but done, and his heart is
quiet in the peace which is the best reward of loving and doing God's
law. Ripened wisdom, calm trust, unhesitating submission cast a glory
round the old man, who is now performing the supreme act of
self-abnegation of his lifetime, and, not without a sense of relief, is
laying the burden, so long and uncomplainingly borne, on the great
shoulders of this young giant. The other has a humble past of a few
years rapidly sinking out of his dazzled sight, and is in a whirl of
emotion at the startling suddenness of his new dignity. When one thinks
of Gilboa, and the desperate suicide there, how pathetic is that
strong, jubilant young figure, in the morning light, below the city, as
he bows his head to receive the anointing which, little as he knew it,
was to prove his ruin! A life begun by obedient listening to God's
voice, and continued in the same, comes at last to a blessed end, and
is crowned with many goods. A life which but partially accepts God's
will as its law, and rather takes counsel of its own passions and
arrogant self-sufficiency, may have much that is bright and lovable at
its beginning, but will steadily darken as it goes on, and will set at
last in eclipse and gloom.