I Samuel 10

Hook

Imagine the sharp, sweet, and mesmerizing scent of rare afarsimon—balsam oil—dripping from a polished clay flask onto the head of a young man who, only hours before, was wandering the dusty hills of Benjamin looking for his father’s lost she-donkeys. Picture this quiet, private moment of anointing suddenly exploding into a sensory symphony: the rhythmic thrum of the tar (hand-drum), the piercing sweetness of the nay (flute), and the resonant plucking of lyres and harps as a band of ecstatic prophets descends from a hilltop shrine. This is the moment of Saul’s transformation in I Samuel 10—not a dry, bureaucratic transfer of power, but a fully embodied, sensory, and musical ascent. In the Sephardi and Mizrahi tradition, this narrative is not merely read as ancient history; it is a living map of how physical beauty, sacred melody, and fragrant spices serve as the essential conduits for spiritual awakening and the transformation of the human heart.

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Context

To understand the full depth of this dramatic transition in Israel's history, we must ground ourselves in the historical and cultural soil of the Sephardi and Mizrahi interpretive tradition.

• Place: The ancient hills of Judea and Benjamin, specifically the sacred sites of Mizpah, Gibeah, and Rachel’s Tomb I Samuel 10:2. In the Sephardi and Mizrahi imagination, these geographic landscapes are read through the lens of great Torah centers of the Mediterranean and Near East—from Aleppo (Aram Soba) and Baghdad to Fez and Salonica—where the physical geography of the Land of Israel was kept alive through precise grammatical study, liturgical poetry, and intense longing.
• Era: The dawn of the Israelite monarchy (c. 11th century BCE). This text is illuminated by the golden age of Sephardic biblical exegesis (11th to 15th centuries) and its later continuations, featuring scholars like Radak (Rabbi David Kimhi of Provence, 1160–1235) and Ralbag (Rabbi Levi ben Gershom of Languedoc, 1288–1344), who combined scientific linguistic precision with deep philosophical and psychological insight.
• Community: The diverse communities of the Sephardi and Mizrahi diaspora. These communities preserved the ta'amim (cantillation marks) and the precise vocalization of the Prophets with meticulous care, treating the reading of the Haftarah not as a secondary performance, but as a dramatic, musical, and communal re-enactment of the prophetic voice.

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Text Snapshot

"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 you enter the town, you will encounter a band of prophets coming down from the shrine, preceded by lyres, hand-drums, flutes, and harps, and they will be speaking in ecstasy. The spirit of God will grip you, and you will speak in ecstasy along with them; you will become a different person. ... As [Saul] turned around to leave Samuel, God gave him another heart; and all those signs were fulfilled that same day." — I Samuel 10:1, I Samuel 10:5-6, I Samuel 10:9

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Minhag/Melody

The Prophetic Band and the Maqamat System

In the Sephardic and Mizrahi musical tradition, the encounter between Saul and the band of prophets in I Samuel 10:5 is not an isolated historical anomaly. It is the foundational text for the relationship between music, joy, and the reception of the Divine Spirit. The text describes the prophets preceded by "lyres, hand-drums, flutes, and harps, and they will be speaking in ecstasy" (vehem mitnabe'im).

To the ears of a Middle Eastern Jew, this instrumental ensemble immediately recalls the classical Takht—the traditional musical ensemble of the Arab world, consisting of the oud (lute), qanun (zither), nay (flute), and riq or darbuka (hand-drums). In our heritage, music is not mere entertainment; it is a spiritual ladder. The Talmudic sages, whose teachings were deeply integrated into Sephardic mysticism, asserted that the Shechinah (the Divine Presence) does not rest upon a person through laziness, sadness, or mockery, but only through the joy of a mitzvah, as it is written regarding Elisha: "'But now bring me a musician.' And it came to pass, when the musician played, that the hand of the Lord came upon him" II Kings 3:15.

This connection between melody and spiritual state is formalized in the Maqam system—the modal system of Middle Eastern music utilized by Syrian, Iraqi, Egyptian, and Jerusalemite Sephardi Jews to chant the prayers and the Torah. Each Shabbat, the service is conducted in a specific maqam that reflects the emotional and thematic essence of the weekly Torah portion or the historical events associated with it.

When chanting a text of coronation, transition, and ecstatic transformation like I Samuel 10, the community utilizes Maqam Rast. Rast, which means "truth" or "directness" in Persian, is considered the "father of all maqamat." It is a majestic, stable, and grounding mode, perfectly suited for the establishment of kingship and the declaration of divine choice. As the chanter navigates the microtones of Maqam Rast, the congregation does not merely hear about Saul’s coronation; they feel the weight of the crown and the steadying presence of divine authority settling over the community.

