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David's Secret Weapon
The real message of the battle with Goliath is
not that the underdog wins, but that things are not always as they are
seen.
Ido Hevroni
David’s
battle with Goliath is among the Hebrew Bible’s best known stories.
Even in 21st-century America, where biblical references no longer
inform much speech or writing, the image of the scrappy young shepherd
defeating the lumbering Philistine giant has not lost its grip — perhaps
because of the deep-seated American fondness for underdogs.
But this biblical episode, which occurs about midway through the
first book of Samuel, is more than an exciting tale.
It marks the first public appearance of David, founder of the
dynasty that will rule Judea until its destruction and one of ancient
literature’s most complex and fascinating characters.
By reading the story in its context, we can better grasp the message
it conveys. Among other distinctions, that message is intriguingly different
from the one in the book of Exodus, now being read as part of the annual Torah
cycle in synagogues around the world.
It also has nothing to do with David-as-underdog, let alone with
the inverse, anti-Israel message being purveyed by supporters of the Middle
East’s latest claimants to that title.
The story of David and Goliath, one element in a larger narrative about David and his predecessor,
King Saul, marks the climax of David’s transition from youthful shepherd to
valiant warrior and eventual claimant of the throne.
The narrative begins with the Israelite people’s approach to the
aging Samuel, who has served as prophet and judge of Israel for most of his
life, demanding that he appoint a king to rule over them.
Reluctantly acquiescing, Samuel chooses Saul,
who appears from the get-go to possess all of the appropriate qualities: the
son of “a mighty man of valor, . . . the most handsome of the children of
Israel, taller than those around him from his shoulder and upward” (I Samuel 9:1–2).
At a public assembly, his majesty visible to all, the people
happily accept him as their ruler.
Yet Saul, whose very selection has been a concession to an
insecure populace, proves more attentive to the people who demanded a king than
to divine commands.
Twice he defies God’s will in response to
Israelite pressure. Finally, Samuel tells Saul that he has been rejected and
that God “hath sought a man after His own heart” to replace him.
Thus, begins a period of ambiguity, with Saul continuing to act as
king even as another will secretly enjoy the status of God’s anointed one.
In the next chapter, God tells Samuel to go “to
Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have provided Me a king among his sons.”
There are seven of them, the text declares.
Immediately after laying eyes on the eldest, Eliav, Samuel declares him God’s
anointed, only for God to correct him: “Look not on his countenance, or on
the height of his stature; because I have rejected him; for it is not as man
seeth: for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the
heart” (I Samuel 16:7).
The same occurs with the next six sons, none of whom is confirmed
by God. Realizing that something is amiss, Samuel asks if there are no others
present.
At last the eighth, not important enough in the eyes of his
relatives to be mentioned until now, enters the scene.
As in the case of Saul, we receive a physical description, but
this one is different. Nothing is said about David’s height. (His father describes
him as “little,” but the term probably refers to his age.)
Instead, we are told he is ruddy, an adjective associated with
Esau, the rejected son of Isaac, and that he has beautiful eyes and a pleasant
appearance, characteristics usually reserved in the Bible for women and
effeminate men.
Nevertheless, God informs Samuel that this one
will be king. Why, we are not told — yet, as soon as he is anointed, God’s
spirit rest upon him and departs from Saul (1 Samuel 16:13–14).
And this signals a major reversal with regard to the monarchy,
whose legitimacy till now has stemmed from the people’s demand for a king.
Now it stems from God’s selection of a man “after
His own heart”: a change not just of ruler, but of regime.
Already in this brief backstory we’ve received many essential clues to the deeper
meaning of David’s selection.
Key
episodes in the unfolding narrative, especially the early encounter with
Goliath, will fill out the picture with regard to his essential character and
God’s purpose in choosing him.
Soon
after his anointing, the Philistines mass for war against the Israelites.
With
the opposing armies encamped face to face, the Philistine champion Goliath
presents a challenge: let one Israelite step forward and engage him in single
combat, and the winner’s side can claim victory.
