I Kings 1:1-31

You weren't wrong—the stories sometimes felt like dusty relics. But what if the dust wasn't on the stories themselves, but on how we were taught to see them? What if the "rules" and "history" obscured the raw, pulsing humanity underneath? Let's peel back the layers and rediscover the vibrant, often messy, wisdom that speaks directly to the complexities of adult life.

Hook

For many of us who encountered biblical narratives in our younger years, the story of King David's twilight years, the enigmatic Abishag, and the scramble for succession in I Kings often felt… well, a bit stale. It was presented as a historical footnote, a dry account of an aging monarch, perhaps a strange anecdote about a "bed warmer," or a straightforward political drama leading to Solomon's reign. The dominant takeaway was often a surface-level understanding: David got old, there was a power struggle, Solomon won. End of story. This simplification stripped the narrative of its profound emotional depth, its piercing psychological insights, and its surprisingly contemporary relevance. It became a piece of trivia rather than a mirror.

Why did it get stale? In part, because traditional religious education often prioritizes factual recall or moralistic interpretations over nuanced exploration. The messy, human elements – David’s physical decline, Abishag’s ambiguous role, Adonijah’s overlooked ambition, Bathsheba’s strategic brilliance, Nathan’s calculated timing – were often glossed over. We were taught what happened, but rarely invited to truly interrogate why it mattered, or how these ancient figures grappled with universal human experiences like vulnerability, legacy, power, and the terrifying prospect of losing control. The text was flattened into a two-dimensional moral lesson, losing its three-dimensional pulse. The focus was on the "kings" and "prophets" as distant, perfect figures, rather than flawed, struggling individuals whose stories resonate with our own daily battles and triumphs. We missed the dramatic tension, the quiet desperation, and the raw humanity. We missed the opportunity to see ourselves reflected in these ancient struggles, to find echoes of our own family dynamics, workplace politics, or existential anxieties. This isn't just "history"; it's a meticulously crafted narrative, a literary masterpiece brimming with characters who feel startlingly real and whose dilemmas transcend millennia. By re-engaging with it, we uncover not just ancient tales, but timeless truths about what it means to live, lead, and leave a legacy.

Context

Let's demystify a few "rule-heavy" misconceptions that might have made this text feel inaccessible or less compelling in the past, and instead, open up its rich interpretive possibilities.

The Myth of Clear-Cut, Automatic Succession

One might assume that in a divinely appointed monarchy like Israel's, the line of succession would be crystal clear, perhaps even magically self-evident. After all, wasn't David chosen by God? Wouldn't his successor be equally obvious? This text shatters that illusion. It reveals that even with divine promises (like the one David made to Bathsheba about Solomon), succession was a messy, human affair fraught with political maneuvering, personal ambition, and the very real threat of usurpation. The Malbim, a brilliant 19th-century commentator, highlights this by explaining why Solomon's anointing is explicitly mentioned here, despite the general rule that "a king's son who is king does not require anointing." The reason, he states, was precisely "because of Adonijah's rebellion." This means that even an heir apparent, particularly one like Solomon who was not David's eldest living son, needed active, public affirmation to solidify his claim. The throne was not simply inherited; it had to be secured, sometimes fiercely. This reminds us that even in seemingly pre-ordained situations, human agency, strategy, and political savvy are often indispensable. It's a powerful lesson that plans, even divine ones, require human hands to execute and protect them from challenges.

The Bible as a Story of Flawed, Complex Humans, Not Just Archetypes

Often, our early encounters with biblical figures present them as one-dimensional heroes or villains. David, the "man after God's own heart," is often recalled for his triumphs against Goliath or his psalms of praise. But here, we meet David in a state of profound vulnerability, physical decline, and perhaps even parental neglect. The text explicitly states that Adonijah "went about boasting, 'I will be king!'... His father had never scolded him: 'Why did you do that?'" This isn't just a detail; it's a profound indictment of David's parenting and leadership in his own household. The Metzudat David commentary notes that David was "old, advanced in years," clarifying that his decline was natural and timely, not premature. But Rashi adds another layer, citing rabbinic tradition that David's persistent coldness was a consequence of past actions – tearing Saul's robe (a disrespect to clothing) and the lingering fear from seeing the angel of death in Jerusalem. This suggests that David's physical state is not just biological, but perhaps psychosomatic, a manifestation of unaddressed trauma or the karmic weight of his life. The Bible doesn't shy away from showing its heroes as complex, flawed individuals whose past catches up with them, whose bodies fail, and whose families are as messy as any other. This humanizes the text, making these figures relatable not as distant saints, but as individuals grappling with universal struggles.

