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David Had Saul's Life Twice and Released It Both Times

In a cave at Engedi and in a sleeping camp at night, David stood over the man trying to kill him. He cut a robe and took a spear. He would not do more.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Cave at Engedi
  2. What David Said After He Pulled Back
  3. The Sleeping Camp at Night
  4. The Proof Held Up Across a Valley

The Cave at Engedi

Three thousand chosen men, the best soldiers in Israel's army, were combing the wilderness of Engedi looking for David. Saul left the main formation to relieve himself and walked alone into the mouth of a cave where David and his men were hiding in the dark at the back.

David's men grabbed his arm. Here it is, they whispered. Here is the day God promised you. Do it now. David crept forward in the darkness, and he was close enough to do it, close enough to have done it before the king's eyes adjusted. He reached out and cut a corner from the hem of Saul's robe. Then he pulled back into the dark and held the scrap of cloth and said nothing.

Saul adjusted his clothes and walked back into the daylight. His soldiers were waiting. The formation moved on. When it was a safe distance down the road, David came out of the cave entrance and called out after the king. He held up the piece of robe. He said: I was close enough to kill you and I did not. Look at what is in my hand. Judge by it whether I am your enemy.

Saul turned around and wept. He said: you are more righteous than I am, you have repaid evil with good, I know the kingdom will be yours, I know it. Then he asked David to promise not to destroy his descendants when the power changed. David promised. They went their separate ways. Within a short time Saul was hunting David again.

What David Said After He Pulled Back

The tradition records the words David spoke to his own men when they pressed him to act. He said: God forbid that I should do this to my lord, the anointed of God, to put out my hand against him. David understood the anointing as a category. It was not about Saul the man. It was not about Saul's behavior toward him. It was about a status that had been conferred by God, and which could only be revoked by God. No private grievance, no strategic opportunity, no pressure from the men who were hiding in that cave alongside him could override the principle. What God had placed in authority, a man did not remove for his own convenience.

The Sleeping Camp at Night

The second chance came later, stranger, and cleaner. David crossed into Saul's camp at night with his nephew Abishai. They moved through the sleeping army to the center where Saul lay with his spear stuck in the ground at his head and his general Abner asleep beside him. Not one man in the camp woke as they moved through it. The tradition says God had put the entire army into a deep sleep for this moment.

Abishai looked at the spear and said: God has delivered your enemy into your hand tonight. Let me strike him once. I will not need a second blow. David said no. Do not destroy him. Who can put his hand against the anointed of God and be innocent? As God lives, God will strike him. Either his day will come and he will die. Or he will go into battle and be swept away. I will not touch him.

David took the spear and the water jug that was near Saul's head and they left the camp. No one woke.

The Proof Held Up Across a Valley

When they were safely away, David stood on a distant hill and shouted across the valley. He woke the camp. He asked Abner why he had failed to guard his lord. Then he held up the spear and the water jug where Saul's soldiers could see them. The message was unmistakable: I was standing over him while you slept. Saul recognized David's voice from across the distance. They spoke to each other across the valley: David insisting he had done nothing to deserve Saul's pursuit, Saul acknowledging again that David was in the right and he was in the wrong, Saul asking David to come back. They parted again. They never spoke again after that.

DavidMercyKingshipSaul
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From the tradition

Sources

3 sources

The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Antiquities VI.12-13Antiquities of the Jews (Josephus)

David was running for his life. King Saul wanted him dead, and the future king of Israel had nothing to his name but a borrowed sword, the very blade he had once taken from the giant Goliath.

The Josephus says in Antiquities of the Jews, David's escape from Saul reads less like a biblical narrative and more like a spy thriller. He fled first to the priest Ahimelech at Nob, lying about a secret royal mission to get bread and a weapon. But a man named Doeg, one of Saul's servants, saw everything. And that small detail would cost eighty-five priests their lives.

David's next move was astonishing. He ran straight into enemy territory, the Philistine city of Gath, ruled by King Achish. When the Philistines recognized him as the warrior who had slaughtered tens of thousands of their people, David did the only thing that could save him. He pretended to be insane. He let spit run down his face and scratched at the city gates like an animal. The king dismissed him as a madman. It worked.

Meanwhile, Saul's paranoia spiraled into massacre. When Doeg reported that Ahimelech had helped David, the king ordered the execution of the entire priestly community at Nob. Only Abiathar, Ahimelech's son, escaped. And he ran straight to David, confirming every fear David had about Doeg's presence that day.

Then came the cave. Saul entered a dark cavern in the wilderness of Engedi to relieve himself, not realizing David and his men were hiding deep inside. David crept close enough to cut a piece from Saul's robe. His men urged him to kill the king. He refused. Instead, he called out to Saul afterward, holding up the torn cloth as proof: "I could have killed you, but I didn't."

Saul wept. He admitted David was more righteous than he was. But the reconciliation didn't last. Later, David infiltrated Saul's camp at night with his nephew Abishai, finding the king asleep with his spear planted in the ground beside his head. Again, David refused to kill God's anointed. He took only the spear and a jug of water, then shouted from a hilltop to shame Abner, Saul's general, for failing to protect his king.

