5 min read

Saul Traveled to Endor the Night Before His Last Battle

God had stopped answering through prophets, dreams, and sacred lots. Saul put on plain clothes and went to a necromancer he had outlawed.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Three Silences Before the Decision
  2. The Woman at Endor
  3. Samuel's Last Prophecy
  4. What the Tradition Made of This Night

Three Silences Before the Decision

The Philistine army was at Shunem. Saul could see the size of the force from his position at Gilboa and felt fear he could not push down. He had felt fear before in his life, the healthy fear of a man measuring real danger. This was different. This was the fear of a man who had been abandoned.

He asked God three times through three different channels and received three silences. Through prophets: nothing. Through dreams: nothing. Through the Urim, the sacred lots that the High Priest carried in his breastplate for exactly the kind of inquiry a king had to make before battle: nothing. The man who had once prophesied alongside the prophets in a state of divine transport, who had once heard from God with the directness of a conversation, could not get a response through any legitimate means available to him. He was going into the most important battle of his reign in complete spiritual silence.

The Woman at Endor

He had banished every medium and necromancer from the land. It was the law. He had enforced it. Now he disguised himself, put on ordinary clothing, and traveled by night with two servants to a woman in Endor who was known to practice the forbidden art of summoning the dead.

She hesitated when he arrived. She knew the law. She knew the king's decree. She told the disguised stranger that he was walking her into a trap, that she would be executed if she practiced her art, that Saul had cut off everyone who did what he was asking her to do. The stranger swore to her by God's name: "as God lives, no punishment will come to you for this." She agreed. He told her to bring up Samuel.

When she saw the figure rise, she screamed. She understood in the same moment who her client was. "You are Saul," she said. He told her not to be afraid. He asked her what she saw. She said: "an old man, wrapped in a robe." Saul knew. He bent down and put his face to the ground.

Samuel's Last Prophecy

Samuel was not pleased to be disturbed. "Why have you disturbed me to bring me up?" he asked. Saul said: "I am in terrible distress. The Philistines are fighting against me, God has turned away and won't answer me through any means, and I called to you to tell me what I should do."

Samuel told him the truth without softening it. "If God has turned away from you and become your adversary, why are you asking me? God has done what I told you: he has taken the kingdom from you and given it to David. Because you did not obey God's voice when you failed to execute his judgment on Amalek, God is doing this to you now. Tomorrow you and your sons will be with me. The army of Israel will be given into the hands of the Philistines."

Saul fell full length on the ground. He had been afraid before, but now the fear had a shape: tomorrow, and his sons, and the word with me, which meant what it meant. The woman saw what the prophecy had done to him. He had not eaten all day and all night. She went and killed a calf she had been keeping and baked bread and made him eat. He ate. He rose. He went out into the night with his two servants and walked back to his army.

What the Tradition Made of This Night

The rabbis argued about Endor for centuries, and the argument was not about whether Saul had done something wrong. That was agreed. The argument was about what Samuel actually appeared. Some held that the woman summoned a demon who impersonated Samuel and told Saul what the demon wanted him to hear. Others held, following the text's plain meaning, that Samuel himself appeared, and that God permitted the appearance for this specific occasion, and that the prophecy was genuine because Samuel was genuine. The Talmud holds the second position: the words were true, the prophet was real, the appearance was exceptional, and the exception was granted to a man who had nowhere left to turn.

What the tradition does not dispute is the desolation of the night itself: a king who had once been God's anointed, sleeping in a dead prophet's name instead of God's presence, eating the meal a kind woman prepared for a condemned man, going out before dawn to face what Samuel had told him was already decided.


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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.

Antiquities VI.14Antiquities of the Jews (Josephus)

Saul was desperate. The Philistine army had gathered at Shunem in overwhelming numbers, and for the first time in his reign, God refused to answer him, not through prophets, not through dreams, not through any channel at all. The silence was terrifying.

The Josephus says in Antiquities of the Jews, Saul had previously banished every necromancer and fortune-teller from the land. Now he needed one. He disguised himself, stripped off his royal garments, and traveled by night with two trusted servants to the town of Endor, where a woman practiced the forbidden art of summoning the dead.

