Character or Ma-Ti Summonses Captain Planet All by Himself

W e pick up David’s story mid-sprint in chapter 21 with Springsteen’s “Born to Run” playing in the background. He’s gone from unknown shepherd boy to national hero to public enemy number one faster than a Sonic lightspeed dash. David’s meteoric rise has caused King Saul to suffer a Dr. Leo Marvin breakdown and no amount of baby steps can resolve the problem. With a king-sized target on his back, there’s not a safehouse in Israel secure enough to keep him above ground. Despite having done nothing wrong, David is condemned by a corrupt government to take part in a deadly episode of The Running Man. He has no choice but to strap on the spandex and beat feet like Ben Richards.

After an emotional farewell with his BFF Jonathan—Saul’s oldest son—David makes tracks for Nob, where he’s able to convince the local Kohen he’s on a top secret live and let die mission. He’s in dire need of provisions, but since the Sommelier’s weapons cache isn’t available, the Kohen kindly supplies him with the sacramental trail mix and breaks the glass at the Museum of Conflict to retrieve the only weapon in town: Goliath’s sword (v. 10). But the pit stop doesn’t come without cost. Doeg, one of Saul’s underlings, is in the sanctuary with them pretending to pray.

As a wanted fugitive, he can’t return home. It’s the first place Saul will look. All he can do is keep moving. As Neal McCauley would say, “Don’t let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in thirty seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner.” After leaving Nob, David boldly cuts through enemy territory in Gath, where the Philistine locals suspect his identity, forcing him to act like Howlin’ Mad Murdock to avoid being recognized by King Achish. There’s a psalm for that (check out “Psalm 56”). His performance is convincing enough to fool the king and dodge capture (v. 14). Apparently, the propeller blade of Goliath’s sword resting on his shoulder went unrecognized. In chapter 22, he makes camp in a remote cave in the province of Judah, where he’s joined by his family and the scraps of society: hundreds of indebted, down on their luck losers. David has officially entered his Peter LaFleur true underdog phase, as he now finds a loyal group of Average Joe’s looking to him for guidance (v. 2).

Meanwhile, Saul remains more troubled than Lord Percival Graves, viewing David as a regular Ralph Hampton Gainesworth Jones. He doesn’t think David is worthy of the throne and is prepared to do anything to get rid of him, so when his minion Doeg tattles about what he witnessed in Nob, it compels the king to haul in the Kohen for questioning. Unaware of David’s wanted status, the Kohen defends his position, but Saul dismisses the priest faster than Johnny Ringo. Killing the clergy is only the beginning, though. Saul goes full Grand Moff Tarkin on Nob. But even his stormtroopers won’t use their blasters on innocent civilians, so he relies on Doeg to do his dirty work (vv. 17-19). As Princess Leia would say, “If ever there was a shred of humanity in you or these twisted creatures of yours, it’s dead now. You’re at war with life itself … your Empire is doomed.” Abiathar, one of the Kohen’s sons, is the sole survivor. He escapes and joins up with David’s ragtag band of misfits. And yeah, there’s a psalm for that. “Psalm 52.” This one never gets requested on karaoke night.

Reports of Saul’s volatile actions make David anxious about his family’s safety, so he sends them to live in Moab with the relatives of his Great Grandma Ruth. But despite being in the middle of a deadly game of hide and seek, chapter 23 reveals news of a nearby Philistine attack catapults David and his men into action. Wanted for a crime they didn’t commit, David’s crack commando unit hides out in the Jerusalem underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire…David’s team. When Saul hears David has successfully battled the Philistines in the outskirts of Judah, it launches him into Roscoe P. Coltrane hot pursuit. David quickly retreats into the wilderness of Ziph when he receives word that the king is coming in hot. At this point, David has logged more miles on his sneakers than Babe Levy. During his stay in the mountains, Jonathan stops by to give his bestie a pep talk: “[Y]ou will be king over Israel and I will be next to you; and Saul my father knows that” (v. 17). Jonathen’s bros before blood stance is an unprecedented exhibit of his friendship and acceptance that David has been designated to be Israel’s next king (go to 16:13 and hit refresh). The good friends don’t realize it, but this will be their last hang out session.