However, when the text describes Saul joining the ecstatic prophets and undergoing a radical psychological shift—"you will become a different person" (venehepachta le'ish acher) I Samuel 10:6—the skilled chanter might subtly transition into Maqam Hijaz. Hijaz is a deeply evocative, soul-stirring mode characterized by an augmented second interval, evoking intense longing, spiritual yearning, and the vulnerability of a heart being broken open and rebuilt by the Divine. Through this modal modulation, the music itself serves as a commentary, illustrating the internal journey of Saul from a simple farm boy to a vessel for the divine wind (ruach Elohim).

Shirat HaBaqa'ashot: Rising Before the Dawn

The phenomenon of ecstatic, musical prophecy described in our text find its most direct liturgical expression in the Sephardic tradition of Shirat HaBaqa'ashot (The Song of Petitions). Originating in the kabbalistic circles of Safed in the 16th century and flourishing in the Jewish communities of Aleppo, Damascus, Casablanca, and Jerusalem, this practice involves rising in the middle of the night during the long winter Shabbatot (from after Sukkot until Pesach) to sing complex, multi-layered piyutim (liturgical poems) in the synagogue before the morning service.

Like the band of prophets coming down from the high place in I Samuel 10:5, the singers of the Baqa'ashot—led by master cantors (paytanim)—gather in the pre-dawn darkness. The atmosphere is thick with devotion. No instruments are played on Shabbat, so the human voice becomes the lyre, the hand-drum, the flute, and the harp. The congregation sings in intricate choral harmony, moving systematically through the maqamat, building a spiritual edifice of sound.

The goal of the Baqa'ashot is identical to the transformation experienced by Saul: to transcend the mundane, everyday self and to acquire "another heart" (lev acher) I Samuel 10:9. When the paytanim sing of the soul's yearning for its Creator, they are re-enacting the ecstatic speech (mitnabe'im) of the ancient prophets. It is a communal ascent where the barriers between heaven and earth, physical sound and metaphysical reality, are entirely dissolved.

The Mystery of the Balsam Oil: Scent and Spirit

To fully appreciate the sensory texture of this text, we must turn to the medieval Sephardic commentators who analyzed the physical elements of Saul’s anointing. In I Samuel 10:1, Samuel takes a "flask of oil" (pach hashemen) and pours it on Saul’s head.

The Metzudat Zion (Rabbi Yechiel Hillel Altschuler, 18th century, whose roots lay in the Sephardic-influenced world of Galician and Italian scholarship) begins by defining the literal terms:

• Pach (פך): "The name of a specific vessel" (shem kli mah).
• Vayitzok (ויצוק): "And he poured" (veshafach).
• Vayishakehu (וישקהו): "And he kissed him" (nashak lo).

But what kind of oil was in this flask? The Radak (Rabbi David Kimhi) provides a crucial distinction that highlights the temporary nature of Saul's monarchy:

"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 holy anointing oil [of the Tabernacle], for only the kings of the House of David were anointed with that. Rather, it was balsam oil (shemen afarsimon). And our Sages said: Saul and Jehu, who were anointed from a flask (pach), their kingdoms did not endure. David and Solomon, who were anointed from a horn (keren), their kingdoms endured."

Here, the Radak notes that Saul was anointed with shemen afarsimon—the highly prized, intensely fragrant oil harvested from the balsam orchards of the Dead Sea basin (often associated with the region of Ein Gedi). Unlike the olive-oil-based holy anointing oil (shemen hamishchah) compounded by Moses in the wilderness, which was stored in a horn (keren) to symbolize strength and eternity, Saul’s oil was stored in a fragile clay flask (pach).

The Malbim (Rabbi Meir Leibush ben Yehiel Michel, 1809–1879), whose commentary is celebrated in Sephardic yeshivot for its linguistic genius, expands on this distinction with deep theological nuance:

"ועל פי דברי חכמינו זכרונם לברכה שמשחו 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..."

"And according to the words of our Sages of blessed memory, who taught that he was anointed with a flask and with balsam oil, and not with a horn and not with the holy anointing oil, it is explained that he was anointed in secret so that they would not realize he was only being anointed as a 'ruler' (nagid). As it says, 'Has not God anointed you over His inheritance as a ruler?' He chose the term 'ruler' and not 'king' (melech) because the monarchy was not promised to him as an inheritance, unlike the one who is anointed with the holy oil..."

The choice of afarsimon (balsam) is sensory and psychological. Balsam is an volatile, aromatic fragrance. It fills a room instantly with an overwhelming, intoxicating sweetness, but it evaporates quickly. It represents a sudden, brilliant flash of divine favor—an intense, charismatic gift that must be carefully nurtured if it is to last.