The Bible as Masterful Literature, Not Just Moral Instruction

When we were younger, biblical stories often served primarily as moral fables or historical facts. "David was good," "Saul was bad," "Moses led the people." But this chapter of I Kings reads like a thrilling political drama, a tightly plotted play worthy of any stage. It's replete with intrigue, whispered conversations, urgent pleas, and perfectly timed interventions. Notice the dramatic irony: Adonijah is feasting, celebrating his premature kingship, completely unaware of the frantic counter-plot unfolding in David's chamber. Nathan's precise instructions to Bathsheba ("While you are still there talking with the king, I will come in after you and confirm your words") reveal a masterful strategic mind at work. The Ralbag offers a fascinating, albeit somewhat unsettling, interpretation of Abishag’s role, suggesting that beyond merely providing physical warmth, she was also intended to "excite the man and arouse him for sex" and "arouse his nature because of her beauty," in the hope of physically stimulating David and thus restoring his vitality and perhaps his capacity to rule. This detail, whether true or not in practice (the text says David "was not intimate with her"), underscores the desperation and complex motivations at play, moving beyond a simple "bed warmer" narrative. This is not just a collection of rules or a history textbook; it is a profound work of literature, inviting us to delve into the psychology of its characters, the nuances of its power dynamics, and the timeless human drama it so vividly portrays.

Text Snapshot

Then Nathan said to Bathsheba, Solomon’s mother, “You must have heard that Adonijah son of Haggith has assumed the kingship without the knowledge of our lord David. Now take my advice, so that you may save your life and the life of your son Solomon. Go immediately to King David and say to him, ‘Did not you, O lord king, swear to your maidservant: “Your son Solomon shall succeed me as king, and he shall sit upon my throne”? Then why has Adonijah become king?’" — I Kings 1:11-13 (Sefaria)

New Angle

Insight 1: The Unseen Costs of Neglect and the Weight of Unfinished Business

King David, once a vibrant warrior, poet, and leader, is introduced to us in I Kings 1 as a figure of profound vulnerability: "King David was now old, advanced in years; and though they covered him with bedclothes, he never felt warm." This physical coldness isn't just a medical detail; it's a potent metaphor for a deeper chill that has settled over his life and his reign. It speaks to a loss of vitality, a disconnection, and perhaps, as some commentators suggest, the lingering residue of unresolved past traumas and neglected responsibilities. The Rashi commentary, drawing from rabbinic tradition, links David's inability to get warm to specific past actions: tearing Saul's robe in disrespect and the chilling fear he experienced when he saw the angel of death. This interpretation suggests that David's physical state is not merely a consequence of aging, but a psychosomatic manifestation of his life's unaddressed spiritual and emotional "cold spots." He is literally, and perhaps figuratively, unable to warm himself, hinting at a soul that has lost its inner fire.

This narrative immediately plunges us into the profound costs of neglect, both personal and systemic. David’s advanced age and physical decline have created a power vacuum, a vulnerability that his son Adonijah exploits. The text makes a pointed observation: "His father had never scolded him: 'Why did you do that?'" This isn't just a parenting failure; it's a profound lapse in leadership. A king, responsible for the order and future of his kingdom, has failed to govern his own household. This parental neglect directly fuels Adonijah’s audacious power grab, demonstrating how deeply intertwined personal and public responsibilities are, and how the seeds of future crises are often sown in present inattention. The Malbim further elaborates on this, suggesting that Adonijah's willingness to usurp the throne during his father's lifetime stemmed from David's perceived inability to rule effectively. This wasn't merely David being old; it was David being seen as incapable of leading, which opened the door for Adonijah to step in and act as if the succession was already his for the taking. This highlights how a leader's perceived weakness can invite challenges that wouldn't have dared to surface otherwise.

The Chilling Effect of Unfinished Business on Adult Life

This ancient story resonates deeply with the adult experience of "unfinished business" and the creeping costs of neglect.