Then, like clockwork, some of the locals rat out David to the king, sending him back on the run. There’s a psalm for that. The betrayal has David reaching for Lucille, his black Gibson ES, which he uses to compose a bluesy tune titled “Psalm 54.” Taking cover in the rocky mountain refuge, David tries to dodge another bullet. He runs with more passion than Ethan Hunt, but this time Saul and his army slowly close in. David is on the brink of being captured when word that the relentless Philistines have invaded Israel again forces Saul to give up the chase to go tangle with their archnemesis (vv. 26-28). David barely has time to get off the mountain before Saul returns to pick up the manhunt. Saul proves to be doggedly persistent and instructs his men accordingly. As Deputy Marshal Sam Gerard would say, “What I want out of each and every one of you is a hard target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and dog house in the area.”

In chapter 24, David is holed up in a large roadside cave when Saul comes along. Unaware his prey is inside, Saul enters the cave alone to pinch a royal loaf (v. 4). David’s men can’t believe their good fortune. Saul is caught with his pants down like Vincent Vega. The men goad David with Emperor Palpatine energy: “You want this, don’t you? The hate is swelling up in you now. Take your Jedi weapon. Use it. He is unarmed. Strike him down … fulfill your destiny” (v. 5). But David has been reading Sun Tzu and knows the ultimate tactic is to win without fighting and advances only to cut off a piece of Saul’s robe, which he uses like a white flag to approach the king after he finishes his business. When Saul finds out David reframed from killing him while he was dropping a deuce, he proclaims a tearful truce and even admits to David’s impending rule: “I know that you will surely be king, and that the kingdom of Israel will be established in your hand” (v. 21). As Wes Mantooth would say, “From deep down in my stomach, with every inch of me, I pure, straight hate you. But goddammit I do respect you!” There’s a psalm for that. In fact, there’s a few. The close call in the cave inspires psalms “57,” “142” and “143.” It seems like things have finally taking a turn when the two parties peacefully go their separate ways.

The first verse of chapter 25 abruptly marks the passing of the book’s title character in one brief sentence. Dying at the age of 52 reveals Samuel’s time as Israel’s judge was no cakewalk. As Indiana Jones would say, “It’s not the years, honey. It’s the miles.” After attending the celebration of Samuel’s life, David hunkers down in the Kentucky foothills, where eventually he runs short on supplies. David sends friendly word to Nabal, a wealthy landowner in Harlan County to request provisions for his men, but the inhospitable hillbilly dismisses the request, even though David’s men have been providing protection for his employees. When word gets back to David, he heads over to Nabal’s place to lay down the law with more authority than Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens. But when Nabal’s wife Abigail hears what’s going down, she rushes to meet David with a chuckwagon load of chow before he can quickdraw on her husband. Her food and good advice correct David’s low blood sugar and dissuade him from doing anything rash (v. 35). Nabal hits the rafters when he finds out. The thought of losing one bottle of bubbly from his collection causes him to stroke out. Scripture says, “his heart died within him” (v. 37). Upon hearing the news, David immediately steps in to romance the widow, inviting Abigail to marry him, a gentlemanly gesture tempered by the fact he’s been going around using his wanted poster to pick up ladies like Billy the Kid. That’s right. While on the run from Saul, David marries more women than Monte Peterson: six, including Abigail.