Furthermore, the Malbim explains the profound spiritual mechanics of the physical kiss that Samuel gives Saul immediately after pouring the oil:

"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..."

"Through the anointing, he drew down upon him a spirit of courage and royal strength... and through the kiss, which is the cleaving of spirit to spirit (itdabkut rucha berucha), he drew down upon him a holy flow, through which he prepared him to prophesy afterward with the sons of the prophets..."

In the Sephardic mystical tradition, physical touch and physical substances are never "just" material. The physical kiss is the bodily manifestation of itdabkut rucha berucha—the merging of the prophet's spirit with the future king's spirit. It is an act of spiritual transmission. The material world is the screen upon which the divine light is projected. The scent of the balsam oil and the warmth of the physical kiss are the very vehicles through which Saul's soul is expanded, preparing him for the ecstatic, musical prophecy that lies ahead.

The Radak also brings a beautiful Midrashic tradition regarding this kiss, highlighting the sacred nature of physical connection in Jewish tradition:

"בדרש כל נשיקות הם של תיפלות חוץ מג' נשיקות נשיקה של גדולה נשיקה של פרקים נשיקה של פרישות..."

"In the Midrash: All kisses are of a frivolous nature, except for three: the kiss of greatness (authority), the kiss of reunion (meeting after a long interval), and the kiss of parting... The kiss of greatness is seen here: 'He poured oil upon his head and kissed him.' The kiss of reunion: 'And he went and met him at the mountain of God and kissed him' Exodus 4:27. The kiss of parting: 'And Orpah kissed her mother-in-law' Ruth 1:14. Rabbi Tanchuma said: Also the kiss of kinship, as it says, 'And Jacob kissed Rachel' Genesis 29:11, because she was his relative."

This Midrash, preserved and emphasized by the Radak, elevates the physical act of the kiss from a mundane gesture to a holy ritual. When Samuel kisses Saul, it is not an emotional outburst; it is the formal, sacred sealing of leadership. It is the physical anchor for the metaphysical transformation of Saul's heart.

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Contrast

The Sensory Integration of the Sephardi/Mizrahi World vs. Ashkenazi Conceptualism

When we compare the Sephardi/Mizrahi approach to this biblical narrative and its associated rituals with the classic Ashkenazi approach, we find a beautiful, respectful difference in emphasis. Both traditions revere the text and seek to implement its truths, but they do so through different cultural and intellectual modalities.

The Sephardi and Mizrahi world has historically embraced a sensory, holistic integration of the physical and the spiritual. In our tradition, the spiritual is accessed through the refined elevation of the senses. This is why our commentaries, such as the Radak and Ralbag, pay close attention to the physical reality of the afarsimon oil, the psychological mechanics of the kiss, and the therapeutic, spiritual power of musical instruments.

The Ralbag (Rabbi Levi ben Gershom), writing from the southern French region of Languedoc (which was culturally and intellectually aligned with the Sephardic golden age), analyzes Saul's transformation with a keen focus on psychology and empirical reality:

"והנה לקח שמואל פך השמן ויצק על ראש שאול למשחו למלך על ישראל 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 behold, Samuel took the flask of oil and poured it upon Saul's head to anoint him as king over Israel, and he gave him signs so that he would believe that the kingdom would be his. And the strongest sign of all of them was the turning of his heart into 'another heart' and his prophesying with the prophets, for he had never before experienced having any hand or reputation in prophecy."

For the Ralbag, the transformation of the heart is a real, observable psychological phenomenon. The physical signs—finding the donkeys, meeting the men with the bread and wine, encountering the musicians—are not merely symbols; they are a structured, sensory journey designed to gradually shift Saul's consciousness from that of a private citizen to that of a divinely inspired leader.

In contrast, the classic Ashkenazi intellectual tradition—particularly as it developed in the late European yeshivot (such as the Lithuanian Volozhin or the later Brisker school)—often favors a conceptual, legalistic, and abstract analysis of the text. An Ashkenazi analysis of I Samuel 10 might focus heavily on the constitutional status of the king (mishpat hameluchah), the halachic mechanism of the lottery (goral) used to select Saul in I Samuel 10:20-21, or the legal definitions of communal consent. The physical elements (the oil, the kiss, the music) are often treated as homiletical background (aggadah) rather than the core substance of the Torah's instruction.

Where the Ashkenazi mind seeks clarity through conceptual abstraction and legal categorization, the Sephardi mind seeks connection through physical refinement, poetic expression, and musical performance. Neither approach is superior; they are the two lungs of the Jewish soul. The Ashkenazi approach ensures that our legal structures are razor-sharp and conceptually coherent, while the Sephardi/Mizrahi approach ensures that our rituals remain warm, fragrant, musical, and deeply connected to the earth and our human senses.

