I Samuel 31

Hook

The Echo of the Oud on Mount Gilboa

Imagine sitting in the cool, stone-walled sanctuary of a Syrian synagogue in Jerusalem or Aleppo just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and dusty amber. The air is thick with the scent of jasmine, drying mint, and Turkish coffee. The congregants have spent the morning singing the soaring, triumphant melodies of the Sabbath prayers, but as the afternoon Mincha service approaches, the mood shifts. The Hazzan (cantor) steps up to the Tebah (the central bimah) and tunes his voice to a scale that sounds remarkably like a weeping instrument. This is the realm of Maqam Saba—the musical mode of heartbreak, gravity, and profound loss.

It is in this precise emotional key that the Sephardi and Mizrahi world encounters the tragic end of King Saul on the wind-swept ridges of Mount Gilboa. Here, scripture is not merely read; it is felt, wept, and sung through centuries of inherited memory. The tragic demise of Israel’s first monarch is not treated as a dry historical footnote, nor is it bypassed in favor of more comfortable narratives. Instead, our tradition wraps the fallen king in a tapestry of royal dignity, utilizing the microtones of Middle Eastern music and the deep psychological insights of our great sages to show that even in the darkest moments of defeat, the spark of honor can never be fully extinguished.

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Context

To truly appreciate how the Sephardi and Mizrahi world receives the heavy words of I Samuel 31, we must ground ourselves in the soil from which this interpretive tradition grew.

• Place: The ancient city of Aleppo (Aram Soba) in Syria, the majestic synagogues of Damascus, and the old Sephardic communities of the Levant and North Africa. These were environments where the Hebrew Bible was read alongside an intimate understanding of classical Arabic music theory, creating a unique synthesis where theology and musicology became one.
• Era: The classical and early modern periods of Sephardic scholarship, stretching from the golden era of medieval Spanish commentators like Radak (Rabbi David Kimhi) to the 19th-century Levant, where master liturgists like Rabbi Refael Antebi Tabbush codified the Maqamat (the system of melodic modes) for every weekly Torah portion and historical event.
• Community: Levantine and Syrian Sephardim, whose approach to the biblical text is characterized by an intense linguistic precision, a deep respect for the literal meaning of the text (Peshat), and an emotional vulnerability that refuses to sanitize the raw, human struggles of our biblical ancestors.

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Text Snapshot

Below are the pivotal verses of I Samuel 31:1-13, which record the final battle of King Saul, his tragic death, the desecration of his body by the Philistines, and the daring rescue of his remains by the loyal men of Jabesh-gilead.

וּפְלִשְׁתִּים נִלְחָמִים בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל וַיָּנֻסוּ אַנְשֵׁי יִשְׂרָאֵל מִפְּנֵי פְלִשְׁתִּים וַיִּפְּלוּ חֲלָלִים בְּהַר הַגִּלְבֹּעַ׃ "The Philistines attacked Israel, and the men of Israel fled before the Philistines and [many] fell on Mount Gilboa." I Samuel 31:1

וַיֹּאמֶר שָׁאוּל לְנֹשֵׂא כֵלָיו שְׁלֹף חַרְבְּךָ וְדָקְרֵנִי בָהּ פֶּן־יָבוֹאוּ הָעֲרֵלִים הָאֵלֶּה וּדְקָרֻנִי וְהִתְעַלְּלוּ־בִי וְלֹא אָבָה נֹשֵׂא כֵלָיו כִּי יָרֵא מְאֹד וַיִּקַּח שָׁאוּל אֶת־הַחֶרֶב וַיִּפֹּל עָלֶיהָ׃ "Saul said to his arms-bearer, 'Draw your sword and run me through, so that the uncircumcised may not run me through and make sport of me.' But his arms-bearer, in his great awe, refused; whereupon Saul grasped the sword and fell upon it." I Samuel 31:4

וַיָּשִׂימוּ אֶת־כֵּלָיו בֵּית עַשְׁתָּרוֹת וְאֶת־גְּוִיָּתוֹ תָּקְעוּ בְּחוֹמַת בֵּית שָׁן׃ "They placed his armor in the temple of Ashtaroth, and they impaled his body on the wall of Beth-shan." I Samuel 31:10

