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He was like a meteor. He blazed brightly and briefly across the skies of Israel before burning out and falling to the ground. You can sum up the life of the first king of Israel in just such words. The priests who wrote about him rejected him outright. But then, they had a special reason for doing that. Saul did not always see things their way. Most of the people he led followed him to the end. Perhaps theirs is the better testimony.

You will find Saul's story in the first book of Samuel. It is quite a readable book containing thirty-one fast-paced chapters. It is also a baffling book. There are repetitions and contradictions. Those occur because 1 Samuel is not the work of just one writer. The editors have woven together at least two sources that cover the same period of history. Each source has its own unique outlook. One source, the earlier, looked upon the monarchy in Israel as a fine thing. These writers may well have been part of the royal court in the days of Solomon. The second source takes a rather dim view of kings. Both points of view shine forth in today's reading. It's as if one blended together two interpretations of American history, one favoring states rights and the other favoring a strong central government. In 1 Samuel the editors just blended both interpretations. Scholars consider the earlier view that takes an optimistic view of monarchy as not only more accurate as history, but more skillfully written.

It is not too difficult to accept the view of the earlier source that some form of unification was necessary if the twelve separate tribes were ever to achieve security in their new land. A king and a national army were essential. The people reached that conclusion after a major Philistine victory at the battle of Ebenezer. Who was it in our early history who warned, "If we do not hang together, we shall all hang separately"? As far as the people in ancient Israel were concerned, the question was no longer "shall we have a king" but "who shall be our king."

At this point Saul enters biblical history. He comes out of obscurity. When we first meet him he is not politicking for the crown. He is out looking for some lost asses and about to give up the search when one of his servants suggests they consult Samuel. The child priest we met last week has become the eminent priestly leader with more than local reputation and influence. The minute his eyes fell on the handsome and striking Saul, Samuel knew he had found the one to be first king of Israel. He entertained Saul in lavish fashion. They dined together on the roof of Samuel's house in full public view, an adroit way of letting everyone know that this handsome fellow had found favor in the eyes of the priest. Samuel even managed to find the lost asses of Saul. Saul must have been both impressed and dazzled. But if that was not enough, before he left Samuel anointed him with oil, an action that proclaimed Saul as God's chosen leader.

Not everyone applauded the choice of Saul. The drums of discord were beating. But an occasion to test the leadership of Saul soon presented itself. One of the vulnerable border cities in the Trans-Jordan, Jabesh-gilead, was besieged by the Ammonites. The citizens sued for peace. Nahash, the Ammonite king, announced that the price of peace would be the gouging of the right eye of every male citizen. That was a cruel and needless demand intended to humiliate the city. Nahash gave them a seven day grace period to reflect. The people of Jabesh-gilead sent word to Samuel, who summoned Saul.

We are told that when Saul heard the news the spirit of God came upon him mightily. Saul cut up a yoke of oxen and sent the pieces throughout the tribes, both as a challenge and as a warning of the price of refusal. The volunteers came from all the tribes. The Ammonites were soundly defeated and Saul earned the lasting gratitude of the people of the liberated city. The people of Jabesh-gilead asked Samuel to point out those who opposed the selection of Saul. "Give them to us that we may put them to death." Saul restrained them, was crowned at a tribal gathering at Gilgal, and as his first act established a standing army of three thousand soldiers. His kingship would be no easy task. His reign would never know a day free from war, death, or harassment of one sort or another. Some things would go right. Many things would go wrong. From the start, dark clouds hung over his reign.

Relations with Samuel would have much to do with Saul's life. He revered Samuel almost to the point of making an idol of him. Yet Samuel was autocratic and often severe in his religious outlook. One day, for example, when people had come from far and wide for a ceremony at Gilgal, Samuel was late in arriving and people began to drift away. Saul, afraid they would all leave, took it upon himself to preside over the burnt offering. Samuel was infuriated by this assumption of the priestly role. In a fit of anger he announced to Saul the end of his reign, "The Lord has picked out a new man after his own heart." Did the flinty Samuel confuse his own voice with the voice of God? Clergy sometimes do, but big egos can be encountered in any vocation.

The final breach with Samuel came when he ordered Saul to undertake a revenge expedition against a Bedouin tribe called the Amalekites and settle some old scores. Samuel invoked the harem which means the ban, a term that applied to a holy war. The enemy people were to be destroyed along with their livestock and property. Holy wars linger on our planet. Before we call Samuel's order an example of ancient savagery, we want to remember that in this century all nations have participated in turning civilian populations into targets.

The whole incident left a scar inside Saul. Samuel, after all, represented the voice of God in Israel. Saul became broody, guilt-ridden, ill tempered. "The Spirit of the Lord departed from him and an evil spirit entered him." That is the primitive diagnosis of the writers. Saul became uneasy, suspicious, despondent, given to outbursts of temper. Yet he had reasons. He could not help but know that Samuel was making a covert search for another king. He found that future king, a young man named David.

We all have Sunday school memories of the young David who was taken into the entourage of Saul to calm the troubled king by playing the lyre and serving as his armor-bearer. We remember also the story of David's slaying of Goliath with a sling shot. While there is some doubt as to just who slayed Goliath, David is credited in this carefully embroidered account. David eventually became a captain in Saul's army and performed with exceptional success. One day the broody Saul heard some maidens singing in the street. "Saul has slain his thousands and David his ten thousands." Saul's jealousy and fear compounded. He felt threatened, not unlike a modern day older executive might feel uneasy as sharp, younger executives come into the company. Saul's state of mind was such that David's life was endangered. David fled to Judah, where he gathered a small army and, as an ancient Robin Hood preying on the Philistines, endeared himself to the common people under the Philistine heel.

Do we wonder why Saul became morose, anxiety ridden, a bit unbalanced? The task of building a unified nation out of twelve separate tribes was enormous. The well-armored Philistines were a constant threat. The breach with Samuel and the guerilla movement led by David was a daily thorn in his side. A sign of Saul's desperation is his visit to the witch of Endor to get a sign of things to come. Here is the king who should heed the Word from beyond consulting with a medium. When we are desperate, we are all vulnerable. The witch called up the ghost of Samuel, who as we might expect had no good word to speak to Saul. Saul's life is like an epic tragedy as an inexorable fate seems to close in upon him. At the battle of Gilboa, overpowered by the Philistine foe, his army defeated, his sons slain, Saul falls upon his own sword.

For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:
How some have been depos'd; some slain in war;
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poisoned by their wives; some sleeping killed;
All murder'd: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps death his court, and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and humored thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and -- farewell king!
(Shakespeare, King Richard II, Act 3, Scene 2)


Farewell, king. Farewell, Saul. The Philistines cut off his head and sent it throughout their towns. They hung his body on the walls of Bethshan. It disappeared within 24 hours. The men of Jabesh-gilead (remember them?) risked their lives to retrieve it, a final and most meaningful tribute.

So, 1 Samuel gives us a portrait of the first king of Israel. He is not a knight in shining armor, a fellow always on top of everything. He is a very human person, a mix of victories and defeats, joy and sorrow. Saul is like us in our humanness. He lives, hurts, breathes, makes mistakes, suffers from his liabilities, cries, laughs, and gets angry. He is a mirror of ourselves.

Saul, in deep anguish and distress, withered under the flinty stare of Samuel. Parents continued to name their children after him. A thousand years later a baby lovingly named Saul, of the tribe of Benjamin as his namesake, was born in Tarsus in Asia Minor. He too would break under a load. But he saw something Saul did not see: not the flinty face of Samuel, but the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, and along with that vision came mercy, renewal, and a second chance. We know him as the apostle Paul.