Twice David held Saul's life in his hands. Twice he let him go. Josephus frames this not as weakness but as the mark of a true king, one who understood that the throne was God's to give and God's to take away.

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Legends of the Jews 4:54Legends of the Jews

King David, the sweet singer of Israel, the warrior king, knew that feeling all too well.

The story, as retold in Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, takes a startling turn. It begins innocently enough. Satan, that wily tempter, appears to David, not in some terrifying demonic form, but as a simple bird. David, ever the hunter perhaps, throws a dart.

The dart misses its mark. Instead of striking Satan, it ricochets off, breaking through a screen. And behind that screen? Bathsheba, combing her hair. The sight of her, in that unguarded moment, ignites a passion in David that he can't control.

It's a chilling reminder that even the most righteous among us are vulnerable.

David, a man known for his deep connection to God, immediately understands the gravity of his transgression. The consequences? Profound and lasting. For twenty-two long years, David lives as a penitent. Imagine that – decades of regret and remorse.

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 107a) speaks of his intense sorrow. He wept for an entire hour each day, and he ate his "bread with ashes," a symbolic act of mourning and repentance.

But even that wasn't enough. David's penance had to go deeper.

For six agonizing months, he was afflicted with tzara'at, often translated as leprosy. This wasn't just a physical ailment; it was a spiritual crisis. The Sanhedrin, the high court that usually stayed close to the king for guidance and counsel, had to distance themselves from him.

David wasn't just physically isolated. He was spiritually cut off. The Shekhinah, the divine presence, departed from him during this dark time. The man who communed so closely with God, the one who penned the Psalms, was now utterly alone. The Shekhinah leaving him represents the severing of that sacred bond.

It’s a stark reminder that even our heroes are flawed, capable of great mistakes. David's story isn't just about sin; it's about the long, arduous journey of repentance, the pain of isolation, and the hope, however faint, of reconciliation. It forces us to ask ourselves: What lengths are we willing to go to when we've strayed from our path? And can we ever truly regain what we've lost?

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Vayikra Rabbah 21:2Vayikra Rabbah

Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman starts us off by interpreting a verse about evildoers in light of the Goliath narrative. He points out how Goliath, described in Samuel as approaching "every morning and evening" (I (Samuel 17:1)6), embodies this idea of relentless evil. And when Goliath boasts, "Come to me and I will give your flesh to the birds of the heavens" (I (Samuel 17:4)4), it emphasizes the sheer brutality David faced.

Rabbi Abba bar Kahana offers a striking image: "The land took hold of him." What does that mean? It suggests that Goliath wasn't just defeated by a slingshot, but by something almost supernatural. The earth itself seemed to impede him, preventing him from reaching David before David could strike. The Etz Yosef commentary beautifully explains that this was so that David could employ his slingshot against Goliath. It's a powerful image of the world conspiring to protect the righteous.

Rabbi Tanhuma reinforces this idea with a clever textual point. He notes that Goliath says, "Come to me," not "I will come to you." The very ground, it seems, rooted him in place.

Then, Rabbi Yanai, quoting Rabbi Shimon ben Rabbi Yanai, adds another layer. He suggests that God placed "two hundred and forty-eight iron fetters" – corresponding to the 248 limbs in the human body – on Goliath. Imagine that! David, witnessing this, cries out, "Lord, do not grant the wishes of the wicked" (Psalms 140:9). The Rabbis translate this as, don't grant his desires. "Do not untie his muzzle, restrain his shoulders." (Psalms 140:9). The Hebrew word zemamo can mean both "scheme" and "muzzle," so the midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) interprets this as not loosening Goliath’s control.

Rabbi Yudan even suggests that Goliath lusted after David, who was described as being "with beautiful eyes and a lovely appearance" (I (Samuel 16:1)2). In response to this, David prays that God grant the desire of the righteous instead!

But the Rabbis aren’t done yet! Some suggest that God afflicted Goliath with leprosy. How do they arrive at this? They connect the phrase "The Lord will deliver you [yesagerkha] into my hand" (I (Samuel 17:4)6) with the term used for quarantine in cases of leprosy, [vehisgiro] (Leviticus 13:4). It's a fascinating example of how the Rabbis find connections and deeper meanings within the text.

Finally, the midrash concludes with David's declaration of trust in God: "If a camp besieges me, my heart will not fear... In this I will put my trust" (Psalms 27:3). Rabbi Levi interprets "In this [bezot]" as a reference to the testament Moses gave to the elders, "This is [vezot] for Judah" (Deuteronomy 33:7). This verse promises divine help against adversaries.

So, what are we left with? More than just a story of a young shepherd defeating a giant. We see a world actively participating in justice, a God who intervenes in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, and a hero who, even in the face of overwhelming odds, places his trust in something larger than himself. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What forces are at play in our own lives, perhaps unseen, working to hold back the "giants" we face? And where can we find that same unwavering trust that David possessed?

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