וַיִּשְׁמְעוּ אֵלָיו יֹשְׁבֵי יָבֵישׁ גִּלְעָד אֵת אֲשֶׁר־עָשׂוּ פְלִשְׁתִּים לְשָׁאוּל׃ וַיָּקוּמוּ כָּל־אִישׁ חַיִל וַיֵּלְכוּ כָל־הַלַּיְלָה וַיִּקְחוּ אֶת־גְּוִיַּת שָׁאוּל וְאֵת גְּוִיֹּת בָּנָיו מֵחוֹמַת בֵּית שָׁן וַיָּבֹאוּ יָבֵשָׁה וַיִּשְׂרְפוּ אֹתָם שָׁם׃ וַיִּקְחוּ אֶת־עַצְמֹתֵיהֶם וַיִּקְבְּרוּ תַחַת־הָאֶשֶׁל בְּיָבֵשׁ וַיָּצֻמוּ שִׁבְעַת יָמִים׃ "When the inhabitants of Jabesh-gilead heard about it—what the Philistines had done to Saul—the stalwarts among them set out and marched all night; they removed the bodies of Saul and his sons from the wall of Beth-shan and came to Jabesh and burned them there. Then they took the bones and buried them under the tamarisk tree in Jabesh, and they fasted for seven days." I Samuel 31:11-13

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The Commentary of the Sages: Translating and Contextualizing the Texts

To understand the texture of this tragic scene, we must turn to the classic commentaries that have sat on Sephardic study tables for generations. Let us translate and unpack their insights.

The Psychology of Defeat: Malbim and Metzudat David

On the very first verse, the Malbim (Rabbi Meir Leibush ben Yehiel Michel) offers a brilliant psychological insight into the nature of Israel's defeat on Mount Gilboa:

ופלשתים שב לענין של מעלה, וספר שישראל נשתה גבורתם שלא לחמו כלל רק תיכף נסו ועל ידי זה ויפלו חללים כי תחלת מפלה ניסה: "And the Philistines—this returns to the matter mentioned above. It relates that Israel's strength was drained, such that they did not fight at all, but rather fled immediately. And because of this, they fell slain, for the very beginning of a defeat is flight."

The Malbim notices a subtle detail: the text says they fled before the Philistines and then fell slain. He points out that the real tragedy of Gilboa was a loss of spirit. It was not just that the Philistines were physically stronger, but that a psychological paralysis had gripped the Israelite army. The moment they chose to flee instead of stand and fight, their fate was sealed. The Malbim teaches us that defeat begins in the mind; once the collective resolve of a community is shattered, physical collapse is inevitable.

This is echoed by Metzudat David (Rabbi David Altschuler of the 18th century), whose commentary is a staple of Sephardic Tanakh study:

ופלשתים נלחמים. כאומר נחזור לענין הראשון: "And the Philistines were fighting—this is as if to say: let us return to the primary matter."

Both Metzudat David and Rashi (who writes: "The Philistines were battling with Yisroel. As a person saying, 'Let us go back to the earlier topic'") point out a narrative bridge. While the previous chapters focused on David's adventures and his pursuit of the Amalekites, the text now snaps us back to the primary, painful reality of Saul’s final hours. The great scholar Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz explains this beautifully:

"While David was departing from Akhish and battling Amalek, the Philistines were making war against Israel, and the men of Israel fled before the Philistines, and they fell as corpses on Mount Gilboa. Perhaps the battle was initially waged in a single spot, but the fighting then spread to a large area near Gilboa, and the bodies of the slain lay strewn there."

This geographical and narrative overlap highlights the tragic irony: at the very moment David is ascending and finding victory, Saul is descending into utter darkness.

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The Irony of the House of Dagon: Unpacking Malbim on Verse 10

When the Philistines find Saul's body, they desecrate it, placing his armor in the "temple of Ashtaroth" and hanging his body on the wall of Beth-shan.

