But he could not avoid him forever.
Soon Eli’s voice, he knew it was his voice this time, crackled through the air, “Samuel, my son.”
And Samuel could do nothing else than respond, “I’m here.”
Eli drew him down to sit on the edge of the filthy bed and with surprising strength demanded, “What did God tell you? I know it was God. What exactly did God tell you? Do not hide it from me! May God strike you dead if you hide anything God said to you last night!” The old man spoke with a vehemence born from a divine silence too long endured. If God had spoken to this boy, the priest had to know what was said. Samuel noticed that Eli had not called the God YHWH. Perhaps he was too fearful to utter the divine name for fear that what had been said was too terrible to hear?
And Samuel had to decide. His youthful mind weighed again what he felt he was called to do. The whole truth of God? But what exactly was the whole truth of God? Was it God’s truth to destroy the future of an old and faithful man whose life was about over in any case? Or was it God’s truth to protect Eli from the full horror of God’s fury against him? In an instant, Samuel chose, and the choice was fateful for the rest of his life and for the life of Israel. He saw himself here and now and for as long as he lived as God’s avenging messenger, God’s hammer, called upon by a harshly demanding deity over and over to correct the ever-sinning people, to correct them without question or pause, to speak the full truth of God as Samuel discerned that truth in every place and in every time. Samuel now knew he was God’s agent, God’s prophet, and that when his words were spoken they were without doubt and without contradiction the words of YHWH.
And so with that resolve he told Eli all that he had heard the voice say in the night, how Eli’s priesthood was over, how his sons were doomed, how his family had no place in the ongoing life of Israel. He spared nothing; he spoke with the harshness of the voice that had spoken to him. He was no longer pupil, no longer student. He was now the master, and the old master was deposed and rejected by the mouth of the new master. Eli reeled under the blows of Samuel’s words, uttered without pity. He lay quietly for a time on his bed.
Finally he said with as much dignity as he could muster, “It is surely YHWH who does whatever YHWH wishes to do.” He had now named the God as the YHWH he had loved and served all his life.
Eli had never said anything more true. Samuel knew he was right, and also knew that he would stake his prophetic life on that truth; YHWH did whatever YHWH wanted to do. He remembered the poem his mother had sung right after his birth; she had sung it to him often enough when he was a child. “YHWH kills and brings to life, sends to Sheol and brings up from there.” This God acts in ways only this God could act, and there was nothing for it but to be YHWH’s messenger in the world. And so Samuel had resolved that day to be.
But that was then, and this was now, and Saul, the powerful one YHWH had demanded for ruler, stood before him. Why was it that YHWH had chosen this one when Samuel was still fully capable of leading the people and the land? Surely YHWH would not cast him away from the leadership of Israel after all these years! He was old, but his mind remained clear, his body slower but still useful, his experience unmatched, his devotion undimmed! YHWH had deposed the vastly diminished Eli but Samuel, while somewhat old, retained his vigor, his voice, his ability to interpret what the mighty YHWH wanted for the people. I am no feeble and doddering Eli, he thought, and God would surely not reject me yet from service!
He must think! He must ponder again the thing YHWH had called him to do.
“Stay here, boy. I will return soon.”
Samuel left the square and sought a shady spot, out of Saul’s sight, where he could think undisturbed. There must be a way to avoid this day! Samuel hoped to find the way, as he again plunged down the well of the past.
5
After Samuel’s nighttime visitation by YHWH, he had remained at Shiloh for a time, but YHWH’s promised vengeance against Eli soon appeared. The Philistines began their attacks on Israelite outposts in the west, overrunning them with comparative ease. News of their advance soon reached Shiloh, and a call for the Ark of the Covenant to be displayed on the enlarging battlefield went out. A group of soldiers came to get the Ark from the temple, and the people gathered for the ceremony for its coming forth. All sang the Ark’s song, waving banners and bits of old clothing, shouting so as to split the earth. But triumph soon turned to horror. Incredibly, the Philistines captured the sacred Ark, after destroying the army that bore it, and took it to their pagan temple of the corn god, Dagon. Both Hophni and Phineas, Eli’s wastrel sons, were among the battle’s dead. When news of their deaths reached him, Eli was generally unmoved, but when the news of the Ark’s capture came, the long-time priest, as usual sitting on his familiar seat near the entrance to the temple, fell over backwards and died. He was an incredible ninety-eight summers old, completely blind, and grossly fat. Samuel rushed to Eli, but it was too late; the priest was gone. His great weight had caused him to shatter his neck so that he had died instantly. And Samuel had remembered God’s fury at Eli and his house and knew that YHWH’s word had come true through his own mouth. He was more than ever convinced that he had been anointed God’s prophet.
Samuel had gotten up from the body of Eli and had gone to his room in the temple to pray for his old mentor. But his prayers had not come easily. The face of Eli floated in and out of his mind, as he lay prone in front of the altar. The din outside the temple was nearly overwhelming. The people of Shiloh were weeping and wailing for the dead Eli, for the loss of the ark, and just as much for themselves as their terror of the advancing Philistines consumed them. Several of them had removed the corpse of the priest and had begun the burial ritual. In the hot climate of the hill country, it was important to bury the dead quickly, since putrefaction was swift and the carrion creatures came rapidly in enormous and hungry numbers.
As he trudged slowly behind Eli’s body, carried aloft by six strong and straining men—the ancient priest had truly been enormously fat at the end—Samuel found some time to think of what needed to be done. Eli’s entire family was dead. None of the lesser priests of Shiloh was at all worthy to be considered for the role of high priest. There was little doubt in Samuel’s mind that he should be the new priest at the shrine. After all, he thought, it was my prophecy from YHWH that had brought calamity on Eli and Hophni and Phineas. It was I whom YHWH had chosen to deliver that hard word, and I delivered it at God’s command. It had come true in all particulars! The evil sons were dead; Eli was dead. I am alive, and I am the agent of God. Amidst the wailing and shouting of the Shilonites, a small smile played just briefly over Samuel’s lips, though his face was nearly consumed in an outward show of deep grief over the loss of his mentor.
Eli’s huge corpse was wrapped in cloth after being smeared with oil. And his old rod, that one he had first told the very young Samuel was the rod of the great Moses, was buried with him. Samuel spoke the customary words of blessing and thanks. But he added the following prayer as many eyes in the crowd, first bowed in piety, soon lifted in surprised wonder.
“O YHWH! You have spoken your word and had your way through your servant Eli for many years. He was your faithful slave for his whole life. Even at the end, he did what he thought best, however weak he was, however blind, however muddled in mind. So now, YHWH, here I stand, your servant Samuel. It is I you have chosen to speak your eternal word of truth. It is I who delivered the word of your judgment against Eli and his family. It is I who speak this day to you and for you. Make my words always your words. Make my mouth always your mouth. Let no words of mine fall to the ground unfulfilled. I give myself to you alone, O YHWH!”
Samuel’s youthful voice had risen in volume as he spoke so that the entire crowd could hear him with ease. His face grew red, the veins stood out in his neck, his thick shock of uncut brown hair was whipped by the wind.