July 14, 2024 – The Eighth Sunday After Pentecost
The Rev. Claire Keene
Today, I thank the Good Lord I’m not the prophet Samuel and, while I am happy to anoint any of you for healing or to mark you as Christ’s own forever in baptism, I am not—as far as I know right this minute— invited by God to anoint anyone King or President or Supreme Court Justice, or Poet Laureate of Knoxville, or dogcatcher, or for that matter.
Remember the little boy, Samuel, whose mother presented him old Eli, the priest, to live and learn and serve in the House of the Lord in Shiloh? He has now become the adult Samuel, the prophet, who bears the gift and burden of hearing the Lord and telling what he hears to the leaders of his nation, so that they can follow God’s will. I doubt that Hannah expected such an outcome when she left Samuel in what must have seemed like a safe, holy cocoon to be raised as a helper in Eli’s priestly duties.
Years later, when all Israel is fed up with the perverted justice that the sons of Eli have meted out, so that the people cried out for a king to rule them, it was Samuel whom God called on to explain just what a king was likely to do to that people. And when the people insisted on having a king anyway, i t was Samuel who found and anointed Saul.
Scripture calls Saul a “choice, goodly young man,” and physically impressive, too– he’s taller than any other Israelites. But for all of Saul’s good looks and size, he’s not a very stable mentally and emotionally nor faithful to God’s leading. Eventually God is done with Saul, because Saul allows the people to take the booty from a battlefield to enrich themselves, instead of consuming it by fire, as God had commanded. So God instructs good old Samuel to anoint a young man as second king.
Samuel is smart enough to be scared to death of offending Israel’s first king, Saul. After all, Saul has been given the power of a king, remember? That can mean life or death. And Saul’s not going to take it lightly when his own anointer and adviser does an about-face to anoint some other man king, as God has commands him to do.
This time the chosen candidate is David, the youngest son of Jesse, who has spent his youth tending his father’s sheep. David, too, is a physically attractive specimen. He has a ruddy complexion, a gorgeous countenance, and beautiful eyes. Though young, David has been well-trained as a fighter by time spent ending off the wild animals who have tried to kill his father’s sheep. He’s also a skilled musician with just the right touch for soothing the ever-more-disturbed King Saul. David also has the gift of composing psalms for prayer and worship. Eventually David becomes a sort of poet laureate for God, composing poetry and prayers that we still use in our worship. You can understand how antsy old Samuel might be about Saul finding out that Samuel has come to anoint David as the second king of Israel, replacing Saul himself.
Anointing leaders of any new nation is risky business. In scripture, as in our lives, there’s no knowing ahead of time exactly how prophecies and warnings that God sends us will play out. Sometimes the prophecies of doom ultimately yield a new freedom from some current quagmire. Sometimes God’s people turn around and follow what they’ve been told, and sometimes they don’t, to their own detriment.
And the tallest, most goodlooking, fit, and smart-talking ones among us —the tall ones or the ones with beautiful eyes– may not be listening to the Lord but to their own egos, directing us to a path that may make them, and their nation look good at first glance. But the ultimate outcome is dubious.
That path toward position, power, and riches may start off easy. Another’s beauty or stature may not ask us to submit to radical change—at least at first. It may not directly ask us to shift our allegiance to someone or something less than God. And so we follow the advice of powerful , famous people, thinking, “Well, everybody’s got to give a little to get by in this world.” Or, like old Samuel, we may simply shake our heads in premonition of the grief that will come, one way or another, when we avoid God’s direction.
Choosing leaders is always an iffy proposition. We may arrive at days of great rejoicing, as in our Old Testament lesson for today, when David and thirty-thousand men of Israel return from Baale-judah to the City of David, Jerusalem, with the Ark of the Covenant. It had been absent from them– stored away in the House of Abinadab for 20 years since the slaying of King Saul. The Ark of the Covenant symbolized the presence of God among the Hebrews ever since the commandments were given on Mount Sinai. Getting the Ark of the Covenant back into the hands of the Israelites reassured them that God was truly present to them now, guarding and guiding them.
National life had been a long series of battles in which the house of Saul vied for dominance with the house of David, while also trying to fend off the plethora of city-states around them. Both Saul and David were men who had been chosen by God and anointed by Samuel the prophet, but as David’s house has grown stronger, as Saul’s house has dwindled, grown weaker.
The histories told in First and Second Kings sometime document the people’s faithfulness, and humility, their cooperation among peoples in the city-states scattered about. But the one constant theme among the city-states is “challenge and conquer, or destroy.” Some national or tribal leaders were stupid, some vengeful and murderous, and some lenient–glad to welcome allies against common enemies. Some of those rulers are even glad to let offenders off the hook, if that generosity would guarantee loyalty in the future.
The whole situation is a human mess. Very human–leaders and family members on all sides are sometimes faithful and insightful, sometimes not. These are definitely our ancestors — in faith and in foible. We may share almost no genetic or social ancestry with them. But they are us.
So, note to self: “danger, danger“ raises its head when we choose our leaders by their looks and their physical prowess, or their urge to be the center of power or their pride in worldly wealth. Remember Bathsheba. Better yet, remember her dead soldier husband, Uriah, whom David sent into the front lines of battle, knowing that Uriah would likely be killed and so free up Bathsheba to be the next wife in David’s large collection of wives. And remember Michal, daughter of King Saul, who became David’s first wife, paid for by David’s physical proof that he had killed 100 Philistines. Later, Michal was taken away from David by Saul and given as a bride to Palti son of Laish. Eventually, after Saul had died, David demanded Michal back as his wife, a condition of his becoming king of Judah.
Though Michal had originally loved David, her castigation of David’s leaping and dancing before the ark that we hear in today’s lesson, and her life-long childlessness, suggest that David and she never reconciled. Why would she choose life with good-looking David when he had eight wives and treated her only as a pawn?
Israel ‘s leaders failed God many times as they moved from what had been a small decentralized tribal country into political centralization. They shifted from a time when “there was no king in Israel; and every man did what was right in his own eyes.” By the end of 2nd Samuel, Israel has been united and transformed with new governmental structures—first into chieftaincy and then to monarchy, arrangements that can help the young nation survive and deal with its crises.
Israel’s history asks, us, “Where does true power lie?” Hannah’s song (1 Samuel 2) and David’s song (2 Samuel 22) testify that God’s power and purpose are at work in the world to overturn and reverse the usual patterns that shape history. Their testimony is that divine power lies behind human drama.
In other words, there is more going on than good looks, stature, strength, wealth, or human strategy. That more is the desire of God for human well-being. That more is the desire of God for human well-being.
As our country nears an election, and as last night’s news of violence at a political rally, our collect for today seems especially on target: “Grant that your people may know and understand what things they ought to do, and also may have grace and power faithfully to accomplish them.”
If we’re going to anoint someone as our leader, let it be someone in whom the Lord delights, someone whom the Lord delivers for the well-being of all.
Let it be so of us, O God of power and purpose. Let it be so.
Year B – Proper 10 – The Eighth Sunday After Peneteost – July 14, 2024 – The Rev. Claire Keene
