We are confronted with a story about a Levite and his concubine (I know — a blog post ready to be written, but not today) who are traveling through the land of Israel when they need to find a place to stay for the evening. The servant, who could very possibly be a foreigner himself, suggests that they stop in Jebus for the night. The Levite, however, refuses and says they will continue on until they reach a town that is inhabited by Israelites. The Levite is perfectly aware of how foreigners can be treated by pagan nations and has put his trust in the people of God to be people who remember where they come from and take care of the aliens.
When they arrive in the land of Benjamin, an old man invites the travelers to enter his home and care for their needs. During the evening, the people of the town come to take advantage (sexually) of the Levitical guest. The host, in typical eastern fashion, valuing hospitality, urges the men not to make such demands. The host is attempting to save the life of the Levite. By the time the conversation is over, the crowd is distracted by the concubine — whom they rape all night and leave for dead.
This is an ugly story.
But did you notice? We’ve been in this ugly story before.
This story mirrors the story of Sodom and Gomorrah so closely one has to check and make sure they are two different stories. And if you remember, this idea of hospitality in the ancient Middle East is a major, major deal to God.
The Levite knows this and is enraged by their actions. He takes the body of the murdered concubine and cuts it up into twelve pieces and sends it to all twelve tribes of Israel, spreading the word of what has been done in one of the towns of the LORD’s own people. The people of Judah will end up marching against the tribe of Benjamin and, eventually, enacting punishment for the ways of the Benjamites. Then they make a pact to ensure that the remaining Benjamites have wives to preserve their line and not cut off a descendant of Jacob forever.
This is a momentum shift in the story. We aren’t just dealing with a people struggling with how to follow God. We are now seeing the people of God become so bad they mirror the horrible acts of Sodom — acts that caused God to come down and rescue the oppressed. Instead of partnering with God at the crossroads of the earth, being people who trust the story, this nation of Israel is beginning to become what I will call the ANTI-story. They are losing the plot and starting to do everything contrary to their call. They are starting to look like the very Canaanites whom they dispossessed.
This story is followed up by the book of 1 Samuel, which begins with the story of Eli and his sons, a family of priests. The sons have taken up residence at the entrance to God’s tabernacle and are sleeping with the women there (a likely indicator for an introduction of the practice of shrine prostitution) AND they are taking advantage of those who come to sacrifice to YHVH. If you remember the roles of the priests, they are there to help people navigate their atonement and put God on display. But Eli’s sons are being the ANTI-priests; they are the ANTI-story.
There is a momentum shift in the story of God’s people. They are forgetting their call to be a kingdom of priests who put God on display and they instead want to be like all the other nations around them. So, when they come to ask for a king to rule over them, this is their sin. The request for the king is not the problem. We know this by reading Deuteronomy 17:14–15.
When you enter the land the Lord your God is giving you and have taken possession of it and settled in it, and you say, “Let us set a king over us like all the nations around us,” be sure to appoint over you a king the Lord your God chooses. He must be from among your fellow Israelites. Do not place a foreigner over you, one who is not an Israelite.
It’s not the request for a king that displeases God — it is the kind of king they want. Listen to what they say in 1 Samuel 8:
So all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to Samuel at Ramah. They said to him, “You are old, and your sons do not follow your ways; now appoint a king to lead us, such as all the other nations have.”
And again a few verses later:
But the people refused to listen to Samuel. “No!” they said. “We want a king over us. Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go out before us and fight our battles.”
When Samuel heard all that the people said, he repeated it before the Lord. The Lord answered, “Listen to them and give them a king.”
Then Samuel said to the Israelites, “Everyone go back to your own town.”
They have forgotten the story.
“… such as all the other nations have … Then we will be like all the other nations …”
They are supposed to be different. They are supposed to put God on display. They are supposed to be a kingdom of priests.
And so God gives them the kind of king they want — but not without trying to give them a message at the same time. God chooses a man who is good-looking, head and shoulders taller than the average man. Saul is the man who looks impressive to the eye (does this remind you of a particular desert tree?) and appears to be mighty, just like all the nations around them.
But we are introduced to Saul as he is chasing some lost donkeys. He loses the donkeys and decides to go and see the man of God instead.
Saul is a donkey herder. And not even a good donkey herder — he loses donkeys!
Are you catching God’s tongue-in-cheek teaching lesson?
Who is Israel supposed to be? Sheep.
And who is supposed to lead sheep? A shepherd.
And so if God chooses a donkey herder to be their king, what is God saying they are? Stubborn and stiff-necked like jackasses.
And not only this, but what tribe is Saul from? Benjamin. The tribe with a big nasty history of disobedience. The stench of the Benjamites’ sin is still in the nostrils of Israel. This is God’s way of saying to the Israelites: You can have the kind of king I choose or the kind of king like everyone else. One of those will work out well for you and the other will not.
Will Israel hear the voice of their Shepherd?
This introduction to Saul will typify the kind of leadership and story we will read about with him. Saul, who will always be in it for himself. Saul, who won’t know how to lead God’s sheep to green pasture. Saul, who, instead of leading people through the “valley of the shadow of death,” will sit in a war camp while his people cower in fear under the taunts of a mighty giant.
This is no shepherd. And he’s no leader.
He’s certainly not a priest.
He’s a donkey herder.
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