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Moses Prayed for David Before David Was Born

Moses saw the future king standing alone against a giant and prayed for him centuries before David drew his first breath.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. What Moses Saw in the Plain of Elah
  2. A Prayer for a King Not Yet Born
  3. The Horn Moses Shattered Before David Could
  4. What David Became

What Moses Saw in the Plain of Elah

Moses stood on the plains of Moab and began to pray for a young man who had not yet been born. He had sung God's glory first, the great song that opened his final address to the twelve tribes. Then he looked down through the centuries, the way a man looks across a valley, and saw something that stopped him.

A field. Two armies faced each other. On one side a Philistine giant, armored and contemptuous. On the other a shepherd boy with a sling and five smooth stones and nothing else. The boy's name was David. The year was four centuries away. Moses was watching a moment that existed only in prophetic vision, a scene from a future neither he nor anyone he had ever known would live to see. And he saw that the boy was going to walk out onto that field alone.

A Prayer for a King Not Yet Born

When Moses blessed the tribe of Judah, he was blessing more than the tribe in front of him. He was praying for the king Judah would one day produce. The blessing in Deuteronomy, "Hear, O Lord, the voice of Judah", was not an abstract invocation of tribal power. It was a specific prayer for a specific man in a specific moment of crisis that would not arrive for four hundred years. Moses prayed that David's hands would be strong enough, that God would be a help against his enemies, that David would return from battle to his people.

The tradition reads each phrase of the blessing as tracking a crisis in David's life. "Hear his voice" was the prayer that David's cry on the battlefield would be heard. "His own hands will fight for him" pointed to the sling he would lift against Goliath. "Be a help against his enemies" covered the long years of flight from Saul, the years David spent hiding in caves and foreign courts while the man who should have been his protector hunted him like game.

The Horn Moses Shattered Before David Could

One element in the blessing went further. The tradition holds that Moses's prayer, in its most compressed form, was aimed at breaking the power of the Philistines before David had to face them. When Moses blessed Judah's hands, he was asking God to shatter the strength of Israel's enemies in advance. David would arrive at Elah to find that the Philistine power, though terrifying in appearance, had already been weakened by prayers offered four centuries earlier by a man who died without crossing the Jordan.

This is the logic of intercession the tradition is working with. Prayer operates across time. Moses saw the threat and acted on it in the only way a prophet without a future can act: by speaking to God in the present about what has not happened yet. The battle of Elah was partly won before it started because the man on Moab prayed.

What David Became

When David himself stood in the field and looked at Goliath, he said something the tradition found remarkable. He did not speak of his own courage. He invoked the God of Israel, the same God Moses had addressed on the plains of Moab, and spoke with the certainty of a man who was standing inside a prayer that had been made for him long ago. The giant fell. Israel drove the Philistines back. And David, who never knew that the prophet who shaped his nation had prayed for him before his grandfather was born, carried the victory back to Jerusalem.


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From the tradition

Sources

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

Legends of the Jews 7:30Legends of the Jews

Before asking for something big, wouldn't you acknowledge the power and greatness of the one you're asking?

That's exactly what Moses did before blessing Israel. He didn't just dive right in. First, he sang a song glorifying God. Why? Because, as the text says, it’s fitting to glorify God's name before asking a favor of Him. It’s a beautiful act of humility and recognition.

The song itself is fascinating. According to Legends of the Jews, Moses described how God revealed Himself to Israel when bestowing the Torah (the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, also known as the Pentateuch). But here's the twist: God didn't just appear from one direction. He appeared from all four!

“He ‘came from Sinai,’ which is in the South, ‘and rose from Seir unto them,’ that is in the East; ‘He shined forth from mount Paran,’ that is in the North, ‘and he came from the ten thousands of holy’ angels that dwell in the West.” Imagine that for a moment – a divine presence enveloping them from every point on the compass. What a powerful image!

But it gets even more interesting. God didn’t just speak in one language. He proclaimed the Torah in multiple tongues. As the text notes, He spoke “not only in the language of Sinai, that is Hebrew, but also in the tongue of Seir, that is Roman, as well as in Paran's speech, that is Arabic, and in the speech of Kadesh, that is Aramaic.” God offered the Torah not just to Israel, but to all nations. Talk about inclusivity!

Why did He do this? Well, the text suggests that while God offered the Torah to everyone, not everyone wanted it. It says, "These, however, did not want to accept it, hence His wrath against them, and His especial love for Israel who, despite their awed fear and trembling upon God's appearance on Sinai, still accepted the Torah." It highlights Israel's unique commitment, even amidst the overwhelming experience at Sinai.

And then Moses, in his song, makes a heartfelt plea: "Lord of the World! When Israel shall have been driven out of their land, be mindful still of the merits of their Patriarchs and stand by them, deliver them in Thy mercy from 'the yoke of the nations,' and from death, and guide them in the future world as Thou didst lead them in the desert." It's a prayer for resilience, for remembrance, and for continued guidance through times of hardship.