No
Israelite is brave enough to accept. Forty days go by; Goliath’s challenge is
repeated daily, and each day it goes unanswered.
Little wonder. In our first encounter with Goliath, we are
apprised of his great height and given an exceptionally long and detailed
account of his arms and armor.
Instead of an ordinary shield, he is protected by a gigantic one,
taller than a man and so heavy as to require an attendant to carry it.
As for his armaments — bronze helmet, breastplate, greaves, sword,
and javelin — they are reminiscent of nothing so much as the equipment worn by
the champions of Greek epic, who (like Paris and Hector in the Iliad)
are also given to issuing ferocious challenges to their trembling foes.
Goliath’s appearance alone — think of a Bronze Age tank — is
sufficient to paralyze Saul and the Israelite forces.
And now David arrives at the Israelite camp bringing a
care-package from his father to his three eldest brothers. Here is the scene
that greets him:
As he talked with [his brothers], behold, there came up the
champion, the Philistine of Gath, Goliath by name, out of the armies of the
Philistines, and spake according to the same words [as on previous days], and
David heard them.
And all the men of Israel, when they saw the
man, fled from him, and were sore afraid. And the men of Israel said, “Have
ye seen this man that is come up?” (1 Samuel 17:23-25)
Note that the men of Israel flee when they see the
Philistine, but what David hears are Goliath’s insults.
Learning of the prize that Saul has placed on Goliath’s head, he
responds with a rhetorical counterattack, trying to boost Israelite morale.
“What shall be done,” he asks the men around him, “to the man that
killeth this Philistine, and taketh away the taunt from Israel? For who is this
uncircumcised Philistine, that he should have taunted the armies of the living
God?” (1 Samuel 17:26).
“This Philistine,” “that uncircumcised Philistine”: the words ring with
contempt.
Where Goliath had earlier mocked the Israelites
as “slaves to Saul,” David reminds them that they are instead “the
armies of the living God.”
By allowing this heathen of no consequence to humiliate them, they
are shaming God Himself.
David immediately volunteers to fight Goliath. But Saul takes one
look at the inexperienced young shepherd standing before him, concludes that he
cannot possibly prevail against the fearsome giant, and rejects his proposal
out of hand.
David, unable for reasons of prudence to divulge the true source
of his confidence — namely, that God has chosen him to succeed Saul — attempts
to rebut the king’s arguments.
To the charge that he is too young, David replies that he indeed
has had battle experience: he killed a lion and a bear that threatened his
flock.
This may also bring to mind the tales of classical Greek heroes — in
this case Hercules, who vanquished the Nemean lion and wore its hide as a sign
of his triumph.
But David’s fight with the lion and bear occurs only, as it were,
offstage and on his own report; nor has he appeared on the battlefield draped
in the spoils.
Instead of flaunting his prowess visually, he shows his cards
verbally and only when necessary, reiterating that, however formidable Goliath
seems to Saul and the others, the Philistine’s declaration of war against God
must not go unheeded.
Eliciting no response from the king, David
presses his trump card: “The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the
lion, and out of the paw of the bear, He will deliver me out of the hand of
this Philistine.”
The invocation of God’s name finally persuades Saul that the boy
is acting out of the right motives and may even have a chance of winning.
He equips David with his own armor and weaponry, which are
strikingly similar to Goliath’s: bronze helmet, body armor, and sword. (Divine
assistance or not, Saul evidently puts a high premium on personal protection.)
But David soon discovers that they are too heavy, and removes
them. Significantly, the Hebrew verb describing this action shares the same
root as the verb describing the departure of God’s spirit from Saul.
Instead of Saul’s regalia, David arms himself with a shepherd’s
accoutrements: smooth stones, a sling, and a stave.
He conceals the stones in a bag and carries the sling, a mere
leather strap, inconspicuously in his hand. Only the stave is in plain view.
Thus equipped with the flimsiest of weapons, he goes out to battle
Goliath’s mobile fortress.