In Our Work Lives: The Unseen Drain of Unresolved Issues

In the professional realm, we often encounter "Adonijahs" – situations, projects, or even colleagues who sense a power vacuum or a lack of clear direction and attempt to unilaterally assert control. These are the projects we let languish, the difficult conversations we postpone, the feedback we fail to deliver, or the boundaries we neglect to set. Each act of omission, however small, creates a subtle energetic drain, a "cold spot" in our professional landscape. The cost isn't always immediate or obvious. It might manifest as team dysfunction, missed opportunities, increased stress, or a loss of trust. A leader who fails to delegate clearly, or who avoids confronting a problematic team member, is creating the conditions for an "Adonijah" to emerge, undermining their authority and the team's cohesion. The narrative forces us to ask: What are the "Adonijahs" in my professional life – the unresolved issues, the neglected relationships, the unclarified expectations – that are quietly eroding my influence or creating future crises? What "cold spots" are making it harder for me to feel "warm" and engaged in my work? The narrative underscores that proactive leadership, even in small acts of setting expectations or providing feedback, is crucial to preventing larger insurrections. It’s not enough to simply be in charge; one must actively lead.

In Our Family and Personal Relationships: The Slow Freeze of Neglect

The Adonijah story is a poignant allegory for the long-term impact of neglect within families. David's failure to "scold" Adonijah is a powerful image of a parent who, for whatever reason, disengages or fails to provide crucial guidance and boundaries. This can lead to children who feel entitled, unmoored, or who seek validation and power in unhealthy ways. In our own lives, the "coldness" can creep into relationships when emotional needs aren't met, when grievances are left unaddressed, or when we become too busy or distracted to truly connect. These are the unspoken resentments that build, the small slights that fester, the promises forgotten, or the difficult conversations avoided. Just as David’s physical coldness could be linked to past traumas, our own emotional coldness can often be traced back to unresolved conflicts, unhealed wounds, or patterns of avoidance. The text vividly illustrates how parental inaction can have catastrophic consequences, not just for the individual child but for the entire family system and, in David's case, the kingdom itself. It forces us to confront the question: What "cold spots" in my personal relationships are a consequence of my own or others' neglect, and how are they impacting my sense of connection and warmth? This isn't about guilt, but about acknowledging the reality that emotional absence often creates emotional chaos.

In Our Search for Meaning and Legacy: The Chill of Unfulfilled Potential

Beyond work and family, David's story speaks to the existential "coldness" that can emerge from a life lived without fully addressing one's core purpose or securing one's legacy. David, a man of immense spiritual and historical significance, is presented here as physically and perhaps spiritually depleted. His inability to stay warm, amplified by Rashi's interpretation linking it to past sins and fears, suggests a profound spiritual fatigue. What "unfinished business" do we carry from our past that literally "chills" our present? The unfulfilled dreams, the ignored callings, the moments of moral compromise, the anxieties about what we will leave behind. David's legacy is nearly hijacked because he didn't actively manage his succession. This raises critical questions for us: What does it mean to actively manage our legacy, not just professionally or financially, but spiritually and relationally? What do we leave behind if we don't consciously shape it, if we allow our "Adonijahs" – our fears, our inaction, our distractions – to define our narrative? The story powerfully illustrates that a legacy is not passively received; it must be actively cultivated and protected, even in the face of our own decline. It pushes us to consider that true warmth, genuine vitality, comes not just from physical comfort, but from a sense of purpose, integrity, and proactive engagement with the life we are building and the future we are shaping. The "coldness" serves as a stark warning: ignore your inner life and the stewardship of your relationships and responsibilities at your peril.

Insight 2: The Power of Strategic Intervention and the Unsung Heroes of Our Narrative

While David languishes in his bed, seemingly oblivious to the machinations around him, a different kind of power is at play. The narrative pivots to Nathan the prophet and Bathsheba, Solomon’s mother, who become the true protagonists of this critical moment. They are not passive bystanders; they are strategic masterminds, orchestrating a brilliant, high-stakes intervention that will ultimately determine the future of the kingdom and their own survival. Nathan's precise instructions to Bathsheba – how to approach the king, what to say, and the perfectly timed moment he will enter to "confirm your words" – reveal a profound understanding of human psychology, court politics, and the art of persuasion. This isn't raw power; it's subtle influence, courage, and meticulous planning.

