I Samuel 10

Hook

Picture this: It’s the final night of camp. The campfire is down to its last glowing embers, painting everyone’s faces in warm, flickering orange. The air is crisp, smelling of pine, woodsmoke, and that sweet, damp lake breeze. You’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with people who were strangers two months ago but are now the keepers of your soul. Someone starts strumming a guitar—just a simple, repetitive, grounding minor chord progression.

You know the tune. It’s that classic, wordless niggun that always starts quiet, low in the chest, and slowly builds until the entire circle is swaying, arms locked, voices rising to shake the pine needles right off the branches.

Let’s sing it together right now, wherever you are reading this. Just hum along to get yourself in the space:

“Lai-la-lai, lai-la-lai, lai-la-la-la-lai-lai…”
(Slowly building)
“Lai-la-lai, lai-la-lai, lai-la-la-la-lai-lai…”

There’s a specific lyric from a beloved camp song that always echoes in the back of my mind during these moments of transition: “In my heart, I will build a sanctuary to the splendor of His glory…” (based on the classic Hebrew song Bilvavi). It’s a song about preparing your inner world for a massive shift.

That’s exactly the energy of transition we are stepping into today. It’s that heavy, electric feeling of standing on the edge of something huge, wondering if you actually have what it takes to step up. You’ve spent weeks in the bubble of the woods, feeling like the highest, most spiritual version of yourself. But tomorrow, the buses roll in. You have to pack your duffle bag, say goodbye to the canopy of stars, and go back down the mountain to "real life."

How do we take that camp fire—that wild, transformative, "different person" energy—and bring it home? How do we build that sanctuary in our everyday lives when we are no longer surrounded by a choir of campers singing in harmony?

In I Samuel 10, we meet Saul at this exact, terrifying crossroads. He is a young man who went out looking for some lost family property and ended up being told he has to lead an entire nation. He is about to be anointed, transformed, and sent back to his ordinary life with an extraordinary charge. If you’ve ever felt the post-camp blues, or the shock of trying to keep your spiritual pilot light lit in the middle of a messy house, dirty dishes, and family logistics, Saul is your guy.

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Context

To understand how Saul gets from a dusty trail to the royal throne, we need to map out the territory. Here are three key coordinates to keep in mind as we dive into the text:

• The Political Pivot: Up until this moment, the Jewish people have been living in a loose, decentralized confederation of tribes led by occasional "Judges" (Shofetim). But they are tired of the instability. They want a king. They want to be "like all the other nations." Samuel, the aging prophet and judge, is deeply hurt by this demand, viewing it as a rejection of God’s direct leadership. Yet, God tells Samuel to give them what they want. This chapter is the birth of the Jewish monarchy—a messy, beautiful, high-stakes experiment in human governance.
• The Hero in Hiding: Saul is not your typical power-hungry political climber. When we first meet him in the preceding chapter, he is simply doing a chore for his father, searching for lost donkeys. He is tall, handsome, and utterly clueless about his destiny. Even after he is anointed by Samuel, his first instinct isn’t to brag or take charge; it’s to keep quiet and, eventually, literally hide in the luggage. He is a reluctant leader, deeply relatable to anyone who has ever looked at a big responsibility and thought, “Surely they meant to choose someone else.”
• The Backcountry Metaphor: Think of this transition like leaving the safety of a well-cleared, blazed trail to hike deep into the unmarked, rugged backcountry. On the blazed trail, you know exactly where to put your feet. The signs are clear. But in the backcountry, you have to rely on your compass, your instincts, and the strength of your companions. Saul is being pushed off the cleared trail of his simple, quiet life and forced to navigate the wild, dense forest of national leadership. He has no map for this. All he has is a flask of oil, a kiss, and a promise that his heart is about to change.

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Text Snapshot

Let’s look at a few crucial lines from Saul’s wild journey in I Samuel 10:

"Samuel took a flask of oil and poured some on Saul’s head and kissed him, and said, 'God herewith anoints you ruler over this people—God’s own...' As [Saul] turned around to leave Samuel, God gave him another heart; and all those signs were fulfilled that same day... But when they looked for him, he was not to be found. They inquired of God again, 'Has anyone else come here?' And God replied, 'Yes; he is hiding among the baggage.'"
— I Samuel 10:1, I Samuel 10:9, I Samuel 10:22

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Close Reading

Now, let’s pull up our camp chairs, toss another log on the fire, and lean in close to this text. We have some incredible classical commentators sitting in our circle today, and they are going to help us unpack the hidden mechanics of this wild story. We’re going to look at two major insights that translate directly from Saul’s ancient road trip to our modern living rooms.