Metzudat Zion defines these terms with linguistic precision:

• Ashtaroth (עשתרות): "The name of a foreign worship."
• His body (גויתו): "His corpse, as it is written in Daniel 10:6: 'and his body was like beryl' (וּגְוִיָּתוֹ כְתַרְשִׁישׁ)."
• They impaled (תקעו): "They hung, as it is written in Numbers 25:4: 'and hang them (וְהוֹקַע אוֹתָם) before Hashem.'"

But it is the Malbim who uncovers the deep, historical irony behind this pagan celebration:

בית עשתרות בית עבודה זרה העשויה כדמות עשתרות צאן, כי (בד"ה א' י') אמר וישימו את כליו בית אלהיהם, ושם אמר ואת גלגלתו תקעו בית דגון, באופן שנגד מ"ש לבשר בית עצביהם שמו שם את כליו ואת ראשו, ורצו להזכיר על שנכרת ראש דגון בסבת ארון אלהי ישראל והנה עתה ראש מלכם הנכרת נמצא בבית דגון, ונגד מ"ש ולבשר את העם תקעו וצלבו גוייתו בחומת בית שן: "The Temple of Ashtaroth: A house of foreign worship made in the image of sheep-flocks. For in I Chronicles 10:10 it says, 'And they placed his weapons in the house of their gods, and his skull they impaled in the temple of Dagon.' Thus, corresponding to what was written here about 'spreading the news in the temples of their idols,' they placed his weapons and his head there. They specifically wanted to make a remembrance of how the head of Dagon had been severed because of the Ark of the God of Israel (as recorded in I Samuel 5:4). Behold, now the severed head of Israel’s king is found in the house of Dagon! And corresponding to what was written about 'spreading the news to the people,' they hung and crucified his body on the wall of Beth-shan."

This is an astonishing insight. The Malbim reveals that the Philistines were playing a game of cosmic retaliation. Years earlier, when the Philistines had captured the Ark of God and placed it in the temple of their god, Dagon, they awoke to find the statue of Dagon fallen on its face, with its head and hands severed on the threshold. It was an embarrassing, divine humiliation.

Now, having killed King Saul, the Philistines took his severed head and impaled it in that very same temple of Dagon. It was their way of saying, "Your God cut off the head of our god; now we have cut off the head of your king and placed it in our god's house." The battle on Mount Gilboa was not just a military clash; to the ancient mind, it was a theological war. The tragedy of Saul's death is amplified because his personal downfall is weaponized by the Philistines to mock the God of Israel.

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Minhag/Melody

The Soul of Maqam Saba: Singing the Tragedy of Saul

To understand how Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews digest this profound grief, we must look to the unique musical system of the Maqamat. In the Syrian, Jerusalem-Sephardic, and Egyptian traditions, the prayers of the Sabbath are not sung to arbitrary melodies. Instead, each Sabbath is assigned a specific Maqam (a melodic scale with its own emotional character, microtonal intervals, and classical motifs) that directly corresponds to the theme of the weekly Torah portion or the historical context of the day.

When we read of tragic events—such as the death of Sarah, the destruction of the Temple, or the tragic downfall of King Saul—the Hazzan invokes Maqam Saba.

Maqam Saba Scale Structure (Approximation):
D -> E-half-flat -> F -> G-flat -> A -> B-flat -> C -> D
(Characterized by its unique, narrow, weeping intervals, particularly between the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd degrees)

The Emotional Architecture of Saba

Maqam Saba is unlike any scale in Western music. It cannot be accurately played on a standard piano because it contains "quarter-tones" or "half-flats"—pitches that lie directly in the cracks between the black and white keys.

• The Sound: It is a scale that sounds inherently unstable, searching, and deeply melancholic. It does not offer easy resolution. It mimics the sound of a human throat choked with tears, a soft wail rising from the dust.
• The Association: In our liturgy, Saba is the scale of Avelut (mourning), of Tza'akah (crying out to God from the depths), and of tragic endings.
• The Application: When the Ba'al Koreh (the Torah reader) or the Hazzan chants the story of Saul’s death on Mount Gilboa, he does not use the standard, lighthearted cantillation. He infuses the ancient trope (the Ta'amim) with the microtones of Saba. The words "whereupon Saul grasped the sword and fell upon it" are sung with a slow, descending microtonal slide that makes the entire congregation hold their breath. The melody itself becomes a eulogy.