The text's detail that David "was not intimate with her" (Abishag) underscores David's total physical and perhaps emotional withdrawal. He isn't just old; he's disengaged. This makes Bathsheba's and Nathan's intervention even more critical, as David is clearly not taking initiative himself. They don't wait for David to act; they make him act. They don't command; they remind. They don't accuse; they present facts and appeal to his honor and prior oath. This is a masterclass in how to effectively influence when direct authority is compromised or absent.

Strategic Intervention in Adult Life

This ancient narrative offers profound lessons for adults navigating complex situations in their professional, personal, and spiritual lives, particularly regarding the power of strategic intervention and the recognition of unsung heroes.

In Our Work Lives: When to Step Up, Speak Up, and Collaborate

In the workplace, we often encounter situations where a leader is disengaged, a project is veering off course, or an injustice is being overlooked. The "Nathan and Bathsheba" moments are those where strategic intervention is not just helpful, but essential. This insight challenges the notion that one must always wait for explicit permission or occupy a formal leadership role to effect change. Nathan and Bathsheba don't wait for David to summon them to discuss the succession; they initiate the conversation, carefully crafting their approach. This speaks to the power of proactive leadership, even from positions that might seem less authoritative.

Consider a scenario where a critical company initiative is faltering because key stakeholders are disengaged, or a decision is being made that will negatively impact a vulnerable team. The "Bathsheba" in this scenario is the one who understands the internal politics, has a direct line to the decision-makers, and can articulate the personal stakes. The "Nathan" is the one who brings objective evidence, moral authority, and strategic timing. Effective intervention often involves:

1. Understanding the stakes: Bathsheba knew her life and Solomon's were at risk. What are the real consequences if you don't act? This provides the impetus.
2. Framing the message: They didn't accuse David of neglect; they reminded him of his oath and presented the situation as one he was unaware of, thereby preserving his dignity while compelling action. This requires empathy and political acumen.
3. Strategic timing and sequencing: Nathan's plan for Bathsheba to speak first, followed by his corroboration, was brilliant. In professional settings, this translates to knowing when to approach a superior, who to bring into the conversation, and how to present the information for maximum impact. It's about building a case, not just expressing an opinion.
4. Collaboration: The power of Nathan and Bathsheba’s combined effort is undeniable. Neither could have done it alone. This highlights the importance of identifying allies, leveraging diverse strengths, and working together to achieve a common goal, especially when confronting established power structures or inertia. This matters because a well-orchestrated, collaborative intervention can avert disaster, course-correct a failing project, or advocate effectively for those without a voice, demonstrating that true leadership isn't just about individual authority, but about collective wisdom and courage.

In Our Family and Personal Relationships: The Courage to Intervene for What Matters

Beyond the workplace, this insight extends to our personal lives. We all encounter situations where a family member is making a self-destructive choice, a friend is being exploited, or a relationship is becoming toxic. These are the moments that call for strategic, courageous intervention. Like Bathsheba, we might feel vulnerable or fear disrupting the peace, but the stakes can be profoundly high – not just "life and limb," but emotional well-being, long-term health, or the integrity of a cherished relationship.

The lesson here isn't about meddling, but about discerning when and how to step in with purpose and compassion. It requires:

1. Clear-eyed assessment: Recognizing when a situation genuinely calls for intervention, rather than passive observation. Adonijah wasn't just thinking about being king; he was acting like one, throwing a feast, inviting key figures, and excluding others.
2. Empathy and respect: Even as Nathan and Bathsheba pressured David, they did so with deference, bowing and appealing to his past promises. This is crucial in personal interventions – maintaining respect for the individual while challenging their actions or the circumstances around them.
3. Focus on consequences: Bathsheba didn't just say "Solomon should be king"; she articulated the dire consequences for herself and Solomon if David did not act. In personal interventions, helping someone see the concrete, negative outcomes of their path can be more effective than mere judgment.
4. Seeking support: Just as Nathan supported Bathsheba, knowing who your allies are and seeking their wisdom or presence can fortify your resolve and enhance the effectiveness of your intervention. This matters because loving intervention, thoughtfully executed, can be the catalyst for profound healing, redirection, and protection within our most intimate circles, preventing silent decay from turning into open rupture. It demonstrates that being truly present for loved ones sometimes means having the courage to speak uncomfortable truths.