The woman hesitated. She knew the king's decree, anyone caught practicing necromancy could be executed. But Saul swore an oath that no harm would come to her. So she agreed and called up the spirit he requested: Samuel, the prophet who had anointed Saul king years before.

What appeared shocked even the necromancer. She saw a figure of divine appearance rising from Sheol, venerable and draped in a priestly mantle. She realized at once that her client was the king himself. Samuel had revealed it to her. Saul fell on his face before the ghost of his old mentor.

Samuel's message was brutal. "Why have you disturbed me? God has forsaken you. David is to be king. Tomorrow you and your sons will be with me." There was no comfort, no escape clause, no hope. Just the verdict.

Saul collapsed. He hadn't eaten in over a day, and the prophecy of his death drained whatever strength remained. The woman of Endor. And Josephus pauses to praise her generosity, insisted on feeding him. She was poor, owning nothing but a single calf she had raised by hand. She slaughtered it for the doomed king, a stranger who had criminalized her livelihood. She expected nothing in return. She knew he would be dead by morning.

Josephus then offers something remarkable: a eulogy for Saul. He argues that what made Saul truly courageous was not his fighting but his refusal to flee. He knew the prophecy. He knew he would die. He marched into battle anyway, taking his sons Jonathan, Abinadab, and Malchisua with him. They fought until the Philistines overwhelmed them. When Saul's armor-bearer refused to deliver the final blow, an Amalekite bystander drove the sword through at Saul's request. The men of Jabesh-Gilead, remembering how Saul had once saved their city, marched through the night to recover his body and give him a proper burial.

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Legends of the Jews 3:34Legends of the Jews

You're facing your enemies, knowing your time is short. You seek guidance, a glimpse of hope, from the prophet Samuel. What Samuel tells him isn't exactly comforting. According to Legends of the Jews, when Abner and Amasa grilled Saul about his conversation with Samuel, Saul revealed a sliver of optimism amidst the gloom: victory in battle tomorrow and exalted positions for his sons as a reward for their bravery.

Sounds promising. The very next day, Saul’s three sons accompanied him to war. And all of them – all of them – were slain. Can you imagine the horror?

The Legends of the Jews doesn’t shy away from the divine perspective either. It tells us that God then summoned the angels and presented Saul as an example. Think about this for a moment. God says, "Behold the being I have created in my world." A father, normally, would avoid even taking his sons to a feast, fearing the ayin hara, the evil eye. But Saul, knowing he's going to his death, takes his sons with him. He willingly accepts the harsh decree.

Why? Why would Saul do such a thing? Was it blind faith? A desperate gamble for legacy? Or a grim acceptance of a destiny he felt powerless to change?

The story doesn't explicitly tell us Saul’s reasoning. But it leaves us pondering the immense pressure on Saul, not just as a king, but as a father. It forces us to consider the agonizing choices leaders often face, choices that can demand the ultimate sacrifice, not only from themselves, but also from those they love most. It's a stark reminder of the heavy price of leadership and the enduring power – and pain – of paternal love.

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Vayikra Rabbah 26:7Vayikra Rabbah

It's a tale of desperation, disobedience, and the dark consequences that follow when we turn away from the divine.

The story begins with a pointed question: what comes before this story? The text references (Leviticus 20:27): “A man or a woman, if they are a conjurer or a necromancer, [they shall be put to death].” Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, quoting Rabbi Levi, makes a direct connection: “’A man,’ this is Saul. ‘Or a woman,’ this is the woman who engaged in conjuring.”

Saul, feeling cornered by the Philistines and abandoned by God, seeks guidance from a forbidden source. As Rabbi Levi states in the name of Rabbi Ḥama bar Ḥanina, referencing (Deuteronomy 28:13), “You will be only above [and you will not be below].” Saul should have consulted the Urim and Tumim – a sort of divine oracle worn by the High Priest – "from above," but instead, he goes "below" to a conjurer. Saul, the king, the one who had previously banished all the conjurers and necromancers from the land, now finds himself seeking their help. It’s a stunning act of hypocrisy and desperation. He even disguises himself! The text says, "Saul disguised himself [vayitḥapess]" – meaning, he became free [ḥofshi] of the kingship. This act, the Etz Yosef commentary points out, effectively ended his reign.