Pizmonim and the Art of the Kinah

This musical approach extends beyond the Haftarah reading into the world of Pizmonim (paraliturgical hymns) and Kinot (elegies). In the Syrian tradition, when we lament the loss of great leaders or reflect on the fragility of human power, we sing classical poems set to Maqam Saba.

One of the most famous Pizmonim sung in this mode is "Elekha Ekra Yah" ("To You I Call, O God"), a poem of deep distress and yearning. When sung on Sabbaths where we read of Saul's demise, it reminds the community that even when a king falls, our ultimate cry is directed to the King of Kings, who can rebuild the fallen ruins of Israel.

Furthermore, the Sephardic liturgy preserves the reading of Kinat David (David's Lament over Saul and Jonathan from II Samuel 1) on public fast days and during moments of communal mourning. Rather than reading it as a dry text, it is chanted using a haunting, traditional melody passed down from medieval Spain. The melody rises on the words "How have the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle!" and plunges into the lower register on the words "O Jonathan, slain upon your high places."

By using Maqam Saba, the community does not run away from the tragedy of Saul. We do not look down on Saul for his desperate end; instead, we give him the "royal treatment" of our music. We honor his crown, his bravery, and his tragic destiny by wrapping his final moments in the most beautiful, emotionally sophisticated musical scale in our possession.

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The Archetype of Chesed shel Emet: The Men of Jabesh-Gilead

The climax of I Samuel 31 is not Saul’s death, but the remarkable heroism of the inhabitants of Jabesh-gilead. When they hear that the Philistines have mutilated the bodies of Saul and his sons and hung them on the walls of Beth-shan, the "stalwarts among them" (KOL ISH CHAYIL—every man of valor) march all night through enemy territory, risk their lives to take the bodies down, bring them back to Jabesh, burn them (to prevent further desecration), bury their bones under a tamarisk tree, and fast for seven days.

In Sephardi and Mizrahi culture, this act is celebrated as the ultimate historical archetype of Chesed shel Emet (True Kindness)—the kindness shown to the deceased, which can never be repaid.

The Hevrat Gomele Hesed

In many Sephardic communities, such as those of Morocco, Turkey, and Egypt, the Chevra Kadisha (the burial society) was historically known as the Hevrat Gomele Hesed (The Society of those who Bestow Kindness) or the Hevrat Al-Ansar (The Helpers). Unlike in some contemporary settings where burial work is outsourced or treated with quiet discomfort, in the Sephardic world, joining the holy burial society was—and is—considered one of the highest honors a community member could achieve.

• The Ritual of the Vigil: When a person passes away, they are never left alone. Members of the community sit with the body (Shemira), reciting the Psalms of David in soft, rhythmic, Levantine melodies.
• The Annual Fast: Just as the men of Jabesh-gilead fasted for seven days after burying Saul, Sephardic burial societies maintain an annual day of fasting, prayer, and study (often on the 7th of Adar, the traditional anniversary of the death of Moses). On this day, they ask for forgiveness from any of the deceased they may have inadvertently disrespected during the year, and they celebrate their sacred work not with gloom, but with a festive meal (Se'udat Mitzvah) at the conclusion of the fast, singing songs of thanksgiving.
• The Tamarisk Tree: The burial of Saul's bones under the tamarisk tree (Eshel) in Jabesh is seen as a symbol of restoration. The Hebrew word for tamarisk, Eshel (אשל), is traditionally interpreted as an acronym for Achilah (eating), Shtiyah (drinking), and Levayah (escorting/burial)—the three core pillars of hospitality and human dignity. By burying Saul under the Eshel, the men of Jabesh-gilead restored to the fallen king the hospitality, shelter, and basic human dignity that had been stripped from him on the battlefield of Gilboa.

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Contrast

The Dynamic Maqam vs. The Fixed Nusach

To fully appreciate the genius of the Sephardi/Mizrahi approach to this text, it is helpful to contrast it with the liturgical customs of our Ashkenazi brethren, particularly regarding how tragedy and scripture are chanted.