In Our Search for Meaning: Recognizing the Unsung Heroes and Empowering Ourselves

Finally, this narrative offers a powerful reframing of heroism and meaning. The "hero" of this particular moment isn't the aging king David, but the seemingly secondary characters: Bathsheba, a woman often maligned in earlier narratives, and Nathan, a prophet whose power lies in his wisdom and timing. They are the "unsung heroes" who step up when the designated leader is unable or unwilling. This challenges us to look beyond traditional notions of power and authority and recognize where true agency and impact lie.

This insight empowers us to see ourselves as potential "Nathans" or "Bathshebas" in our own lives and communities. We don't need a crown or a prophecy to make a critical difference. It's about:

1. Identifying the need: Where is there a vacuum of leadership, a situation crying out for clarity, or an injustice that needs to be brought to light?
2. Cultivating your "prophetic voice": This isn't necessarily about divine revelation, but about developing the courage to speak truth, to advocate for what is right, and to articulate a vision for a better path, even when it’s uncomfortable.
3. Understanding your unique leverage: Bathsheba had access to David's chamber; Nathan had the prophet's authority. What unique position, skills, or relationships do you possess that could enable a crucial intervention?
4. Embracing collaborative action: Recognizing that collective action often amplifies impact. Who can you partner with to create a stronger, more persuasive force for change? This matters because it reminds us that agency and heroism are not exclusive to those in formal positions of power. Everyday people, through strategic, courageous, and collaborative action, can profoundly shape the course of events, preventing crises, securing futures, and ultimately, ensuring that the best possible legacy is realized. It's a call to active engagement, reminding us that our stories are not just given to us, but actively shaped by our willingness to step into pivotal moments.

Low-Lift Ritual

The "Unfinished Business Check-in"

This week, let's borrow a page from David's struggle and the swift, decisive action of Nathan and Bathsheba. The goal isn't to solve everything, but to cultivate awareness and break the inertia that often allows "cold spots" to fester.

The Practice:

Once this week, find a quiet moment for just two minutes. Set a timer.

1. Identify one piece of "unfinished business": Bring to mind one specific thing in your life that feels unresolved, unaddressed, or perpetually "on your to-do list" but never gets done. This could be a conversation you've been putting off, a small task that's become a mental burden (like an un-returned email, a bill you haven't looked at, a small repair), a promise you haven't kept to yourself or someone else, or even an internal emotional knot you haven't untangled. Don't pick the biggest, most overwhelming thing. Pick one that feels like a low-grade hum of annoyance or a quiet drain on your energy.
2. Acknowledge its presence: Simply observe this piece of unfinished business. How does it feel in your body or mind? Is it a subtle tension? A recurring thought? A sense of vague guilt? Acknowledge its presence without judgment. This isn't about shaming yourself for not having done it; it's about recognizing its energetic footprint.
3. Jot down one tiny, actionable next step: Before your two minutes are up, write down one incredibly small, concrete action you could take related to this item. This isn't about doing the whole thing, but identifying the absolute first micro-step. Examples: "Draft a subject line for that email," "Open the envelope," "Schedule 15 minutes in my calendar next week to think about it," "Send a text asking for a good time to talk," "Find the screwdriver."

Variations:

• The "Legacy Scan" (for those feeling overwhelmed by "unfinished business"): Instead of focusing on something negative, shift your perspective. During your two minutes, think about one small way you want to contribute to your "legacy" (personal, professional, communal) this week. What tiny action today, however insignificant it seems, could echo positively in the future? This could be a kind word, mentoring a junior colleague, planting a seed, or simply being fully present with a loved one. Jot down that micro-action.
• The "Intervention Inventory" (for those who feel a quiet pull to speak up): Identify a situation where you feel a quiet pull to speak up, advocate, or intervene, but haven't yet. Again, no action required, just recognition. What's the smallest, most respectful way you could acknowledge that pull? Is it doing some research? Reaching out to a potential ally? Simply writing down the core message you'd want to convey?

Deeper Meaning:

This ritual isn't about adding another item to your never-ending to-do list. It's about cultivating awareness as a foundational act of re-enchantment. Just as David's physical coldness was a symptom of deeper issues, our own "cold spots" – those neglected tasks, conversations, or inner stirrings – drain our vitality and prevent us from feeling fully "warm" and engaged. By simply identifying them, we bring them into the light. This act of conscious recognition is the first step towards taking agency. It acknowledges that we have the power to shape our reality, even in small ways, rather than being passively subjected to the cumulative weight of what we've left undone.

