I Samuel 28

Welcome

Welcome! If you have ever felt completely overwhelmed by life’s changes, caught between conflicting loyalties, or deeply lonely in a moment of crisis, this ancient text is for you. In Jewish tradition, the books of the prophets are not just historical records; they are profound, living mirrors of the human condition, studied for centuries to help us understand our own hearts, our relationships, and our shared ethical responsibilities.

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Context

To help us step into this dramatic moment of ancient history, let us look at where, when, and who is shaping this narrative:

• Who and Where: The story takes place in the northern hills of ancient Israel, specifically around the Jezreel Valley. The central figures are King Saul, the nation’s tragic and deeply anxious first monarch, and David, his younger, charismatic rival who has been forced into exile to escape Saul's jealousy. Surrounding them are the Philistines, a powerful coastal neighbor gathered for an all-out military invasion.
• When: This event is set around the 11th century BCE, a period of immense transition as the tribes of Israel tried to unite under a single king for the very first time.
• Key Term: Urim: Ancient oracle used by high priests to seek divine guidance.

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Text Snapshot

In I Samuel 28, King Saul faces an imminent, terrifying invasion by the Philistine army. Feeling entirely abandoned by the Divine and receiving no answers to his prayers, Saul desperately disguises himself and seeks out a spiritual medium in the village of Endor—violating his own royal decree outlawing such practices. When she summons the spirit of the deceased prophet Samuel, Saul receives only a devastating confirmation of his impending defeat and death, yet the story ends with an unexpected, deeply moving act of human kindness from the medium herself.

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Values Lens

To fully appreciate the depth of this dramatic story, we can look at it through the eyes of classical Jewish commentators who have spent lifetimes analyzing its subtle psychological and moral lessons. By exploring their insights, we find three universal human values that continue to speak to us today.

Value 1: Navigating Conflicting Loyalties with Wisdom

The chapter opens not with Saul, but with David, who is caught in an agonizing ethical trap. To escape Saul's murderous jealousy, David has been living in exile among the Philistines. Now, the Philistine king, Achish, is launching a massive war against David’s own home country, Israel. Achish turns to David in I Samuel 28:1 and says, "You know, of course, that you and your men must march out with my forces."

As the modern biblical scholar Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz notes in his commentary, this was "not another local raid, but an actual war, which might prove decisive." David is placed in an impossible situation: if he refuses, he will be executed as a traitor by his hosts; if he complies, he will be forced to fight and kill his own brothers and sisters.

How does a person of integrity navigate such a moral minefield? The classical commentator Rabbi Moshe Alshich, writing in the 16th century, examines the exact wording of David's clever response in I Samuel 28:2: "You surely know what your servant will do."

The Alshich points out that David’s answer is a masterpiece of careful, non-committal communication. He does not say, "I will fight against Israel for you." Instead, he uses language that allows Achish to hear what he wants to hear—assuming David will fight bravely for him—while leaving David room to protect his own people when the moment of truth arrives. The Alshich explains that David was trying to prevent a situation where he would have to make a premature move that would give away his true loyalties, which would put both his men and the Israelite army in greater danger.

Furthermore, the 19th-century commentator Rabbi Meir Leibush ben Yehiel Michel, known as the Malbim, looks at how Achish responds to this ambiguous promise by appointing David as his personal bodyguard: "I will appoint you my bodyguard for life."

The Malbim explains a fascinating political reality of the ancient world. Kings often preferred to hire loyal foreigners as their personal bodyguards because foreign mercenaries had no ties to local political factions and were far less likely to participate in domestic military rebellions. Achish did not want David on the front lines where he might hesitate to fight his own people; instead, he trusted David’s personal sense of honor to guard the king’s own head.

Through this lens, we see a profound universal value: the preservation of integrity through wisdom and careful speech. When we are caught in high-stakes situations where our loyalties are tested, classical Jewish wisdom does not demand reckless, self-destructive gestures. Instead, it honors the quiet, strategic intelligence that allows us to de-escalate tension, protect our core values, and avoid causing unnecessary harm. It teaches us that integrity is not just about raw courage; it is also about the thoughtful, deliberate stewardship of our words.

Value 2: The Agony of Silence and the Danger of Desperation

The scene then shifts to King Saul, who is in a state of absolute psychological collapse. He looks out at the massive Philistine army, and I Samuel 28:5 tells us that "his heart trembled with fear." When he tries to pray, the heavens are completely silent. He receives no guidance through dreams, through the sacred priestly oracle, or through prophets.

This experience of absolute silence is one of the most painful trials a human being can endure. When our usual sources of guidance, comfort, and direction dry up, we feel profoundly isolated. In his desperation, Saul makes a tragic decision: he commands his servants to find him a medium who can summon the dead, choosing to secretly violate the very laws he had publicly and passionately enforced.

To understand the depth of Saul's internal conflict, we can look at I Samuel 28:10, where the medium expresses fear that she is being set up for execution. Saul reassures her by making a solemn oath: "Saul swore to her by God: 'As God lives, you won’t get into trouble over this.'"

The commentators Metzudat David and Metzudat Zion (written by the 18th-century father-and-son scholars David and Yechiel Hillel Altschuler) highlight the tragic irony of this moment. In their analysis of the Hebrew words for Saul's oath, they point out that Saul is swearing a sacred oath using the name of the very God who has refused to answer him, all to protect a woman who is performing a practice that Saul himself banned under penalty of death.

