I Samuel 28:24-30:24

Shalom, chaverim! Welcome back to the campfire, even if we're gathered around a screen or a kitchen table instead of flickering flames and starry skies. It's so good to reconnect, to dive into Torah with that same ruach (spirit) we used to share on Shabbat walks or during tefillah (prayer) circles. Tonight, we're going on a journey, a real wilderness trek through a powerful passage in I Samuel. So grab your metaphorical hiking boots, maybe a s'more (or a cup of coffee!), and let's get ready to make some ancient wisdom sing!

Hook

Alright, close your eyes for a second. Can you hear it? That faint whisper of wind through the pines, the crackle of a dying ember, maybe the distant sound of rikud (dancing) from the mifkad (flag assembly) area... And then, someone starts to hum. A simple melody, maybe one you haven't heard in years. For me, it always brings me back to those late-night talks around the campfire, when the formal activities were over, and it was just us, sharing stories, fears, and dreams under a blanket of stars.

Remember that feeling when a friend would start to sing a niggun, a wordless melody, and everyone would slowly join in? Maybe it was a tune that was a little sad, a little reflective, or one that built to a powerful crescendo of hope. There’s a niggun that comes to mind, a simple, yearning tune often sung for Shabbat Nachamu, the Shabbat of Comfort after Tisha B'Av, or just when you're feeling a bit lost. It goes like this: (Niggun suggestion: A simple, slow, rising and falling melody, repeating "Oy vey, oy vey, oy vey, oy vey..." with a sense of searching and then a gentle release, like the melody of "Mi Shebeirach" but simpler, wordless, perhaps with a slight minor key feel that resolves to major.)

Sing-able line suggestion: (Melody: A simple, repetitive four-note phrase, like the start of "Oseh Shalom" but slower, more reflective, then resolving.) "Find your strength, find your way, In the light of a new day."

That feeling of searching, of yearning for connection, for guidance, for strength – that’s exactly where we find ourselves today, deep in the story of two giants of our tradition: King Saul and young David. Their journeys, as we’ll see, are filled with twists and turns, moments of profound despair, and incredible resilience, much like those long, winding paths we used to hike at camp, sometimes feeling utterly lost, sometimes marveling at the beauty we discovered.

Think about those times at camp when things felt overwhelming. Maybe it was the first night away from home, the fear of not making friends, or the challenge of a new activity that felt impossible. There were moments when you felt a bit like Saul – isolated, afraid, looking for answers in all the wrong places. And then there were other moments when, despite setbacks, you found that inner spark, that ruach that propelled you forward, much like David. This isn't just ancient history; it's a map for navigating the wilderness of our own adult lives, our families, and our communities, reminding us that even in the darkest valleys, there's a path forward, and often, it's found in unexpected places and through the strength we draw from within and from one another.

Context

Before we dive into the depths of the text, let's set the scene, shall we? Imagine you're gathered around the map at the start of a big tiyul (hike), getting the lay of the land.

• A Kingdom Divided, A King in Decline: At this point in I Samuel, King Saul's reign is teetering on the brink. He's repeatedly defied God's commands, leading to Samuel's anointing of David as the next king. Saul, consumed by jealousy and paranoia, has been relentlessly pursuing David, trying to kill him. David, meanwhile, is living as an outlaw, ironically serving the Philistines (Israel's enemies!) under King Achish of Gath to escape Saul's wrath. It's a messy, complicated family drama playing out on a national scale, filled with political intrigue and personal anguish.

• The Gathering Storm: The Philistines, ever Israel's formidable foes, are mobilizing for a massive war. This isn't just a skirmish; it's an existential threat. Saul gathers his forces, but his heart is heavy with dread. He knows his time is running out, and he feels utterly abandoned by God, who no longer answers him through traditional means like dreams, the Urim (sacred oracle stones), or prophets. It’s the ultimate spiritual dry spell, a desert of divine silence.

• Navigating the Wilderness of Uncertainty: Picture a dense, fog-shrouded forest. For Saul, this battle represents that kind of impenetrable wilderness. He's lost his compass (God's guidance), the path ahead is obscured, and he's desperate for any signpost, any glimmer of light. He's at a critical "fork in the path," one that feels less like a choice and more like a cliff edge. David, on the other hand, is navigating a different kind of wilderness – a winding river, full of unpredictable currents and hidden obstacles. He’s trying to stay afloat, make the right choices, and protect his community, all while seemingly aligned with the enemy. Both men face immense challenges, but their responses to the "wilderness" of their circumstances will diverge dramatically, revealing profound lessons about leadership, faith, and human connection. It's in these moments of extreme pressure that true character is revealed, much like how a challenging camp adventure can bring out the best (or worst!) in us, showing us what we're truly made of.