Insight 1: The Chemistry of Change – Flasks, Balsam, and the "Temporary" Spaces of Family Growth

Let’s start at the very beginning of the chapter: “Samuel took a flask of oil and poured some on Saul’s head and kissed him...” I Samuel 10:1.

To the untrained eye, this is just a standard royal ceremony. But our commentators notice something incredibly specific about the physical objects used here. The Hebrew word for "flask" is pach (פַּח).

The commentator Metzudat Zion on I Samuel 10:1:1 steps in with a quick, essential dictionary definition:

"פך: שם כלי מה" (Pach: the name of a certain vessel).

But why a pach? Why a small, fragile flask? Why not a majestic horn (keren), which was typically used for anointing?

The Radak (Rabbi David Kimhi) on I Samuel 10:1:1 blows this wide open for us. He writes:

"את פך השמן. לא היה זה השמן המשחה כי לא היו משוחים ממנו אלא מלכי בית דוד אבל שמן אפרסמון היה ואמרו שאול ויהוא שנמשחו בפך לא נמשכה מלכותן דוד ושלמה שנמשחו בקרן נמשכה מלכותן" (The flask of oil: This was not the sacred anointing oil [of the Tabernacle], for they did not anoint from it except the kings of the House of David. Rather, it was balsam oil. And our Sages said: Saul and Jehu, who were anointed with a flask [pach], their kingdom did not endure; David and Solomon, who were anointed with a horn [keren], their kingdom endured).

Look at the chemistry of this moment! Radak is telling us that Saul wasn't anointed with the heavy, sacred, permanent Tabernacle oil. He was anointed with shemen afarsimon—balsam oil. Balsam oil is incredibly aromatic, sweet-smelling, and volatile. It fills the room with an intense fragrance instantly, but it evaporates. It doesn’t last forever.

Furthermore, Saul is anointed from a pach—a fragile clay flask—rather than a keren—a horn taken from a living animal, representing strength, endurance, and generational legacy. The Radak makes a direct link between the vessel and the destiny: a flask is easily broken, and indeed, Saul’s dynasty was short-lived and fragile.

Now, let’s bring in the Malbim (Meir Leibush ben Yehiel Michel Wisser) on I Samuel 10:1:1, who takes this physical distinction and applies it to the spiritual and political reality of Saul’s appointment:

"ומשחו בפך ובשמן אפרסמון ולא בקרן ולא בשמן משחת קדש, מבואר כי לכן משחו בצנעה בל ירגישו שלא נמשח רק לנגיד, כמ"ש הלוא כי משחך ה' על נחלתו לנגיד תפס נגיד ולא מלך באשר לא הובטח לו המלכות בירושה כדרך הנמשח בשמן הקדש ותרם כראם קרני" (And they anointed him with a flask and with balsam oil, and not with a horn or the sacred anointing oil. It is clear that he anointed him in secret so they would not realize he was only anointed as a leader [nagid], as it says, "Is it not that God has anointed you over His inheritance as a leader [nagid]?" He used the word "nagid" [ruler/prince] and not "melech" [king], because the kingdom was not guaranteed to him as an inheritance, unlike one anointed with the sacred oil from a horn, which represents long-term strength, like the horn of a wild ox).

The Malbim is pointing out that Samuel calls Saul a nagid (a prince, a temporary leader) rather than a melech (a fully established, dynastic king). Saul’s leadership is an experiment. It is a transition. It is a "balsam oil" moment—highly fragrant, incredibly intense, but structurally temporary.

Bringing the Balsam Home

How does this translate to our homes and families?

Often, we put immense pressure on ourselves to create "horn-like" permanence in every single thing we do. We want our family routines, our spiritual practices, our emotional states, and our relationships to be rock-solid, unchanging, and monumental from day one. We think that if a family ritual doesn't last for forty years, it was a failure. If we try a new Friday night routine and it only works for a month before the kids grow out of it or life gets busy, we feel like we messed up.

