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Saul Failed as King and the Rabbis Found Him in Heaven

Saul disobeyed, lost his throne, and died at Gilboa, and then the rabbis of Midrash Tehillim made him the proof of God's mercy toward the fallen.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The King Who Fell on His Own Sword
  2. What David Was Really Saying in Psalm 18
  3. The Mercy in the Years Saul Was Given
  4. Samuel at Jesse's House

The King Who Fell on His Own Sword

Saul's end was not hidden. He stood on the slopes of Gilboa with the Philistine army closing around him, his sons already dead, his armor-bearer too frightened to finish the work, and he fell on his sword himself. The prophet Samuel had told him years before that the kingdom would be taken from his hand. The word Samuel used was torn, the same word used for the tearing of a garment, which is how Saul accidentally seized Samuel's robe at their last meeting and was told that the kingdom would be torn from him in exactly that way.

This is not a story where the punishment feels disproportionate. Saul disobeyed a direct command. He was told to destroy Amalek completely, and he spared Agag the king and the best of the livestock. When Samuel arrived and heard the bleating of the sheep in the distance, the conversation ended the reign. Saul died at Gilboa still wearing the crown he had already lost.

What David Was Really Saying in Psalm 18

The rabbis who assembled Midrash Tehillim read Psalm 18 as David's testimony about his relationship with God, and they counted the metaphors. Rock, fortress, deliverer, shield, horn of salvation, stronghold: six images piled together in two verses. Why so many? The tradition's answer is that each image corresponds to something God had already done, and one of the things God had done was extend mercy to Saul.

The midrash arrives at Saul through the logic of accumulated gratitude. David is not listing abstract theological categories. He is pointing at specific moments. God was my rock when Saul threw a spear at me twice and missed. God was my fortress when I hid in the wilderness of Ziph and Saul could not find me. God was my deliverer when Samuel told me the kingdom would be mine and Saul still walked in it for years without being destroyed by heaven's hand.

The Mercy in the Years Saul Was Given

Saul's survival for years after his rejection was, in the midrash's reading, God's mercy extended toward a man God had already given up as king. He kept the crown too long, but he was not struck dead for it. The tradition noticed the gap between the rejection and the death and called it mercy.

The same eye that counted David's metaphors counted Saul's days. Years passed between the bleating of the spared sheep and the blood on the slopes of Gilboa, and in every one of those years the rejected king ate, slept, gave orders, and chased David through the wilderness without heaven's hand falling on him. A king already torn from his throne went on wearing the crown, and the God who had torn it did not tear the man. The rabbis who read Psalm 18 saw that restraint as one of the deliverances David was thanking God for, mercy spent not on the man who kept his place but on the man who had already lost it.

Samuel at Jesse's House

The midrash adds a second piece by placing God's treatment of Saul alongside the moment at Jesse's house when Samuel went to anoint the next king. God told Samuel not to look at the height or appearance of the sons, because God sees the heart where humans see the face. Samuel looked at seven of Jesse's sons and was told each time: not this one. David was the youngest, left tending sheep, not even called to the presentation.

The rabbis read that scene as a humbling aimed specifically at Samuel. Samuel was one of the greatest prophets. He had already anointed one king and condemned him. He was a man accustomed to knowing. But at Jesse's house, God deliberately withheld the answer until Samuel had stood in front of seven wrong answers in a row. Each son walked past in turn, tall, strong, the kind of man a prophet would expect a crown to fit, and each time the answer came back the same. Samuel was being taught that the human measure of fitness and the divine measure are not the same instrument, and even a prophet needs to be shown the difference.

Saul was part of that lesson. He was tall, handsome, and chosen for exactly the qualities that the people had asked for in a king. His failure was not physical. It was internal. Samuel's education at Jesse's house was built on the rubble of Saul's reign, and God designed the education to run through every wrong guess Samuel made before David walked through the door.

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From the tradition

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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.

Midrash Tehillim 18:7Midrash Tehillim

His story, as explored in Midrash Tehillim, offers a fascinating glimpse into faith, doubt, and the unwavering mercy of God.

Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Psalms, dives deep into each verse, extracting layers of meaning and connecting them to other parts of the Torah. In Psalm 18, David proclaims, "The Lord is my rock and my fortress, my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold." (Psalm 18:2). But the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) doesn't just take these words at face value. It asks: What did David really mean?