Text Snapshot

Let's zoom in on a few powerful lines that capture the heart of our story today:

"And Saul inquired of G-d, but G-d did not answer him... Then Saul said to his courtiers, 'Find me a woman who consults ghosts...'" (I Samuel 28:6-7)

"But David sought strength in the Eternal his God." (I Samuel 30:6)

"The share of those who remain with the baggage shall be the same as the share of those who go down to battle; they shall share alike." (I Samuel 30:24)

Close Reading

These verses, packed into just a few chapters, offer us a profound look at leadership, despair, resilience, and the very essence of community. They're like a carefully constructed rope course, challenging us to traverse different emotional and spiritual landscapes. Let's dig into two key insights that really translate to our home and family lives, giving them "grown-up legs."

Insight 1: The Crossroads of Despair and Dignity – Finding Humanity in Unexpected Places

Our first insight centers on King Saul’s desperate encounter with the Witch of En-dor. This is one of the most haunting and dramatic scenes in all of Tanakh (Hebrew Bible). Saul, once a towering figure, Israel's first king, now finds himself at the absolute nadir of his reign, a man utterly abandoned by the divine. God has ceased to communicate with him through any legitimate means – no dreams, no Urim, no prophets. Imagine that profound silence, that spiritual vacuum, for a king who once walked with God's spirit. It's a devastating isolation, a feeling many of us can relate to in our own moments of crisis when we feel cut off, unheard, or truly alone.

In his terror and desperation, Saul resorts to the forbidden: consulting a necromancer, a "woman who consults ghosts." This is a stark illustration of how far he has fallen, violating the very laws he himself had previously enforced. He disguises himself, a king reduced to sneaking around in the dead of night, seeking answers from the margins of society. When he finds the woman in En-dor, she is rightly terrified. She knows Saul’s decree; she fears for her life. Saul has to swear by God – a profound irony given his current spiritual state – that she will come to no harm.

Then, the unthinkable happens: the spirit of Samuel, Saul’s mentor and the prophet who anointed him, actually appears. The commentaries, like Radak, offer fascinating discussions on whether this was a true resurrection by God, a demonic illusion, or a clever deception by the woman. Some Sages, like Rav Shmuel ben Chofni Gaon, suggested it was entirely a trick, with the woman fabricating the prophecy based on her knowledge of the political climate. Others, like Rav Saadia Gaon and Rav Hai Gaon, believed it was a genuine, divinely-orchestrated appearance, as evidenced by the woman’s terrified shriek – she was genuinely surprised by what unfolded. Regardless of the mechanism, the impact on Saul is undeniable. He receives a chilling prophecy: not only will he die, but his sons will die with him, and Israel will fall to the Philistines. It's the ultimate confirmation of his worst fears, a death sentence from beyond the grave.

Saul’s reaction is immediate and visceral: "At once Saul flung himself prone on the ground, terrified by Samuel’s words. Besides, there was no strength in him, for he had not eaten anything all day and all night." He is utterly broken, physically and emotionally shattered. This is where our first insight truly blossoms, for it's in this moment of extreme vulnerability that we see an unexpected act of profound human dignity and compassion.

The woman, the very person Saul had outlawed and whose life he had put in peril, approaches him. "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." Saul initially refuses, but she and his courtiers urge him. The text tells us: "The woman had a stall-fed calf in the house; she hastily slaughtered it, and took flour and kneaded it, and baked some unleavened cakes. She set this before Saul and his courtiers, and they ate. Then they rose and left the same night."

This seemingly small act – preparing and offering food – is monumental. The commentaries, particularly Rashi and Metzudat David, highlight the speed and care with which she acted. Metzudat David notes that she made unleavened cakes "lest he delay until it ferments," emphasizing her immediate concern for his need. Radak even connects it to the urgency of Rebekah preparing food in Genesis. This wasn't just any meal; it was a quickly prepared, nourishing meal for a man in the depths of despair, a man who had been her persecutor. She saw not the king, not the enemy, but a broken human being. She offered him not judgment, but basic sustenance, a lifeline of human kindness.