But the Torah, through the Radak and the Malbim, is introducing us to the holiness of the pach—the fragile flask—and the shemen afarsimon—the balsam oil.

There are seasons of our lives that are "balsam oil seasons." They are highly aromatic, deeply transformative, but structurally temporary.

• The Camp Season: Think of your time at summer camp, or a weekend family retreat, or a high-energy holiday. It is an intense, sweet-smelling bubble. It isn't meant to be your permanent state of existence. You can't live in the woods singing around a campfire forever. That is a pach moment. It is fragile, and it will end, but the fragrance of that balsam oil clings to your skin long after you leave.
• The Developmental Seasons: Think of parenting a newborn, or navigating the wild waters of a teenager’s middle school years, or transitioning to an empty nest. These are temporary leadership roles. You are acting as a nagid—a guide for a specific, volatile transition—rather than a permanent, unchanging ruler.

When we embrace the "balsam oil" seasons of family life, we stop mourning their transience and start celebrating their fragrance. We realize that a family ritual doesn't have to last forever to be holy. That special bedtime routine you did with your daughter when she was seven? It only lasted a year before she wanted to read on her own. It was a pach. It broke. But the love and security it poured into her head? That remains.

Don't despise the temporary vessels in your home. Sometimes, God anoints us with a fragile flask just to get us through the next mountain pass.

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Insight 2: Spirit-to-Spirit Connection and Hiding in the Baggage – Overcoming the Imposter Syndrome in our Homes

Let’s look at the second part of Samuel’s encounter with Saul: “...and kissed him, and said, 'God herewith anoints you...'” I Samuel 10:1.

Why the kiss? In ancient political contexts, a kiss could be a sign of fealty or respect. But our commentators see something much deeper, much more intimate happening here.

The Malbim on I Samuel 10:1:1 writes beautifully about the mechanics of this kiss:

"על ידי המשיחה המשיך עליו רוח גבורה ועז מלך... ועל ידי הנשיקה שהיא התדבקות רוחא ברוחא המשיך עליו שפע קדש שבזה הכין אותו לנבאות אחר כך עם בני הנביאים, כמ"ש (פ"ו) וצלחה עליך רוח ה' והתנבאת עמהם" (Through the anointing, he drew upon him a spirit of courage and royal strength... and through the kiss, which is the clinging of spirit to spirit [itdabkut rucha be-rucha], he drew upon him a holy abundance, preparing him to prophesy afterward with the band of prophets, as it says in verse 6, "And the spirit of God will grip you and you will prophesy with them").

Look at that gorgeous Aramaic phrase: התדבקות רוחא ברוחא (itdabkut rucha be-rucha)—the clinging of spirit to spirit, the cleaving of soul to soul.

The Malbim is telling us that leadership cannot be passed on through clinical, dry, legalistic procedures. You can’t just pour oil on someone's head and say, "Okay, you're in charge now, here is your handbook." True transformation requires itdabkut rucha be-rucha. It requires a moment of profound, face-to-face, heart-to-heart vulnerability. The kiss of Samuel is what prepares Saul's soul to receive the spirit of prophecy. It softens his heart so that, as the text says later, “God gave him another heart” I Samuel 10:9.

The Radak on I Samuel 10:1:2 brings in a fascinating Midrash to elevate the status of this kiss:

"וישקהו. בדרש כל נשיקות הם של תיפלות חוץ מג' נשיקות נשיקה של גדולה נשיקה של פרקים נשיקה של פרישות, נשיקה של גדולה ויצוק על ראשו וישקהו..." (And he kissed him. In the Midrash: All kisses are frivolous except for three: the kiss of greatness, the kiss of meeting [after separation], and the kiss of parting. The kiss of greatness is seen here: "And he poured upon his head and kissed him" I Samuel 10:1...)

The Radak is telling us that this wasn't a casual, social, or frivolous kiss. It was a "kiss of greatness" (neshikah shel gedulah). It was a kiss that marked a profound boundary-crossing. It was a physical manifestation of a spiritual transfer.

But here is the catch: even after the balsam oil, even after the itdabkut rucha be-rucha (spirit-to-spirit connection), even after Saul’s heart is transformed and he starts prophesying with the ecstatic prophets, what happens when it’s time to show up in public?

The people gather at Mizpah. The lots are cast. The tension is building. The tribe of Benjamin is chosen. The clan of Matri is chosen. Saul’s name is called! And... he’s gone.