The Malbim's insight that Adonijah's rebellion stemmed from David's perceived inability to rule highlights how passive leadership (even over one's own life) creates a vacuum. This ritual is about reclaiming that leadership, one micro-step at a time. It’s about recognizing that the discomfort of "unfinished business" is a signal, not a judgment. It’s a call to attention, a gentle nudge from your deeper self to bring things back into balance. By consistently, even briefly, checking in with these areas, we build a muscle of responsiveness, preventing small neglects from escalating into larger crises. This matters because a life filled with too many unaddressed loose ends feels chaotic and draining; a life where we actively, even minimally, acknowledge and address these points, feels more integrated, empowered, and ultimately, warmer.

Troubleshooting Common Hesitations:

• "I have too many pieces of unfinished business! I don't know where to start!"
  • Solution: That's perfectly normal! The key is to pick the smallest, least intimidating one for this ritual. The goal is not to solve everything in two minutes, but to practice the act of awareness. Think of it as gently plucking one tiny weed from a vast garden. It makes the garden no less vast, but you've engaged with it.
• "I don't have time to actually do anything about it right now."
  • Solution: Excellent! That's precisely the point. This ritual is not about doing the whole task. It's about identifying it and planning a micro-step. The power lies in breaking the inertia of procrastination by simply naming the next, most minuscule action. Often, just naming that first step makes the whole task feel less overwhelming.
• "It feels overwhelming just to think about it."
  • Solution: Acknowledge that feeling without judgment. David's coldness was a profound state. If thinking about your unfinished business brings up overwhelm, simply observe that feeling. Can you reframe the "unfinished business" to something incredibly minor? Like "that email I need to send" to "the thought of that email I need to send." The goal is to gently engage, not to force a solution. Even identifying the feeling associated with the unfinished business is a valuable insight.
• "This feels too simple to make a difference."
  • Solution: The profound often hides in the simple. Just as the single conversation between Nathan, Bathsheba, and David changed the course of a kingdom, a single, conscious micro-action can shift your internal landscape. The cumulative effect of consistent, low-lift awareness is surprisingly powerful. It's about building a habit of intentionality, not about instant gratification.

Chevruta Mini

1. David's physical coldness and Adonijah's rebellion could be seen as symptoms of neglect – by David himself, or by those around him. Where in your own life have you observed the quiet, creeping costs of neglect (of self, relationships, projects) that eventually manifest as a crisis or a profound lack of "warmth"?
2. Nathan and Bathsheba's intervention was strategic, courageous, and collaborative. Reflect on a time in your life when you or someone you know successfully intervened in a difficult situation. What made that intervention effective, and what can we learn about the power of speaking up at the right moment?

Takeaway + Citations

This ancient story of King David's twilight years, the enigmatic Abishag, and the urgent succession crisis isn't merely a historical account; it's a profound meditation on the human condition. It reminds us that even the most celebrated leaders are susceptible to the chilling effects of neglect – of self, of family, and of responsibility – allowing "unfinished business" to fester and create vulnerabilities. Yet, it also illuminates the quiet, formidable power of strategic intervention, demonstrating that clarity, conviction, and courageous, collaborative action can shift the course of events, even in moments of profound decline and uncertainty. The narrative urges us to recognize the unsung heroes in our own lives and to embrace our own capacity for discerning, well-timed action, ensuring that our legacy is actively shaped, not passively inherited. This matters because it shows us that even when the light seems to be fading, there is always an opportunity to ignite new warmth through intentionality and courage.

Citations:

• I Kings 1:1-31: https://www.sefaria.org/I_Kings_1:1-31
• Malbim on I Kings 1:1:1: https://www.sefaria.org/Malbim_on_I_Kings_1:1:1?lang=bi
• Rashi on I Kings 1:1:1: https://www.sefaria.org/Rashi_on_I_Kings_1:1:1?lang=en
• Metzudat David on I Kings 1:1:1: https://www.sefaria.org/Metzudat_David_on_I_Kings_1:1:1?lang=bi
• Ralbag on I Kings 1:1:1: https://www.sefaria.org/Ralbag_on_I_Kings_1:1:1?lang=en
• Ralbag on I Kings 1:1:2: https://www.sefaria.org/Ralbag_on_I_Kings_1:1:2?lang=en