Feature	Sephardi / Mizrahi Tradition	Ashkenazi Tradition
Musical System	Dynamic Maqamat: The melody changes depending on the emotional content of the text (e.g., shifting to Maqam Saba for tragedy).	Fixed Nusach: The melody is determined by the calendar date (Shabbat, Yom Tov, High Holidays) rather than the emotional arc of the specific text.
Cantillation Style	Microtonal & Modal: Utilizes quarter-tones and vocal improvisation to mimic human emotion and weeping.	Diatonic & Motific: Utilizes a structured, major/minor-adjacent key system with fixed, recognizable motifs.
Focus of Commentary	Tragic Dignity & Cosmic Irony: Focuses on Saul's royal honor, the theological battle with Dagon, and the restoration of his dignity.	Halakhic Justification: Focuses heavily on the legal question of Saul's suicide and the permissibility of martyrdom.

The Philosophy of the Melody

In the Ashkenazi tradition, the Nusach (the prayer chant) is incredibly rich and evocative, but it is largely structured around the time of the prayer. There is a Nusach for Shabbat morning, a Nusach for the High Holidays, and a Nusach for the weekdays. If a tragic portion of the Prophets is read on a regular Shabbat, it is chanted using the standard Shabbat Haftarah trope. The melody does not fundamentally alter its key or scale to reflect the transition from joy to sorrow.

In the Sephardi and Mizrahi world, however, the melody is narrative-driven. The Hazzan acts as an emotional mirror for the text. Even on the happiest Shabbat, if the Haftarah reaches a verse of intense grief—such as Saul falling upon his sword—the reader will seamlessly modulate from a major-sounding scale (like Maqam Ajam or Rast) into the weeping, microtonal intervals of Maqam Saba. The music is subservient to the story. It is an approach that values emotional authenticity over rigid structural uniformity, ensuring that the congregation feels the weight of Saul's death in their very bones.

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Halakhic Debates: The Question of Saul's Suicide

The tragic method of Saul’s death—falling upon his own sword to avoid capture and torture—presents a profound theological and halakhic challenge. Judaism generally views suicide as a severe sin, a denial of the divine ownership of human life. How, then, do we understand the actions of our first anointed king?

The Ashkenazi Legalistic Approach

In Ashkenazi halakhic literature, this question is often treated through a highly structured, legalistic lens. The Tosafists (medieval French and German commentators) in their commentary on the Talmud in Bava Kamma 91b argue that Saul’s action was permissible because he knew with absolute certainty that the Philistines would kill him regardless, and that his capture would lead to the desecration of God’s name (Hillul Hashem). They establish a legal category of "an exceptional case" (Ones), arguing that when torture and public desecration of God's name are inevitable, taking one's own life to prevent such an outcome is halakhically defensible. This became a crucial precedent during the medieval Crusades, when many Ashkenazi Jews chose martyrdom (Kiddush Hashem) over forced conversion and torture.

The Sephardic Existential and Royal Lens

Sephardic commentators, while agreeing with the halakhic defense of Saul, tend to frame the event through an existential, psychological, and royal lens.

• Radak (Rabbi David Kimhi of 12th-century Provence): Radak focuses on Saul's fear of abuse and degradation ("lest the uncircumcised come and abuse me"). He explains that Saul was not just protecting his physical body, but the Kavod HaMalchut—the honor of the Jewish Monarchy. If the King of Israel were to be paraded around as a mocked, mutilated trophy, it would represent the ultimate humiliation for the entire nation of Israel and their God. Saul’s suicide was therefore not an act of despair, but a tragic, final act of royal duty to preserve the dignity of the crown.
• Abarbanel (Don Isaac Abarbanel, 15th-century Spanish statesman and philosopher): Writing from his own experience in the royal courts of Europe, Abarbanel views Saul’s end with immense empathy. He highlights Saul's tragic destiny, noting that Saul went into the battle knowing he would die, as the prophet Samuel had predicted to him the night before (through the medium of Endor). For Abarbanel, Saul’s willingness to go to the battlefield despite knowing his fate is the ultimate proof of his righteousness and bravery. He did not run away to save himself; he went to die with his sons and his people, defending his land.

