I Samuel 28

Hook

You’ve likely been told that King Saul is the "bad guy" here—a desperate, rule-breaking king who resorts to dark magic because he lost his moral compass. It’s a stale take that frames this story as a cautionary tale about "following the rules." But what if we looked at this not as a story about forbidden magic, but as a study in absolute, crushing isolation? Saul isn't just a villain; he’s an empty vessel, a leader who has run out of options, out of noise, and out of grace. Let’s look at the "Witch of Endor" story again, not as a spooky relic, but as a masterclass in the human need for witness when the world goes silent.

Context

• The Political Cage: I Samuel 28:1 drops us into a high-stakes moment. David is embedded with the Philistines, and Saul is abandoned by his own tradition. The "misconception" here is that Saul is simply "doing something illegal." In reality, he is a man whose support system—dreams, prophecy, and the Urim—has completely vanished.
• The Disguise: Saul discards his royal identity to meet the medium. He doesn’t want to be the King; he wants to be a human being whose questions are finally answered.
• The Silence of God: The text notes that God simply stopped answering. This isn't about Saul being "naughty"; it’s about the terrifying experience of spiritual silence—a feeling many adults recognize when they hit a wall in their careers or personal lives and find no guidance left.

Text Snapshot

"And Saul said to his courtiers, 'Find me a woman who consults ghosts... Saul disguised himself; he put on different clothes and set out with two men. They came to the woman by night... Saul said, 'Please divine for me by a ghost. Bring up for me the one I shall name to you.'... Saul said, 'I am greatly troubled. The Philistines are attacking me and God has turned away from me—and no longer answers me... So I have called you to tell me what I am to do.'" I Samuel 28:7-15

New Angle

Insight 1: The Sovereignty of the "Outsider"

In our professional and social lives, we often rely on "official" channels for validation—performance reviews, industry standards, or the approval of our peers. Saul starts the story surrounded by courtiers and the machinery of state, yet he feels nothing. He is fundamentally alone. When he seeks out the woman at Endor, he is turning to someone whom his own laws marginalized.

There is a profound irony here: the King, with all his power, is powerless. The woman, who lives in the shadows of the law, is the only one who can actually see. In adult life, we often find that when we are in crisis, the "official" structures we’ve built around ourselves—our titles, our status, our carefully curated routines—fail us. We, like Saul, often have to "disguise" ourselves, dropping our masks and our titles to seek truth from someone we previously ignored or dismissed. This teaches us that wisdom often resides in the margins, and humility is the prerequisite for finding it. Saul is so desperate for an honest answer that he is willing to risk his own authority to get it. When you feel "stuck," look at the people you’ve been ignoring. They might be the only ones with the clarity to tell you the truth.

Insight 2: The Radical Act of Feeding the Exhausted

Look at the end of the chapter. Samuel, the ghost, gives Saul the worst possible news: he’s going to lose his kingdom and his life. Saul collapses, physically and emotionally. He hasn't eaten in a day and a night. And what does the woman do? She doesn't lecture him on why his life is falling apart. She doesn't talk about his failures as a king. She kills a calf, kneads flour, and forces him to eat.

This is one of the most tender, human moments in the entire Hebrew Bible. In a story filled with war, ghosts, and political intrigue, the final act is simple hospitality. It’s a recognition that regardless of one’s moral standing or failures, a suffering human being needs sustenance. As adults, we are often obsessed with "the answer" or "the solution" to our problems. We think that if we could just get a sign from the universe, we’d be fine. But often, the solution isn't divine intervention—it’s a meal, a moment of rest, and the kindness of a stranger. The woman at Endor teaches us that before we can face our "tomorrows," we have to survive our "todays." Sometimes, the most spiritual thing you can do for yourself or someone else is to make sure they have a warm meal and a place to sit. It’s a reminder that even when the world is ending, we are still bound by our capacity to care for one another.

Low-Lift Ritual

This week, practice "The Disguise of Listening."

We spend so much of our time projecting our "official" selves—at work, in our family roles, on social media. For two minutes this week, find someone you usually interact with in a professional or hierarchical way (a colleague, a neighbor, a service worker) and ask one question that has nothing to do with your "roles": “What is something you’ve been thinking about lately that has nothing to do with work?”

Then, listen for two minutes without preparing your response, without fixing, and without advising. Just witness them. Like Saul entering the tent at Endor, shed the need to be the "King" of the conversation and see what emerges from the silence. It’s a small, two-minute exercise in breaking the scripts we live by.

Chevruta Mini

1. Saul asks for Samuel because he feels abandoned by the official channels of God. When you feel "stuck" or "unanswered" in your own life, what is your version of a "ghost"—what hidden, unconventional, or forgotten source do you turn to for clarity?
2. The woman at Endor feeds Saul even after he betrayed his own laws. Why do you think the text focuses on her act of feeding him? What does this say about the nature of mercy in the face of inevitable failure?

Takeaway

You don't have to be a perfect king or a perfect person to be worthy of truth or care. Saul’s story isn't just about his fall; it’s about the raw, human necessity of being heard and the quiet, stubborn persistence of kindness, even when the lights go out. You aren't wrong for feeling "stuck"—you're just human. And sometimes, humanity is best served by simply eating a meal and moving forward to the next day.