The same guys who snitched on David and inspired “Psalm 54” out him again in chapter 26, sending Saul back into T-1000 pursuit mode. But David sees the king’s kill team coming and snoops on their encampment while they’re waiting for their Teslas to recharge. With his brass balls on full display, David marches into the center of camp where Saul sleeps, monitored by a security detail more lax than Paddock 11 at Jurassic World. Once again, encouraged to ice Saul on the spot, David honorably dismisses the opportunity by merely snatching the king’s spear: “[God] forbid that I should stretch out my hand against the Lord’s anointed” (v. 11). It’s yet another impressive display of restraint from the young upstart. Then, retreating a safe distance, he calls out Abner, Saul’s top military commander for not doing his job to protect the king. David heckles Abner at work harder than Jerry Seinfeld (vv. 15, 16). Yep. There’s a psalm for that. “Psalm 58” rips Abner a new one for advising Saul against him. But his tone shifts when he addresses the king, acknowledging his authority and questioning why he continues to pursue a subordinate “flea” like David (vv. 18-20). Saul is openly grateful for his discipline (again) and quickly reverts from an aggressive Hank Evans back to his mild-mannered Charlie Baileygates personality. He praises David and promises to call John Walsh to have him removed from Israel’s Most Wanted.

But David has been down this road before and knows Saul is more obsessed with retaining power within the company than Harold Meachum. Like Frank Underwood, Saul keeps his metro card on him at all times. With this in mind, David decides to hide where Saul will never look. In chapter 27, he returns to King Achish in Gath, this time convincing the Philistine leader that he’s left his Israelite roots behind him as a result of Saul’s unstable, Arthur Fleck tendencies. Achish is happy to have a defector of David’s prominence in his pocket and gives him a chunk of land to call home. But unbeknownst to Achish, David spends his time there raiding Philistine allies and enemies of Israel with lethal intent (v. 11).

Chapter 28 sees the Philistines gearing up for another brawl with Israel and David plays along when Achish assigns him to be his bodyguard (vv. 1-3). After so many years of bitter rivalry, Achish is ready to team up like Johnny Lawrence and Daniel LaRusso, but when commanding officers in the Philistine ranks see David and his boys arrive on the scene, they distrustfully send David packing. And who can blame them? David has scalped more Philistine foreskins than Rabbi Tuckman. On the other side of the battlefield, Saul goes into panic mode when he sees the Philistine army digging in. With God no longer communicating with him and his Magic 8-Ball stuck on “Reply hazy, try again,” he resorts to witchcraft (vv. 6, 7). When the moon is full, he takes a red rose and the left hand of a murderer to the Baroness Ortsey in an effort to divine his next move. The necromancer takes some convincing since sorcery is a big no-no in Israel (note Deuteronomy 18:10, 11). Ironically, Saul reaffirmed this law himself in the wake of Samuel’s death. Now he expresses a desire to speak with Samuel and guarantees her safety, so she cracks open her Handbook for the Recently Dead and conjures up Samuel’s Force ghost. When Samuel appears, the medium screams like she’s never communicated with the dead before (v. 12). Go figure. Samuel isn’t happy about being disturbed and lets Saul have it, repeating what he told him in life (1 Sam. 15:28, specifically). And, if that’s not enough, predicts a Philistine victory, telling Saul, “[T]omorrow you and your sons will be with me” (v. 19). Yikes.

Meanwhile, in chapter 30, David and his men return to their corner of Gath, but the smoke they see in the distance isn’t the home fires burning. It’s the aftermath of the Amalekites attacking the town like Tusken Raiders: pillaging, burning and kidnapping the women and children (v. 3). David’s men are ready to kill him over the loss of their families. But after a quick consultation with God, he convinces them to give pursuit without knowing precisely where to look. Fortunately, they come across an Egyptian slave left for dead by the Amalekites who provides coordinates for them to locate and curb stomp the perpetrators, recovering every family member and possession that was taken, as well as the spoils of victory, which David hands out like Oprah’s Favorite Things to his allies in Judah.

Back in Jezreel the Israelites’ Mortal Kombat with the Philistines is playing out as predicted, with a decisive beatdown that sees their opponent deliver a flawless victory. According to chapter 31, three of Saul’s sons die in battle, including Jonathan. And Saul, pinned down by more archers than the Qin army, decides to finish himself off like Rogelio Torrez, rather than admit defeat from the uncircumcised horde (vv. 2-4). But it doesn’t stop the Philistines from treating Saul to Baraka’s finishing move postmortem, decapitating him and displaying his corpse publicly (vv. 9, 10).