Think about the weight of those words. Moses, on the cusp of his own departure, is already anticipating the challenges that lay ahead for his people. He is pleading for God's unwavering support, drawing on the strength of their ancestors.

So, what do we take away from this? Perhaps it's a reminder that before we ask for blessings, we should acknowledge the source of all blessings. Maybe it's a reflection on the universal nature of God's offer and the unique responsibility that comes with accepting it. Or perhaps it's simply a powerful image of a leader, Moses, advocating for his people, even in the face of future uncertainty. Food for thought, isn’t it?

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Targum Onkelos, Deuteronomy 33Targum Onkelos

The Hebrew Bible calls Moses "the man of God" (Deuteronomy 33:1). Targum Onkelos adds one word: "the prophet of God." Moses is not merely a man who belongs to God. He is a prophet, the highest-ranking channel of divine communication in Israel's history.

Moses's final blessing of the twelve tribes is the Torah's last great speech. Onkelos expands it with messianic and eschatological additions that transform personal blessings into national prophecies. Reuben's blessing, "May Reuben live and not die" (Deuteronomy 33:6). Onkelos adds: "and a second death he shall not die. His children will receive their inheritance according to their numbers." The "second death" is a reference to the world to come. Reuben's survival is not just physical. It is eternal.

Judah's blessing receives a military and liturgical expansion. "Hear, God, the voice of Judah" (Deuteronomy 33:7). Onkelos adds: "Accept, God, the prayers of Judah when he goes out to wage war, and return his nation in peace." Judah is both warrior and worshiper, and his blessing covers both roles.

Levi's blessing, "They shall teach Your law to Jacob and Your Torah to Israel" (Deuteronomy 33:10). Onkelos renders with the addition "they are worthy to teach." Not merely assigned to teach, but worthy. The priesthood is not a bureaucratic appointment. It is a spiritual distinction earned through faithfulness.

Benjamin's blessing, "God's friend, let him live secure with Him" (Deuteronomy 33:12). Onkelos adds: "in his land the Shechinah will dwell." The Temple, built in Benjamin's territory in Jerusalem, is foretold in Moses's dying words. Each tribal blessing, in Onkelos's hands, becomes a prophecy awaiting fulfillment.

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Psalm 151 1:10Psalm 151

The familiar story centers on David and Goliath. But have you ever stopped to think about David before Goliath? Before the crown? What was he like, this shepherd boy who would become king?

Psalm 151, a short psalm found in some versions of the Book of Psalms (though not in the Masoretic Text we commonly use), gives us a glimpse. It’s like a little behind-the-scenes peek at the making of a king. It’s considered apocryphal, meaning its authenticity is disputed and it’s not included in the standard Jewish biblical canon. But that doesn't make it any less interesting.

"Young I was in the midst of my brothers, and a lad in my father’s house," it begins. A young man, perhaps overshadowed by his older, stronger siblings. A "na'ar" (lad) in his father’s house. We can almost picture him, can't we? Perhaps a bit gangly, still finding his place.

What was his place? "A shepherd of my father’s flock, driving his herd in the wilderness." Not exactly a glamorous job. Out in the midbar, the wilderness, tending sheep. It's a lonely image, but it speaks to responsibility, to quiet strength, to a connection with something bigger than himself.

But David wasn’t just a shepherd. He was also a musician. "My hands performed upon a lute, my fingers worked a lyre." Imagine him, sitting under the vast, starlit sky, composing melodies, pouring his heart out through music. This wasn't just a job; it was a calling, a way to connect with the Divine. The Talmud even tells us that David’s harp would play on its own at midnight, awakening him for study! (Berakhot 3b).

Then, the psalm takes a pivotal turn. "He sent His messenger, and took me from after my father’s flock. And He anointed me with anointing oil, and appointed me a prince of my people." This is the moment of transformation. Samuel, the prophet, arrives, guided by God, to anoint David as the future king. (1 Samuel 16). Talk about a career change! One minute you're tending sheep, the next you're being anointed as a nagid (prince) over Israel.

"My brothers are good and strong, but them Adonai did not desire." It's a blunt statement, but it highlights a crucial point: God doesn't always choose the obvious. He looks beyond outward appearances, beyond strength and stature, to the heart. As we read in (1 Samuel 16:7): "For not as man sees does God see; man sees only what is visible, but God sees into the heart."

And then, the final, dramatic act: "He took me out towards the Philistine, who cursed me through his idols. And I tore off his sword, and cut off his head, and removed reproach from the children of Israel." This, of course, is Goliath. But notice how the psalm frames it. It's not just about slaying a giant; it's about removing the "herpah" (reproach) from Israel. It’s about restoring honor, about standing up for what's right, even when the odds seem impossible. From shepherd boy to slayer of giants, from obscurity to royalty. David's journey is a evidence of the power of potential, to the idea that even the most unassuming among us can be called to greatness. It reminds us that God sees something in each of us, a spark of potential waiting to be ignited.