Translating to Home/Family Life:

• ### Insight 1.1: The Power of Basic Human Kindness and Nourishment:

  • Think about those moments in our own homes or families when someone is truly struggling. Maybe a child is heartbroken over a friendship, a partner is overwhelmed by work, or a parent is facing a health crisis. In these moments, logic, advice, or even grand gestures might fall flat. What often truly helps is the most fundamental act of care: offering warmth, comfort, and sustenance. Just like the woman of En-dor offered Saul a hot meal when he was at his lowest, we can offer a cup of tea, a comforting blanket, a quiet presence, or a simple, nourishing meal. These acts, often overlooked in their simplicity, can be incredibly potent. They signal, "I see you. You are not alone. You matter." It's about meeting people where they are, acknowledging their profound need, and providing a foundation from which they might begin to rebuild. At camp, we learned this on the daily: a scraped knee needs a band-aid, a homesick camper needs a hug and a warm snack, a tired counselor needs a moment of quiet and a hot drink. It's the "behind-the-scenes" care that often makes the biggest difference, nurturing the neshama (soul) alongside the body.

• ### Insight 1.2: Extending Dignity, Especially to the Fallen:

  • This story challenges us to consider how we treat those who have "fallen" in our lives, whether they've made mistakes, are struggling, or are simply not at their best. Saul was a king who had lost divine favor, was universally feared, and was about to meet his end. Yet, this woman, an outcast herself, chose to extend him dignity. She didn't gloat, she didn't judge; she simply offered what she could. In our families, it’s easy to hold grudges, to remember past hurts, or to criticize when someone stumbles. This narrative reminds us of the profound spiritual value in offering compassion and dignity, even to those who may have wronged us or who are at their weakest. It's about seeing past the title, the past actions, or the current state of brokenness, and recognizing the inherent humanity, the tzelem Elokim (image of God), within every person. It's the ultimate act of chesed (lovingkindness), reaching across divides of status, past, and even fear, to offer a moment of grace. At camp, we called this kehillah – community. It meant that even when someone messed up, they were still part of us. We built each other up, we didn’t tear each other down, and we always made sure everyone had a place at the table, literally and figuratively.

Insight 2: Resilience, Community, and the Distribution of Blessing – Everyone Has a Role

While Saul is meeting his tragic end, David, oblivious to Saul's plight, is facing his own crucible. This part of the story is a masterclass in resilient leadership and the foundational principles of community.

David, having been rejected by the Philistine lords who feared he would turn against them in battle (a smart move by them, but a moment of grace for David!), returns with his men to their home base of Ziklag. What they find is utterly devastating: "the Amalekites had made a raid into the Negeb and against Ziklag; they had stormed Ziklag and burned it down. They had taken the women in it captive, low-born and high-born alike; they did not kill any, but carried them off and went their way."

Imagine the scene: homes destroyed, families gone. "David and the troops with him broke into tears, until they had no strength left for weeping." This is raw, unvarnished grief. To make matters worse, David is in "great danger, for the troops threatened to stone him; for all the troops were embittered on account of their sons and daughters." His own men, who had followed him through thick and thin, now turn on him in their despair. This is the ultimate leadership test: when your followers lose faith, when everything is lost, and you yourself are grieving deeply.

It's at this rock-bottom moment that we read one of the most pivotal lines in David's early career: "But David sought strength in the Eternal his God." (I Samuel 30:6). This is the turning point. Unlike Saul, who turned to forbidden means in his despair, David turns upward, seeking guidance from the ultimate source. He consults the ephod, a priestly garment used for divine inquiry, and receives a clear answer: "Pursue, for you shall overtake and you shall rescue."

Energized by this divine affirmation, David and his 600 men set out. The pursuit is arduous. At the Wadi Besor, 200 men are "too faint to cross" and are left behind with the baggage. David continues with 400. In the open country, they find an abandoned Egyptian slave, left for dead by his Amalekite master. David and his men, in an act of profound human kindness and strategic brilliance, give him food and water, reviving him. This act of compassion pays off immediately: the Egyptian, grateful, leads them directly to the Amalekite raiders, who are "scattered all over the ground, eating and drinking and making merry" with their spoils. David attacks, rescues everyone and everything, and returns triumphant.

But the story isn't over. The challenge of kehillah (community) emerges as they return to the 200 men who stayed behind. "But all the mean and churlish ones among the men who had accompanied David spoke up, 'Since they did not accompany us, we will not give them any of the spoil that we seized—except that each may take his wife and children and go.'" This is a classic "us vs. them" mentality, a moment of greed and division after collective trauma.

David, however, rises to the occasion with a powerful, defining statement of justice and community: "You must not do that, my brothers, in view of what G-d has granted us, guarding us and delivering into our hands the band that attacked us. How could anyone agree with you in this matter? The share of those who remain with the baggage shall be the same as the share of those who go down to battle; they shall share alike." This isn't just a pragmatic ruling; it's a moral declaration that becomes "a fixed rule for Israel, continuing to the present day." It's a testament to the principle that everyone, regardless of their visible contribution in a moment of crisis, plays a vital role in the well-being and success of the community.