Under ordinary circumstances, Goliath would no doubt have
conducted the battle in a Greek-like manner: first throwing the javelin from
behind the shelter of his shield, then approaching David carefully with sword
at the ready.
In order to render the giant vulnerable, David must turn his own
weaknesses into strengths by neutralizing those two main advantages while
positioning himself within his sling’s ideal striking distance. This he
effectuates by deception.
First, by keeping the stones hidden and displaying the stave
prominently, he causes Goliath to assume that the latter is his primary weapon.
Next, he responds to Goliath’s pre-battle harangue with a speech
giving the impression that he relies mainly on supernatural assistance, thereby
tempting the giant into laying aside both javelin and shield in favor of
hand-to-hand combat.
While moving toward his opponent, Goliath is left exposed, and at
this moment David pulls out a stone and slings it into Goliath’s forehead.
The stone stuns the giant; David runs up, dispatches him with his
own sword, and cuts off his head. David’s heroism is plain for all to see.
This is not merely a story of the triumph of smarts over brute strength; it is a story about
two basically different worldviews.
Goliath, whose main asset is his fearsome appearance, is not one
to look beyond the obvious. Saul, who himself benefits from his looks, sees
things similarly, and so do the Israelites.
David, by contrast, is accustomed to being underestimated — by his
father, by his brothers, by Samuel, and by the king — and perhaps for that
reason is able to see beyond appearances.
And now he also knows that God has chosen him. Rather than being
intimidated into submission by Goliath, he coolly analyzes the giant’s
defenses, ascertains his weaknesses, and, presenting himself as a harmless
shepherd boy, turns Goliath’s misperception to his advantage.
This tension between appearance and reality lies at the heart of
the entire story.
Here are the words with which Samuel had earlier
introduced Saul to the people: “See ye whom the Lord has chosen, that
there is none like him among all the people” (1 Samuel 10:24).
Saul looks fit to be a king, just as Goliath looks like a mighty
warrior. But for Saul, as for Goliath, what you see is what you get, and all
you get.
Indeed, the verb see is used again and again
throughout the narrative to highlight a superseded worldview.
David — the young, pretty shepherd — looks like neither king nor
warrior, but turns out to be both.
Here, once more, is God’s caution to Samuel after the prophet
mistakenly attempts to anoint the royal-looking Eliav:
“Look not on his countenance, or on the height
of his stature; because I have rejected him; for it is not as man seeth:
for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.”
Not only does the Lord “look on the heart”
of a man, but, as Samuel informs the rejected Saul, He has “sought a man
after His own heart.”
That is David, who from his very first step onto the battlefield
“hears” what others only “see” and knows how to get beyond appearances to the
real.
David perceives the war as not merely, or even primarily, taking
place on the manifest level of reality — Israelites versus Philistine giant — but
rather on a plane where the armies of Israel are the armies of
the living God.
While he may at first come across as cocky, it soon becomes clear
that his is a confidence born of deep insight, combined with deep trust. He is
not merely looking past the obvious, but looking past it to see the will of
God, and acting accordingly.
David’s victory is thus due to his faith in God. But God here is
no deus ex machina who steps in from time to time to
manipulate the course of history.
Unlike in Joshua’s battle with the Amorites, the sun does not
stand still to extend David’s victory.
Nor are there outward signs of divine aid as in the deliverance of
the Hebrew slaves from Egypt or as when, later in the book of Exodus, Moses at
God’s command raises his hands to ensure Israelite victory in the battle with
the Amalekites.
Nor does David pray to God for help before the duel.
In this story, God is a constant, unseen presence, and faith in
Him is a matter not so much of revelation and miraculous intervention than of
proper conduct in circumstances where there is no manifest proof of God’s will.
Armed with that view, David succeeds.
When thinking about world conditions today, and in particular
about the real sources of Israel’s strength as a nation, careful readers of the
David and Goliath story might do well to bear in mind its central message:
things are not always as they are seen, or as others wish us to see them.
About the author
Ido Hevroni, a scholar of the classics, is educational director of
Shalem College in Jerusalem.
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