This commentary reveals a deeply relatable, tragic aspect of human nature: the fragile gap between our public ideals and our private desperation. When we are consumed by fear and feel completely alone, we are highly vulnerable to abandoning our own ethical boundaries. Saul’s descent into the shadows of Endor is a powerful warning about what happens when we let fear dictate our actions. It invites us to look compassionately but honestly at our own lives, asking ourselves: What values do we tend to compromise when we feel backed into a corner, and how can we build systems of support to keep us anchored during our own silent seasons?

Value 3: Transcendent Compassion for the Broken

Perhaps the most beautiful and surprising part of this entire narrative is the climax of the encounter. The medium successfully brings up the spirit of the prophet Samuel, but the message Samuel delivers is devastating. He confirms that the kingdom has been taken from Saul and given to David, and adds the crushing news that by tomorrow, Saul and his sons will be dead, and the army of Israel will fall.

Upon hearing this, Saul collapses completely. He falls flat on the ground, paralyzed by terror and physical weakness, having eaten nothing for an entire day and night.

At this moment, the medium of Endor does something extraordinary. She has just discovered that the disguised stranger in her home is King Saul—the very ruler who spent years hunting down and executing people of her profession. She has every reason to fear him, to hate him, or to leave him suffering on the floor as justice for his hypocrisy.

Instead, she chooses the path of radical empathy. In I Samuel 28:21-22, she gently approaches the shattered king: "Your handmaid listened to you; I took my life in my hands and heeded the request you made of me. So now you listen to me: Let me set before you a bit of food. Eat, and then you will have the strength to go on your way."

When Saul refuses to eat, wishing only to lie there and wait for death, she does not give up. She enlists the help of his servants, coaxes him to sit on the bed, and goes to work. She hastily slaughters her prized, stall-fed calf, kneads flour, bakes fresh bread, and sets a nourishing meal before the man who had persecuted her.

This is the value of transcendent compassion: recognizing the shared humanity in those who have harmed us. The medium does not offer Saul theological platitudes or try to change his inevitable fate. She simply sees a broken, starving human being sitting on her floor, and she responds by offering him dignity, warmth, and nourishment.

In Jewish thought, this act is a classic example of loving-kindness in its purest form. She gives to someone who can offer her absolutely nothing in return—a king who will be dead within twenty-four hours. Her simple meal of freshly baked bread and meat becomes a sacred space of comfort in the midst of a tragedy. It reminds us that even when we cannot change the difficult realities of someone's life, we always possess the power to treat them with tenderness and respect.

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Everyday Bridge

It is easy to look at an ancient story about kings, wars, and spiritual mediums and feel like it belongs to a completely different world. But the core of this text is deeply human, and its lessons can be translated into beautiful, practical actions in our everyday lives, regardless of our cultural or religious backgrounds.

Cultivating the Art of "Baking Bread" for Others

One of the most powerful ways to bring the values of this text into our modern lives is to practice the medium’s style of quiet, practical compassion.

We live in a culture that often values quick fixes, advice-giving, and intellectual answers. When a friend, family member, or colleague is going through a difficult time—perhaps they are dealing with a painful loss, a career crisis, or a season of mental health struggles—our natural instinct is often to try to "fix" it. We offer advice, we tell them everything will be fine, or we try to explain why things happen.

But like Saul on the floor of the medium's home, sometimes people do not need answers. Sometimes, the heavens are silent, the future is scary, and no amount of advice can change the reality they are facing. In those moments, trying to offer theological or philosophical explanations can actually make a person feel more isolated.

Instead, we can practice the art of "baking bread." This means showing up with practical, physical comfort that requires no intellectual performance from the person who is suffering.

• Bring a Meal: Just like the medium slaughtered her calf and baked fresh bread, you can cook a warm meal or order favorite comfort food for a friend who is overwhelmed.
• Create a Safe Space: Sit with someone in their silence without forcing them to talk. Let them know that they do not have to put on a brave face or pretend to be strong around you.
• Offer Practical Help: Run an errand, wash the dishes, or take care of a chore. These quiet, physical acts of service are often the most profound ways we can say, "I see your pain, and you are not alone."

By focusing on physical care and loving presence, we honor the dignity of those who are suffering and help them find the strength to face whatever tomorrow may bring.

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Conversation Starter

If you would like to explore these ideas further with a Jewish friend, neighbor, or colleague, here are two warm, respectful questions to start a meaningful conversation. These questions are designed to invite shared reflection rather than a simple test of knowledge:

1. "I was recently reading the story of King Saul and his encounter with the medium of Endor in the book of Samuel. I was so deeply moved by the medium’s compassion at the end of the story—how she cooked for Saul and comforted him even though he had outlawed her profession. How does Jewish tradition generally view her? Is she seen as a complicated figure, or is there a tradition of appreciating her kindness?"
2. "The story of Saul highlights the painful experience of divine silence, where he feels completely unanswered in his time of greatest need. In Jewish thought and your own experience, how do people navigate those difficult 'silent seasons' when prayers feel unanswered or when it’s hard to find a sense of spiritual direction?"

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Takeaway

The story of I Samuel 28 reminds us that even in our darkest and most complicated moments, our humanity is never entirely lost. Whether we are navigating the moral gray areas of life like David, wrestling with deep anxiety and silence like Saul, or offering quiet, life-saving comfort to a stranger like the medium of Endor, we are all participating in the shared human journey. May we always choose the path of wisdom in our speech, courage in our trials, and radical, quiet compassion for every broken soul we meet along the way.