SECOND SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST (Written on June 2, 2009)

For the Lectionary (what's a lectionary?) of June 14, 2009: I Samuel 15:34-16:13

 

When they came, he looked on Eliab and thought, "Surely the Lord's anointed is now before the LORD."

 

AFTER THOUGHT by Larry Patten

The first time the reader of the Bible meets David—the one who will become the greatest king of Israel—is as a desperate afterthought.

Saul, Israel’s first king, has lost favor with God. By the time a reader arrives at the fifteenth chapter of I Samuel, the holy writing is on the wall: Saul’s fickle days are numbered.

But who will carry out the deed of finding a royal replacement? Good old Samuel, the prophet who once anointed Saul. Samuel was given the dubious (or, let’s be blunt, life-threatening) task of finding and declaring God’s next chosen. I’ll assume Samuel knew his Hebrew history and legends and may have recalled that when God earlier sought out a leader, the Creator of the Whole Universe selected an empty desert, inflamed a bush, and had a private chat with Moses.

That worked then. Why not now? What’s wrong with steering clear of prying eyes? What’s wrong with being able to say, “Don’t blame me, it was the blazing shrub’s fault?”

But Samuel’s actions will be public, threatening to a current king who’d just as soon pat you in the back as cut your throat, and—perhaps craziest of all—the prophet has absolutely no idea who he’s looking for. Okay, fine, the Almighty One has narrowed the search for the next Israeli Idol. Even without Simon, Randy, Paula, and Kara’s input, Samuel knows it will be one of Jesse’s sons.

Should we call these fine fellows, who’ll parade before the anxious prophet, the finalists? Or perhaps the elite eight?

Jesse’s son Eliab strides the runway first. Good looking fellow! And what a swell name for a new king! After all, Eliab translates as God is a father in Hebrew. Contrast that with the definition of Saul’s name: lent to God. Well, God doesn’t want to borrow Saul anymore. And I can hear Samuel calculating: King Eliab (aka God is a Father) . . . nice ring to it, let’s anoint the lad, have a welcome feast, and the eldest son of Jesse—now the newly anointed king—can go and personally share the Lord’s change of plans with Saul.

But of course, it won’t be that easy. This is the Bible, ya know. This is faith. This is about the God who we far too easily say “works in mysterious ways.” Please, laugh out loud with me. God doesn’t merely work in mysterious ways. God sometimes works in ways unfathomable and beyond any inkling of human comprehension. And yet, even more mind-boggling and head-scratching for mortals, God also works in obvious ways.

I read verse seven. On my worst days it feels like a kick in the stomach. On my best days, that verse compliments the sound of “aha!” escaping my joyous lips.

…for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.

And so it is that Eliab and the others come and go. Isn’t there one more son? Where’s the afterthought, the eighth son? Samuel, for all of God’s reassurances, must be sweating bullets. Or, because this was thousands of years ago and this is David’s story and why not do some foreshadowing, we could say Samuel was sweating five smooth stones.

For a moment, forget you know the future. Forget any foreshadowing. With what we’ve been told before David’s entrance, with God Almighty’s statement that outward appearances don’t matter, I expected Jesse’s youngest son to look like a harmless dweeb. The B.C.E. version of a David Spade or Michael Cera. Or an average, blend-into-the-crowd John Doe type. Or a whiney, skinny teenager that you wished would blend into the crowd and leave.

But David’s a stud. Handsome. Harrison Ford in his prime. Cary Grant with muscles. Michael Phelps before the bong photo. But the Lord looks at the heart.

Regardless of his outward appearance, the first time David appeared was a reminder of what we always resist learning in the story of faith. It’s the last and least one that matters. It’s the unexpected one that shifts history. He will be the sheepish one. She’s the meek and mild one. He’s the one floating in reeds or born in a manger or knocked off a horse on the way to Damascus. It’s the Samaritan who stops. She’s the woman with seven demons. It’s Ruth staying with her widowed mother-in-law or Peter lying about his friend until the Texas longhorns come home.

It’s so obvious. We hardly ever get it.

I write these words, and ponder David’s first appearance, with my town momentarily the national focus of gay (actually human) rights. Less than a week ago, the California Supreme Court upheld Proposition 8. Gays are still not allowed to marry in California. Fresno, where I live, will briefly be the place where thousands gather to express outrage at the Court’s decision, and—more importantly—to proclaim the importance of full equality for all God’s children. Why Fresno? Among other things, we are the so-called buckle of California’s Bible Belt. Here in the Central Valley, one of the most conservative places in the United States, my neighbors voted in great numbers for Proposition 8. Statewide the proposition lost 52% - 48%. In Fresno? 69% voted no. And so, a perfect place to lovingly protest.

But I remember: the Lord looks at the heart.

How hard for mortals to remember that.

And I also think of this, while Samuel nervously watches the parade of Jesse’s sons, who will the Lord anoint? The first? The strongest? The handsomest? The one with political clout? The loudest? The proudest?

Who is the least?

Go find that youngest son, please.

in Peace,

Larry