Translating to Home/Family Life:

• ### Insight 2.1: Finding Strength in the Face of Despair and the Ripple Effect of Kindness:

  • David's experience at Ziklag is a powerful model for how to respond when everything seems to go wrong. When faced with devastation and betrayal from his own people, he didn't wallow, he didn't lash out at his accusers, and he didn't turn to forbidden practices like Saul. Instead, he "sought strength in the Eternal his God." This is a profound lesson for our own lives: when the world feels like it's crumbling, when we're overwhelmed by grief or betrayal, where do we turn for strength? For David, it was a conscious, active turning to his spiritual center, to God. For us, it might be prayer, meditation, connecting with nature, or finding solace in our deepest values. This inner turning allowed him to act decisively.
  • Furthermore, David's compassion towards the abandoned Egyptian lad is a beautiful illustration of the ripple effect of kindness. In the midst of his own urgent mission, he paused to offer food and water to a stranger, an enemy's slave left for dead. This seemingly small act of rachamim (mercy) directly led to his success. In our families, how often do we overlook small acts of kindness because we're too busy, too stressed, or too focused on our "main mission"? This story reminds us that sometimes, the greatest victories come not from brute force or cunning strategy, but from simple, heartfelt acts of human decency. Whether it’s helping a neighbor, listening to a child’s long story, or offering a kind word to a colleague, these acts build bridges and create unforeseen pathways to success and connection. At camp, we called it tikkun olam (repairing the world) on a small scale – looking out for each other, making sure no one was left behind, and understanding that our collective well-being depended on the care we showed to each individual.

• ### Insight 2.2: The "Wadi Besor" Principle – Valuing Every Contribution in the Family and Community:

  • David's ruling at Wadi Besor is arguably one of the most impactful social justice statements in the entire Tanakh. It established a precedent that "the share of those who remain with the baggage shall be the same as the share of those who go down to battle; they shall share alike." This is a revolutionary concept, challenging the natural inclination to reward only those who are on the "front lines" or perform the most visible, strenuous tasks.
  • Think about our families and homes. Who are the "200 men who stay with the baggage"? It might be the parent who stays home to care for children, the one who manages the household finances, the one who offers emotional support and listens patiently, the elderly relative who provides wisdom and stability, or the child who helps with chores without complaint. These roles are often less glamorous, less "heroic" in the conventional sense, but they are absolutely essential for the "battle" of daily life to be won. Without the "baggage guard," the "fighters" cannot succeed.
  • This principle challenges us to actively recognize and affirm the diverse contributions within our family units and wider communities. Are we truly sharing the "spoil" – the recognition, the gratitude, the resources, the appreciation – equitably? Or do we, like David's "mean and churlish ones," only value the most obvious, high-octane efforts? David teaches us that a strong kehillah understands that different strengths are needed for different roles, and all are equally vital. It's about fostering a culture of mutual respect and shared reward, ensuring that no one feels invisible or undervalued for their contribution, no matter how quiet or behind-the-scenes it may be. It's the ultimate camp lesson: on a hike, the one who carries the first aid kit is just as important as the one leading the way. In a play, the stage crew is as essential as the lead actor. Everyone's role is critical to the success of the whole, and everyone deserves an equal share of the appreciation and the victory. This principle of communal responsibility and shared reward, born out of David’s wisdom, became a foundational ethic for Israel, a model for building a truly inclusive and strong society.

Micro-Ritual

This week, let's bring some of that "Wadi Besor" principle right into our homes, infusing our Shabbat or Havdalah with a deeper sense of appreciation for everyone's role.

Option 1: The "Wadi Besor" Kiddush (Friday Night)

This ritual offers a moment during your Friday night Kiddush to explicitly acknowledge the diverse contributions within your family or community, echoing David’s wisdom.