The Melodic Proclamation of Prophecy

This difference is also vividly apparent in the way the Haftarah (the prophetic reading) is chanted in the synagogue.

In the Ashkenazi tradition, the cantillation (niggun) for the Haftarah is written in a minor, plaintive key. It is often reflective, somber, and carries an air of historical nostalgia—a beautiful, weeping lament for a lost era of prophecy and sovereign glory. The focus is on the historical distance between the congregation and the ancient word of God.

In the Sephardi and Mizrahi traditions—whether Moroccan, Syrian, Iraqi, or Spanish & Portuguese—the Haftarah is chanted with a vibrant, triumphant, and highly ornamented melodic structure. Utilizing the maqamat, the chanter does not lament the past; they bring the prophetic moment into the immediate present. The cantillation is dramatic and theatrical. When reading about Saul joining the band of prophets I Samuel 10:10, the chanter's voice rises, employing rapid vocal ornamentations (trills) and modal shifts to convey the actual sensation of ecstatic joy. The synagogue is transformed into the "Hill of God" (Giv'at Ha'Elohim), and the congregation is invited to feel that the spirit of prophecy is not a dead historical relic, but a living, breathing reality that can be accessed here and now through the power of holy song.

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Home Practice

The Ritual of Besamim: Awakening the "Other Heart"

One of the most beautiful and accessible ways to bring the sensory richness of this Sephardic tradition into your own life is through the ritual of Besamim (fragrant spices/herbs) during Havdalah—the ceremony that marks the transition from the holiness of Shabbat to the mundane workweek.

While many Ashkenazi homes utilize a silver, tower-shaped spice box filled with dried, imported cloves, the classic Sephardi and Mizrahi practice is to use fresh, living, fragrant plants harvested from the earth or purchased fresh for the occasion. This practice directly mirrors the fresh, living scent of the afarsimon (balsam oil) poured upon Saul's head to mark his transition into kingship and prophecy.

How to Adopt This Practice:

1. Select Your Living Fragrance: Instead of dried cloves, acquire fresh, aromatic herbs. The most traditional Sephardic choices are:
   • Sweet Basil (Rihan): Highly favored in Moroccan and Yemeni communities.
   • Fresh Mint (Na'na): Widely used throughout the Middle East.
   • Myrtle (Hadas): The classic choice of the Kabbalists of Safed, representing the three patriarchs through its triple-leaf structure.
   • Rosewater (Ma'zahr): Commonly used in Persian, Syrian, and Iraqi homes, poured gently onto the hands of those present.
2. Prepare the Herbs: Before Shabbat ends, place a generous bunch of these fresh herbs in a beautiful, small dish on your Havdalah table.
3. The Blessing of Scent: When you reach the blessing over the spices during Havdalah, pick up the fresh herbs. Before reciting the blessing, gently rub the leaves between your fingers. This physical action ruptures the plant's cells, releasing the fresh, volatile essential oils—the modern equivalent of opening Samuel's clay flask of afarsimon.
4. Recite the Precise Blessing: In the Sephardic rite, we use specific blessings depending on the botanical nature of the plant:
   • For woody shrubs (like myrtle or rosemary):

     בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא עֲצֵי בְשָׂמִים. Baruch Ata Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha'olam, borei atzei besamim. (Who creates fragrant trees).

   • For leafy herbs (like mint or basil):

     בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא עִשְׂבֵי בְשָׂמִים. Baruch Ata Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha'olam, borei isbei besamim. (Who creates fragrant herbs).

5. Inhale and Transform: Pass the fresh herbs around to every member of the household. Inhale deeply. As the fresh, sweet scent fills your lungs, recall how God gave Saul "another heart" (lev acher) as he embarked on his worldly duties. Let the living fragrance comfort your soul as the "additional Shabbat soul" (neshamah yeterah) departs, equipping you with courage, joy, and a touch of prophetic inspiration for the week ahead.

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Takeaway

The story of Saul’s anointing in I Samuel 10 is a profound reminder that our spiritual lives are not meant to be lived solely in the realm of abstract intellect. Through the lens of Sephardi and Mizrahi heritage, we learn that the physical world—with its rich scents of afarsimon, its majestic musical maqamat, and its warm, physical gestures of connection—is the very laboratory where the soul is refined.

Saul went looking for lost she-donkeys—the most mundane, frustrating of tasks—and ended up encountering a prophet, a band of musicians, and his own divine destiny. When we open our senses to the beauty of our traditions, when we sing our prayers with passion, and when we breathe in the fresh scent of the earth's creations, we too can transform our everyday, routine lives. We can step out of our narrow, anxious selves, open our hearts to the divine flow, and, like Saul, "become a different person" I Samuel 10:6—awake, inspired, and ready to serve.