“But when they looked for him, he was not to be found. They inquired of God again, 'Has anyone else come here?' And God replied, 'Yes; he is hiding among the baggage'” I Samuel 10:21-I Samuel 10:22.

Why is he hiding? He’s had all the signs! He’s experienced the ecstasy of prophecy!

The Ralbag (Rabbi Levi ben Gershom) on I Samuel 10:1:1 explains the psychological state of Saul during this wild transition:

"ונתן לו אותות כדי שיאמין כי הממלכה תהיה לו והאות היותר חזק מהם הוא ההפך לו לב אחר והתנבאו עם נביאים והוא לא נסה קודם זה להיות לו יד ושם בנבואה" (And he gave him signs so that he would believe that the kingdom would indeed be his. And the strongest of these signs was that his heart was turned into another heart, and he prophesied with the prophets, though he had never before experienced having a hand or a name in prophecy).

The Ralbag is highlighting Saul's utter lack of experience. Saul had never done this before. He had no "hand or name" in spiritual leadership or political power. He was a farm boy who spent his days tracking down stubborn pack animals.

Even though God gave him "another heart," Saul's old self-image was still clinging to him. He looked at the massive, screaming crowd, he looked at the heavy gold crown, and his system went into total overload. He experienced the ultimate biblical case of Imposter Syndrome. So, he ran to the storage tent and hid behind the duffle bags, the camp trunks, and the supply crates.

Stepping Out of the Baggage in Our Homes

This is perhaps the most human moment in the entire book of Samuel. And it is a mirror for every single one of us trying to bring Torah, spirituality, and intentional leadership into our homes.

Think about it: We go to camp, or we attend an inspiring weekend retreat, or we read a powerful book, or we sit in a beautiful synagogue service. We feel that itdabkut rucha be-rucha—that spirit-to-spirit connection. Our hearts are warmed, and we make a promise to ourselves: “I am going to bring this home. I am going to be more patient with my kids. I am going to create a sacred Friday night dinner table. I am going to speak words of Torah to my family. I am going to lead.”

But then, Friday afternoon rolls around. The house is a disaster. The kids are fighting over the iPad. The dog just threw up on the rug. The work emails are still dinging on your phone.

Suddenly, you feel like an absolute imposter. You think: “Who am I to lead a sacred Shabbat table? Who am I to speak about holiness? I’m just a mess of a human being trying to get through the week. I’m just looking for lost donkeys.”

So, what do we do? We hide in the baggage.

• We hide behind our screens, scrolling mindlessly to escape the pressure.
• We hide behind our logistics, focusing on the perfect menu, the clean house, or the physical preparations, rather than showing up emotionally and spiritually.
• We hide in our silence, letting the opportunity for deep connection slip away because we feel unworthy of leading.

But look at what God says to the people when they are looking for Saul: “Yes; he is hiding among the baggage” I Samuel 10:22. God doesn't disqualify Saul for hiding. God doesn't say, "Oh, well, he ran away, let's pick someone else." God simply points out where he is and says, “Go get him.”

They run and pull Saul out of the baggage. And when he stands up, he is a head taller than everyone else.

The lesson for us is profound: Your baggage does not disqualify you from your anointing.

You do not have to be a perfect, seamless spiritual giant to step into leadership in your home. You can be a messy, reluctant, slightly terrified human being who still has one foot in the storage tent. But when the moment arises, you have to let yourself be pulled out of the baggage. You have to stand up, shake off the dust of your self-doubt, and trust that the "new heart" God gave you is real.

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Micro-Ritual

How do we ground this? How do we take this wild tension between the "balsam oil" of inspiration and the "baggage" of daily life and build a physical sanctuary for it in our homes?

We do it at the ultimate moment of transition: Havdalah.

Havdalah is the "camp fire" of the weekly Jewish cycle. It is the moment where we stand in a circle, light a multi-wick candle that looks like a miniature bonfire, smell sweet spices, and sing together as the weekend fades away. It is the literal border between the sacred space of Shabbat (our weekly "camp") and the mundane space of the workweek (our "baggage").

To bring Saul’s story home, we are going to introduce a micro-ritual called "The Balsam Release and Baggage Drop."