• Preparation: Before Kiddush, take a moment to reflect on the week. Who in your family (or even your broader circle) has played a less visible but crucial role? Who has "stayed with the baggage" while others "went to battle"? This could be a child who kept themselves occupied while you worked, a partner who handled household logistics, an elderly relative who offered a listening ear, or even yourself for managing the less glamorous but essential tasks.
• During Kiddush: After the traditional Kiddush blessing over wine, but before you break bread, pause. Hold your cup of wine (or grape juice) up.
• The Intentional Words: Say something like this, in your own words: "As we bring in Shabbat, a time of peace and rest, we remember the words of King David at the Wadi Besor, who taught us that the share of those who remain with the baggage is the same as the share of those who go down to battle. Tonight, we honor everyone who contributes to our family and our kehillah, whether their efforts are seen on the 'front lines' or in the quiet, essential work that makes everything else possible. We acknowledge [mention specific people or types of contributions, e.g., 'the one who made sure dinner was on the table,' 'the one who listened patiently when I was stressed,' 'the children who played kindly together']. Your efforts are deeply valued, and your share in our family's joy and success is equal."
• The Shared Sip: Share the Kiddush wine as usual, but with this added layer of intention, recognizing that the blessing of Shabbat is for everyone, regardless of their role.
• Variations:
  • Family Sharing: Go around the table and have each person name one way they contributed (or someone else contributed) that might have been less obvious this week.
  • Special Toast: If you have an extra cup, pour a small amount of wine for a "Wadi Besor Toast" to specific unsung heroes.
  • Niggun of Appreciation: After your words, you could hum or sing a simple niggun of gratitude, a gentle, rising melody that expresses thanks, perhaps the one suggested earlier: "Find your strength, find your way, / In the light of a new day." (Hum the melody, letting it be a wordless expression of communal gratitude).

Option 2: Havdalah of Resilience (Saturday Night)

This ritual helps us transition from Shabbat into the week ahead by acknowledging challenges faced and strength found, individually and communally, echoing David’s experience at Ziklag.

• Preparation: Have your Havdalah candle, wine, and spices ready. As you prepare, think about a challenge you or your family faced this past week, and how you found strength, either from within, from others, or from a higher source.
• During Havdalah: Proceed with the traditional Havdalah blessings.
• The Moment of Reflection (after the candle blessing): Before extinguishing the candle, hold it high. The braided Havdalah candle symbolizes the intertwining of different kinds of light, different strengths.
• The Intentional Words: Say something like this: "As this braided flame unites, so too do our strengths intertwine. This past week, like David at Ziklag, we may have faced moments of despair, loss, or when our own 'troops' felt embittered. But also like David, we sought strength – whether in our G-d, in our community, or deep within ourselves. As this light flickers, let us carry the memory of that strength into the new week, knowing that even in darkness, we can find our way and rise again."
• Extinguishing the Flame: Dip the flame into the wine, extinguishing it as usual. But as you do, visualize releasing any lingering despair from the week, and embracing the renewed strength that David found.
• Variations:
  • Personal Gratitude: After extinguishing the candle, each person can share one way they felt strength this week, or one person who helped them find strength.
  • Scent of Hope: As you pass the spices, think of the "sweetness" of resilience and the pleasant aroma of renewed hope.
  • Niggun of Strength: You could hum a niggun that feels like strength and hope, perhaps the suggested line as a silent intention: "Find your strength, find your way, / In the light of a new day."

These micro-rituals are simple ways to bring profound Torah lessons into the rhythm of your week, reminding us of the power of compassion, resilience, and community, just like we learned around those campfires.

Chevruta Mini

Alright, chaverim, let's chat about this, just like we used to pair up for deep talks after a particularly moving sichat musar (ethical discussion).

1. The Witch's Kindness: Think about the woman of En-dor. She was an outlaw, risking her life for Saul, and then she offered him profound human kindness when he was shattered. Can you recall a time in your life when you received unexpected kindness from someone you might have judged, or someone you considered "other"? Or, conversely, a time when you were able to extend kindness to someone you felt was "on the other side" or who had wronged you? What was the impact?
2. Your "Wadi Besor" Principle: David's ruling at Wadi Besor established that everyone, even those who stay "with the baggage," shares equally in the spoils. In your family or community, who are the "Wadi Besor" people – the ones whose contributions are essential but perhaps less recognized or celebrated? How can you, inspired by David, actively ensure that their "share" of appreciation and recognition is equal to those on the "front lines"?

Takeaway

So, as our metaphorical campfire embers glow low, what's our main takeaway from this incredible journey through I Samuel? It's this, my friends: In the unpredictable wilderness of life, when despair threatens to overwhelm us, let us remember Saul's isolation and the unexpected human dignity offered by an outcast. And when faced with loss and internal strife, let us draw strength from David's unwavering faith and his revolutionary wisdom in building a kehillah where every contribution is valued equally. Our homes, our families, and our communities thrive not just on grand victories, but on the quiet acts of kindness, the shared resilience, and the profound understanding that we are all in this together, and everyone has a vital part to play. May we find our strength, find our way, and build communities where every soul is seen, heard, and deeply cherished. Chazak, chazak, v'nitchazek! Be strong, be strong, and let us be strengthened!