Reish Lakish offers a powerful analogy: a king orders all the roosters slaughtered, then later asks for one to crow to signal the dawn. Saul, having outlawed necromancy, now begs for its services.

He even takes two men with him, Avner and Amasa. Rabbi Aivu points out the importance of proper conduct, noting that a person shouldn't travel alone with fewer than two companions. He illustrates this with examples of Abraham and Saul, both taking two attendants on important journeys.

They arrive at the woman’s dwelling at night. Now, here's an interesting detail: necromancy was believed to be ineffective at night! So why then? The text explains that "the hour was dark for them like night," meaning the light of God did not shine upon him. He was spiritually lost.

Saul, under oath, assures the woman she will not be blamed. Reish Lakish compares this to a woman swearing by her husband’s life while with her lover. A profound betrayal of trust.

The woman asks whom she should raise from the dead. Should it be someone who defied God, like Pharaoh, or someone who praised Him, like the Israelites at the Red Sea? Saul asks her to raise Samuel.

What follows is…intense. The woman is frightened when she sees Samuel, recognizing Saul despite his disguise. Why? Because, the text explains, spirits ascend differently for commoners and kings. A king ascends face up.

Saul, hearing the woman describe the figure as elohim (a term sometimes used for divine beings or powerful figures), grows frightened. Some say righteous men ascended with Samuel, indicated by the plural verb "ascending" [olim].

Now, there's a curious aside here about raising the dead with…well, let's just say intimate body parts. The text notes that the one who raises the dead sees them but doesn't hear their voice, and the one who needs them hears their voice but doesn't see them. In this case, the woman sees Samuel, but doesn’t hear him. Saul hears Samuel, but doesn’t see him. Avner and Amasa neither see nor hear him.

Samuel, understandably irritated, asks Saul, "Why have you irritated me to raise me?" Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi would weep when he reached this verse, thinking of (Amos 4:13), "For behold the former of mountains, and creator of wind, who tells man what his conversation is." Even the smallest, most insignificant conversations are recorded and judged.

Samuel rebukes Saul, reminding him that God has departed from him. Saul tries to explain his dire situation, but Samuel cuts him off, declaring that God has become his adversary and will give the kingdom to David.

Saul tries to argue that Samuel’s words are harsher than before. Samuel replies that he is now in the world of truth, no longer bound by the fear of Saul's power. He lays out the consequences of Saul's disobedience, specifically his failure to destroy Amalek.

The prophecy is grim: Saul and his sons will die in battle. But there's a sliver of solace: if Saul accepts his fate, he will be "with" Samuel, meaning he will share a place in the afterlife.

Saul, terrified, collapses. He lies to Avner and Amasa, telling them Samuel predicted victory and high positions for his sons. He then marches his sons to their deaths.

Reish Lakish paints a heartbreaking picture: God points out Saul to the angels, marveling that a man would knowingly take his sons to their deaths, embracing the divine judgment.

Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, again quoting Rabbi Levi, says God showed Moses each generation, including Saul and his sons falling by the sword. Moses is horrified that the first king of Israel will die such a violent death. God tells him to speak to the priests Saul murdered, as they are the ones condemning him.

The text concludes by listing Saul's sins: killing the priests of Nov, sparing Agag, disobeying Samuel, consulting a necromancer, and failing to seek counsel from God. As (Job 34:11) says, "For He repays a person for his action, and according to the conduct of a man He will provide for him."

So, what are we left with? A chilling reminder that even kings are not above the law, and that desperation can lead us down paths we should never tread. Saul's story is a cautionary tale about the importance of obedience, the dangers of seeking forbidden knowledge, and the ultimate consequences of turning away from God. It makes you wonder: when facing difficult choices, where do we turn for guidance? And what price are we willing to pay?

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