“Then Nahash the Ammonite came up, and encamped against Jabesh-gilead.
And all the men of Yabesh said unto Nahash: Make a covenant with us, and we
shall serve you.”
We wrote in the previous essay that the people of Israel were satisfied with God’s choice of
King Saul. That was not a misstatement – in the main. Owing to King Saul’s physique and noble
bearing, he had gathered a respectable following. But not all of the Hebrews acknowledged, let
alone paid homage to the king. Loose-lipped, bellyachers expressed ill-will, as we find at the
end of Samuel 10: “But certain base fellows said: How shall this man save us? And they
despised him…” Between the yeas and nays, a sort of stalemate ensued. So did the pre-
coronation status quo. Thus, after a public ceremony in Mizpah, Saul went home, where he
resumed farm chores.
Not for very long. “Then Nahash the Ammonite came up, and encamped against Jabesh-gilead.”
Abravanel learns from Nahash’s name, snake in Hebrew, that this human serpent spelled
horror. A slithering sicko he was. Although the Jews of Jabesh hoisted the white flag and
offered to surrender to Nahash, they were rebuffed. “And Nahash the Ammonite said unto
them: On this condition will I make it with you, that all your right eyes be put out.” As for the
unctuous Nahash’s intent, it was plain to see. Blinding the Jews would create “a reproach upon
all Israel.”
Enter King Saul. The people of Jabesh dispatched “messengers to Gibeath-shaul”, Abravanel
surmises, because they heard that Saul had been anointed king and dwelled there. Meanwhile,
back at the farm, as it were, the king-in-name-only toiled. “And, behold, Saul came following
the oxen out of the field. And Saul said: What ails the people that they weep? And they told him
the words of the men of Jabesh.”
With God’s help, Saul rose to the occasion. “And the spirit of God came mightily upon Saul…”
With it, a wave of indignation washed over him, “and his anger was kindled greatly.” Our
chapter continues, detailing how the king swung into action. Tens of thousands of troops were
quickly mobilized. In short shrift, Saul’s soldiers smashed Nahash. They “smote the Ammonites
until the heat of the day. And it came to pass, that they that remained were scattered, so that
two of them were not left together.” Reeling and running from the route, Ammonites
skedaddled.
Indeed, victory belonged to King Saul, courtesy of the One Above. The people knew that they
had a leader, so much so that the Jews demanded those base men who earlier pooh-poohed
Saul in Mizpah now pay for their sniggering and disloyalty. “And the people said unto Samuel:
Who is he that said: Shall Saul reign over us? bring the men, that we may put them to death.”
Magnanimously, the king pardoned the wrongdoers.
The chapter winds down, recounting what happened après guerre. “Then said Samuel to the
people: Come and let us go to Gilgal, and renew the kingdom there.” In fact, this penultimate
verse and the chapter’s concluding one, for Abravanel, speak volumes. They impart a lesson for
the ages: the need to pursue and forge a socio/political consensus. “And all the people went to
Gilgal; and there they made Saul king before the LORD in Gilgal; and there they sacrificed
sacrifices of peace-offerings before the LORD; and there Saul and all the men of Israel rejoiced
greatly.”
In sum, we read how Saul had first been privately installed by Samuel the prophet. That had
been followed by a public proclamation in Mizpah, via divine lottery. Yet, the thing hardly
elicited a positive change within the body politic. What was missing, Abravanel asks? He
answers, that the selection of a king, even when said selection comes from Above, does not
suffice. National will holds the key ingredient to political harmony.