Thus, while the Ashkenazi approach often seeks to analyze the legality of the act, the Sephardic approach seeks to honor the humanity and the majesty of the actor. We look at Saul not as a sinner to be analyzed, but as a tragic hero who bore the heavy weight of the crown to his very last breath.

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Home Practice

Bringing the Spirit of Gilboa and Jabesh-Gilead into Your Life

The rich heritage of Sephardi and Mizrahi tradition is not meant to be left in the synagogue or the library. It is a living, breathing path of connection. Here are two practical ways you can bring the profound lessons of I Samuel 31 and the beauty of Sephardic practice into your own home:

1. The "Saba" Pause: Honoring Our Difficult Emotions

In our modern, fast-paced culture, we are often encouraged to practice "toxic positivity"—to gloss over sadness, bypass grief, and quickly find a silver lining. The Sephardic liturgical use of Maqam Saba teaches us a different way: it invites us to sit with our sorrow, to give it a beautiful, respectful melody, and to acknowledge that grief is a holy, necessary part of the human experience.

• How to practice: The next time you experience a moment of sadness, disappointment, or loss, do not try to immediately distract yourself or "fix" it. Take a "Saba Pause." Sit quietly for five minutes. Acknowledge the pain, the vulnerability, and the fragility of the moment. If you are musically inclined, listen to classical Sephardic Pizmonim in Maqam Saba (such as "Elekha Ekra Yah") or a piece of classical Middle Eastern instrumental music played on the Oud or Ney in the Saba mode. Allow the music to validate your feelings, reminding you that your tears are sacred and that God is close to the brokenhearted, as it is written in Psalms 34:19: "Hashem is close to the brokenhearted; He delivers those whose spirit is crushed."

2. The Jabesh-Gilead Initiative: Anonymous Acts of Dignity

The men of Jabesh-gilead performed an act of Chesed shel Emet—a kindness for which they could expect no reward, no thank-you note, and no reciprocity from the deceased King Saul. You can bring this high level of integrity into your daily life.

• How to practice: Choose one act of kindness this week that is completely anonymous and from which you can receive no possible benefit.
  • It could be donating to a charity that supports anonymous burial services for the indigent.
  • It could be taking the time to clean up a neglected local cemetery, picking up fallen branches and trash from graves of people you never knew.
  • It could be writing a letter of deep appreciation to someone who has passed out of your life, or doing a favor for someone who will never find out it was you who did it.
  • When you perform this act, hold in your mind the courage of the men of Jabesh-gilead, who marched through the night simply to ensure that a fallen human being was treated with the dignity they deserved.

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Takeaway

The story of the death of King Saul on Mount Gilboa, as preserved in I Samuel 31, is undoubtedly one of the darkest chapters in the history of Israel. It is a tale of military defeat, royal suicide, and pagan triumphalism.

Yet, when we view this text through the proud, textured lens of Sephardi and Mizrahi heritage, we see that the story does not end in defeat.

Through the genius of Maqam Saba, our ancestors found a way to transform raw, paralyzing grief into an art form of sublime beauty, teaching us that no sorrow is too deep to be sung, and no brokenness is beyond the reach of divine melody.

Through the linguistic and psychological insights of our sages, we learn to look past the surface of tragedy to find the enduring dignity of the human spirit, recognizing that even in his final fall, King Saul fought to preserve the honor of his people.

And through the heroic example of the men of Jabesh-gilead, we are reminded that our ultimate duty as Jews is to be agents of Chesed shel Emet—to go out into the dark nights of our world, to find those who have been cast down, neglected, or stripped of their dignity, and to bring them back home, wrapping them in the shelter of our love, our respect, and our prayers.

As you carry this study forward, may you find the courage to face life’s tragedies with the dignity of a king, the loyalty of the men of Jabesh-gilead, and the beautiful, weeping, yet soaring melodies of Maqam Saba.

Tizku L'Shanim Rabot—May you be blessed with many years of Torah, song, and sacred deeds!