It’s a dark day in Israel and a great place to leave us hanging if it was a Peter Jackson film. The editor of Samuel must have sensed this too, because the book unexpectedly divides into a second installment without skipping a single frame. Chapter 1 of 2 Samuel picks up with David returning from rescuing his people from the Amalekites. They’ve barely had time to assess their smoldering homes when a young man shows up looking more exerted than John McClane on Christmas Eve. He recounts the harrowing details of Israel’s shellacking and when David presses him on Saul’s demise, he produces the king’s crown and claim’s he finished Saul off when the dying king requested a mercy kill (vv. 9, 10). Outraged by his admission to euthanizing Saul, David goes full King Leonidas and punts the messenger down the well (v. 16). It’s safe to say this isn’t the reward he was expecting. Guess what? There’s a psalm for that. Grief-stricken, David retreats to his recording studio in typical warrior-poet fashion to pin a sad ditty in memory of Saul and his broski Jonathan. Without caring how his wives will react or what kind of rumors it will incite, David airs his feelings about Jonathan in an ode titled “The Lament of the Bow,” a tune possessing a level of honesty that even Agador Spartacus would call gay: “I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; [y]ou have been very pleasant to me. Your love to me was more wonderful [t]han the love of women” (v. 26). Talk about being confident in your manhood.

Following God’s prompting in chapter 2, David and co. put Gath in their rearview mirror by moving to Hebron in Judah, where David is made king upon arrival (v. 4). The other eleven tribes remain under the kingship of Saul’s bloodline when his son Ish-bosheth is named successor (v. 10). However, Ish-bosheth appears to be implanted with a Drakh keeper, with the real driving force behind the throne being Abner, Israel’s old guard military commander. With kinglike authority, Abner makes Tywin Lannister power moves while manipulating Ish easier than Tommen Baratheon. Looking to further establish their authority, Abner and his men go to the Pool of Gibeon to meet up with David’s nephew Joab and a handful of his top jocks for an old-fashioned duel at the pool. Things quickly escalate into a full-on battle royale, which Joab’s smaller division easily dominate. But when Abner begrudgingly kills Joab’s little brother Speedy Gonzales, it puts a bad blood asterisk on the victory (vv. 18-23).

That’s right. Despite being God’s top draft pick, David’s time hasn’t arrived yet. Yeah, Saul is dead, but the power struggle for the throne has just begun. In fact, the unrest between Saul’s house and David’s Judaean faction drags on for seven long years. During this period David proves to be more of a lover than a fighter. According to chapter 3, his time in Hebron sees him amass more kids than David Wozniak (vv. 2-5). But eventually things shift in David’s favor when, in a moment of boldness, Ish-bosheth confronts Abner about screwing around with one of his dad’s concubines. Whether it’s true or not, Abner doesn’t like being called out and with all the power and attitude of a Sith lord he threatens the puppet king, vowing to help David secure the throne. His outburst has Ish running for the panic room, while Abner follows through with his threat by contacting David for a round of Let’s Make a Deal. David agrees to meet on the condition his first wife Michal is returned to him. Turns out, after he fled for his life, Saul fixed up Michal with Palti (see 1 Sam. 25:44). Abner makes good on his promise to Ish and David, encouraging Israel’s elders to make David king and securing Michal ahead of their meeting.