The Midrash begins by linking God's mercy to the core of Jewish belief: "And you shall love the Lord your God" (Deuteronomy 6:5). It suggests that loving God is intrinsically tied to having mercy, both from God towards us, and from us towards others. One interpretation even says God will "fill you with mercy for all creatures." Imagine, being so full of compassion that it spills out onto everything around you!

Here's where the story gets interesting. Rabbi Nehemiah, quoting Resh Lakish, emphasizes that David’s words in Psalm 18 encompass everything. “The Lord is my rock…” But then, the Midrash throws a curveball of its own: Why, if David felt so secure in God, did he seemingly curse the very rock that saved him?

To understand this, we need to rewind a bit. David was on the run from King Saul, who was consumed by jealousy and paranoia. As the text says, "David hurried from Saul's presence and went to the cave at Adullam" (1 Samuel 22:1). Feeling hunted and desperate, David questioned his anointing by Samuel. He wondered if Samuel’s prophecy, that God would make him king, was just empty words. "Did Samuel anoint me with oil for free, saying to me, 'The Lord anoints you as king'? Where is that promise?" he lamented. In his haste and fear, David even exclaimed, "All men are liars!" (Psalm 116:11). Ouch.

Talk about a crisis of faith!

Immediately, the Midrash tells us, the Holy One, blessed be He, responded. God essentially said, "Samuel is not a liar. I testify that he is faithful." To reassure David, an angel – some say a heavenly angel, others a messenger angel – intervened in Saul’s pursuit. This intervention led to a dramatic standoff at a place called Sela-hammahlekoth (1 (Samuel 23:2)8), which translates to "the rock of divisions."

Rabbi Samuel bar Nahmani explains that Saul's own men were divided over whether to pursue David. Some argued that the war with the Philistines should take priority, while others remained obsessed with capturing David. Rabbi Elazar offers another interpretation: the rock itself split, creating a physical barrier between Saul and David. Imagine that scene – a literal chasm opening up, preventing Saul from reaching his prey!

This, the Midrash suggests, is what David meant by the "rock of divisions." It wasn't just a physical rock; it was a symbol of the divine intervention that protected him, even when his faith wavered.

So, what can we take away from this intricate exploration of a single verse? It reminds us that even the most righteous individuals, like King David, experience doubt and fear. It's okay to question, to feel abandoned, to even lash out in frustration. But ultimately, the story emphasizes the unwavering nature of God's mercy and protection. Even when we stumble, even when we doubt, that "rock" is always there, offering refuge and deliverance. The story in Midrash Tehillim encourages us to remember that the promises made to us, whether explicitly or implicitly, are held by something greater than ourselves. And that even in moments of division and despair, hope and salvation can be found in the most unexpected places.

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Legends of the Jews 4:9Legends of the Jews

He arrives at the house of Jesse, father of many sons. Surely, the tallest, strongest, most kingly looking son must be God's choice. That's what Samuel thought when he saw Eliab, Jesse's eldest.

Here's the twist. That God allowed Samuel to be deceived! Why? According to Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, it was to teach Samuel a lesson in humility. Samuel had been a little too proud of his prophetic abilities – calling himself "the seer." This was a divine reminder that no one, not even a prophet, can foresee everything.

It's a pretty human moment, isn't it? Even those chosen by God are fallible.

Here’s something even more fascinating: Initially, God had considered Eliab! But, and this is a big but, Eliab's fiery temper and quickness to anger disqualified him. David, the youngest, seemingly insignificant shepherd, was chosen instead.

So, how did Samuel know it was David? He was taught by a special revelation that the despised youngest son of Jesse was to be king. It’s a beautiful image: God whispering secrets to those who listen. The king wasn't chosen for his strength or stature, but for something deeper, something within his heart.

But what about Eliab? Did he just fade into obscurity, bitter and resentful? The story doesn't leave him empty-handed. His daughter becomes the wife of Rehoboam, ensuring that Eliab, too, would be among the ancestors of the kings of Judah. So, even Samuel's initial vision of Eliab as king wasn't entirely wrong. There’s a kind of cosmic balancing act at play. Everyone gets a piece of the story.

What does this tell us? Perhaps it's about the unexpected paths life takes. Or maybe it's a reminder that even when we're overlooked, our story isn't over. And sometimes, just sometimes, the most unassuming among us are destined for greatness. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What potential lies hidden within each of us, waiting for its moment to shine?

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