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Samuel Stood Between Two Good Paths

God told Samuel he had placed himself between two good byways, and named that position as the reason for three gifts: life, righteousness, and glory.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Man Everyone Wanted for One Thing
  2. What Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer Preserves
  3. The Two Byways Samuel Held Together
  4. What Samuel's Lineage Carried

The Man Everyone Wanted for One Thing

Saul wanted Samuel to pray. The people wanted Samuel to give them a king. David needed Samuel to anoint him. Hannah prayed Samuel into the world and then gave him to the sanctuary before he was weaned. Eli shaped him, God called him in the night, and the whole of Israel received him as judge. At every point in his life, Samuel was wanted for exactly one thing by whoever was asking, and what God said about him at the end, in the tradition preserved by Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, was about something else entirely.

God said: you have placed yourself between two good byways.

Not between good and evil. Not between the path of life and the road to destruction. Between two goods. That is the harder position. Anyone can refuse evil when it appears clearly labeled. The real work is holding two genuine goods together when the pressure of events, and the pressure of other people's demands, is trying to force a choice between them.

What Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer Preserves

The tradition from Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, the early medieval narrative midrash, is compact but precise. God addresses Samuel directly: because of where you have placed yourself, I am giving you three things. Life. Righteousness. Glory. The proof-verse is Proverbs 21:21, which says that the one who pursues righteousness and love will find life, righteousness, and glory.

The sentence is structured to show that these three gifts are not merely rewards. They are the natural outcome of the position. Samuel did not earn prizes. He became the kind of person who, by standing between prayer and judgment, between private devotion and public integrity, between loving God and acting justly toward people, grew into a man to whom those qualities could attach.

The Two Byways Samuel Held Together

Prayer without righteousness can become a private comfort that does nothing for the world. A man who prays beautifully and judges poorly has separated the two things that belong together. Righteousness without prayer can become self-reliance dressed in the language of ethics, a man who acts justly but has cut himself off from the source of the justice he is performing.

Samuel did both. He prayed for rain during the wheat harvest and the rain came. He walked a circuit from Ramah to Bethel to Gilgal to Mizpah, judging Israel at every stop, and then returned to Ramah where his house was and where he built an altar. The circuit was the righteousness. The altar at the return point was the prayer. He did not prioritize one over the other. He made the full loop every time.

What Samuel's Lineage Carried

Legends of the Jews traces Samuel's lineage to parents who were already extraordinary. Elkanah, his father, is described in some traditions as a figure of such merit that when God was provoked to anger by Israel's idolatry, Elkanah's righteousness held back the punishment. Hannah's prayer is the model for the Amidah. The child born from that prayer was shaped from before his birth toward the position God would later name: the space between two good byways.

Josephus, writing in the Antiquities in the first century CE, records Samuel as a figure of unimpeachable public integrity, the judge who could stand before all Israel and say: whose ox have I taken, whose donkey, from whom have I taken a bribe to look the other way. The people confirmed his record was clean. That public accounting is the righteousness side of the equation. The private side, the prayer and the altar and the devotion, is what kept the public record clean across a lifetime of impossible demands.


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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.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 15:2Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

The sages teach that sometimes, that very position – being between two good choices – is a blessing in disguise.

Think about Samuel the Prophet. According to Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating early collection of Biblical stories and legends, God Himself spoke to Samuel in a unique way. God essentially said, "Samuel, you've positioned yourself perfectly – between two paths of goodness."

The reward? It's God promises three gifts: life, righteousness, and glory.

You might be thinking, "Okay, that sounds nice for Samuel, but what does it mean for me?" The text doesn't stop there. It goes on to say that anyone who acts with righteousness and performs acts of loving-kindness (chesed), will inherit these same three gifts. It’s a universal promise, a divine equation of sorts.

The verse quoted is from Proverbs (21:21): "He that followeth after righteousness and love, findeth life, righteousness, and glory." But notice something subtle. The text of Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer points out that the verse only mentions finding these things. It doesn't explicitly state that they will be given. The implication is that these are not just things we stumble upon; they are actively bestowed upon us as a result of our actions.

So, what does this mean in practice? How do we "follow after righteousness and love?" It’s in the everyday choices. It's in the small acts of kindness we show to others, in standing up for what’s right, even when it's difficult, and in striving to live a life of integrity and purpose.