David hosts the peace talks with a Man v. Food challenge, where Abner loosens his belt and readily signs up to be his campaign manager. But when Joab hears the news, he isn’t happy. He still hasn’t gotten over his brother’s death and once the party is over goes after Abner with more passion than Truman Gates. The ink isn’t dry on the alliance when Joab interferes and kills him in the same way Abner killed his brother (v. 27). When David finds out he condemns his nephew’s actions and mourns publicly, giving Abner an honorable sendoff. News of Abner’s death makes Ish-bosheth reasonably nervous and, sure enough, hardly any time passes before two goons sneak into the king’s chambers and murder him in his sleep—then they take Ish’s head to David like it’s Alfredo Garcia. Clearly these guys haven’t heard about David’s reaction to Saul’s death. Putting people on the wrong side of the grass to expediate his rise to power isn’t his M.O. Instead of high-fives all around, he rewards them with tickets to Paris on Volée Airlines Flight 108. David has repeatedly proven to be more interested in waiting out God’s timing than gaining ultimate power: “[W]ho can stretch out his hand against [God’s] anointed and be without guilt?” (1 Sam. 26:9). These are the words of a guy committed to God’s terms and conditions. David’s famous “man after God’s own heart” reputation is starting to make sense. Apologies to Ma-Ti. I guess heart isn’t such a lame power, after all.

David’s patience eventually pays off. He’s inaugurated by Israel in chapter 5, with representatives from all twelve tribes and the elders visiting Hebron to make things official. It’s circa 1000 BCE and the shepherd boy who was oiled-down to be the next king of Israel some fifteen years ago has finally secured the crown. He’s 30 years old. The coronation inspires him to move to Jerusalem, setting up house in the fortress of Zion, which he shamelessly renames the City of David. It’s been a long time coming and he immediately benefits from the prestigious new position. The king of Tye extends his friendship by sending Fix-It Felix Jr. to build David a fancy palace, complete with cedar, stone and 5G home Internet (v. 11). The new digs is notable enough to be featured on MTV Cribs and, yeah, attracts the ladies. David banks more sister wives (and concubines) than Osgood Fielding—and has them reproducing faster than tribbles (v 13). But when the Philistines hear the fugitive refugee they took in is now top banana in Israel, they roll up to the City of David locked and loaded. They spent a lot of time unwittingly accommodating the next king of Israel. That isn’t something they can overlook. Also, they have an investment in the northern region after defeating Saul. God gives Israel consent to greet them with the pointy end of their hospitality spears, resulting in the Philistines quickly advancing in the opposite direction. It doesn’t take them long to regroup and return with a larger military presence. God gives the go fight greenlight again, this time utilizing a wind-powered strategy to catch the Philistines off-guard and fool them into thinking they’re outnumbered (v. 24). And it works. It’s a good start to the military campaigns David’s reign will become known for.

First on David’s kingly to-do list is bringing the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem after its decades-long stay in Kiriath-jearim due to the Arnold Toht face-melting incident in 1 Samuel 6:19. But instead of employing the priestly Levites to carry the Ark as God instructed Moses back in the day, David simply rents a U-Haul and asks his old college buddies to assist with the move. Chapter 6 reveals things don’t go according to plan when the Ark breaks loose and tips precariously, inspiring a well-meaning guy named Uzzah to steady it without considering the ramifications of ringing God’s doorbell (v. 6). The result is instant death and a fearsome reminder that a contact high means something dramatically different around God (v. 7). This is a hard pill to swallow. David reacts to the event like any normal human being, getting more anxious than young Riley, with Anger and Fear taking control of his emotions. He ditches the Ark at Obed-edom’s pad, where they enjoy three months of God’s gratitude. Obed prospers more than Jed Clampett with the Ark in his garage, giving David the confidence to move it again. This time, he puts the Levites in charge of transportation and providing the right mood music (see 1 Chronicles 15 for a full scroll of production credits). With “Old Time Rock and Roll” playing, David slides into Jerusalem like Joel Goodsen, exposing more leg than is normal for a king, while the rest of Israel performs a full-on High School Musical number around him (vv. 14, 15). That’s right. Everybody cut footloose. But when Michel sees her hubs showing off the royal thighs, she accuses him of performing a Chippendales routine in front of the common folk (v. 20). David responds by reminding her God chose him over her dad and that the public she looks down on understands his intention better than her. Scripture punctuates their argument with the notation that Michel subsequently never had kids, as if to highlight how wrong her position on the king’s male revue was (v. 23).