So, the next time you feel overlooked, remember David. Remember the shepherd boy with the lute, the one who dared to face a giant, and the one who, through faith and courage, changed the course of history. What "giant" are you being called to face? And what song is waiting to be played through your own life?

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Ben Sira 47:11Ben Sira

Ben Sira, in his wisdom, offers us a glimpse into the very heart of David's reign.

"And he went against the Philistine foe, and to this day shattered their horn." It's a powerful image, isn't it? The "horn" here symbolizes the Philistines' strength, their power. David didn't just fight them; he shattered their dominance. This victory wasn't just a military triumph; it was a turning point, a evidence of his courage and, perhaps more importantly, to his faith.

Military prowess alone doesn't make a king. What truly set David apart?

"In all his deeds he gave thanks, to God the Highest with words of glory. In all his heart he loved his Maker, and every day he thanked him with music." Notice the emphasis: "in all his deeds." Not just in moments of triumph, but in every aspect of his life, David expressed gratitude. He loved his Maker with all his heart, and that love poured forth in music.

And what music it was! "Melodies, songs, he established for the temple, and the sound of psalms and harps he made." He didn't just commission music; he established it. He wove music into the very fabric of the Temple service. Think of the Psalms – raw, honest, beautiful expressions of faith, doubt, joy, and sorrow. Many are attributed to David himself. He understood the power of music to connect us to the Divine.

"And he gave splendor and beauty and honor to the festivals year after year; as he blessed the Holy Name, before the morning he raised justice." Ben Sira paints a picture of vibrant celebrations, festivals filled with "splendor and beauty." David didn't just observe the holidays; he elevated them, imbued them with meaning and joy. And, crucially, "before the morning he raised justice." Justice wasn't an afterthought; it was the foundation upon which his reign was built.

But even the greatest among us are flawed. Even David.

"Also ADONAI passed over his transgression, and He raised his horn forever; and He gave him a law of monarchy, and his throne He established up to Jerusalem." The text acknowledges David's imperfections. ADONAI, often translated as Lord, forgave his transgressions. Despite his mistakes, God "raised his horn forever," signifying enduring strength and legacy. He was given "a law of monarchy," a divine mandate, and his throne was established in Jerusalem, the city that became synonymous with his dynasty.

So, what’s the takeaway? David wasn't just a warrior or a musician or even just a king. He was a man who, despite his flaws, strived to live a life of gratitude, devotion, and justice. He reminds us that true leadership isn't just about power and authority; it's about humility, faith, and a commitment to serving something greater than ourselves. It's about recognizing that even in our imperfections, we can still create something beautiful and lasting.

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Book of Jubilees 31:30Book of Jubilees

Book of Jubilees turns to Judah Receives a Roaring Blessing of Power.

So, what does it say about Judah? Buckle up.

It starts with this roaring blessing, a protective shield woven from words: "And let all who hate thee fall down before thee, And let all thy adversaries be rooted out and perish; And blessed be he that blesseth thee, And cursed be every nation that curseth thee." Can you feel the intensity? It’s a raw declaration of support, a promise of divine protection against anyone who dares to stand against him.

Then, the blessing shifts, focusing directly on Judah: "May the Lord give thee strength and power To tread down all that hate thee." It's not just about passive protection; it’s about active empowerment. Judah is being equipped to overcome his enemies, to rise above challenges.

But it's not just about brute strength. The blessing goes on, "A prince shalt thou be, thou and one of thy sons, over the sons of Jacob; May thy name and the name of thy sons go forth and traverse every land and region." This is where things get really interesting. It's a prophecy, a destiny laid out for Judah and his descendants. They are destined for leadership, their influence spreading far and wide. – a lineage destined to shape history.

And what will be the result of this divinely ordained rise? "Then will the Gentiles fear before thy face, And all the nations will quake." It's a statement of authority, yes, but also a reflection of the respect and awe that Judah's leadership will command. It’s not necessarily about instilling terror, but about inspiring a deep recognition of divinely granted power.

Now, what does all this mean? Is it a simple promise of dominance? Or something more complex?

Perhaps it’s a reflection of the responsibility that comes with leadership. Power isn't just about ruling; it's about carrying the weight of a nation, about ensuring its survival and prosperity. And maybe, just maybe, it’s a reminder that even in the face of adversity, the blessings of our ancestors, the promises of our faith, can provide the strength we need to persevere.

Think about the times you've felt that weight on your shoulders. What blessings do you carry? What responsibilities? And how do you find the strength to tread down all that hate thee, to face the challenges ahead? The story of Judah, as told in the Book of Jubilees, invites us to consider these questions, to connect with the ancient echoes of our own journeys.

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