It's a powerful reminder that our actions have consequences, not just in this world, but also in the spiritual realm. And that the pursuit of righteousness and love isn’t just a moral imperative; it's a pathway to a richer, more meaningful existence, blessed with life, righteousness, and glory. Perhaps the crossroads aren't so daunting after all. Maybe they are opportunities in disguise.

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Legends of the Jews 3:3Legends of the Jews

Like Samuel, for instance. He stands at the crossroads between the era of the Judges and the rise of the Kingdom, anointing both Saul and David as kings. But Samuel didn't just appear out of nowhere. He came from a lineage steeped in righteousness, and his parents, Elkanah and Hannah, were figures worthy of their own stories.

Both Elkanah and Hannah possessed the gift of prophecy. But beyond this divine gift, Elkanah was a man of exceptional virtue. In fact, some traditions hold him up as a second Abraham! The story goes that God, enraged by the idolatry of Micah, was ready to wipe the slate clean. But Elkanah’s merit stayed God's hand.

What was it about Elkanah that made him so special? Well, his most significant act, according to some traditions, was inspiring others to make pilgrimages to Shiloh, the spiritual heart of the nation at that time.

We’re not talking about a quick solo trip. Elkanah made these pilgrimages with his entire household, including relatives. And even though he wasn't wealthy, he spared no expense. Picture this: a grand procession making its way across the land, drawing attention everywhere it went.

As Legends of the Jews tells us, these weren't quiet affairs (Ginzberg). Wherever they went, people would stop and ask, "What is this spectacle? Where are you going?" And Elkanah would reply, "We are going to the house of the Lord at Shiloh, for thence comes forth the law. Why don't you join us?"

It’s that gentle, persuasive invitation that made all the difference. It wasn't about preaching or demanding; it was about inviting people to experience something meaningful. And it worked. According to the stories, the first year, five households joined him. The next year, ten. And so on, until entire towns were following his example.

But here's the really clever part: Elkanah changed his route every year. Why? To reach as many towns as possible, to touch as many lives as possible, and to inspire as many people as possible to perform this pious act. One man, through his own devotion and his ability to connect with others, transformed the spiritual landscape of his time. It wasn't about grand gestures or miraculous feats; it was about consistent, heartfelt action, and a genuine desire to share something meaningful with the world. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? What small, consistent actions can we take to inspire those around us?

Full source
Antiquities VI.1-2Antiquities of the Jews (Josephus)

The Philistines captured the Ark of God and dragged it into the temple of their idol Dagon at Ashdod. They set it beside their god like a trophy. But the next morning, they found Dagon flat on his face before the Ark, prostrate, as if worshipping it. They propped him back up. He fell again. Then God struck the entire city with a plague so violent that people died before they could even cry out, their bodies destroyed from the inside. Swarms of mice devoured the crops. The land itself turned against its inhabitants.

So the Philistines passed the Ark from city to city. Ashdod to Ashkelon, Ashkelon to Gath, Gath to Ekron. And every city that received it suffered the same devastation. Five cities. Five plagues. The Ark exacted tribute from each one, as Josephus puts it, like a tax levied on those foolish enough to hold what did not belong to them.

Their wisest advisors finally suggested a plan: build a new cart, yoke two nursing cows to it, and lock their calves away. Place five golden images and five golden mice on the cart as guilt offerings. Then release the cows at a crossroads. If they walked toward Israelite territory on their own, abandoning their calves, defying every instinct, that would prove God's hand was behind the suffering. The cows walked straight to the Israelite village of Beth Shemesh, never turning aside.

The Israelites there rejoiced, sacrificed the cows, and placed the Ark on a great stone. But seventy men of Beth Shemesh approached the Ark without authorization, they were not priests. And God struck them dead. The people wept, sent word to the national council, and the Ark was moved to the house of Abinadab the Levite in Kiriath-Jearim, where it remained for twenty years.

During those decades, Samuel the prophet rallied the people. He gathered Israel at Mizpah, where they fasted and poured out water before God. The Philistines attacked. Samuel sacrificed a lamb and prayed. God answered with an earthquake that split the ground beneath the Philistine army, thunder that shattered their formations, and lightning that burned their faces. Their weapons flew from their hands. Israel pursued them all the way to Beth Car, and Samuel set up a stone monument he called Even Ha-Ezer, the Stone of Power, to mark where God had broken the enemy.

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