     THE BALSAM RELEASE & BAGGAGE DROP
===========================================
[SHABBAT ENDS] ---------> [HAVDALAH CANDLE LIGHTED]
       |
       +---> 1. THE BALSAM SMELL (Afarsimon)
       |     Name one "sweet fragrance" or 
       |     moment of connection from the week.
       |
       +---> 2. THE BAGGAGE DROP (Kelim)
       |     Hold a physical key or heavy object.
       |     Name one anxiety or "chore" you are
       |     hiding behind, and physically drop it.
       |
[WINE POURED] ---------> [WEEK BEGINS WITH A NEW HEART]

The Setup

For this Havdalah, in addition to your standard sweet spices (cloves, cinnamon, etc.), you will need:

1. A small bottle of aromatic essential oil (preferably Balsam, Pine, or Cedarwood to channel that camp/forest vibe).
2. A heavy, physical object for each person (like a brass key, a smooth river stone, or even a heavy metal coin).

The Action

1. The Balsam Release: Right before you say the blessing over the spices (borei minei besamim), open the bottle of essential oil. Pass it around the circle. Let everyone put a tiny drop of the oil on their wrists or palms, rub their hands together, and take a deep breath of that woody, sweet fragrance.
   • As you breathe it in, invite everyone to share one "balsam moment" from the past week—a moment of pure, sweet, spirit-to-spirit connection (itdabkut rucha be-rucha) that felt like "camp," even if it was just a five-minute deep conversation in the car or a shared laugh over dinner. Acknowledge that this moment was a beautiful, temporary gift.
2. The Baggage Drop: After you smell the spices, but before you extinguish the candle in the wine, have everyone take their heavy object (their "baggage key" or "stone") and hold it tightly in their closed fist.
   • Take a moment of silence. Ask everyone to identify one piece of "baggage" they are hiding behind—an anxiety about the coming week, a chore they are obsessed with, or a feeling of self-doubt that keeps them from showing up fully for their loved ones.
   • On the count of three, everyone physically drops their object onto the table or floor with a loud, satisfying clack.
   • As the objects hit the ground, say together: “Out of the baggage, into our hearts.”
3. The Transition: Extinguish the candle in the wine. As the smoke rises, sing Eliyahu HaNavi or a wordless camp niggun, letting the sweet smell of the balsam oil on your wrists carry you into the dark of the new week.

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Chevruta Mini

Now, find a partner—a spouse, a friend, a roommate, or even one of your kids—and spend ten minutes exploring these two questions together. No easy answers allowed; get down into the dirt with them.

Question 1: The Baggage Check

In the text, Saul literally hides among the kelim (the baggage, the vessels, the gear) to avoid being seen as king.

• For you: What does your "baggage" look like in your daily life? When you feel overwhelmed by the call to be a parent, a partner, or a spiritual leader in your home, what is the specific "clutter" (logistics, screens, house projects, work emails) that you run and hide behind? How can your loved ones help gently pull you out of the storage tent when they see you hiding?

Question 2: The Fragrance of the Temporary

We learned from Radak and Malbim that Saul’s anointing with a fragile flask (pach) of balsam oil meant his leadership was powerful but temporary, whereas David’s horn (keren) of oil was permanent.

• For you: Can you identify a "balsam oil" season in your family life right now—something beautiful, sweet, and highly transformative that you know won't last forever? How does reframing this season as a holy, temporary "flask" change the way you experience its daily challenges and joys?

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Takeaway

As we pack up our gear and prepare to leave this study circle, let’s bring it all back to that campfire.

You don’t need a permanent golden throne, a perfect pedigree, or an unbroken line of generational success to bring Torah and holiness into your home. You don’t need to have all your emotional baggage unpacked and put away in the closet before you can step up and lead.

All you need is the courage to stand up when your name is called.

This week, when you feel the urge to hide behind the logistics, the emails, and the dirty laundry, remember Saul. Remember that God knows exactly which pile of baggage you are hiding under, and God is still choosing you. Smell the balsam. Drop the heavy keys of your self-doubt. Step out of the storage tent, take a deep breath, and let your spirit cling to the spirits of the people you love.

You’ve got another heart now. Go use it.

“Lai-la-lai, lai-la-lai, lai-la-la-la-lai-lai…”
Shavua Tov—may it be a week of open hearts, sweet fragrances, and courage!